#since it feels like a continuation of the story than a sequel

[mythicalmaven]

Revealed Desires - Lando Norris

(This is a sequel to Secret Desires, but could also be read separately)

Here is part two of the requested oneshot! I loved writing it so much, that I needed to write a part two! It accidentally turned out WAY longer than I intended, but I love how it turned out! Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you did! :)

Masterlist This is part two of this one (reading the previous part is advised for more context lol, but you technically could read it separately) ↳pairing: Lando Norris x f!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 8,9K ↳Summary: In which the story continues after the reader (Max Verstappen's twin sister) had a rather interesting text exchange with & FaceTime call with her best friend Lando Norris after he had drunkenly texted her about his sexual fantasies about her. ↳content warnings: reader is Max Verstappen's twin sister, Lando is her best friend, but also more, friends to lovers, first kiss, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, handjob, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, orgasm denial, p in v, making love, praise kink,

It had been a few hours since that intimate phone call with you, and yet the giddy sensation still coursed through Lando's veins like wildfire. He obviously still felt incredibly embarrassed about drunk texting you the way he did, but it lead to something great. Something he enjoyed so much, he can't put it into words. The knowledge that you felt the same way about him had turned the usually composed British driver into a lovesick puppy, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He'd been in love with you for quite some time, but now that his feelings were out in the open, everything felt more intense, more real.

Since that call, Lando had managed to shower, get dressed, and gather his things to hang out with a few of the guys at Charles’ place. But the whole time, he’d been distracted, replaying every moment of your conversation, every breathy word exchanged, over and over in his mind.

By the time he arrived at Charles' house and plopped down onto the couch, the weight of it all—how much his life had changed in a few short hours—settled in. But just as he began to sink into his thoughts, he felt a pair of familiar eyes boring into him.

Max was staring at him, that infuriatingly smug grin stretching across his face. "Good morning, Mr. Casanova," Max teased, the humor in his voice impossible to miss as he watched Lando try to hide within the collar of his hoodie.

"Oh god, please, shut up," Lando groaned, pulling the hood further over his face in a futile attempt to disappear. "I don't even remember half of what I said to you last night."

Charles, who had perched himself on the armrest of the couch, took a casual sip of his coffee. The amusement radiating off him was palpable as he clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Max remembers all of it."

Max leaned back into the cushions, making a dramatic gagging sound as if to punctuate his point. "I wish I could forget some of the things you said, mate," he chuckled. "But I have to admit, some of it was pretty funny. Adorable, even."

Lando's face flushed a deep crimson, his stomach twisting with embarrassment. "Do I even want to know what I said?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he avoided the eyes of both his friends.

Charles set his coffee cup down on the table, his expression turning thoughtful. "Well," he began, running a hand through his hair, "you started out pretty innocent. You were going on about how head over heels you are for her—though I can’t recall the exact words, it was clear enough."

Lando groaned again, his face burning with shame as he sank further into the couch. "God, Max, I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I never wanted you to find out like this."

Max raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You really think I didn’t already know you were in love with my sister?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You’ve been obvious for a while now, even when you weren’t drunk off your ass."

Lando’s eyes widened in shock, his heart skipping a beat. "A-Are… you s-serious?" he stammered, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Charles rolled his eyes, smirking. "Dude, you stare at her more than you do your own race car," he teased. "And let’s not forget that your entire way of talking to each other is just… well, flirting."

Lando felt his heart rate pick up, a mix of relief and mortification washing over him. "Oh," he muttered, his voice small.

"But if that was the innocent part," Lando began, dreading the answer, "what in god's name were the other things I said?"

Max snorted, leaning forward with a grin. "Well, once you were really wasted, you didn’t even seem to notice I was there anymore," he began, the disgust creeping back into his voice. "You were pretty much ranting to Charles about how hot she is and how you’d kill to see her naked."

Charles burst out laughing, almost spilling his coffee in the process. "Hey! Don’t leave out the best part," he chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You also said that if you had the chance, you’d fuck her on every single piece of furniture in your house."

Max made a dramatic gagging noise again, waving his hands in front of his face. "Okay, enough, ew," he protested, though the laughter in his voice was unmistakable. "We’re talking about my twin sister here, remember?"

Lando buried his face in his hands, sinking so far into the couch he thought he might disappear entirely. "Fucking hell," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. "I really am a gigantic idiot."

Max’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle as he leaned back into the cushions. "Well, spilling the beans on your feelings was one thing, but I’m curious how you’re going to talk your way out of this with her," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You kept going on about needing to text her about something 'very private.'"

Lando groaned again, this time so deeply it resonated in his chest. "Please don’t remind me," he mumbled, knowing all too well what Max was referring to.

Max grinned, clearly enjoying every second of Lando’s discomfort. "So, after I dragged your sorry ass home, I decided to give her a little heads up," he continued, his voice dripping with teasing humor. "But she told me it was a little too late because, apparently, you had already sent her quite the intense text."

Charles, who had been taking another sip of his coffee, choked on it immediately, coughing violently as he tried to suppress his laughter. "Mon dieu," he managed to gasp out between coughs, his face turning red from the effort. "What the heck did you even text her? Did you send her a nude or something?"

Before Lando could even process the question, Max threw his hands up in the air. "Don’t answer that while I’m in the room! I don’t even want to know!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half horrified. "We’re talking about my twin sister here! I need more coffee."

With that, Max got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Lando and Charles alone in the living room.

Charles eyed Lando with a raised eyebrow, the teasing smirk never leaving his face. "Now, do tell," he urged, clearly eager to hear the juicy details.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. "God, I don’t even want to think about it," he muttered, his voice filled with both regret and reluctant amusement. "I cringe at myself every time I read it back."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you at least talk to her about it?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious. "I mean, considering you’re not sulking in a corner, I assume she doesn’t hate you now, right?"

Lando felt the heat rise to his cheeks again, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ehm… yeah, we talked about it," he admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to downplay the situation.

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, you guys did not…" he started, his voice dripping with playful accusation.

Lando hesitated, biting his lip. "Maybe," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the back with a hearty smack. "So, let me get this straight," he began, still chuckling. "You got wasted, accidentally sexted your best friend, and she… liked it? And then you pretty much continued the conversation? Do you even remember a thing of it, or is your text history your only proof?"

Lando’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he avoided Charles’ gaze, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Ehm… it might’ve happened this morning through text… then later through FaceTime," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Charles let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nice job, mate," he said, his tone filled with both amusement and genuine admiration. "Better not tell Max that you had literal phone sex with his twin sister."

Before Lando could respond, they heard Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen. "God, I really did not want to hear that," Max groaned, his tone laced with exasperation.

Charles laughed again, turning his attention back to Lando. "Well, now that you’ve crossed that line, what’s the next step?" he asked, his tone more serious now. "Are you going to talk to her about where this is going?"

Lando let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I mean… yeah, I guess I have to," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I can’t just pretend like nothing happened."

Charles nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "You’re right," he agreed. "But, honestly, it sounds like you two are already on the same page. You just need to have an actual conversation about it."

Lando nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his chest. "Yeah… I know, we talked about if for a little.." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I admitted my feelings to her. We did kind of agree to starting something real once she's back in Monaco"

Charles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his smile softening. "That's good"

"Yeah, I actually have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow" he told Charles, a hint of something else in his voice "I would lie if I said I wasn't nervous about it. Just scared that she might come to the conclusion that she regrets it, once she sees me in real life again"

*The following day*

Lando sat in his car at the airport, his nerves doubling with each passing second. His fingers fumbled restlessly in his lap as he tried—and failed—to calm himself down. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, his mind racing with thoughts of how he should greet you when you finally arrived. Despite offering numerous times to meet you at the gate, to carry your suitcases like a gentleman, you had refused each one with a teasing smile, insisting that you were "a big girl" and could manage on your own. Now, he wondered if he had been too pushy, if maybe he should have backed off and given you more space.

As he waited, Lando’s mind continued to wage a war against itself. Should he just hug you like he always did, keeping things light and familiar? Or should he throw caution to the wind and kiss you, putting everything on the line? The thought of kissing you, of finally feeling your lips on his after all these years of longing, made his heart race. But what if you didn’t want that? What if you pulled away, leaving him to wallow in his embarrassment?

His internal debate was abruptly cut short by the sound of a knock on his window. Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he met your eyes. There you were, standing just outside his car, a soft smile on your lips. That smile—the one that always made his chest tighten—sent a wave of warmth through him. He quickly opened the door, jumping out to help you with your luggage.

"Hi," you murmured softly, echoing the way you had greeted him during your FaceTime call. The familiarity of your voice, that gentle tone, sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando smiled back, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against yours as you both reached for the handle of your suitcase. The slight contact sent a jolt of electricity up his arm, and he had to resist the urge to pull you into his arms right then and there. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, but the proximity, the way you looked at him, made it impossible to think straight.

"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. In a swift movement, he reached up, sliding his fingers around the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. The world seemed to slow down as he tilted your face up toward his, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally closed the distance between you.

When his lips met yours, it was like every pent-up emotion, every moment of longing, exploded into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a release, an answer to all the questions that had been swirling in his mind. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as he let himself get lost in the sensation of finally, finally, kissing the one girl he had been in love with for what felt like forever.

Your response was immediate and overwhelming. You released the suitcase from your grip, one of your hands moved up to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer, while the other slid down to cover his hand, guiding it to your waist. The heat of your body against his was intoxicating, and Lando felt like he was drowning in you, in the softness of your lips, in the way you seemed to melt into him.

As your kiss deepened, Lando could feel your breath hitch, your body pressing even closer to his as if you couldn’t get enough. He took the invitation, gently parting your lips with his, and when your tongues met, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as he backed you up against the side of the car. The cool metal of the car against your back contrasted with the heat between you, making you gasp softly into the kiss.

Every touch, every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, could hear the soft, breathy sounds you made as the kiss grew more urgent. His hands roamed your back, sliding up to cup your face, then back down to your waist, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, his shoulders, as you gave in to the overwhelming pull of desire that had been building between you for so long. The way Lando kissed you—desperate yet tender, with a mix of hunger and reverence—made your heart swell with emotion. It was as if he was pouring all his love, all his need, into that kiss, and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. Lando’s fingers played with a stray strand of your hair, his touch feather-light as he whispered, "Sorry if that was too straightforward. I just… I couldn’t help myself."

You giggled softly, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Lan, we both know we crossed the 'too straightforward' line already when you sent me that one text," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Lando’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze dropping to the ground as he muttered, "Shut up."

But you weren’t about to let him get away that easily. Smiling, you tilted his chin up with your finger, forcing him to meet your gaze before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Hey, I never said I was complaining" you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with affection.

Lando felt a surge of relief wash over him, his lips curling into a smile against yours. All the tension, all the nerves, seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire being. As you pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours, finding only the same affection and desire that he felt reflected back at him.

"Now, let's get this stuff in the car and head back to my place. Because I think we both waited long enough now, don't you think?" you teased him, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

As Lando and you finally settled into the car, the engine's quiet hum filled the space, a stark contrast to the roaring thoughts and desires that swirled between you. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance more charged. The drive back to your place had never felt so excruciatingly long, and the unspoken understanding between you made the tension all the more palpable.

You both tried to keep the conversation light, casual even, but it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of desire that crackled between you like static electricity. Lando gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, his knuckles turning white as he navigated through the city streets. He stole glances at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen once you finally reached your apartment.

“So, did you miss me?” you teased, your voice playful yet laced with something deeper.

Lando chuckled, his voice strained as he responded. “Miss you?” He shot you a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

Your hand slowly inched its way over to his thigh, resting lightly at first, but enough to make him shift in his seat. You could feel the muscle tense beneath your fingers, his reaction immediate and telling. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, or the subtle clenching of his jaw as he tried to maintain his focus on the road.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and warning, though you could hear the underlying strain, the barely restrained desire.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, your fingers beginning to trace small, teasing circles on his thigh, gradually moving closer to where you knew he was most sensitive. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” Lando’s voice had dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried—and failed—to ignore the effect your touch was having on him. “About what, exactly?”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “About how long this drive is taking. Don’t you think it’s… too long?”

Lando let out a low, frustrated groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You giggled softly, the sound filled with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Your hand moved higher, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. He glanced over at you, his eyes darkening with lust, and you could see the tension in his expression, the way he was barely holding himself together.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, your voice dripping with mock innocence, though the wicked glint in your eyes betrayed your intentions.

“Fuck…” Lando cursed under his breath, his hips involuntarily jerking forward at the contact. “You’re going to make me crash this car if you keep that up.”

But despite his words, he didn’t make any move to stop you. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat, almost as if inviting you to continue. The knowledge that you had this kind of power over him, that you could unravel him with just a few touches, sent a thrill through you, your own arousal growing with each passing second.

As your hand pressed more firmly against him, Lando couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips, low and guttural, filled with the kind of raw need that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. The sound of it, the way his body responded so helplessly to your touch, only fueled your desire, your own breath becoming shallow as you leaned in closer.

“I think you like this,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke, your hand slowly, deliberately, palming him through his jeans. You could feel him hardening beneath your touch, and the thought of what was to come made your own body ache with need.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Lando admitted, his voice rough and strained. He let out another soft moan, his hips shifting again, seeking more of your touch despite his earlier protests. “But you’re also going to regret teasing me like this.”

“Is that a threat?” you teased, your hand now fully exploring the outline of his erection, your fingers pressing just hard enough to drive him crazy, but not enough to satisfy.

“Consider it a promise,” Lando growled, his voice thick with lust. The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, every second feeling like an eternity as you continued to push him closer to the edge.

The rest of the drive was a torturous mix of heated touches and ragged breaths, the air thick with anticipation. Every kilometer that separated you from your apartment seemed to stretch on forever, amplifying the tension that crackled between you. Lando’s eyes flicked from the road to your hand on his bulge, watching as your fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration. His breathing was uneven, the struggle to keep his focus on driving becoming increasingly difficult with each passing second.

You noticed how his grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles white, the strain evident in every line of his body. His jaw was clenched, his gaze forward, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, how his breath hitched every time your fingers palmed over the bulge straining against his jeans.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lando,” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers tracing the outline of his erection with maddening slowness. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his voice strained as he responded. “Trying to focus on not crashing the car, love,” he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and arousal. His eyes briefly met yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “But you’re making that damn near impossible.”

You smiled, pleased with the effect you were having on him. Leaning in closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “What would you do to me if we weren’t in this car right now?”

Lando’s breath hitched again, a soft groan escaping his lips as your words sent a surge of heat through him. He swallowed hard, his mind racing with images of all the things he wanted to do to you. “You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that made your pulse quicken.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your hand pressing more firmly against his erection, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me, Lando. What would you do if you had me all to yourself right now?”

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried to maintain control. “I’d start by pinning you against the wall,” he began, his voice thick with desire. “I’d kiss you until you were breathless, until you couldn’t think straight. And then I’d strip you down, piece by piece, until there was nothing between us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your body reacting instantly to the vivid images he painted with his voice. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the ache of wanting him becoming almost unbearable. “And then?” you prompted, your voice breathy, urging him to continue.

Lando swallowed hard, his hips shifting slightly under your touch. “Then I’d lay you down, spread you out for me,” he continued, his voice growing darker, more intense. “I’d take my time, kiss every inch of you, taste you until you’re begging for more.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips at his words, the need inside you flaring hotter with every second. “Fuck, Lando,” you breathed, your hand moving up to cup him more fully, feeling the hardness beneath your fingers. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You think you’re the only one?” Lando shot back, his voice rough with arousal. He let out another low groan as you began to palm him through his jeans, his hips lifting slightly into your touch, seeking more. “Keep that up and we won’t even make it to your apartment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you were affecting him. “Maybe that’s the idea,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe I want to see how much you can take.”

Lando let out a soft, desperate moan, his control slipping further with every touch, every word. “You’re fucking evil, you know that?” he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as he gave in to the pleasure, his body reacting instinctively to your teasing. “But god, I love it.”

The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, the air thick with the scent of arousal and the promise of what was to come. Every brush of your fingers, every shift of your body sent waves of desire crashing over both of you, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

As you continued to tease him, your own body was alight with need, every fiber of your being aching for him. The sight of Lando struggling to keep his composure, the way he was completely at your mercy, only fueled your desire, your own breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you pressed your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your touch.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando pulled up to your apartment building, the car coming to a sudden, jerky stop as he practically slammed on the brakes. He turned to you, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. “Get out of the car,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained, leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The moment you stepped out, Lando was there, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you back against the car, his lips crashing onto yours with a desperate, almost frantic intensity. The kiss was hot, urgent, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been building between you for so long. His hands roamed your body, sliding down to your hips as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the full extent of his arousal.

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Lando murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you moan softly.

“Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want to feel everything.”

Lando groaned at your words, his control slipping further as he kissed his way down your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, making you gasp.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you toward the entrance of the building. The anticipation was palpable, every step closer to your apartment only adding to the tension between you.

The elevator ride up was a blur of heated touches and frantic kisses, Lando’s lips never leaving your skin as he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough and filled with raw need.

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire as your hands explored the planes of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lando.”

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the taste of you. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you could feel every ounce of his passion, his longing, in the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his hands gripped you as if he was afraid you might slip away.

When the elevator finally dinged at your floor, Lando wasted no time, pulling you out and down the hall toward your apartment. His impatience was evident in the way he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and arousal as he finally managed to unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he had you inside, slamming it shut behind him as he pressed you up against it, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The kiss was even more intense this time, fueled by the knowledge that there were no more interruptions, no more delays. This was it. You were finally alone, and nothing was going to stop what came next.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt, up your back, down to your thighs, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the anticipation becoming almost unbearable.

Lando’s lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I’m going to make you pay for teasing me like that,” he whispered against your neck, his voice a low, seductive growl that made your heart race.

“I’m counting on it,” you replied breathlessly, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pulled him even closer, your body aching with need.

And with that, any remaining restraint between you shattered, the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over as Lando’s hands and lips claimed every inch of you, leaving you both lost in the heat of the moment, eager to make up for all the time you had spent longing for each other.

When his lips left yours again, you barely had time to catch your breath before they were on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His hands continued their slow exploration, moving higher until they reached the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing teasingly over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the contact, your back arching slightly as you pressed into his touch. Lando’s breath was hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands moving to unhook your bra with practiced ease. The garment fell away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

“You have no idea how much I want this,” Lando murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and desire. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he captured your lips in another searing kiss.

“Then stop teasing,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want you, Lando.”

Lando groaned softly at your words, his resolve crumbling as his hands began to roam lower, sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he tugged the fabric down your hips, leaving you in just your panties.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing before him, half-naked and completely vulnerable. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as his hands traced the curve of your hips, his thumbs brushing against the delicate lace of your panties.

Without another word, Lando’s hands moved to your thighs, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. He stood in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness.

The cool air against your exposed skin only heightened your sensitivity, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Lando’s hands moved back up your thighs, his touch firm yet gentle as he spread your legs wider. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to an exposed bit of skin, just behind your ear, before his fingers began their slow, torturous journey closer to your core.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling with need as his fingers hovered just above where you wanted them most. He teased you, his fingertips brushing lightly against your sensitive skin, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. The tension in your body grew unbearable as Lando finally let his fingers slide through your wetness, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He began to move his fingers with expert precision, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, each moan, each gasp fueling his desire. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as his fingers delved deeper, the sensation building with every stroke. You could feel the pressure mounting, your body arching into his touch as you teetered on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, Lando’s movements slowed, his fingers pulling back, leaving you hanging in that unbearable space between pleasure and release. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him, your body aching with the need for more.

But Lando only smirked up at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. “That’s for teasing me in the car,” he teased, his voice low and filled with satisfaction as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. You pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before your hands moved to the waistband of his jeans.

But before you could undo the button, Lando’s hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the kitchen counter. He placed you on the cool surface, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs.

His lips were on yours again, hot and demanding, as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his breathing heavy as he knelt down between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open before him.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his gaze locked on yours as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot. The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your hands flying to his hair as you arched into him, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Lando’s tongue moved with precision, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every second. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, your body trembling with the need for release as he continued to pleasure you with slow, deliberate movements.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, just when you were about to tip over the edge, once again, Lando pulled back, leaving you gasping for breath, your body aching with the need for more.

“Lando!” you cried out, your voice filled with frustration as you looked down at him, your chest heaving with the effort to catch your breath.

Lando only chuckled, a smug smile playing on his lips as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I told you I would make you regret teasing me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with satisfaction as he nipped at your lower lip.

“You're lucky you're hot” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with your fingers. You pushed the fabric down his hips, letting it fall to the floor as you slid off the counter, your hands moving to his hips, guiding him against the kitchen counter, sinking to your knees.

Lando’s breath hitched as you knelt before him, your fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers as you looked up at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. “Is this what you want?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as your fingers brushed against his erection, the contact sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Please,” Lando groaned, his hands clutching at the counter behind him as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and lust. “Don’t tease me.”

But you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted to make him feel the same frustration, the same desperation that he had made you feel. Slowly, deliberately, you began to kiss your way up his thigh, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

"You look so good, Lan. You make me so wet.” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and desire as your fingers teased him, brushing against his erection but never quite touching him where he needed it most.

Lando’s hips jerked forward, a soft moan escaping his lips as he clutched at the counter, his control slipping further with every touch, every kiss. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled up at him, your hands finally sliding up to his boxers, pulling them down to free his aching length. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your own arousal heightening as you took him in your hand, feeling the warmth and hardness of him against your palm.

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. Your thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, gathering the bead of moisture there before sliding back down his length. His hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low groan escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark with lust.

“F-Fuck, that feels so good,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with need. His hands gripped the counter behind him, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. But you could see the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to every touch, every twist of your wrist.

You increased the pace slightly, your strokes becoming firmer, more purposeful as you worked him with your hand. Lando’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to keep his composure. “You like that?” you whispered, your voice sultry, dripping with seduction as you watched him with hooded eyes.

“God, yes,” Lando groaned, his head falling back as another moan slipped from his lips. “So fucking good.”

You smirked, your confidence growing with every sound of pleasure that escaped him. You changed your technique, your grip tightening slightly as you twisted your wrist at the top, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive underside of his tip in a way that made his hips jerk forward, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this what you’ve been fantasizing about?” you asked, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. “Thinking about me, touching you like this?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to find the words. “Yes,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. “Every night. Fuck, you have no idea.”

You smiled, satisfied with his response as you continued to stroke him, your movements becoming a little faster, a little more intense. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, his body trembling with the need for release. “Do you want more, Lando?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the base of his length as you spoke, sending a shiver through him. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

Lando’s eyes flew open, the raw need in them making your own arousal spike. “Please,” he groaned, his voice a desperate plea. “I need it. I need you.”

His words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and without breaking eye contact, you slowly lowered your head, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth. The sensation of his hard length filling you, the taste of him on your tongue, was intoxicating, and you let out a soft moan as you began to move, your mouth working him with the same deliberate, teasing pace you had used with your hand.

Lando’s reaction was immediate, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to maintain control. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

Encouraged by his praise, you began to move faster, your tongue swirling around him, flicking against the sensitive underside as you bobbed your head, taking him in as deep as you could. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his muscles tightened and quivered under your touch, his body responding to every flick of your tongue, every suction of your lips.

You placed your hands on the back of his thighs, your fingers digging into his flesh as you pulled him closer, encouraging him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. “Is this what you wanted?” you asked, pulling back just enough to speak, your voice breathy and filled with desire. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Yes,” Lando groaned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His words only spurred you on, and you resumed your pace, your mouth working him with more intensity, more urgency as you brought him closer to the edge. His breathing grew ragged, his moans becoming more frequent, more desperate as he hovered on the brink of release.

But just as you felt him start to tense, his body trembling with the need for release, you pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a teasing smile. Lando let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back as his hands tightened in your hair, the sensation of being so close yet denied driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed out, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with lust as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, that wicked glint in your eyes. “Why did you stop?”

“Two can play that game,” you whispered, your voice filled with playful challenge as you looked up at him, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his thigh. “How does it feel, Lando? To be so close and yet so far?”

Lando’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and raw need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough with desperation, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he was enjoying this, even if it was driving him crazy.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, heated kiss. “Fucking hell, you have no idea what you do to me” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the counter.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the heat in his voice, the raw intensity of his words sending a surge of desire straight to your core. Lando’s lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly so he could press you even closer against the counter, his body flush against yours. You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, tugging lightly as you deepened the kiss, your tongue teasingly flicking against his.

You could feel the tension building between you, the need to be even closer, but you couldn’t resist playing with him just a little more. You nipped at his lower lip, pulling back slightly to murmur against his mouth, “You’re holding back, Lando. What’s wrong? Afraid you can’t handle a little teasing?”

Your words drew a low, frustrated growl from him, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked at you, the playful spark in your gaze only spurring him on. “Oh, I can handle it,” he replied, his voice a rough whisper, full of promise. And with that, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands grabbing you by the waist as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Your laughter echoed through the kitchen as Lando carried you towards the bedroom, his grip on you firm, yet gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The intensity in his eyes sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as you felt the cool air on your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, and before you knew it, you were on the bed, Lando hovering above you, his hands framing your face as he stared down at you with a mixture of love and raw need. The look in his eyes made your breath catch, the reality of the moment crashing over you. This was real. This was happening.

Lando’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, over your hips, before coming to rest on your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them.

But just as Lando was about to move lower, his lips brushing against the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, but carrying a depth of sincerity that made your heart swell.

“I’m sure, Lando,” you whispered, your voice filled with certainty and affection. “I want this. I want you.”

Lando’s eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if making absolutely certain, before he spoke again, his tone gentle but serious. “I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured into anything. This… this means a lot to me. It’s more than just sex for me.”

Your heart melted at his words, the care and concern in his voice making you fall even more for him. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin as you smiled up at him. “I don’t feel pressured at all. I want this just as much as you do, Lando. It means a lot to me too.”

Relief washed over his features, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, filled with all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. “Thank you,” he whispered against your lips, his hands gently caressing your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing warmly against yours.

With that final confirmation, the last of his restraint melted away. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as Lando’s hands roamed your body with a newfound purpose, exploring every inch of you with reverence and need. His lips moved down your neck, to your chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver with anticipation.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the evidence of his desire only fueling your own. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to your touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, the need for him becoming overwhelming as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you moan softly.

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you arched into him, your body aching with the need for release. “I need you.”

Lando let out a low groan at your words, his hands sliding down to your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as he whispered, “I want to make this perfect for you.”

“It already is,” you whispered back, your voice filled with affection as you cupped his face, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss. “Just make love to me, Lando.”

With a soft, almost reverent sigh, Lando pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he slowly, gently, entered you. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and emotion that made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he filled you completely.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you both adjust to the new, intimate connection. The feeling of him inside you, of being so close, so connected, was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it sending waves of pleasure and emotion crashing over you.

He began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a tenderness that took your breath away. Every movement, every touch was filled with love, with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with affection for him.

You could feel the tension building again, the pleasure mounting with every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours. Lando’s hands roamed your body, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, as he whispered sweet, breathless praises in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with love and desire. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Lando,” you gasped, your voice trembling with emotion as you clutched at him, your body moving in sync with his. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the raw truth of your feelings finally breaking free. Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, his movements slowing for a moment as he stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. The words hung in the air between you, a promise, a declaration that made your heart swell with happiness.

With those words still echoing in the air, Lando’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you held onto him, your body trembling with the need for release.

Lando’s breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough and filled with desperation as he whispered, “Come for me, love. I want to feel you.”

His words, the way he moved inside you with such passion and tenderness, was enough to send you over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your breathless moans filling the room as you came undone in his arms.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the way you cried out his name in pure ecstasy, was enough to push Lando over the edge with you. With a few more deep, urgent thrusts, he followed you into bliss, his body trembling as he found his release, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing of two people who had just found something they had both been longing for. Lando collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You held him close, your fingers running through his hair as you both came down from the high, your bodies still entwined, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“I love you,” Lando whispered again, his voice soft and filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your heart swelling with happiness as you held him close, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the warmth of his body against yours, the contentment that filled you both as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of the most intense, passionate, and loving moment you had ever shared.

Masterlist | Promptlist (requests are still open)

[conundrumoftime]

My Haladriel fics

I haven't grouped all these together before, so here's a collection of all the complete Haladriel fics I've written so far since October '22. Cannot believe it's been almost two years!

(Some of these fics also feature Celeborn/Galadriel, Celeborn/Sauron or all of them together, because I like a) Celeborn b) multishipping and c) mess. I'll make it clear here which stories those are, so if Celeborn is not your guy or if multishipping confuses or distresses you then that's! fine! just please don't read those ones and then be weird to me about it in the comments.)

Multi-chapter fics

Shadow-Bride (E, 265k words): This is my long long longfic, started in December of '22 and now complete after 43 chapters. Canon-divergence from the middle of s1.

Banquets have burned for you (M, 24k words): Written for eastwynds for the spring '23 Haladriel fic exchange, where the prompt was "one thing happens differently on Númenor, and everything changes." Went heavy on the Greek tragedy influence for this one because it felt fitting for Númenor.

A man is a god in ruins (E, 21k words): At the time this was the longest story I'd ever written and the first multi-chapter story I'd finished since the LiveJournal days. How things change! Canon-divergence from the very end of s1; what if Halbrand decided to leave Eregion before Galadriel got suspicious?

All the kinds of alive you can be (E, 13k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel, also Celeborn/Sauron/Galadriel): so loads of us have written "what if Sauron shapechanged into Celeborn to seduce Galadriel"; this is "what if Sauron shapechanged into Galadriel to seduce Celeborn, because he's furious with her and obsessed with her and sort of wants to be her all at the same time"?

So Wide a Sea (E, 6k words, also Galadriel/Celeborn): After Sauron's final defeat in the War of the Ring Galadriel remembers a long-ago day on Númenor.

One-shot fics

Five times Halbrand's secret got revealed (T, 6000 words): the first Haladriel fic I ever wrote, of five scenarios of Galadriel learning his name. 'Shadow-Bride' is a continuation of one of these five; 'A man is a god in ruins' is the '...and one time it didn't.'

Tar-Mairon of the Shire (G, 3000 words): entire fix-it fluff, probably more '&' than '/', Hobbits make everything better including Dark Lords.

Tempered (M, 3600 words): written for @thecoziestbean for the spring '24 Haladriel fic exchange.

And white winter, on its knees (M, 1800 words): written for the Haladriel Winter Solstice '23, a what-if Galadriel said yes to Sauron's offer story.

Weakened like Achilles, with you always at my heels (M, 4000 words): written for Haladriel Week '24. A little moment after the Tirharad battle and before the volcano.

I have loved flowers that fade (M, 1700 words): they deserved to have at least one nice time in Eregion before she found out who he was!

Weighed Against Our Future (T, 1800 words): A delirious (or is he?) Halbrand on the road to Eregion.

Shine (T, 3300 words) and its sequel Lady of the Seas (E, 3700 words): Halbrand makes Galadriel's armour on Númenor.

Silver Queen (M, 3600 words): my first 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' story, sort of a Haladriel fic and sort of a fix-it for Celebrían.

Civil Twilight (M, 10k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel): for Haladriel Week '23. A 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' and 'what if Galadriel finds her missing husband?' story combined.

The turn of the tide (T, 1700 words): For Haladriel Week '23. In the Fourth Age after travelling back to Valinor, Galadriel still feels called to the sea.

Though I sang in my chains like the sea (T, 3000 words): For Haladriel Week '23. They were on that ep2 raft for a while; so this is a gapfiller of them getting to know each other better. Or not.

Blood Sugar (M, 7000 words): the only time I've ever done a modern AU, and even then it doesn't really count because he's still literal Sauron in it. Anyway: Glasgow, professional disillusionment, and difficult relationships with your history.

Ficlets under 1000 words

You built a nest inside my soul, you rest your head on leaves of gold (M, 800 words); Numenor alleyway smut.

How shall summer's honey breath hold out (M, 600 words): and why shouldn't Galadriel get to command an army and have a nice time with the enemy general while heavily pregnant.

Gilded (G, 550 words): another 'what if she said yes on the raft' fic

Not for all my little words (T, 775 words) s1 ep8, Elrond-POV on Galadriel and her weird new friend in Eregion.

Miscellaneous fics:

Half-Maia Celebrían short fics: Suo Gân (G, 1000 words), Arda Sahta (G, 1100 words), As Little Might Be Thought (T, 2600 words). All these are Galadriel/Celeborn (and the last one is also Celebrían/Elrond) and Sauron isn't really in them, but they're all about the impact of that being his child.

To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark (T, 1700 words) - another 'what if Sauron impersonates Galadriel?' fic, this time featuring baby half-Maia Amroth.

Silmarillion rather than TROP: As certain dark things are loved (M, 8000 words, also Galadriel/Celeborn, also Galadriel/Celeborn/Sauron), for @softlighter for the Sufficiently Advanced '24 exchange. Annatar in 2nd Age Ost-in-Edhil.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Epilogue

As summer fades, the ghouls settle in further. New friends and relationships blossom, and a new band performs their first ritual in the local village.

Rating: M Content: possessive behavior Words: 4812

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Not bad for a fic that was meant to be 5 chapters and about 15k words… this was supposed to be a quick little fic that I wrote before moving on to write the longer soulmates AU I’ve been planning since around March! 

As I think I've mentioned, this isn't the end! This was always supposed to be a Raindrop fic, and so Swissalps's story will be continued in a sequel. I'll be dropping the first chapter shortly, and I have a special invitation for it if anyone wants that in their ask box! message me or reply if you'd be interested?

I can't let myself get too sappy here or it'll end up longer than the chapter itself. But thank you to everyone who's been so lovely about this fic in replies or reblogs (especially looking at @everybodyshusband @cosmicseafoam @jazz-bazz @0-miles-away @papaslittlesunshine @ligovskaya @midnight-moth @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan and anyone who's AO3 username I haven't correlated to a tumblr blog yet!), I wouldn't have stuck with this so long without you guys 🖤🖤

Read below, or on AO3!

The weeks passed, the summer fading further every day. With the final harvests nearly all brought in and the trees painting themselves in a hundred shades of amber and gold, autumn was finally upon the Abbey. No amount of dulling of the colours of nature could dull the passion of Rain and Dew’s relationship however, even as they found themselves slipping into a routine. For the Abbey’s fire ghouls, it was all hands on deck to help keep the grain dry, yet amidst his busy schedule Dew still found ample time to luxuriate in him and his pack’s safe and comfortable new home. Most importantly though, he thought, he had time to spend with his m– Rain.  

Dew had to stop himself for the thousandth time from thinking of Rain as his mate. To him, the rituals were practically complete. Having passed on his amulet, he had opened his heart and shared his soul. For Rain though, he knew they were only at the end of the first step of the many that comprised a water ghoul's courting ritual. They had many months left before Rain would have completed his side of the tradition; the next step being gifts that were less about being pretty, and more practical gifts for their future together. Dew had no way of knowing that Rain was already hard at work on that front; taking advice from his new pod of water ghouls on the best kinds of kelp to harvest from the lake here, and the weaving patterns that would create the softest possible blankets from it. Dew was happy to wait for Rain however; even if it took millennia, he would wait for him. 

As the weeks passed for Dew and Rain and their relationship grew both deeper and stronger, Swiss and Mountain continued to dance around each other, both backing out of making the final move at the last second. Their friendship had never been stronger, and with that came the higher pressure of what was a stake if their feelings were not reciprocated. 

Aether could see straight through their – at times – comedically oblivious behaviour. He had known Mountain for so many years now, and Swiss a great number too, that he could decipher the thoughts running through their heads just like reading a book. Seeing his pack couple off like they were doing could have made him feel lonely and jealous, he supposed. Considering his thoughts however, he couldn't find a scrap of negativity towards any of them. Really, he was just happy to see his pack happy.  

He had a fulfilling life; a pack, new friends around the Abbey. Aether had always said that he was happy alone, with no desire to settle with a mate. Admittedly, Mountain had said something similar when they first met, but Swiss seemed to have been an exception there. Over the recent weeks since Cumulus had properly introduced them, Aether had especially been enjoying getting to know Cowbell. The quiet ghoul's steady, timeless attitude felt grounding amongst the recent chaos of his life, and Aether could tell they seemed as delighted to have made a new friend as he was. 

Aether’s role in the infirmary was also going better than he could have expected. Astra had quickly seen how unnecessary any training she could offer him would be, and had set him up mentoring some of the younger quintessence ghouls. To his mild amusement, he had gained a small gaggle of quintessence ghouls who followed him around the infirmary like little ducklings, hanging on his every word and keen to lap up every scrap of knowledge he imparted. Aether found he enjoyed that side of his new role more than he had expected, and looked forward to teaching the younger ghouls each shift. 

With the Harvest Festival quickly approaching, one of the main tasks of the infirmary ghouls had been to prepare a supply of tinctures and remedies for the ghouls and siblings alike who would inevitably indulge a little too heavily in the Abbey’s famous blackberry wine. Due to his extensive knowledge of medicinal plants and herbs, Astra had delegated the task of organising this to Aether, who had grasped the extra responsibilities firmly. 

Before the festival however, came the one thing that was more exciting to the pack; Swiss, and Copia’s first musical engagement in the local tavern. Sunshine and Mountain were also heavily occupied now in rehearsals for it, the three ghouls – and one human – doing an excellent job of hiding their nerves from the rest of the pack. 

The pack was something else that had grown stronger at the Abbey, thought Aether. It hadn’t taken long for the five ghouls to begin to see the ghoulettes they lived their lives in such proximity to as more than just casual friends. Dew had clearly seen them as family long before the others had, but within the span of time they had been here the other ghouls also came to see them as an interwoven part of their lives. 

The ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus in particular, had been referring to the new ghouls as pack, long before they were aware of it. The Den had become so much more crowded and noisier since they arrived, but none of the ghoulettes would change it for the world. The Abbey could feel large and lonely at times, and the constant presence of at least one member of the newly extended pack made everything feel cosier.  

Indeed, the concert – Aether still found calling it a “Ritual” to be laughable, although he would be happy to be proved wrong – was to be their first true pack adventure. The nine ghouls, plus Cowbell, Copia and several Siblings of Sin, were all planning to make the journey down the hill to support their leader’s latest passion project. Cowbell had offered to drive them in the large horse and cart usually used for their monthly grocery runs to the village, and as such the event was developing quite a party-like atmosphere. 

Even amongst the ghouls not attending, most either too busy or incapable of holding an adequate glamour, the day held excitement and novelty. There was a general buzz in the air throughout the Abbey, and it was riding this high that inspired most of the ghouls to finalise their remaining chores before the harvest festival the following day. 

One ghoul in particular who seemed to be buoyed along by the jubilant environment was a young, dark-haired fire ghoul. He was comparatively new to the Abbey, arriving some years after Dew left. Swiss was hurrying back to the Den, bringing armfuls of freshly-washed clothes from the laundry when the fire ghoul strode up to him with a self-assured, almost cocky, grin. 

“Good luck for tonight,” he purred in a low voice like treacle, reaching out a muscular arm to lay a hand on Swiss’ own bicep, “I’ll be at the festival tomorrow, if you want to get a celebratory drink together?” 

Swiss stood confused: he couldn’t remember ever speaking to this ghoul before, and certainly not in a way that would cause him to be so familiar with him. He hoisted the pile of clothes further into his arms, trying to think of a polite was to ask who he was exactly. 

“I, um…” Swiss trailed off, distracted by a low noise ringing in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge it but to no avail: if anything, it seemed to be getting louder. A dark and earthy scent suddenly assaulted his senses, and he wondered if he was falling ill, or if he had been cursed or something. It seemed the fire ghoul could feel it too though, as Swiss saw the colour drain from his face, rendering his tanned, olive skin an ashy grey. His terrified eyes were fixed on a point above and behind Swiss, and he stood frozen like a deer caught in a ranger's torchlight. Swiss cautiously turned around, half expecting to see some kind of nether-worldly monster oozing out of the wall. 

All he saw was Mountain however, stood tall and stony-faced with a dark aura emanating from him. The added height of his antler-like horns meant he cut an imposing figure. His lip curled into a snarl as he growled again, and a new wave of that woodsy, almost possessive scent washed over Swiss. As much as it seemed to be scaring the fire ghoul, Swiss thought it smelled divine. He smiled at Mountain with a questioning head-tilt, wondering where this strange behaviour was coming from so suddenly. The Earth ghoul’s eyes were fixed on the fire ghoul however, who managed to unfreeze for long enough to stutter out a disjointed sentence. 

“I’m sorry!” He looked like he was staring straight into the face of death himself. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” 

With a jerk of his head, Mountain dismissed him, sending the terrified fire ghoul scuttling down the hallway as fast as he could run, his tail between his legs. Once he was out of sight, Mountain seemed to calm down. His expression softened, and the air around him seemed lighter again.  

“What was all that about?” Swiss asked, confused by the earth ghoul’s sudden black mood, and the even more sudden departure of the unknown fire ghoul.  

Mountain muttered something Swiss didn’t catch and started relieving him of the large bundle of black clothes in his arms. Swiss trailed back to the Den beside him, still utterly confused by the interaction that had just taken place. 

“Was I meant to know who that was?” He mused aloud. “He acted so familiar, yet I can’t remember him from anywhere!” 

Mountain almost dropped the clothes, as he doubled over and snorted with laughter, previous aggressive attitude long behind him now that he had the multi ghoul to himself again. Was Swiss seriously that clueless about the fire ghoul’s unsubtle actions? Ever since he’d known him, Swiss had been taking advantage of the humans’ proclivity for flirting with him, often reciprocating if he thought it would secure him more work, or tips and favours. He couldn’t think what would have changed now to make him so oblivious, unless it was simply that it was another ghoul, rather than a human? 

“He was clearly flirting with you, Snapdragon!” Mountain guffawed in disbelief. “Could you really not tell?” 

Swiss’s quizzical expression suggested that no, he had not been aware of that. Adding to his confusion was Mountain’s reaction: he seemed to be finding the fire ghoul’s actions funny now, but what had the growling and – he realised what it was now – scenting been about? The bounce in the taller ghoul’s gait could only be described as victorious, and he chose to file all the hope about why that could be away until after their performance tonight. That wasn’t a distraction he would allow himself today, not when Copia was relying on him. 

Swiss had a suspicion however – one he kept to himself – about why he hadn’t grasped what the fire ghoul was really suggesting, and it had everything to do with the earth ghoul trotting slightly ahead of him. He was self-aware enough to know his feelings for Mountain bordered on infatuation, and he figured that now he had become used to the intensity of those feelings that he had forgotten what anything smaller felt like. The thrill of attraction, or of a newly developing crush felt so insignificant now that they were dwarfed by the magnitude of his feelings for the earth ghoul. He only had eyes for Mountain, and the thought of anyone else thinking they stood a chance in the battle for his heart was laughable to him. Hastening his steps to catch up with Mountain, Swiss fell into step with him to revel in being by his side once again. 

Reaching the Den just before they did was an excitable Dewdrop. He burst through the main door, and then into the room he shared with Rain, brandishing a dull metal object. 

“Look!” He exclaimed to a slightly startled Rain lounging in their nest. “A horseshoe!”  

Rain could see that, although what he couldn’t see was why Dew was quite so excited about such a mundane object. He smiled at him with a questioning tilt of his head and waited for Dew to elaborate. 

“The humans do something with them at weddings,” Dew explained as he joined Rain on the bed, still clutching the curved iron shape, “something about them catching luck? I thought we could hang it on our door!” 

He held it out for Rain to examine, demonstrating how it could look like a vessel for capturing luck when held in a U-shape. Rain took it from him, and it really was just a regular horseshoe: slightly rusted and worn down from use. More interesting than the horseshoe though, Rain realised that this was the first time Dew had ever brought back something to keep for himself. He let Dew chatter on about needing to find a hammer and some nails, if they should think about painting their door before or after mounting the horseshoe, and what colour Rain would like if so, would he like teal? Rain nodded along, only half his mind on the conversation. The other half was preoccupied celebrating this relatively large step for Dewdrop; this was yet more proof that he was finally starting to settle properly and relax, putting down roots for himself and Rain, finally feeling a sense of permanence. 

“I got it when I went to see Cowbell just now,” Dew elaborated, “to check if they’re all ready to drive the cart down to the village tonight. They were just reshoeing the mare we brought with us from the village, so that means this shoe played a part in getting us out of there! It really is lucky!” 

Rain melted further. It was becoming increasingly apparent that deep down Dew had the potential to be an incredibly sentimental ghoul, and he couldn't wait to see how that continued. 

“It seems to be working so far then,” Rain murmured, holding it up, “I've had nothing but luck since you came back for me.” 

With that, he leaned in to steal a kiss; both the horseshoe and all talk of home décor soon being forgotten. 

The day seemed both to drag and pass all too quickly at the same time. Before they knew it, Swiss, Mountain and Sunshine were all dressed, and carefully buffing the metal masks that were a part of their outfits one final time. Copia had decided they added a nice touch to their costumes; the shining horns hinting at their ghoulish nature without actually revealing it. The whole Den was alive with excitement and nerves, the fervour growing as the light outside began to fade. 

Walking out to the front courtyard to meet Cowbell with the cart, Swiss proudly led the way with his guitar strapped to his back. This felt familiar, and more importantly it felt right; doubly so with Mountain by his side. Cowbell was leaned against the wooden trailer, as human-looking as anyone could remember ever seeing them before. They were smiling softly, although slightly apprehensively, as the pack approached. Behind the pack followed the Siblings of Sin, who had initially been keen for an evening out but now seemed to be regretting their decision. Swiss could smell the waves of alarm pouring off them as they got closer, none of them used to interacting with the ancient ghoul who lived in the stables. 

“Good evening, dear ghoul!”  

Copia greeted Cowbell as he bustled forward and hoisted himself up next to them at the front of the cart. The rest of them would be travelling in the back, even though none of them were particularly keen to be sharing the space. They had no choice however, and the Siblings dutifully lined up behind the crush of ghouls that were piling in and jostling for space on the narrow wooden benches. Rain and Dew happily squeezed themselves into a corner, and Swiss settled himself into another; Mountain willingly joining him and shuffling closer until their thighs were pressed tight against each other. There was eventually space made for everyone and with a jolt, the cart set off. The sudden motion and continued bumping along the cobbles of the courtyard threw Mountain even closer into Swiss. Even once they were onto the smoother path into the village, he remained plastered along Swiss’ side as the countryside flew by.  

It really was a beautiful evening, Swiss though as he glanced out at the trees and fields around them. The orange sunset cast its glow over everything, making the whole world look like it was on fire. Most vibrant of all however was Mountain; his auburn hair glowing in the light like it was itself aflame. With his large horns glamoured away, the russet glow was all that served to make him appear as otherworldly as he did. Swiss thought that the whole world around them could truly be on fire, and he would be happy to sit and burn if only to stare at Mountain for a second longer.  

They continued rattling down the hill towards the village, and Swiss felt a pang of longing when he spotted Dew with his head leaning on Rain’s chest; held against his front by the water ghoul's long arms. He wished he could be so casually affectionate with mountain, but he dared not. He wouldn’t allow himself to dream that until he had first concluded the hard part – making sure they really were both on the same page. He didn’t deserve such a reward without the prior work, he thought.  

All too soon they were slowing to a stop outside a wide stone building that was emitting a narrow stream of smoke from its chimney: the village tavern. The Siblings practically fell out of the cart, their instincts screaming at them to put some distance between themselves and the ghouls. 

“Go, my Children, enjoy yourselves!” Copia laughed as they threw themselves towards the tavern door. 

The ghouls were only slightly more restrained as they clambered down and spilled into the building. Cowbell made no move to follow the others inside, instead staying next to the pair of horses, stroking one's nose. Aether paused, looking back at them. 

“You aren't coming in?” he asked, worried that the ghoul didn’t realise that they were welcome in too. Cowbell shook their head. They didn’t like crowds, especially human ones, as the noise and bustle were too much for their deeply ancient mind to handle. Despite that, the biggest thing stopping them now however was their appearance: Cowbell gestured to their feet, where Aether saw that their hooves were very much still visible. 

“My glamour’s incomplete,” they shrugged, “’m out of practice. It’s been centuries since I last used it.” 

One day, Aether thought, he would ask Cowbell just how old they really were. He suspected it was millennia. 

“Go inside with the others,” Cowbell smiled a wonky smile, “I’ll be happier listening out here anyway. Besides, I have company.” They stroked the second horse. Reluctantly, Aether followed after the rest of the rabble he called pack, throwing a final look back at Cowbell. They were muttering something in the horse’s ear while continuing to pet them. It sounded to Aether like they were speaking Infernal, a language only spoken in the pit, or so he thought. The horse didn’t seem perturbed though, and she whinnied happily at the attention. 

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was jovial already. The large room was dimly lit, wood-panelled walls and supporting columns all stained dark with years of fire and tobacco smoke. Scattered across the panelling were a patchwork of lighter sections from recent and less-recent repairs. The only lighting came from lanterns that lined the walls and hung directly from the vaulted ceiling, as well as a small number of candles dotted on tables that lent a cosy and friendly air to the place.  

Better lit however, was the makeshift stage against the wall. It was slightly raised, simply built from a few wooden planks resting on crates, but it did the job. On the other side was the bar, its countertop polished as smooth as glass from generations of patrons leaning on it. Along its length were a line of stools with faded fabric covers, and the remaining floor space was filled with a hodgepodge of tables and chairs, scattering in increasingly private settings ranging from the centre of the room to corners almost entirely shrouded in darkness. 

Leaping lightly onto the stage, Copia looked resplendent in his robes, with his face painted black and white in the mimicry of a skull. Swiss thought he cut an imposing figure, when he wasn’t turning around to look at his ghouls with nerve-tinged excitement at least. The man stretched his arms out wide, the candlelight flickering off his bedazzled chasuble and truly making him look like the head of the dark church. 

Before long, the tables began to fill up with locals, intrigued by the talk of visiting musicians from the mysterious Abbey up at the top of the hill. Rain, Dew and the other ghouls not performing settled themselves at the table nearest the stage, Dew looking particularly excited and practically bouncing in his seat beside Rain. Swiss didn’t know what had overtaken him recently, but he seemed so much lighter and carefree now. He assumed it was Rain. The bustling crowd completely filled the tavern as the four musicians took their places on stage. Swiss caught Mountain’s eye once he was settled on the box he used as percussion. He saw the twin green flashes of his eyes behind his mask wink at him, silently wishing him luck. Swiss beamed back at him, his teeth glinting in the firelight through the bottom of his mask. With a final tune of his guitar, and another smile at Sunny, Swiss nodded to Copia and the man addressed the crowd. 

The ritual passed in a blur, and before Swiss knew it, they were leaving the stage to rapturous applause and cheers. As he stepped down onto the solid floor, Swiss had a large beer thrust into his hands by a grinning stranger. The jubilant atmosphere continued as the night wore on, the ghouls and their Papa swept up with the crowd, never finding their tankards dry. Even the ghouls who had not been performing seemed to be having fun, spending the local money Copia had given them to allow them to fit in and enjoy the night. The man himself was circling through the crowd, inviting anyone and everyone to the Abbey’s harvest festival the following night. His plan to spread their message was going better than any one of them could have imagined, and he had gained the interest of several curious village members.  

The noise and ruckus were proving too much for Aether however, and after a while of watching Dew and Swiss race each other to down their pints, he grabbed a pair of tankards and slipped out the door. Another musician had taken the stage, an accordion player, and Aether found Cowbell tapping along to the beat on the frame and iron wheels of the cart with two sticks like it was a drum kit. Aether chuckled as he approached. 

“Copia ought to make the band all wear floor-length robes, then you could join them!” 

Cowbell looked slightly sheepish at being caught, but their forked tongue slipped out as they smiled anyway. They joined Aether where he perched on some crates and accepted one of the beers gratefully. Apart from the rhythmic sound of one foot and one hoof tapping on the ground, they sat in a comfortable silence; two friends enjoying each other’s quiet, unhurried company. 

Back inside, Swiss could feel every drop of alcohol going to his head, and he thought Mountain must be feeling it too. The night was blurring together into a busy cacophony of singing, cheering and laughing. The one thing he could feel coherently was the constant, grounding pressure of Mountain’s hands on him. The earth ghoul had slunk across the tavern to join him, then barely let him go all evening, always keeping a hold of his waist or hip, or letting their shoulders press against each other. If their tails weren’t safely hidden away, Swiss had the feeling that they too would be braided together.  

In his fuzzy mental state, he wasn’t entirely sure what could have brought such behaviour on. The almost possessive twinge to it, like Mountain was trying to ward the humans off, was making his him feel even more floaty than the alcohol. Running on a high from the successful performance, Swiss couldn’t find the mental energy to really care about why Mountain was suddenly glued to him, he only cared that he was. He saw Rain and Dew similarly pressed together, and his inebriated mind let him convince himself that they could be the same, if just for tonight. 

Whoever was on stage currently seemed to know the audience well and was gradually convincing more and more of the tavern’s patrons to dance to the jig he played. The humans pressing close, swirling and stamping to the beat, swept the ghouls up in their fervour. Swiss soon found himself pressed closer to Mountain, dancing partners even without indenting to be, the pair clutching each other's arms for balance as they ebbed and flowed with the tide of the crowd. 

As the dance ended, Swiss fell against Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul held him close while they both caught their breath and laughed at the exhilaration. For a while, they held each other and swayed to a slow dance only they could hear. Hearts beating in sync, Swiss looked up at Mountain to see him already staring down at him. His peridot eyes were at the centre of his vision, the only thing Swiss could focus on. They seemed to grow and expand to fill his field of view, and Swiss only realised that this was because they were getting closer together when the twin points of light blurred out of focus.  

Swiss’s eyes fluttered shut, and with his vision gone all his other senses heightened in response. He could feel Mountain’s breath against his face and could smell the sour note of beer in it, although he didn’t find that as off-putting as he supposed he should as he stretched up on his tiptoes to bring them closer still. Swiss felt rather than heard Mountain’s final sigh against him, before the soft yet insistent press of Mountain’s lips to his shook him like an earthquake. With all their prior hesitancy washed away by the free-flowing liquor, Swiss pressed back instinctually, throwing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and holding on like his life depended on it.  

Time meant nothing to the pair as they ignored the general ruckus of the crowd around them, and the chorus of whoops and cheers that Dew was leading. It was like all the background noise had faded away leaving only them stood in a world of their own. Before long, although it was really several hours at this point, Copia was desperately trying to shepherd his sleepy, tipsy ghouls and the Siblings into the cart to head back to the Abbey. They had a busy day tomorrow, he reminded them, as he had promised all the villagers that their little band would be performing at the harvest festival too.  

Slowly, they all stumbled out into the brisk night where Aether and Cowbell were waiting, three sheets to the wind themselves. Swiss and Mountain had managed to make it over the threshold of the tavern without separating, but getting into the cart proved more difficult. Breathing their own air for the first time in a while, they unsteadily clambered into the trailer, cramming themselves into a corner to continue where they left off, despite the jeers from the ghouls around them. 

“Even we're not that bad!” Swiss thought he heard Dew crow from somewhere behind him. 

Eventually, they had made the short trip back up the hill and were all bumbling back into the Abbey, still drunk off free beer and good energy. Kiss broken, Swiss continued to hold Mountain's hand as he pulled them into the Den and their room. He kicked his boots off, uncaring where they landed as they tumbled into bed, still giggly and touchy but both too tired to do any more than that.  

“Today was fun.” Swiss purred sleepily, as he wriggled in Mountain's arms. The earth ghoul was almost asleep already as he hummed in affirmation. Quickly, they fell into a deep, contented sleep. They could think about what the events of tonight meant for them in the morning. 

To be continued... 

[graveilexxy]

[misctf]

Reversal Agents II: Going Back

Hey! I felt like making a sequel to the The Reversal Agents. Similar concept, similar characters, but instead with an inanimate tf focus. Hope you enjoy and please dm with any story requests!

“Wh-where am I?”

It was so bright. He could make out blurry shadows- people shuffling around him. He could hear voices.

“He’s awake!”

“Sir, can you tell us your name?”

It was all so much. The hard floor on his back. The blinding lights shining in his face. He moved his arm and looked at his hand. His hand? He stared at it, slowly moving his fingers. It felt foreign to him. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, so he lowered his arm and continued to look around.

“Sir, can you tell us your name?” The voice was more forceful now.

“Tim Hoffer.” He whispered. It was hard to talk. His mouth was dry, “Where... where...” It was getting hard to talk again. And he couldn’t feel his fingers.

“His form isn’t stable!” Someone shouted.

“Stabilizers! Stat!”

Tim could feel someone press something onto his chest and he felt dizzy. The world around him spun and he fell unconscious. From the viewing room, Detective Hart and Detective Philips watched the scene unfold. Hart frowned and turned to the senior detective.

“Stabilizers?” He asked, “Why...”

“Some transformations linger.” Philips interjected, “Especially these inanimate ones for whatever reason. We often use these to prevent reversions.” They watched Tim closely, “Usually the stabilizers come off sooner rather than later. We just follow-up with them closely.”

“Poor kid.” Hart commented.

Philips chuckled, “Could you imagine? Six months as a pair of underwear?”

“Show some sympathy. It’s not funny.” Hart replied, earning him a curious look from his superior.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Philips replied. He took a deep breath, “Come on, we’ll let the professionals handle this. I want to go home and that paperwork won’t finish itself.”

_____________________

It still felt strange. The warmth of his own skin. Moving his arms and legs. Talking. He shuddered. The memories were still somewhat hazy. There was a baseball game. Against their university’s main rival. Big game, huge crowd. His girlfriend cheering him on. He stepped up to bat. Hit the game winning homerun. It was incredible- the memory caused him to smile. But afterwards, it got hazy. He stayed behind to talk to coach- everyone else left. After their talk, he started heading back to his dorm to meet his girlfriend. There was a huge party planned. But he was jumped by Tyler, the rival team’s catcher. He pulled out what looked like a gun... and then...

“Tim?”  

Tim looked away from the window and in the direction of Detective Hart. He sighed. It had been a few weeks since his reversal. And the Department of Affairs Related to Transformation set up several follow-up sessions for him to talk things through. Hart, for his part, enjoyed this part of the job. He could do more to help the victims of forced transformations.

“Sorry, just a bit distracted.” Tim replied.

Hart raised an eyebrow, “I know it’s been a tough few weeks. Getting back into your normal routine...”

“It’s not just that.” He sighed, “I... Sometimes...” He looked away, “It’s nothing.”

Hart looked at him quizzically. But Tim maintained his poker face. How could he tell Hart that he sometimes missed his time as a pair of underwear? Yeah, it was terrifying at first. He hated it. He hated how his face was pressed against his tormentor’s cock. How his body was stretched across his massive muscular ass. The protein farts, the sweat, the days his captor jerked off into him. But as he lost track of the days, it became easier to accept that he was just underwear. No worries, no thoughts, just unwashed and used.

“It’s okay.” Hart replied, “We’ll continue to work through this. And remember, if you ever need me, you can call.”

_____________________

If there was anything Tim continued to enjoy, it was going to the gym. And with college starting again soon and the baseball season, he wanted to stay in shape. Today was leg day and he was trying his best to focus on his squats. As he looked up after finishing a set though, he couldn’t help but stare at the man bench pressing in the corner. Or more specifically, the bulge in his tight gym shorts. The man was around his age and built. His shirt drenched in sweat. When he saw Tim looking at him, he flashed him a smile. Tim blushed and went back to his squats.

‘God damn it.’ He thought, ‘Why does this keep happening?’

Following his transformation, it seemed that he developed a sexual preference for men. A week after his transformation was reversed, he attempted to reconnect with his girlfriend. But when their date night got to the bedroom, it was less than enjoyable for both of them. He couldn’t get hard. Despite years of being together and never having an issue, he just couldn’t. They broke up soon after. But maybe it was a one off thing. He desperately watched the porn vids that always worked for him, and similarly had no such luck. But when he thought about men... particularly, their muscular thighs and their sweaty cocks, he had no issue getting off. Tim jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I’ll be in the last shower stall.” The man said.

Tim nodded and watched as the hunk walked towards the locker room. He felt his heart pound in his chest. It had been so long since he did anything with anyone. And he resisted his urge to actually do anything with a guy. But... it had been so long. Tim entered the locker room and did just what the guy had told him too. He stripped down to nothing and entered the shower stall, finding the other man there, naked.

“I saw you checking me out.” The guy said with a grin.

But Tim didn’t really hear anything. He was focused more on the man’s erect cock. Tim was soon on his knees, his hands feeling the man’s thighs and ass. All the while, the man was rubbing his cock against Tim’s face.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” The man said, “Come on, you fucking slut.”

A part of Tim felt horrified. He felt dirty and wrong. A few months ago, he would’ve never done something like this. Never. But as he licked along the man’s shaft, tasting the glistening sweat, he shuddered with pleasure. It was so familiar, so right. He slowly swallowed the man’s cock, wrapping his arms around the man’s muscular ass. This felt right. This was right. He bobbed up and down on the man’s cock, causing him to moan. Yeah, just an object. Just to be used. He felt the man’s cock start to throb and he knew what was coming. And as the man came down his throat, Tim was filled with pleasure- it was so familiar. It reminded him of all the days his captor would cum on his fabric face. But that feeling soon dissipated and the weight of what he just did hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck...” The man sighed, “You wanna exchange...”

But Tim had fled. He quickly got back into his clothes and headed towards the locker room exit. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes- this wasn’t right, this was wrong. He wasn’t...

“Tim?” Tim’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. Detective Hart was looking at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight underwear, “Hey, are you...?”

But again, Tim didn’t really hear anything he was saying. Instead, he was focused on the bulge in Hart’s underwear. He knew Hart was on the younger side, maybe a few years out of college, but he never saw him nearly naked. His muscles were lean. His ass firm. His underwear... Tim felt jealous of it... And he felt a strange affection for the detective.

“Tim?”

“I-I’ll see you later!” Tim said, fleeing from the locker room.

_____________________

Tim was lying in his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock. Ever since returning from the gym, he couldn’t get the image of Hart out of his head. But even more, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the underwear tightly wrapped around his cock. Tim cursed and ran a hand through his hair. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he miss being used underwear? He moaned when he thought about the first night Tyler jerked off into him. Tyler had pawed at his cock through Tim’s fabric face. At first he hated it, but night after night, multiple times per day, he anticipated it. Felt excited. It was his purpose.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered. He stared at the stabilizer on his chest and sighed, “No.” He whispered. He grabbed his phone and called Detective Hart. He needed to talk with him, “Hey, can I come talk to you? I know it’s real late, but I really need to... Yes... thank you so much, I’ll be right over.”

When Tim arrived at Hart’s apartment, he was sweating and his heart was pounding. Hart greeted him and the two men were sitting on the sectional in the living room. Hart was looking at him, worry in his eyes.

“So you wanted to talk?” Hart asked.

“I... I’m having a hard time.” Tim whispered, “I sometimes miss it. I miss being underwear.” Tim felt a weight leave him as he admitted his truth, “Ever since the transformation reversed, I just...”

“This isn’t uncommon.” Hart replied, “And I want you to know its normal.” He reassured, “I’ve been learning a lot about inanimate transformations, especially cases similar to yours. It usually takes a bit, but things will start to normalize more as time goes on.”

Tim nodded, feeling comforted by Hart’s words, “I... that does make me feel better.” He whispered. He sighed, “I need to splash some water on my face.”

Tim stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. Maybe... maybe everything would be okay. He just needed to stay strong. He could go back to his life... maybe rekindle with his girlfriend. Life would be okay.

But then he saw it. Thrown and discarded in the corner of the bathroom was a pair of Hart’s underwear. Tim felt his heart pounding as he bent over and picked it up. The smell was intoxicating. Sweaty, manly musk filled his nostrils. The fabric in his hand was so soft. He shuddered and looked at himself in the mirror. There he was. Tim Hoffer. College baseball jock. Business Administration major. Good grades, attractive, smart. There he was- ravenously rubbing his face in another man’s underwear. He frowned as he removed his shirt and stared at the stabilizer on his chest. And without another thought, he pulled it off.

_____________________

“Hey Tim, are you okay?” Hart knocked on the bathroom door. It had been a little bit of time, and he grew concerned. He looked at his phone and sighed. He quickly messaged the guy he was planning to hook-up with that he needed to cancel, “Tim, can I...”

But the door opened and Tim was standing there, completely undressed. Hart’s eyes widened at the sight and he quickly took a step back. And that’s when he noticed it. There was no stabilizer on his chest.

“Tim...?”

He hadn’t expected Tim to close the distance between them so fast. Nor did he expect the passionate kiss that followed. Hart broke away and looked at Tim, who smiled at him. His hand was resting against Hart’s slowly growing erection.

“Tim, you... I...”

Tim smiled and again kissed Hart passionately. And this time, the detective reciprocated. The two continued to make-out passionately, with Hart leading him back to the bedroom. Tim’s eyes were wild as he stripped away Hart’s clothes, revealing the toned muscle he had seen earlier. His tongue quickly roamed along the detective’s abs and he shuddered at the sound of Hart’s moans. And when Tim finally made his way down to Hart’s stiff cock, he licked along the length of the shaft, savoring every moment. He looked up at Hart, who’s eyes were shut tight from the pleasure, his mouth open in a silent moan. Tim sighed. He didn’t have much time left. He could feel it in his body. And so, he quickly took the length of Hart’s cock into his eager mouth.

‘Here it goes...’ He thought, a sense of relief filling him.

And just like that first night, he could feel it. He felt his arms move on their own, wrapping around the back of Hart’s waist. And when his hands came together, they began to fuse. At the same time, he could feel his pecs and abs start to vanish, the air in his lungs being forced out as his body flattened. But all the while, he kept Hart’s cock in his mouth, doing his best to provide pleasure even as his body changed. He grunted as his legs fused together and lose their features. His skin was taking on a white hue. And slowly, his body started to shrink. As it did, he felt what had been his abdomen and legs curve upwards along Hart’s taint and fuse with his clasped hands.

‘I feel... it feels...’ Tim’s mind was filling with pleasure. With anticipation. He could feel Hart’s firm ass fill the tight fabric of his new body, ‘Just underwear... underwear...’

And slowly, he felt his face start to flatten out against the detective’s throbbing cock. His handsome features vanishing and shifting into white fabric. And a few moments later, Hart was alone in the room. His throbbing erection tenting in his new underwear. And the horny detective couldn’t help but wrap his hand around his throbbing member- pressing Tim’s face firmly against his cock. And after a few strokes, he came, filling his new underwear with his seed.

_____________________

When Detective Hart woke up the next morning, he yawned and rubbed his cock through his underwear. But the events of the previous night quickly returned to him. He looked down at his cum stained underwear- Tim- and felt his heart pounding. How could he do this? He was supposed to reverse transformations, not engage in them. He quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was the weekend, so the office shouldn’t be too busy. He could reverse this again. It would be okay. He ran to the office, working up a musky sweat that seeped into Tim’s new form. He tried to ignore how good the soft fabric of Tim’s new body felt against his semi-hard member.

“Come on... come on...” He whispered as he entered his office. He was desperately looking for the key to the reversal chamber.

“Oh Detective Hart, you look a little stressed today.” Hart looked up to see Detective Philips standing at the door to his office, “Tough night?” He gave the detective a knowing look.

“Look, something happened and...”

Philips smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.” He walked over to Hart, “Inanimate transformations... difficult to come back from.” He chuckled, “Sometimes, it awakens their true purpose. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You wouldn’t be a reversal agent if you didn’t, well...” He smirked and rubbed his growing bulge, “It’s hard to come by good quality underwear. We’ll leave it at that.”

Hart watched as Philips left his office, the smirk never leaving his face. The younger detective sighed and stared at the key to the reversal chamber in his hand. And with another sigh, he put it away.

[thealexchen]

thoughts on LIS: Double Exposure?

This is probably gonna be my hottest take in awhile, but: I deeply dislike the idea of an official LiS1 direct sequel game existing. Excluding all my thoughts on the gameplay, story, Max's character, etc. I don't think a game like Double Exposure is necessary.

This isn't a new take either; back in 2020 I made a Reddit post saying I was glad we never got a continuation of Max and Chloe's story, because in order to have a plot, you have to have conflict. And to have conflict means your characters are forced to change or struggle in some way, and I simply wasn't interested in seeing that again. I never even read the comics. As long as Max and Chloe's future existed only in the fanbase's collective imagination and not in an officially licensed game, Pricefield could be as happy as I wanted and I wouldn't have to witness DN or D9's version of canon.

A lot of fans, including myself, are also confused and upset as to where Chloe could be in Double Exposure. Even if Chloe winds up having a surprise role, it would likely be too logistically difficult to write Chloe into one version of the story and not the other. Either way, DE is strongly pointing to Chloe no longer being the deuteragonist. If D9 was going to make a direct sequel with Max and Chloe, I could at least be intrigued by how they might write their dynamic and how they'd use Max's power in new and interesting ways. But instead there's... none of that. Chloe's nowhere to be seen and Max can't time travel anymore.

On a narrative level, Max and Chloe are the heart of the original Life is Strange. They represent the game's central relationship, and their very first interaction (Max saving Chloe's life) kicks off the entire story. Throughout the story, their dynamic advances the plot and mutually motivates their character arcs. You can't have LiS1 without either Max or Chloe; the story simply wouldn't exist without them. Now in DE, they don't even seem to be in each other's lives anymore. It's true, this series is meant to reflect universal feelings and experiences, which could include breakups, but the romantic catharsis of Pricefield as canon soulmates who defied time and space itself to stay together forever is something you can only get from the beauty of fiction. To jab DE's story with a dose of reality and go, "Eh, they grew apart. Shit happens," totally undermines everything the Bae ending stood for.

On a technical level, Max's rewind was an objectively brilliant game mechanic. LiS1 arrived onto the scene after Telltale had paved the way for the resurgence of choice-based, episodic games, but LiS1 totally reinvented the wheel by giving the player the option to go back and weigh each option before continuing, essentially save-scumming in-game. But the right choice was never that easy to determine, and Rewind brilliantly complemented Max's character arc of overcoming her indecision and learning to live with her choices. Not to mention, you could also use Rewind to solve puzzles, instead of the endless fetch quests the later games had. No other LiS game since then has given the player that kind of agency and interactivity. LiS2 had telekinesis, but the player couldn't use it, only Daniel. D9 tried with Backtalk and Empathy, but Max's Rewind was truly the narrative and gameplay jackpot that they haven't been able to recreate since.

So if you take away one half of the central relationship that made the first game so memorable, and the supernatural power/game mechanic that made it so fun to play... why even bring Max back at all? It just feels like D9 threw away their golden opportunity to build upon the major selling points of the first game and are only relying on name recognition of the Life is Strange "brand" and Max Caulfield.

What upsets me most of all about a direct sequel existing is that it proves that Life is Strange, as a series, now stands more for profits than originality. Life is Strange will always be an IP meant to make money for Square, I know that, but back when LiS1 was just a brand new episodic game, it stood out for how different it dared to be. In a landscape saturated with shooters, sexualized female characters, and casual misogyny, LiS1 instead featured a teenage girl in a contemporary setting that took her seriously and made her the hero of her story. Before it was a franchise, LiS wasn't concerned with the bottom dollar; it was a piece of art that just wanted to tell a thoughtful, unique story.

Whether you love it or hate it, Life is Strange 2 was an insanely risky follow-up to Life is Strange that refused to rely on the convenience of a direct sequel because Dontnod stuck to their artistic vision. Meanwhile, all of Deck Nine's games have leaned on the first game's following to generate interest (BtS being a direct prequel, TC bringing back Steph, and Wavelengths expanding on Steph's connection to Chloe, Rachel, and Arcadia Bay). In other words, all of the subsequent LiS games by D9 have played it very, very safe. It's worked like a damn charm because there are still elements I love about each game, but the basic principle is nostalgia-baiting fans. It's just that now, Double Exposure isn't hiding that nostalgia bait at all anymore and prioritizing profits over telling a unique story. It's sad to see that LiS has strayed so far from its risky, daring, original, and unique artistic beginnings.

Before I end, I'll say that I can't be too cynical about it all, nor do I want to be. Because I can't deny how much joy this whole series has brought me, too. LiS was what got me into narrative adventure games and pushed the boundaries of what a video game could be. If nothing else, I am truly thrilled that Hannah Telle got the chance to play Max again. D9's always been great at maintaining relationships with their actors, and the casts of their games always have consistently great chemistry. Getting recognized by Erika Mori on my own blog is still unbelievable and speaks to the amazing community that LiS has built. As you can see, I'm still posting and reblogging stuff about Double Exposure. And while I don't see myself buying or playing this game for myself, I know it'll keep all of us talking for awhile, and I still live for a good discussion.

Thank you for asking! And thank you for reading.

[pickingupmymercedes]

I'd like to believe - Lewis Hamilton

Alternative sequel to Maybe in another life / When I get to meet you

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of mourning, angst, will make you emotional

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Alternative-ish ending (this was actually my first draft to continue their story, so the happy-ish one is the alternative, sort of).

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD TRIGGERING CONTENT UNDER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

My dearest little one,

Today marks ten years since you should have been here, celebrating another year of life. Ten times the snow has fallen, making everything quiet outside.

They say time heals all cuts, but some cuts go real deep, leaving scars that never quite go away. And I still find it hard to believe that a whole decade has passed.

You'd be so grown now, so full of life and curiosity, brimming with questions and dreams. I often wonder what you'd be like – would you have my stubbornness and determination, or your mother's grace and patience?

Maybe a beautiful blend of both, creating someone truly unique.

I’m going to visit your stone again later today. Leave this letter like every year. I suspect there’ll be fresh flowers, as always, probably from your mother.

She never forgets.

We never reconnected, not like I'd hoped for. But I think about her often.

I searched everywhere for her. I just really needed someone to share the pain with, someone to hold onto while everything fell apart. We tried talking, spilling out all our feelings, but the words wouldn't come out right. Maybe we were afraid of saying the wrong thing or making things worse.

Maybe we were both thinking the same thing – maybe if we'd done things differently, maybe you'd still be here.

After a while, the space between us just kept getting bigger, too big to cross. You see, your mom, she found a way to move on. She built a life for herself, a life where the pain was still there, but it didn't control her anymore.

I hope she's found peace and happiness, something she deserved more than anyone. She was an incredible woman, and I wish I had been the man she needed me to be.

I hope she reads these letters someday, that she understands how much I loved you both, how much I regret not being there when you needed me most.

Maybe one day, when the weight of these years starts to feel a little lighter, I can finally forgive myself.

Maybe then, I can find the strength to reach out to her, not to get back together, but to find some peace, a simple way to say thank you for the love we shared and sorry for the loss that tore us apart.

You know, life has changed quite a bit since I last wrote to you.

I'm with someone, have been for the past four years. She's patient, kind and knows about you. I don't think we'll ever have children though. She's got her own ghosts.

I retired from racing. Shortly after I won my eighth championship with Ferrari. It was a dream come true, but also bittersweet because I couldn't share it with you. I work as a consultant for the team now, just like Niki was for me at Mercedes. You’d have loved him.

It's a different kind of thrill, guiding the next generation of racers, helping them navigate the same challenges I once faced, but it drives me forward.

I’d like to believe you’d be proud of your old man for that.

I sometime wonder if you would have been drawn to racing too, or maybe you'd have found your passion in something entirely different. Whatever it might have been, I would have supported you every step of the way and with all my heart.

I think about the things you'd enjoy often; you know?! The hobbies and interests you'd develop.

Maybe you'd love music, like your mother. She had an incredible ear for it, always humming a tune or singing softly to herself. It’s what got us close in the first place so many years ago.

Perhaps you'd have a knack for building things, creating something out of nothing with your hands and imagination.

Either way, I hope you'd have found joy in the simple things, just like I try and do now.

There's so much I wish I could’ve shared with you. So many lessons I've learned the hard way and would to show you. Life isn't always easy, my little one. It's filled with ups and downs, triumphs and failures.

One of the most important things I wish I could’ve taught you is the value of love. Real love, the kind that fills your heart and soul, and is worth every bit of pain and sacrifice.

I had that with your mother, even if I didn't realize it at the time. She saw right through me, saw the man behind the driver, and loved me for who I was. I'd hope you'd find someone like that, someone who understands and loves you unconditionally.

It might hurt sometimes, but that's how you know it's real. Love isn't always easy, but it's the most beautiful thing.

I would want you to know that it's okay to make mistakes though. I made plenty, and each one taught me something valuable. The key is to learn from them, to grow and become a better person. But each moment, whether good or bad, shapes who you are.

I wish I could have been there to guide you through it all, to help you navigate the challenges and celebrate the victories. My motto has been “Still I Rise” for the longest time and if you wanted it could’ve been yours as well.

Life isn't about being perfect; it's about being true to yourself and striving to be the best version of you.

In the quieter moments I still dream about you, you know. In my dreams, you're a whirlwind of energy, your laughter filling the air. We go on adventures, explore the world together. I teach you what I know, and you teach me about everything else.

Those dreams are my sanctuary, a place where we can be together, even if just for a moment.

Sometimes, I catch myself talking to you out loud, as if you were right beside me. I tell you about my day, about the races, about the world. It might sound silly, but it brings me comfort. It's my way of keeping you close, of making sure you're never forgotten.

Even though we never got to meet, you are a part of me, and I carry you in my heart every day.

You are my greatest loss, but also my greatest gift. You've taught me more about love than anything else in this world.

Sometimes, under a sky full of stars, I imagine you up there with the constellations, looking down at me with curious eyes. And I need you to know that we love you still, deeply and unconditionally.

Ten years old. A whole person with your own personality, dreams, and wishes.

The world missed out on knowing you, and so did I.

But your memory, my precious child, it lives on. It lives on in the way I cherish every moment, every sunrise, every laugh shared with a friend. It lives on in the way I try to be a better person, kinder, someone who would have been a good dad to you.

This letter is my vow written down. A promise that even though you're not here, you'll never be forgotten.

Happy birthday, my sweet child. I hope, wherever you are, you're smiling, knowing that you are loved and cherished.

You are my light, my angel and a part of me. And though the path I walk may be lonely sometimes, I carry you and your mom with me in my heart, always.

With all the love that would have filled a lifetime.

Dad.

______________________________________________________________

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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

I Don’t Want You To Go - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 1040>

You didn't know. Well, you knew, but you didn't want to admit that you knew. It had been bubbling away for a while, but you didn't think it would actually happen. But now, sitting there, scrolling through your phone, learning at the same time as the rest of the world, your heart broke and bled scarlet.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to laugh or cry. It was all some sick joke, but it felt like April 1st couldn't come quick enough. You read it over and over until the words made no sense and formed into a hazy cloud before your eyes.

Reading Carlos' statement was the hard part. That was the part that broke you. It made the whole situation feel a whole lot more real. You were sitting on the edge between pure fury, and uncontrollable sadness, and you couldn't fathom which you were going to topple into.

You wouldn't be where you were without Carlos, you owed everything you had to him. You wouldn't have your dream job if it weren't for him. He had recommended you way back when, in his first year at Ferrari, and the rest was history.

But now you were getting through the final chapters of your story together, and yours would have to continue on like the unloved sequel that was written for a quick cash grab. Like a cheap jab at the continuation of a character who had died off in the first book.

Messages from people flooded in, the notifications barraging the top of your phone. They all asked if you knew. It was an interesting question, wasn't it? If you knew. If you knew. If only you knew. Would it have made this easier? No.

The pain would have gone on for longer.

You shoved your phone under one of the cushions on your couch, not wanting to even see the notifications pop up on screen combined with Carlos' and Ferrari's points. It didn't bring the same joy anymore.

You'd have to go into work the next day as well. See everyone, see all the memories you had made in the form of the Maranello factory and count down the days until there'd be no more memories to be had.

Sleeping was impossible. Completely unfathomable. Absolutely undoable. You just wanted your bed to swallow you up, engulf you in the duvets then keep you there for the rest of eternity. Maybe it'd take the agony away as well. He wasn't even gone yet, but it still hurt.

Walking into the factory the next day was one of the hardest things you would ever have to do. You kept your eyes down at your feet, trying to distract yourself with work. Everyone knew you would be hurt the most by this, since they knew how close the two of you were. It was obvious.

"Can we talk?" a voice snapped you out of your daze as the voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Not right now," you whispered, trying to make yourself seem busy so that he'd go away. But he knew you better than that, and you knew he was stubborn.

"Please," he added, staring holes into the side of your face. You stood from your desk, unable to bring yourself to look at him. He walked in front of you, the prancing horse still rearing proud on his back, but, in your eyes at least, it didn't carry the same scuderia spark that it used to.

He led you into an empty conference room, and the air felt thick with discomfort. "You're really leaving?" you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. You hadn't said it outloud yet, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

"I don't have a choice," he replied, trying to will you with his mind to look at him, but you weren't taking the hint. You didn't want to cry.

"I don't want you to go, Carlos," you mumbled, your voice breaking as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. But the tears were strong willed as they trickled down your cheeks.

"I don't want to go either, but hey, you still have me for the whole of this season and you'll still see me around all the time after," he tried to comfort you, also fighting back the tears. He never wanted anyone to be upset by this, but it was inevitable.

"That's not enough... it's just not enough..." you said, slowly moving closer to him. No amount of time with him there would have been enough, but now you knew the clock was ticking, it felt like the hands were moving all too fast.

"C'mere," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. Your tears left darkened red stains, but that didn't matter in the slightest. "It's going to be OK, it's OK," he soothed, when he was really the one in need of comfort.

Keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, the other gently stroking your hair. But instead of the comforting gesture it normally was, it felt more like an unspoken apology. "It wasn't my decision," he said.

"I know," you nodded, clinging onto him for dear life. It felt like you'd blink and he'd disappear from in front of you. "You're so good Carlos, so goddamn good," you rambled, your attempts at reassuring him falling flat in your opinion.

Carlos appreciated the effort nonetheless. "I'll miss you..." you carried on, but he didn't reply. Replying would mean having to fully accept that it was over, and that he was going to be leaving at the end of the season.

He was never one for living in the present and not thinking about the future, but now was the time he wouldn't take a second for granted, and he'd work his damn socks off to make this season phenomenal. For himself, for Ferrari, for the fans.

You were showing no signs of letting go, and you wanted to hold onto him until the world crumbled out from underneath your feet. The curtains would soon be closing on Carlos' time at Ferrari, and you'd stand at the end, waiting for the encore.

A/N - I already said this earlier today, but I figured it’d be more appreciated on the end of this. ‘65 years ago today, 3 music legends died in a plane crash. That was regarded as the day the music died. For me, that was 2 days ago. I am so devastated it’s not even a joke at this point. Forza Ferrari, or whatever.’

It just doesn’t quite feel real, does it? I knew Carlos wouldn’t be able to stay forever, but I thought there’d be some sort of extension. Not Hamilton going to Ferrari. Fuming.

|masterlist|

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer horror, part 1

We all like a good horror story, right? You know what's even better? A queer horror story!

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/ace spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend” or a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle*

Rose, like her parents, believes strongly that homosexuality is a sin, and holds great pride that her home town hosts Camp Damascus, a successful conversion camp for young teens. But Rose is also experiencing strange and terrifying things: memories of a beautiful girl, a demonic figure that shows up if her thoughts stray, flies crawling out her mouth. Something has happened in Rose's past that her parents won't speak of and that she herself can't remember, and Camp Damascus is at the center of it all. Sapphic, autistic main character, as well as a really cool take on demonic lore that is both inspired by and a subversion of christianity.

House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland*

Young adult. Something happened to Iris Hollow and her two older sisters when they were little; after having gone missing, they were all returned with no memory of what happened and identical scars on their throats. Years have passed since then, and though seen as strange the girls still lead mostly normal lives - that is, until the oldest, Grey, goes missing, leaving strange clues in her path. As Iris searches for her, a strange man with horns starts stalking her and memories start to rise to the forefront in her mind. To save Grey, Iris will have to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. Features wonderfully morally grey characters. Bisexual lead, but little to no romance.

Winter Tide (The Innsmouth Legacy) by Ruthanna Emrys*

Aphra and her brother are the only survivors after the government raided their home, Innsmouth. Their only living family are the amphibian people of the deep, whom they will one day join, but until then they are bound to land where they struggle to build new lives for themselves after the great loss of their home and loved ones. Then rumors start to spread of a russian agent seeking dangerous and ancient magic, forcing Aphra to involve herself as they try to stop it. Does contain horror elements but is generally a much more optimistic look on cosmic horror than most lovecraftian stories, told from the perspective of one of his monsters. Lots of focus on found family and rebuilding of community. Asexual main character (however I don’t think that becomes in-text confirmed until the sequel) and multiple queer characters in the supporting cast.

Rules for Vanishing by Kate Alice Marshall

Young adult. One year ago, Sara's sister went missing. Since then, Sara has drifted away from her friends, but when she receives a mysterious text inviting her to "play the game" - the same game that supposedly stole her sister away - Sara and her estranged friends all come back together to find her. Together they set off on a path that legend says appears only once a year, leading them toward the ghost Lucy Gallows and, hopefully, Sara's sister. Bisexual main character, told in a faux documentary style.

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

A young pregnant woman flees a cult that left her body strange and changing in terrifying ways. Hiding from both a world wanting to oppress her and the cult seeking to force her back, she does her best to raise her children while trying to find out the truth of the cult and being pursued by a hunter in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Bleak and scary, Sorrowland is a book that will creep under your skin with horrors both fantastical and very, very real.

Otherside Picnic (Otherside Picninc lightnovel series) by Iori Miyazawa

Sapphic light novel with a surreal and episodic horror vibe. Following the directions of an urban legend, university student Sorawo finds her way to a reality populated by horrifying creatures from ghost stories and modern urban legends (of which I’m sure you’ll recognize many). Here she teams up with fellow explorer Toriko, both to find out more about this strange world and to help Toriko find a missing loved one. Also available as a manga and (one season of) an anime. Sapphic.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Amrfield

Miri thought she lost her wife Leah when her deep-sea mission ended in a catastrophe. But Leah was miraculously returned to her - or so it seems. Because something happened down there, deep in the ocean, and whatever it was, Leah has brought it back with her. Surreal and strange, Our Wives Under the Sea will not answer all your questions, but it will give you a unique experience.

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

Novella. Alex Easton, retired soldier, travels to visit their childhood friends, siblings Madeline and Roderick Usher, after finding out that Madeline is dying. In the siblings’ rural, ancestral home, Madeline walks in her sleep and looks to be fading away, while around it wildlife seems to be possessed by a strange force. With the help of a mycologist and an American doctor, Alex attempts to save Madeline and reveal the truth of her illness. Nonbinary main character.

Alien: Echo by Mira Grant

Young adult. Twin sisters Olivia and Viola’s parents are both xenobiologists, bringing them all over the galaxy. Most recently they’ve settled on a new colony world to study its wildlife, but it proves more dangerous than they could’ve ever imagined. Under attack from alien monsters, the sisters must keep each other alive while also coming to terms with a dark family secret. Sapphic horror. Part of the Alien franchise but stands well on its own.

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant*

A research vessel heads towards the Mariana Trench in search of answers of what happened to a ship which mysteriously lost all its crew some time earlier. In the deep dark, something intelligent and hungry awaits them. Very much mermaids of the horror variety. Sequel to a novella, can be read as a standalone. Also contains a sapphic romance, however that is a pretty small part of the plot as a whole.

Alice Isn't Dead by Joseph Fink

Based on the podcast by the same name. Keisha Taylor thought she had lost her wife. She even held a funeral and attempted to move on with her life. But then Alice started to appear, all over America, in the background of every single major tragedy in the country. To find her missing wife, Keisha gets a job as a trucker and sets out on a roadtrip, not knowing what horrors awaits her.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

Young adult. Over a year ago, the Raxter School for Girls was hit by the Tox, a strange disease that killed off many and left the survivors’ bodies slowly changing in terrifying ways. The island the school is on has been in quarantine since then, and the girls dare not leave the school grounds lest they become victims of wild animals changed by the Tox. But as they wait for the promised cure, one of the girls goes missing, and her friends are willing to do anything to find her. Unsettling, spooky, and sapphic, this is a unique read featuring body horror and messy, dangerous girls.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero

Once, Andy, Kerri, Nate, Peter and their faithful dog were known as the Blyton Summer Detective Club, until they hit their fateful final case in 1977. Now, the year is 1990, and the group hasn't gathered in years. Tomboy Andy is wanted in at least two states; Kerri, former kid genius, is tending bar; and horror nerd Nate is in a mental institution in Arkham. At least he still has the company of jock-turned-movie star Peter - except Peter has been dead for years. Now they must all come together to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. Lovecraftian horror with a sometimes absurdist vibe and adult scooby do inspiration. Sapphic romance.

Contagion by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something… monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn’t show up until book two, which has more romance).

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand*

Young adult. The isolated island of Sawkill Rock has secrets. It hosts the legend of a local monster, and the very stark reality of decades of girls going missing, never to be found again. Now, three girls stand at the center of the horrific mystery - if only they can come together, perhaps they can save future generations of girls from a monster that may very well be real. Asexual and sapphic main characters, including a sapphic romance.

Salvation Day by Kali Wallace

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her family of outcasts hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but one of the main characters is gay.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unstintingly claustrophobic books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves. Sapphic in the most messy of ways.

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb series) by Tamsyn Muir*

Gideon, raised as a swordswoman by unfriendly nuns, would rather run away and make her own life, but her services are needed. The Reverend Daughter, Gideon’s childhood nemesis, has been invited to a trial to win a place as an immortal by the Emperor’s side, and she’s in need of a bodyguard. Listen, if you’re on tumblr I probably don’t need to explain this book to you. Trust me when I say it’s exactly as good as people claim. Humorous and spooky but also absolutely gut wrenching and clever with a lot of political commentary. There are also, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Family Business by Jonathan Sims

By the author behind the Magnus Archives. When Diya's childhood best friend and roommate unexpectedly passes away, Diya falls apart and, among other things, loses her job. When she's offered a position at Slough & Sons to clean up after the deceased, she sees no other recourse but to accept. Her new job is grisly but important, and Diya starts to get back on her feet - until strange visions of a terrifying man and the dead's last moments start to haunt her. Slough & Sons are hiding something, and it's up to Diya to find out the truth. No romance, bisexual main character and trans woman side character.

Sodom Road Exit by Amber Dawn

Starla didn't want to return to her childhood home of Crystal Beach, Canada, but growing debt has forced her to move back in with her mother, despite the trauma hidden in her old home. But Starla is haunted by more than trauma; she is, in fact, literally haunted, by a ghost that may understand her, but may also consume her. Not overly scary, but handles dark subjects such as childhood sexual assault. Lesbian main character and romance.

House of Hunger by Alexis Henderson*

In a world where the rich drink blood to preserve their health, Marion applies to a position as bloodmaid in a notorious noble house far from home. Suddenly showered with luxuries and debauchery, Marion soon gains the interest and favor of Lisavet, countess of the house. A fresh take on the idea of vampires and deliciously dark sapphic romance inspired by the horrific real-life Elisabet Báthory.

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson

Dracula inspired novella, following Constanta, who’s turned from a medieval peasant to an undead bride. As time passes the relationship between Dracula and Constanta grows all the more strained and potentially dangerous. Teaming up with his two other consorts, she seeks to unravel her husband’s secrets. Sapphic and polyamorous.

Dread Nation (Dread Nation duology) by Justina Ireland

Young adult, alternate history. In this world, the war between the American states is interrupted when the dead start walking the earth and hunting the living. Jane McKeene has been trained at Miss Preston’s School of Combat to become an attendant, skilled in combat as well as etiquette to protect the wealthy. But Jane wants a different life, and in her search for it stumbles headfirst into a conspiracy. Bisexual main character, aroace side character (who becomes a POV character in the sequel).

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

In a future where those with high testosterone are afflicted by a zombie-like disease, bloodthirsty men have become the enemy. Trans women Beth and Fran and trans man Robbie do their best to survive in this brutal world, where TERF movements seek to exterminate them and monstrous men hunt in the wilds. VERY gruesome and bleak, but also very timely in the present political climate.

Leech by Hiron Ennes*

Unbeknownst to humanity, a sentient hive mind has taken over the entire medical profession to ensure the health of their host species. One of their doctors is sent off to an isolated location where they’re cut off from the rest of the hive mind, only to realize they’re faced with a rivaling parasitic entity. Leech hands you only just enough information to get by, and whether its historical fantasy, an alternate timeline, or futuristic post apocalypse is hard to determine. It’s spooky and a bit weird and wildly creative, and does some neat things with gender.

The Outside by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existential crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired sci-fi where reality is warped and artificial gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

The Gilded Abyss by Rebecca Thorne

Nix Marr is a soldier and damned good at it, but that doesn’t prepare her for her next mission: bodyguard for Subarch Kessandra, beloved royal and Nix’s bitter ex. The two venture toward the underwater city of Fall to seek the cause of a bloody murder spree and a possible deadly contagion. But Kessandra has enemies, the answers she seeks marking her as a possible threat for the nation’s rulers. On their way in an isolated and enclosed underwater ship toward Fall, the contagion catches up, and Nix will have to put her hurt feelings aside if the two are to arrive alive. Sci-fi with flavors of horror and the supernatural and a sapphic romance.

[sluttysnowangel666]

Weeping Waters was amazing! I love that you wrote virgin cregan! No one else ever does. I love him all flustered and nervous. Plus him being super protective? And he’s a gentleman who refuses to look at her naked body even when he desperately wants him to because he doesn’t want to ruin her honor? Amazing. A perfect man. I would also be super turned on and jump his bones seeing Cregan be super protective of me like that. His proposal was sweet and adorable and I love how nervous and shy he was, afraid that she would reject him. Best friends to lovers is my favorite genre of fic ever. I love how in love they are and just how down bad and in love and smitten Cregan is with her. I love how they are both clearly nervous virgins but she trusts him because they have been friends in love since childhood. I also love how Cregan is nervous but she’s just a tad braver than he is, not being afraid to show him her naked body even when he’s trying to be honorable and turning around.

I love how it was making love and not just “fucking” like Cregan was a little rough and passionate but it’s because he loves her so much and he had for years. So many fics have Cregan just be a super rough dom, fucking his betrothed or wife doggy style, so it was very sweet to have him be in love with his best friend, pining for years and making love to her on a beach. And the eye contact? He never once looked away from her face and she tucked his hair behind his ears so it wouldn’t obstruct his view of her? So, so, so romantic.

Would you ever make a sequel or continuation? Maybe their wedding night? I need more nervous, down bad lovesick Cregan.

omg thank you for your super sweet response🫶🏼😭 i’m so glad you loved it and noticed the intricate details. when it comes to writing i like doing concepts i haven’t seen written before! i don’t like my writing to be repetitive or similar to other stories, and cregan is such a honorable character yet also large and in charge i feel there’s many different ways he can be written. it’s why i have a hard time writing for ben blackwood (my other favorite hotd man) because his character is not as deep as cregan’s. but as a stark and with his depth cregan can honestly be any kind of man ppl want him to be. i’ve written him to be rough, dominate, animalistic over his lady, but cregan can also be gentle, loving, nervous. when it came to their losses of virginity, i didn’t want cregan’s rough side to IMMEDIATELY come out. i wanted to slowly build it up. he loves her, she’s his best friend, it only makes sense the first time they have sex cregan chooses to make love to her and not “fuck her” like a typical man would. yes he wants to see her writhe, yes he wants to see her turn into a mess, but he also wants to see her comfortable and he wants her to feel safe and held. as for the reader being braver than cregan, i WAY PREFER the brave woman trope when it comes to writing a reader, i occasionally do the damsel in distress or quiet woman personality but writing a strong and unafraid woman just hits different for me!

and when it came to their eye contact, i HAD to make a point in the story that cregan desperately wanted to see her and she desperately wanted to be seen by him. to continue from that, i like imagining they saw through each other. they’re essentially extensions of each other, so he looked past her beauty and instead saw their memories and intimate moments they shared as just friends that led them to this moment. she looked into him and saw past his hard and determined exterior and instead saw the boy she fell in love with and the one who always did everything to protect her and her honor.

as for a continuation, this story was intended to be a one off but if the right idea comes in my mind that could change! i’m working on an unofficial sequel for northern attitude which was also originally intended to be a one off. so it really just depends if i can get struck by the right idea!

thank you again for ur response it was so lovely and i’m so glad you loved the story 🫶🏼❤️

[chimaerakitten]

I’ve been thinking today about off ramps in long running stories, especially book series.

By that I mean like, places where a person could stop reading and have a satisfying ending even if they’re not yet at the actual ending. (Someone tell me if there’s an established Tvtropes name for this I’m missing.)

Now, a lot of book series will have an off ramp at the end of book 1, because many first books are written without promise of a sequel. Like sure, there might be a sequel hook, but the actual second book is still up to publisher whims in most cases. So you can read All Systems Red or The Thief or A Madness of Angels and have a perfectly satisfying ambiguous-end sci-fi story or middle grade fantasy romp or inverted murder mystery revenge quest without ever picking up book 2. This is definitely an off ramp but it’s not necessarily the interesting or revealing kind because again. Whims of the publisher.

There’s also stories that have an off ramp after every installment. Leverage is famous for this—they had a philosophy of having every season be a satisfying ending, which says a lot both about the writers and about the story they were trying to tell.

But I think the most interesting ramps are the ones where by design or by circumstance, there’s a single off-ramp somewhere in the middle. One spot where unless someone tells you there’s more, you’d never be unsatisfied with leaving halfway through.

Sometimes these will be signaled in some way, where there’s a big timeskip after the off-ramp, or the series changes names or has a spin-off, or the POV changes, or after book 3 the author publishes a short story collection before hopping back in to novels, or the series suddenly jumps from being only novellas to a chunky 120k novel. (The Raksura books, Percy Jackson/HoE, Matthew Swift/Magicals Anonymous, and Murderbot all do one or more of these)

But sometimes off ramps aren’t visible in series order or marketing. Sometimes they’re organic to where a story happens to leave off at the end of an installment.

The queen’s thief has one of these after King Of Attolia. I know this was a satisfying ending because for seven years I thought it was the end. My local library didn’t have A Conspiracy of Kings, so I thought it was a trilogy. And you really can leave it there! KoA ends with Gen back in his element and recognized as king, the main internal threat to Irene neutralized, and peace on the peninsula. The Mede aren’t yet the immediate threat they are in the back half of the series, since up through KoA they’re mainly represented by the magus’s vague warnings and Nahuseresh, whom Irene thinks circles around. There’s no real reason to assume the Mede are a threat within the scope of the series. Now I absolutely prefer getting the whole story, but KoA is a damn solid off-ramp for anyone who feels like exiting there.

And that’s one kind of off ramp where the end you get is pretty similar in tone (mostly happy) to the one you get if you go on to the rest of the series. I’ve also read books where you can off ramp successfully right at the lowest point in the series and get a tragedy out of a series that ultimately ends happy, or leave at a high point and get a happier end than the main one, or exit at an ambiguous point and continue on with ambiguity. The Giver sequels make it pretty clear what happened to Jonas and Gabe at the end of the book. but you don’t have to read them or have that question answered if you want to.

I don’t have a really solid conclusion to draw here except that I think the positioning of off ramps says a lot about authors and stories, and choosing whether or not to take an off ramp says a lot about readers.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Metamorphosis

(Sequel of Feast)

08/02/2024

Pairing: Vampire!Hozier x reader

Word Count: 7,629

Warnings: vampire au, language, blood, blood sucking (a little), fatigue, dizziness, fainting, masturbation, fingering, penetration (same reader as in Feast, so same characteristics apply)

Summary: After your passionate night with Andrew, you wake in his bed. And with you a multitude of feelings that lead you to question the unusual nature of your relationship.

A/N: Here we go again, Feast Part 2. The story did not really feel finished after Part 1, it still doesn't, but I can rest my head a lot easier after writing this continuation.

Picture found on Pinterest, edited by me

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

 Andrew did not dare to move in his wingback by the window. He could sense that you were getting closer and closer to reality again with every soft breath, and still he did not want to wake you. You needed all the rest you could get. But there was this other desire inside of him as well. A desire that even forbade him to blink. For more selfish reasons though. Because the moment you would open those magnificent eyes, he could not afford to miss it. And it would tell him everything he needed to know. 

But when it finally came, he was not prepared at all. Slowly you began to stir, your eyelids fluttering as you rolled onto your back with a sigh. The sheets drifted the slightest inch down your body, catching his attention in a heartbeat. It was not much he could see, only a vague hint of the two globes that awaited underneath, barely perceptible, and yet it was enough to make him almost miss the moment he had been waiting for all day as memories came rushing back to him. So soft, so pliable, as they had pressed against his palms, eager for his caress. And those hardened buds, he would never forget how they had tasted, how they had felt against his tongue, between his teeth. 

And as if you had been listening in on his thoughts, he watched them grow underneath the pristine sheets, the most enticing moan leaving your lips as you stretched your limbs and readied yourself to leave the world of dreams. He felt dreadful, abominable for wanting you this much when this, you, in this almost comatose state, was the very result of the same greed that was taking hold of him right now. 

But all of that was drowned out in an instant when your lids finally fell open, a pair of drowsy, dull eyes finding him immediately. He had feared this moment as much as he had awaited it, and your smile, so placid, so warm and affectionate was so much more than he could ever have hoped for. Actually, to him it had been the most unlikely of all the scenarios that had played out in his head. It was almost painful, downright blasphemous when your eyes fell away to take in your surroundings. For the first time, since you had been completely gone when he had carried you here.

“You have a bed?”

You were teasing, also something he had not expected from someone who had slept for almost twenty-four hours. Still he found himself chuckling.

“Only for guests. My coffin is actually next door.” 

“I knew it.”

Gosh, you were too sweet for your own good. Just lying there, snickering softly about his stupid joke, and when your hand reached out for him, he let himself glide out of his chair, and found himself on his knees instead, right beside your bed, your hand firmly clutched in both of his. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.”

“Hm.” He took a moment, his lips finding your knuckles. He had expected your fatigue, it was normal, to a point. As long as there were no other signs of hypovolemia. “Are you nauseous, too?”

“No, just very, very hungry.” Thank the heavens, he thought. Maybe he had not taken quite as much as he had feared. Or you were an exceptional fighter. It would not surprise him if that were the case. “How long did I sleep?”

“Almost a full day.”

“What?”

And there it was again, the suffocating guilt. He had betrayed your trust, violated the sacred nature of your transaction, and he would never forgive himself for it.

“I am so sorry. I’ll explain everything to you, I promise.” He pressed another kiss to your hand, and then he stood. “But now you need to eat.” And with that he made his way over to the door. “There are some clothes for you,” he nodded towards the bedside table before he lifted his arm to point to the wall across the room, “And you’ll find the bathroom through that door.”

“Clothes?” you mumbled, but he was already gone. Where the hell had he gotten those? You were still frowning as you reached for the bundle and pulled it into your lap. Blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Were those his clothes? But when you unfolded the shirt and revealed the black lingerie that had been carefully hidden away, you were pretty sure that those were definitely not his clothes. Did he have them on the ready then? Always a spare set of jeans and a shirt at hand. That did probably come in very handy with a flock of women frequenting this bed. Especially for the passionate nights, when dresses were ripped and blood was spilled in the rapture of the moment. 

But as much as you did not want to believe you were just one of them, not after last night and everything you had shared, you had to admit to yourself at some point that you were just that, one among many, insignificant, nothing but another meal, tomorrow he would feast on someone else. And you better realised that sooner than later, before any damage was done. 

It surprised you though, as you sat up, how immaculately the dark lace cupped your breasts, how perfectly it fit around your chest, how the cool touch as you pulled it up your legs and against your pussy made you shiver, how it made you forget there were other clothes to put on, made you want to lounge on the bed, your body on full display for him once he got back. 

As had all the others done, it came rushing back to you, and that was all you needed to pull yourself together and slip into the other two items of clothing. They fit you just as well, and you sighed as the dark lace shimmered through the thin white cotton of the shirt. What a waste.

The bathroom proved to be just as opulent as the rest of the house with its huge tub, large mirror and polished marble, but it was also just as disappointing. There were towels waiting for you and toiletries aplenty, everything you could ever find yourself in the need of after a night with this man. This creature, you corrected yourself, and you could feel a touch of bitterness resonating. 

Well, time to step out of this fever dream and get real again, to go about your bathroom routine, maybe eat a little and then leave. And so you did, at least you managed to brush your teeth and untangle the knots in your hair before reality stroke a bit too harshly for your taste. You had been leaning over the sink, splashing a few hands full of that ice-cold water into your face before you blindly reached for a towel and buried your face in it while you were getting up. You were not even standing fully upright again when you felt the rush of blood. You could hear it, the white noise it carried along as tiny fragments of light started to dance before your eyes. 

No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. You could not black out in his bathroom. Not anywhere inside these walls. The towel falling from your hands, you reached for the sink instead, grabbing the rim tightly and leaning back down a little. It took a while, but slowly the tiny flecks of light faded and the rushing stopped. Maybe it was a good idea to get back into bed again. Just for a moment. 

But you had only just made it to the door when the next wave of dizziness hit you, stronger this time. The lights were back, clouding your sight as they danced wilder than before, almost ecstatic, so out of control in fact that the world began to spin around you. This was not good, you managed to compose one clear thought in the chaos inside your mind, not good at all. And with no furniture close by to hold onto, you let yourself sink against the doorframe instead.

It was unusually soft upon impact, and warm. So plush against your face and hands. And it smelled oh so familiar, captivating and yet homely, inviting you to just rest your head against it for a little while.

“Angel?”

You must have passed out. Why else would the doorframe suddenly start talking to you? Or secure you in place so you could not fall, one arm draped around your middle. It even had hands. One of them now cupping your cheek. This was wild. One of the wildest dreams you had ever had.

“Angel?”

You could even see its lips, so enchanting as they moved. You wanted to feel them. No, you needed to feel them, as if your life depended on it. But somehow you could neither use you arms, nor your legs. And still your body moved, shadows flitting by, until something soft and cool pressed against your back while your face somehow still rested against the fuzzy doorframe. 

This was nice though, you thought, clutching more of that plushy doorframe in your fists. And that scent, still so rich and heady. You inhaled deeply, letting it invade your blank mind until it was completely filled by it. There was a word at the far back, no, a name, slowly pushing itself to the foreground until it was clear for you to read. 

“Andrew,” it came out in nothing but a mumble, however much you tried to say it out loud.

“I’m here, angel.”

Angel. You had heard that one before. You could not recall where or when, but it made your heart flutter, made you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“Andrew,” you mumbled again, and this time you knew. You knew with all your heart. That scent. Of course. That bloody vampire. He must have come to your rescue just as you had been about to black out. How convenient. And just your luck. 

It all came rushing back in a flash, almost making you dizzy once more, but this time you fought it. You fought with all your might, pushed yourself out of the dark, until you could feel the strength return to your body. You had control again. At least a little. It would be sufficient to push yourself off of him though. It had to. 

“I’m fine,” you managed to press out rather convincingly to your own ears. Then again for good measure, “I’m fine.”

But somehow this did nothing and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you found yourself still clutched against his chest. 

“You’re not. Far from it.”

There was something strange about his voice, something you could not quite put your finger on. Was it anger? Disappointment? Remorse? Could he even feel any of those emotions?

You tilted your head, looking up at him, and you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Of course he could feel those emotions. They were written all over his face, reflecting in his eyes, the language of his caress speaking loud and clear when it found your cheek again.

“And I am so sorry for doing this to you.”

“What did you do?” you asked, still a little confused. “Did you make me pass out?”

“No,” he chuckled, “well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.” His hand drifted down to your neck, his fingertips finding your pulse, making you shiver once more. You were hardly able to suppress a wanton moan. What the hell was wrong with you? “You just tasted so good. I…I could not stop in time when I cashed in my side of our bargain. It should never have happened. It’s unforgivable.”

You could feel your heart break in two for him. His eyes so full of sadness, of self-loathing, it killed you just to watch from the outside what must be playing out inside his mind. What had probably tortured him this whole time and glued him to your bed all day. 

“Well, it’s not your fault I’m such a snack,” you tried to lighten the mood. But instead of earning you a smile, the creases on his forehead grew even deeper.

“Do you think this is a laughing matter? I could have killed you.” 

You felt that he wanted to move, but he did not. For your sake, you realised. And so you pulled yourself up along his chest until your face was close to his.

“But you did not. I am still here, Andrew.” Your thumb traced his brow, the other fingers easing the creases away. “I am still here.” He closed his eyes as your fingers moved along his temple, his cheek, some finding bare skin, others soft stubble on the way down to his lips. Without hesitation they fell open with a sigh and now it was you who could not stop. Slowly you leaned in, your eyes falling shut somewhere along the way, until you could finally taste him. It was gentle and soft, yet so intense. Everything you remembered from last night and more. You could have kissed him forever, could have given yourself over to that feeling until you had completely lost yourself in it, but before you could, he pulled away.

“You need to eat,” he stated matter of factly, reaching for the tray full of the finest breakfast foods he must have placed at the foot of the bed in a hurry. 

“I was just about to when you so rudely interrupted me.”

He grinned, like a school boy, you thought, and for a second you were wondering if vampires could blush.

“Food, I mean. Real food.” And with that he put the tray across your lap. It looked amazing, and it smelled even better. There was a bowl of porridge with fresh berries, and more fruit waiting on a silver plate. There were pancakes, too, and eggs, bacon, toast, butter, honey, marmalade, some juice and a huge glass of cold milk. Of course you had spotted the flowers too, wildflowers, freshly picked, and you were tempted to take them out of the vase and bring them to your nose to inhale their sweet scent, but that would be much too cheesy of a gesture for your own taste. This was not a scene from a sappy romance novel after all.

“Would you like some too?” you asked after you had shovelled the first few spoons of porridge into your mouth. With the most ravenous hunger sated, your manners seemed to return somehow. Unfortunately, your knowledge about his eating habits had not resurfaced from the fog with them. 

“You know I don’t. But thanks for the offer.”

“Why don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t enjoy it anymore. It tastes like nothing. Imagine having a really bad cold, your sense of smell and taste completely gone. And on top of that it does nothing against the hunger.”

His voice had dropped as the last word came over his lips and with it his face changed for a tiny moment. You wished it had lasted a bit longer. Long enough to show you those divine fangs again. Your walls were quivering just thinking about them. His eyes narrowed suddenly, as if he had been listening in on your thoughts. No, not your thoughts, your heartbeat, you realised, and the moment you did, you could feel it stumble again. He was just about to open his mouth, probably to ask if you were okay, when you cut him short.

“Why make everyone cook for you then?”

“Because it gives me time to observe, to get to know the donors.” The ‘donors’, so that was what you were to him. “It also relaxes them. They are occupied with their task which in turn takes their mind off of what is about to happen. It also gives this whole transaction a touch of normalcy, you know, having dinner together, like on a real date.”

“Except that your dinner is having dinner while you watch. That’s not exactly what the average person would call normalcy, is it?”

He obviously had not caught on to the biting nature of your comment, or he chose to ignore it. 

“Probably not. Then again, hardly any of them ever notice that I leave my plate untouched.”

“Well, I did. Also, the cooking did not relax me at all.” And the staring, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, getting you all hot and bothered.

“I know. I almost thought you’d never relax and…you know…get in the mood.”

“In the mood, huh?” you repeated his words, putting your spoon down with a harsh clinking sound. “That’s what you wanted all along? To get me in the mood? Well, you could have saved yourself a lot of effort then. I swear I was in the mood all right when you handed me that glass of wine. All it took would have been one more word, one more touch and I would have begged for you to take me there and then.”

Had he always been this close? Had his eyes been this dark during your entire conversation? And was he leaning in now, his fingers grasping your chin? He was almost there, right where you wanted to feel him again, his breath already wafting across your lips, making them fall open the tiniest bit.

“Shame,” he whispered, “I would have loved to fuck you in the kitchen.” You moaned, the thought of him lifting you onto the counter mixed with his breath in your mouth enough to have you on the edge of begging again, when he suddenly let go of you. “But I rather liked the way it turned out in the end. Apart from…” he drew away further, making his way over to the edge of the bed where he stayed, face turned away from you.

“I told you, it was no big deal, Andrew. I am fine.”

“Is that what I saw a moment ago when you almost fainted? Is that your definition of fine?” he snapped as he spun around to face you again. 

“It’ll pass. I’ll be as good as new in a few days,” you tried to reason. This was really not as bad as he made it sound.

“Exactly. But you are far from fine now. And as long as you are not, I cannot let you go.”

You could not believe your ears. Did he just…would he…

“Well, what do you intend to do? Keep me here as your prisoner?”

“What? No!” Now he looked just as confused as you felt. “All I meant was that you should not be on your own in this state. You should probably stay in bed and have someone look after you.”

“Jesus, then you should have just said that instead,” you sighed as you leant back against the pillows, “I almost thought you’d lock me up in a dungeon in your basement.”

“There is no dungeon in the basement,” he smirked. “It’s actually in—”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t want to know,” you cut him short.

“I was joking, angel.” He reached for your hand, but you were quick to pull it away.

“Not the best of times for a joke, maybe.”

Andrew took a deep breath, “Duly noted.”

“Anyway,” you stated, putting the tray aside to make your way to the other side of the bed. “This is stilI not going to happen. I don’t want to stay in bed, being confined to this room like a patient in hospital for the entire day.”

“Night,” he corrected.

“What?”

“It’s nighttime, angel. I was merely asking you to stay in bed all night, like the average human being.”

Well, that was actually quite a reasonable thing to ask. Nevertheless, he would not get to decide for you. You were a grown woman and as such you knew what was best for you. And that was anything but staying in bed to rest for the foreseeable future.

“Fine! I don’t want to stay in bed all night either.”

He sighed. A long, drawn out sound of resignation. 

“All right. Can you stay here for another ten minutes then? Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.” 

Ten minutes sounded doable. And whatever was going to happen, if you would not like it, you could still leave after those ten minutes. He held no power over you. You did not belong to him. Not that he had said any such thing. But just for yourself, just to be sure, you needed that little reminder. 

He was still sat there, across the bed from you, watching you intently. His patience was almost admirable. There was no anger or irritation in those attentive green eyes, just the flicker of a faint hope. And as soon as you found yourself nodding your consent, he was gone. 

You had no watch to be sure, but when he stepped through that door again, not a single bead of sweat on his forehead to confirm that he had been in a hurry, you could have sworn it had not been more than five minutes. He walked straight over to you, to the side of the bed you were still sitting on and before you had even the slightest chance to process what was happening, you found yourself lifted into his arms.

“What are you doing?” you protested. A weak protest, you had to admit, as your arms had already snaked around his neck, obviously accepting your fate before the rest of you did. “You can’t—“

“Oh, believe me, I can. How do you think you got from the bathroom to the bed, or up here into this room last night?”

You could feel the heat crawl into your cheeks as the memory returned. And not just the fact that you had mistaken him for a doorframe not even an hour ago, but also the images of last night made your heart race in your chest. Last night. It had been…you were still void for words. But you could not allow yourself to fall down that rabbit hole. Not now. Not again.

Instead you chose to study the only thing you could really make out in the dim light of the staircase he was climbing with you now: him. This was probably not a better idea than thinking about last night, seeing how beautiful he was. His curls, that fell around his face freely tonight, accentuating his high cheekbones and prominent jawline. It was right in front of you, you could have leaned in, just a little, and press your lips right to it, into that soft auburn stubble. Or you could rest your head against his shoulder, bury your face in the crook of his neck, against that alabaster skin. Would his skin still have the same taste as yesterday? Honey-sweet, with a pinch of salt. You could check real quick, let the tip of your tongue glide along the silky softness. Would he chide you? Or would he enjoy your foolish impulsivity? Maybe he would moan again, ever so softly, or he would remind you of the true nature of your relationship. That everything came at a cost. And that unfortunately, you had momentarily run out of the only currency he accepted.

With a sigh you abandoned your ideas, all of them. He was just being polite, probably fearing it might ruin his immaculate reputation if anything were to happen to you. That was why he was so keen on keeping you here. To monitor you, to nurse you back into an acceptable state. Nothing more.

“Are you all right?”

Politeness, that was all it was. There was nothing more to the creases in his forehead, to the furrow of his brows or the narrowing of his eyes. No worry, no affection, no care. Just politeness.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you heard yourself repeat for the umpteenth time today, lacking almost all validity at this point.

“We’re almost there. The fresh air will do you good, you’ll see.”

Fresh air? Where the hell was he taking you?

But before you could voice your question, your eyes picked up a flickering glimmer of light. It illuminated the last steps of the way, waiting for you at the head of the stairs and when the full image slowly came into view, your heart melted on the spot. It stung at the same time, contracting in your chest as the last bit of rationality inside of you protested sharply upon your mesmerised state. This was not real, it was just another part of the game the two of you were playing. But why did it feel so real then? And what did it matter anyway? Why not give yourself over to the illusion for one more night? 

And the setting made it so easy. The sea of candles that illuminated the roof terrace, their golden shine on the island of blankets and pillows in their midst, and the multitude of stars above, sparkling like diamonds on the dark blue canvas of the night sky. 

Carefully, Andrew set you down in the cozy pillow fort he had built before he let himself glide down right next to you. 

“Do you like it?” he inquired, his voice so full of hope, and yet he seemed to be genuinely unsure what your answer would be.

“At least it’s better than that stuffy, old bedroom of yours,” you teased, but before your words could do any harm you leaned in, your lips finding his cheek for a soft kiss. “It’s beautiful, Andrew. I love it.”

He was about to turn his head, maybe just to look at you, but you could feel the possibility of so much more hanging in the air between you as you let yourself sink down onto the pillows. 

“It’s really a shame there is so much light from the town,” you sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, just to see what the sky looked like without all the light pollution.”

“I could show you,” he said as if it was nothing.

“Do you mean to tell me you own a time machine?”

He laughed, out loud, and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

“No, I don’t. But how about this?”

He snapped his fingers, just once, and the candles around you went dark. It took you a moment to realise, but it were not just the candles that had died. You found yourself in complete darkness all of a sudden. And if it had not been for the soft touch of his jumper against your arm, his leg coming to rest along the length of yours, you had not even known that he had decided to lay down beside you.

“How?” you whispered, the quiet tone seeming appropriate in the darkness.

“Vampire party trick.”

“Neat.” 

He chuckled. “It does come in handy sometimes.”

“But what if people notice?”

“It’s the middle of the night, angel. Hardly anyone will notice.”

The two of you went silent then. In awe you watched the myriad of stars that had appeared above you. You had never seen anything even remotely like this before. It was fascinating, magnificent, this glimpse into the endless expanse of the universe, and you were lying here, not more than two specks of dust, maybe even less, in this unimaginable vastness of existence.

“What’s it like to be a vampire?”

Your question must have surprised him as he took a moment to ponder the question, and when it finally came, you were glad you could not see him properly. 

“Lonely, most of the time.”

The sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart heavy for him, seeing it reflected in his eyes would have killed you.

“There must be others like you.”

“There are.” You could feel him stir beside you. “But, ehm, let’s just say I like to keep them at a distance.”

The truth was, he was an outsider. He had made himself one the day he had decided to stop killing. But since he had chosen to do so, he liked to see it as an active act of isolation, not the shunning it actually was. He knew he was probably watched, monitored closely and frowned upon. But as long as he did not step out of line or did not put others at risk with his new lifestyle, he would be fine.

He would not tell you that, of course. Maybe another time. But it was not a topic he wanted to discuss tonight. Not with you lying next to him, your heartbeat speeding up whenever you realised the non-existent space between you and him. It gave him hope. And he did not want to spoil that with grim tales of the past.

Still you seemed to sense how much the topic had upset him. At first it were just your fingers, gliding between his, but somehow you thought that it was not enough to comfort him. So you moved, and when he felt half of your weight on top of him, your head resting against his chest, he knew you had been right. This was much better. 

You squeezed his middle gently, imitating a hug as best as you could, and his answer came promptly. Like a pair of wings his arms wrapped around you, so warm, so safe, keeping you so close to him. And once again, the two of you fell silent for a long while. 

“Are you tired?” His lips moved against your hair. “Should we go back inside?”

“No.” You fisted his plush jumper. “I’m good.”

“Just good?”

His insincere displeasure about your answer made you snicker. “I’m perfect.”

“Good, excellent. Everything less than perfect would not have done at all.”

Blindly you reached for him in the darkness and as you found his cheek, you let your hand rest against it. It did not take long before he found you as well, covering your hand with his. He turned his head, just a little, so he could press a kiss to your palm before he brought your joined hands to his chest, somewhere close to your face, you assumed. He kept them there, just holding on to you. But after a while his fingers began to play with yours, and you knew that something was off.

“Will you stay with me?”

His question confused you as much as it surprised you. Was that not what you were doing already? You had decided to stay with him, just a little longer, and against your better judgement. It was a bit superfluous to ask about that now, was it not?

“For the night?”

“No,” his answer was accompanied by something between a huff and a laugh, “that’s not what I meant. Although I really would like you to spend the entire night, here, with me.” He paused, phrasing his next words carefully in his head before he uttered them. “What I meant was…will you be mine, angel?”

It was not a decision consciously made, it was pure instinct as you pulled your hand out of his and sat up.

“To fight the loneliness?”

You felt him sit up as well, and when the candles flickered back to life with another snap of his fingers, the same confusion you had felt a moment ago was written all over his face.

“You said being a vampire means being lonely. Do you need me as your pastime then? Your little pet to keep for company?”

Suddenly his face cleared, a few wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” he smiled as he reached for your hand, and this time you let him take it, “no. I mean, to be honest, you are good company. You’re easy to talk to, you don’t run screaming even though you know what I am, that’s a huge plus. You’re funny, entertaining in a way, intelligent and sweet,” he leaned in to let his lips brush along your neck, higher and higher, until they found your ear, “and that pussy of yours is simply divine.”

You were lost. Completely and utterly lost. There was nothing you could have done to stop that moan from falling from your lips, the same lips he pulled against his to sate that hunger you felt, that deep yearning to feel him again, now, always. 

“Is that a yes then?” he breathed against your mouth.

“Let’s say it’s a maybe. For now. So…” now it was your turn to lean in, to let your cheek glide along his until your lips had reached his ear, “you better convince me, vampire boy.”

His answer came without delay, “Gladly,” but then he pulled away, “Not tonight though. You’re still very weak.”

You were shattered, betrayed, silenced by the ease with which he had built up your want for him just to tear it all down seconds later. You knew what you wanted and what your body could handle, you were not a child. But if he chose to treat you like one, he would get the fitting reply. And so you nudged his arm, as hard as you could. He did not even flinch.

“What was that for?”

“To show you how very un-weak I am.”

Your antics amused him at best, still he pulled you close again for another kiss. He might have hoped to appease you with it, and you had to admit, it was tempting to give in and concentrate on it fully. On his taste, the feeling of his tongue against yours, the softness of his lips…but you were on a mission here. You wanted more, wanted to taste all of him, feel all of him.

At first he did not seem to notice your fingers. They had sneaked underneath the hem of his jumper, carefully venturing deeper until they had found bare skin. It was warm and silky smooth, growing even softer the closer you got to the hem of his dark grey slacks, but before you could dip your fingers underneath it, his hand closed around your wrist.

“Angel, please,” he warned. And still his grip was not too strong, his words already beginning to lack authority.

“I need you, Andrew. I promise I’ll be fine.” You were shamelessly begging now and you did not even care. You wanted him, so much. “Just be gentle with me.” You had given it your all, and he was still not fully convinced yet. “Okay, fine. Just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop. But you have to say it.” You leaned in again, your head diving into the crook of his neck. You knew exactly what you were doing, letting your tongue dart out to draw patterns on his skin, placing a strategic kiss here and there, sucking in his sensitive skin until it drew a hiss from his mouth. “Say it, Andrew.”

You could sense it, the moment he let go of his caution and gave in to his desires. It came with a growl and he moved with precision, like the predator he was, wrapping his arms around you and spinning you around until you found yourself on your back, right underneath his taut body, hands pinned in place above your head. 

“I can’t,” he pressed out, his chest heaving, “you know I can’t. Because I want you, angel, so much. So fucking much.”

You hated the agony in his eyes. There was no need to fight. You both wanted the same. It was so simple. 

“Then have me,” you breathed, lifting your hips to roll against his, while your teeth bit down on your lip, hard, until you could taste blood. 

He was tempted, his eyes going dark the second they took in the single drop of crimson liquid. “I don’t deserve you.” His voice was low, hoarse, snapping your last bit of sanity in a heartbeat.

“Oh, yes, you do.”

And finally, finally he dove down, another deep growl rolling through his chest, hitting you deep to pry out another moan from you. Eagerly he licked your lip, sucking it in to draw another few drops of precious liquid from you. It took him everything to stop, to pull himself away from your bewitching taste, before he would forget himself and sink those fangs of his into you. They were already showing, your eyes growing wide with arousal as they caught a glimpse of them in the dim light. It was intoxicating, dangerously so, but he wanted nothing more than to give you what you needed. He would put them to good use then, show you what else they could do. He would enjoy teasing you beyond reason. As would you.

And he was proven right when a wanton mewl echoed through the night the second he grabbed that white cotton and pulled it from your body. It did not even resist, ripping so easily, exposing your chest and stomach to the starlight. You looked so tantalising, arching your back, the sudden touch of the cool night air making your buds pebble underneath the black lace. 

“I had hoped I would get to see that lingerie on you, angel,” he admitted as he let his free hand roam your skin. “What a shame it is obstructing my view.”

It was only now that he let go of your hands. He had known you would bury them in his hair the second he freed you, and there was nothing he wanted more than to feel them raking through his curls as he dipped down to your chest now. But then he halted, to look at you again, to bask in the unveiled lust in your eyes as he smirked, his lips drifting apart to bare the set of pearly white fangs to you. You wanted to squirm and writhe underneath him, but he held you perfectly still, he needed to if he did not want to risk breaking that delicate skin of yours. And then you stilled too, watched him as he got closer and closer, his teeth finding the fragile piece of black fabric that connected the two cups, just to slice straight through it. 

You were still moaning when he licked a long stripe along the newly bared skin, the wild flutter of your heart clear against his tongue. But he knew you wanted him elsewhere, you were pulling him, so deliciously, and he let you until his lips hovered above yours. Then he stopped, just to frustrate you once again.

“I hate you, vampire boy.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

And with that you pulled him against your lips. Your kiss was searing, and he could taste the same hunger on your tongue that he thought was his privilege and pain alone. Only that your hunger could be sated, and he would not make you wait any longer.

You felt his hands move down your body, felt them unbutton those jeans and you knew he would have to break away soon, and still you whined pathetically when his lips finally left yours. Eagerly he gripped the blue fabric, hooking this fingers underneath the hem of your slip as well to lay you bare in one swift motion. 

His want for you was more than apparent, but he was a giver and so he took his sweet time to return the favour and peel himself out of his clothes right in front of you. This was impossible, absolute madness, your heart racing faster upon the sight of every inch of his pale skin that came to light. He was so beautiful, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and you had never wanted anyone with the same maddening fervour that had befallen you the second you had first laid eyes upon him. 

He was still kneeling in front of you, gazing down at your naked form with those ravenous eyes, and he knew exactly what he was doing when his fingers wrapped around his already hardening length and began to stroke. 

You whimpered, wanting so much to touch him, to feel his weight on top of you as he pushed in deep, but you also knew that he would not. Not yet.

“Spread those legs for me, angel.”

And you did, exposing yourself to him even further, and you loved every second of it. 

“Good girl.” His free hand found your thigh, tenderly caressing the sensitive flesh that had so eagerly awaited his touch. “Now touch yourself.”

Not once did your eyes let go of his, not as your hand made a show of wandering down your body, pinching your nipple on the way just to watch his eyes narrow for a split second, not as your fingers found the wetness between your legs, diving down all the way to gather some of the slick juices that had collected there, not as you moaned when your fingertips found the hidden pearl and began to rub it gently. 

“Mmh,” he hummed, “that’s it. Just like that.”

And as a reward his fingers dug into your thigh a little harsher, kneading the softness they found there. You could tell he was holding back, he wanted to take over, coax those sighs and whimpers from you himself. Your little show had gotten him so hard for you, so ready to dive into that heat and feel you around him. Not long now, you thought, as his fingers began to drift up your thigh. The movement was slow, but you noticed it anyway, and then his fingers found yours, joining them, guiding you at first, applying even more pressure until you moaned his name in sweet agony, and he moved on, deeper, lured by the call of the heat that awaited him so ardently and then he pushed in, gently, slowly, burying himself all the way. 

“Fuck,” he concluded, “so ready for me.” 

You could have come from feeling him inside you alone, but when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up into the light so he could watch them glisten before he let them vanish into his mouth to taste you, you were lost once again. 

Your eyes must have fallen shut from all the pleasure, your senses completely overwhelmed, but the second you felt him, the rub of his entire length against you, the demanding push, they snapped right back open. You could not miss this, wanted to see him the moment you became one, and you were not disappointed. His hands holding your hips, he lifted your behind off the blankets, pulling you onto himself until he had vanished inside you completely. His head lulled back upon the sensation, exposing his long neck. And then his lips parted in a lustful moan as he let the world know of his desire for you. 

“Andrew,” you whispered, and he needed a moment to come back to you. But then his eyes found you, and you would never forget the moment they lit up, as if this was the first time he had ever taken you in. 

“Y/N”, your name fell from his lips as he lowered himself onto you, lured by your call, and you basked in the moment of finally feeling him skin on skin, his weight on top of you, as you had craved for what felt like an eternity. 

Slowly he moved within you, his arms cradling your head as he planted soft kisses along your cheeks, your jaw and finally, finally, against your neck. You arched upon the sensation, pressing yourself into him with a moan that left no doubt about how much you longed for his touch. 

He used the chance to let one arm glide around your middle, and you knew he would give you that extra pleasure when he pulled you even closer against himself. Increasing the speed of his hips, he took you faster, deeper, harder and you loved every second of it. You keened, wrapping your arms around him as he drove you closer and closer to that high that would deliver you from your lunacy at last. Or push you even deeper into it. You did not care. You did not care at all. 

You had him, his breath against your neck, his soft moans collecting in the tiny space that remained between the two of you, his body moving with yours. And that was all you needed. Or at least you thought it was all, until you could feel it built. It came fast, no faint sensation deep within that steadily grew with every thrust, with every moan. It almost leapt at you, coming over you with a might nothing could have ever prepared you for. And amidst the storm it had thrown you in, it was him that you felt. Just him. You felt him as if there was nothing between you, as if you were the same person. Transformed into one, metamorphosised, impossible to separate ever again. 

And it was in this very moment that you knew. It was plain to see, as if it had always been this way, bound by fate. He needed to know as well, needed to hear it from your mouth that you understood now what he must have realised all along. He had expressed it in that simple question, but you had been too proud to see. But you knew now. You knew. And nothing would ever change that again. 

With a sigh, you rested your cheek against his, ready at last to give yourself to him completely. “I’m yours, Andrew,” you breathed, right next to his ear, “I’m yours.”

***

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

@itsleilabxtch

[nuttersincorporated]

Mickey Mouse does not need your protection

Since Mickey Mouse became public domain, I’ve seen some really wild takes and misinformation going around. Yes, Mickey Mouse is public domain. No, you do not need to protect him. It’s fine if people other than Disney make Mickey Mouse stuff, even if you don’t like the things that are made.

You are not protecting Mickey Mouse. Mickey Mouse is not real. Even if he was, you STILL wouldn’t be protecting him. You’re just sticking up for a megacorporation. Disney has more money and resources than you will ever have and they horde them. You shouldn’t be trying to help them do it.

Disney is a company that loves using public domain properties to make things. They have just tried their absolute hardest to make sure that nobody else could do the same thing. If you think Mickey Mouse should only be used by Disney, you should be upset that Disney made money off public domain stories like Snow White and Rapunzel.

What about things like Winnie the Pooh? Disney didn’t come up with him but they were happy to make money off him. They bought the rights to him and then didn’t share.

‘Ah!’ I hear you say. ‘But Winnie the Pooh actually helps prove our point! When Disney – that poor poor super rich company that should be protected – lost the exclusive rights, a Winnie the Pooh horror movie was made! That’s not in the spirit of the original character!’

Firstly, you can just ignore that movie if you want. I did. Nobody is making you watch it. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Secondly, there are nice Winnie the Pooh stories out there that aren’t by Disney or the original author. The Pooh books by Jane Riordan are lovely. Her stories are much more in the spirit of the original character than a lot of the Disney comics were.

This is an official Disney comic with Winnie the Pooh

This is a picture from one of Jane Riordan’s Winnie the Pooh books

One of them is sweet, kind and in the spirit of the original character. The other is Disney owned and approved.

What would the original author A.A. Milne think of the different adaptions and new works? Well, we don’t know because, at the end of the month, he’ll have been dead for 68 years. However, I can quote one of the original Pooh books about sharing,

And really, it wasn’t much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn’t share them with somebody.

Thirdly, Disney does not respect authorial intent.

PL Travers, the author of the Mary Poppins books, did not want Disney to make a movie based on her work. She got coerced into letting them make one. She hated the movie and refused to let them make any more.

What happened after she’d died, the ban on them making more Mary Poppies movies ran out and they got their hands on the rights? They made a sequel.

I think you should be more upset that Disney went against the direct wishes of an author than the fact regular people can now use a character that megacorporation uses. PL Travers was a person. Disney is a company. There is a difference.

I love the original Mary Poppins movie. I don’t care about or like the sequel. However, PL Travers died in 1996. People should be able to use the character now, no matter how you or I feel about those newer stories. Again, you can just ignore them if you want.

The original stories are still there.

Royalties are different to public domain. The profits from PL Travers original books go to her descendants and the Cherry Tree Foundation. They will continue to go there for 80 years after her death and then the royalties will be shared out among any decedents who are alive at that time. The money from those books will continue to go there, no matter what new stories with Mary Poppins get made.

You all seem okay with Disney making money off public domain stories and buying the rights to other stories. Why can't you extend that right to other people?

No one has stolen Mickey from Disney. Disney can and will continue to make money off him. All that’s change is that other people can now do that too.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26, PART 27, UPDATE

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

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

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

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

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

[wonderfull-star]

I don't know about the others but Horrortale has always been my favorite au. And one of the reasons is that it is essentially a continuation of one of the neutral endings of Undertale. Therefore, in essence, this au can even partially be called canon, since we learned a brief backstory of Horrortale in Undertale itself. And the continuation of this whole story is the guess of the author(of Horrortale,Sour-Apple Studios) about how this neutral ending will continue. I think Horrortale is one of those universes that Toby Fox might like. If Frisk really hadn’t reset and just returned home, then the Horrortale au would have officially began(even though it’s a fan-made sequel of one of neutral endings).

And this is not even the main reason why I adore this universe. The LORE. I absolutely love how everything smoothly transitions from a scary atmosphere into a dramatic one, showing the agony, fear and hopelessness all the monsters went through. And I like how Aliza understands this and tries to help them all. She's not just the stupid, scared girl the fandom makes her out to be, and I love that. The way the images of the characters change and the background takes on dark tones makes us feel bad for the monsters. And in general, I wonder what will happen to Aliza next, whether there will be different endings, whether the monsters will ever come to the surface. Imagine if they really succeed and they meet already grown-up Frisk (who is probably about 16 years old). By the way, I also like to imagine that Aliza exists in Undertale itself and she is only 5 years old there.

I also liked how Sans was presented in this au. At first he was shown as an unstable psycho who would immediately lash out if you looked at him in wrong way. And then to find out that in fact Sans is not entirely like that and makes sure that his brother and the others in Snowdin do not die of hunger. While he himself was starving for 7 years. Which made him even more crazy.

So when I look at Horror on the “Bad Guys” team, I think: “Maybe it’s not so bad?”. Dust and Killer literally killed everyone including their brother, while in Horror’s au many are at least alive and he definitely would not touch monsters (at least those close to him, for example like Grillby,Politics Bear, Drunk Bunny and Dogaressa), especially his brother. No matter what, he always tried to hold back, which is why his psychosis grew. This makes him different from the rest of the team. Therefore, I think that like Dust and Cross, Horror joined Nightmare only for a specific purpose, while he himself most likely does not like him. However, that doesn't stop me from imagining them all as "family." This makes me think that over time Horror Sans got used to Nightmare and began to see something good in him (even if it may just be a figment of his imagination). Yes, in my mind Nightmare and the rest of his team are canon in Horrortale universe and Papyrus knows about them. At first he had a lot of questions about this, but then he simply came to terms with all the oddities of his brother. The rest of the monsters of Snowdin do not know about bad guys, just sometimes noticing dark tentacles appearing out of nowhere. Imagine if Aliza finds out about other versions of Sans. I think she will be overcome with great horror.

I don't know why, but somehow Bad Guys’s canon presence in Horrortale au makes sense to me (especially Nightmare). Maybe because of their creepy design (Nightmare is basically a walking octopus covered in dark liquid). And also the knowledge that Horror Sans hides a lot more than many in his au think. After all, it’s really creepy to see someone’s copies at one moment, isn’t it?

I also like how Horror always so slays in every edits. Especially with phonk music 👌

[powdermelonkeg]

Do you think the BOTW/TOTK stories would be better/more compelling if they were more intertwined (ie more of a clear continuation, with references to the prequel/sequel in both games), or if they were not intertwined at all, with different Zeldas and Links, as well as “modern” Hyrule being at a different time period between games?

My personal preference would be separate, but I’m interested in hearing your thoughts!

So there's a good case to be made for both.

Compelling story #1 would be the "intended" one, where TotK was a direct sequel to BotW with the same characters. The Zonai could have stood to be more hinted at in BotW, but they didn't know they'd be making a game like that, so it's easily forgiven.

TotK, though—guardians should have been a thing. Guardian PARTS could be building materials. Guardians that fell into the Depths haunting it, glowing and seeing you from a mile away.

Shrines and Divine Beasts could have been inert, or had construction projects around them, or been repurposed. Link doesn't have the slate anymore, so you don't need to build their interiors.

Zelda in the past being much, MUCH more active the instant she feels things are wrong. Because she's SEEN Calamity, and we know BotW Zel takes things into her own hands when she's told no. Some memories detailing her experimenting with Zonai tech, comparing it to Sheikah tech, learning how to pilot a flux construct would have been AWESOME. Not to mention proper use of her powers, which she mastered in BotW.

Ganondorf, to separate him from OoT and tie in more with the idea of Calamity Ganon, could have started off as the good guy of the Gerudo, then we see a stark contrast between an introductory memory and how he acts later. Zelda spying on him, seeing him emanating Malice/Gloom fumes and going mad, trying to run for help and getting caught—that would have added SO much more depth.

Compelling story #2. You pull a "Link Between Worlds" and make TotK a sequel with a different princess and different hero. It's been 100 years since the events of BotW, Zelda is remembered for how she restored the kingdom from total ruin. You can still have Purah since she's figured out her fluctuating immortality. And then that spins TotK Princess Zelda into a more tragic heroine, because despite all the best efforts of her predecessor, she still falls into the trap of the cycle she can't escape.

She knows how to use her power, but she's never HAD to use it, so she's shocked when it manifests itself when she's helping Rauru. And she doesn't know what else to do but give herself up to try to make the future, due to a misguided and despair-filled last cry for help to stop an enemy that's so much bigger than her.

Perfect storm of ideas, you take Story #2 and give it elements of Story #1, like Zelda playing with tech or Ganondorf being properly possessed.

Nintendo hire me.