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moon-and-candlelight-0501 · 1 day ago

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Five Times Daisuke Didn’t Fall for her Touch (and the one time he did)

A/N: The warnings make this look so much scarier than it is lol I promise this is VERY vanilla. Yeahhh these were supposed to be just a couple smutshots but I got way too into the story. I’m a sucker for fwb.

story is supposed to have a kind of beachy setting, but picture it as you will.

Wc: 4.3k

One - Remembering the important things. Such as (but not limited to): Dates, places, names, articles of clothing, jewelry, words that were distorted by pleasure

He had met her at a party, or she was watching from the sidelines of the baseball field. Actually, it might have been through a mutual friend on instagram. Whatever, whenever, wherever it had been, he knew he wanted her.

He knew he wanted her when her tanlines peaked out from the green halter-top she wore (or maybe it had been orange?)

He knew she wanted him when her fingers ghosted over his for longer than needed— just to pass a water bottle, or something of the sort. Her fingers left dripping condensation on the coke or sprite bottle, and Daisuke knew she wanted his warmth too.

Daisuke’s assumptions were proven correct when she pulled him into her apartment to “make a change of clothes”, and in all fairness they do technically get halfway there by the time they reach her unmade bed. [Name] is mumbling apologies into his lips — something about her strewn clothes across the room — but Daisuke is feeling much too hot and bothered to care or even notice.

They needed to meet their friends at a bar in an hour, but the way they got down you’d think they were already running thirty minutes late. He couldn’t help it (he also couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of [Name]’s sun-kissed skin), they only had so much time together and he needed to get off, like, now (and, fuck, she’s so warm. Maybe it’s the high temperatures, but whatever it is, it’s getting him there fast).

“Shit. you’re tight. Fuckkk, g’na cum quick”

“Dai, pull out-”

And he does nothing less than to oblige immediately. He finishes himself with his hand, cursing under his breath as he does so. When he looks back towards [Name]’s bed, she’s looking straight through him whilst leaning back against her forearms.

“You uh… you didn’t like, finish, huh?” Daisuke asks softly.

“Nah, but you’re good. I don’t have to- shit!”

He’s on his knees faster than she can register it, gently spreading [Name]’s legs apart for easier access.

He’s far from experienced, tongue only just missing her clit every time he ran it up and down. [Name] is quick to guide his head though, right over where she needs him.

Experience he didn’t have, and it was evident, but eagerness? That he did. And it was working for [Name].

Lost in pleasure, [Name] didn’t even notice his hand tracing its way under her thigh and towards her entrance. He slipped a finger in, moaning softly at the warmth he had missed. [Name] on the other hand was practically singing for him, choking out moans into the back of her hand when he slipped another finger in.

“Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He snaked his unoccupied arm under [Name’s] thigh, pushing it up and allowing him to hit new spots inside her. His choices were met with the sweet reward of her gasps, followed by barely coherent words.

“Shit Dai, keep doing- keep doing that… oh my god… don’t change anything jus- just keep doing that.”

When she finished with a squeal, Daisuke pulled away quickly, giving [Name] some space to cool off. Wordlessly, she sat up and scanned the messy bedroom while Daisuke collected himself, shoving his cargo shorts and t-shirt over his body.

“m’gonna change before we leave” [Name] finally stands up, snatching an orange floral bikini and some mini shorts on her way to her bathroom.

It’s a small apartment, and Daisuke finds that simply stepping outside of the room, he is met with her living room that he had not had the time to appreciate earlier. It wasn’t an eyesore or anything, but it definitely had personality that he was too busy (for lack of a better word) earlier to notice before. A large cork board with photos of [Name] and friends, more clothes scattered over the sofa (He’s starting to add up that [Name] is very picky about her outfits), an ashtray in the shape of a sun resting atop a dark oak side table. On the table, there's what seems to be the first strokes of green paint over it, as if she had started the project but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the time. His analyzing is interrupted by [Name] finally leaving her bedroom, now in a pink and orange striped tank-top and light-blue jean skirt.

“You have a nice apartment.” Those are the first words he says after having sex with her within less than eight hours of meeting?

“Uh… thanks? You ready to go?” [Name] asked, grabbing her keys and wallet off the less-than-half-painted side table.

When she takes the lead out the apartment, Daisuke pinches his nose bridge in embarrassment and shakes his head at his own words.

The walk to the beach bar was silent, Daisuke preferred listening to cars and bikes passing by, the birds flapping their wings, and music fading in and out as they strolled past different shops and restaurants. He was burning up, and couldn’t tell if it was because of the high UV or current situation he was in. Granted, it was a short walk. Before he could reach to open the bar doors, [Name] reached for his wrist.

“Daisuke, we’re, like, cool? I mean, it was a nice time but I don’t want to make anything weird or… different… we’re cool?”

Her warm fingers were still on his skin, no different than before. So, Daisuke pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a thumbs-up with a smile.

Two - Following Alcohol Runs and Nicknames, Fogged up Windows are to be Expected

In his cheap Toyota, they have cheaper small talk. The weather, school shopping, all the works. Daisuke hopes that [Name] doesn’t notice the soda stains on his gray microfiber seats, or the smell of weed disguised by his “Caribbean Colada” scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Dai.” [Name] breaks the silence, and Daisuke freezes up in the driver's seat. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. It’s been a while, I was starting to miss you.”

It’s not like he was trying to avoid her. As the summer died down, the memory of that end-of-June (maybe it was early July?) afternoon did too. Different one-night-stands and complicated almost-somethings made that day seem to just be another drop in the pile of summer flings building for the both of them.

“Shit.” It’s like something snapped in him, Daisuke makes a quick turn behind a Walmart that had already closed for the night. He parked in the middle of the large space, and immediately rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes shut. “Uh, Dai?” [Name] called, but he only groaned against the steering wheel and ran a hand through his dyed hair, “fuckkkk”

“Daisuke. You’re freaking me out a bit.”

He mumbled a few more curses under his breath before raising his head to look at her with those deep brown eyes. Even in the dark lighting [Name] looked so hot. Yeah, she had opted for a zip up hoodie, but by now it had fallen off her shoulders, and Daisuke noticed the very low cut purple tank top she wore under.

“M’sorry” He said against the steering wheel.

“For what?” [Name] leveled her face to meet his eyes.

“Nothing was supposed to be different. It’s just, I dunno. You said my name, and like, everyone calls me Dai, but you just say it some type of way. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

By now Daisuke had turned away from her, but [Name] knew what he was feeling. He got fucking turned on from her saying his name. Well, his nickname. And in all fairness, she understands. The only time she had ever called him “Dai” was when he was between her legs.

Well, she thinks, they’re behind a Walmart after-hours, it’s dark, and no one’s around anyways. What’s another sexual encounter before school starts?

Daisuke felt a hand gliding up his thigh, and he whipped his head around to face [Name].

“I think I need to return the favor from last time” She did her best to speak seductively, but had to bite back a cringe at the fake voice. For Daisuke though, he was way too into it to care.

“What do you mean?” He has to resist the urge to hit himself on the head for this question, but [Name] just chuckles and shifts her body to face him from the passenger seat.

“Dai, just put the seat back.”

Deciding it’s best to not speak, he listens and lies back against the seat, waiting for [Name] to make her move.

“So pretty, you know that?” She praises him as her palm only ghosts over the denim covering his bulge. Daisuke let out a shaky breath, and [Name] decided they really didn’t have any time for teasing. With Daisuke’s help, his jeans and boxers were pulled down in a blur, and [Name] grasped his cock from the base, gently of course. As she leaned over the console, she gingerly kissed his tip and was rewarded with a strewn moan from Daisuke— who was clearly very sensitive, judging by how quickly pre had collected on his tip. [Name] doesn’t waste any more time and takes all that she can of him in her mouth. Daisuke swears he’s died and gone to heaven, completely lost in bliss.

“Fuck, [Name], you’re so good. Feel so good. God, just like that, you’re so good. So pretty.”

He doesn’t say it, but [Name] could feel Daisuke twitching in her mouth and knew that he was about to finish, so she pulled off and looked at his wrecked face. He had a hand tangled in his own hair, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he whined out, “No, no no.”

He looked almost betrayed at her, eyes glossy like he was about to cry. “Why’d you stop?”

[Name] only chuckled and pressed his chest down onto the carseat, crawling over his legs and going in to kiss him, “Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

The kiss was anything but slow, Daisuke nearly shoving his tongue into her mouth and whimpering against her lips. He only pulled away to moan when her hand found its way back to his cock, stroking him softly. His hips bucked up into her hand, causing her to bounce, giving Daisuke a nice view of [Name]’s tits in that low cut tank.

[Name] sped up her strokes, and Daisuke was practically arching into her touch, the only word he could repeat was “Please, please, please, please.”

When he finally came, most of it dribbled down to his thighs, but a particularly far shot splashed onto [Name]’s tank top, causing Daisuke to ramble apologies as he was still coming because she was still working him through it. when all calmed, [Name] slipped back into her seat and properly zipped her hoodie up.

Daisuke also got himself decent, and they both just sat in the heat of the car.

“Your windows fogged up.”

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment

“Nothing's different right?”

And this time, Daisuke was confident in his words,

“Nothings different.”

Three - Ashtray is Put to Good Use (And so is an Art Major)

“Shit, Dai.”

[Name] had her bare back draped over the arm of her couch, the cool leather sending shivers down her spine. Daisuke was above, her waist in his grasp as he placed open mouth kisses trailing from her collarbone down to her abdomen.

“Who taught you about foreplay?” She chuckled and reached for the sun-shaped ashtray on the side table behind her, pinching a near burnt-out blunt between her fingers.

“I’ve gotten some experience in since last time” Daisuke mumbled against her skin, and looked up at her with a coy smile. [Name] rolled her eyes and blew smoke towards him, to which he responded by pressing two fingers against her core through her lounge shorts.

“Fuck.”

Normally she would never be this sensitive, but the weed and the way she was practically on display for him made every nerve spark ten times brighter everywhere his touch lingered.

It was Thanksgiving break, and [Name] had a fat blunt that might as well have been rolled to share. All friends were home or on their way home, except for Daisuke.

It’s not like he didn’t miss his parents, but maybe he didn’t dwell too hard at the first google search revealing that there were no flights home available. Maybe another month to prepare before dealing with the inevitable questions about his future, followed by food being shoved in his face, wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Not when he could be here instead, between [Name]’s legs. And when she unravels while calling out for him, fingers gripping harshly onto his grown-out roots, for a moment everything is just the same as the first time he went down on her, his head is void of deadlines and applications.

“Damn. Definitely better than the last time.” She teased while pulling up her bottoms, as Daisuke leaned over her to take a last drag from the joint. He hovered for a moment, before she guided his jaw towards hers and spread it slightly to shotgun the smoke. When he pulled away, [Name] tapped his chest lightly, as to signal that he give her some room to sit up, “Thanks.”

“I mean, it wasn’t for you…”

“Hey not that this wasn’t great, but are we gonna keep taking turns going down on eachother or are we actually gonna fuck again at some point?” [Name] disregarded his statement, and Daisuke scoffed before sitting back comfortably against the couch,

“I mean I would. But I’m like actually hungry. Munchies, man.”

[Name] rolled her eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, making her way to the kitchen (it was only on his way home the next morning that Daisuke realized it was his t-shirt she had picked up, and forgotten to return, resulting in an awkward shirtless drive in the middle of November)

“Not that your decor isn’t great or anything, but your side table kind of throws it all off.” Daisuke chatted to her from the couch.

“Eh, I didn't see the point in finishing it. Didn’t have the right supplies, or patience to see it through. Like you said, great decor.”

“You have the paint still?”

“Yeah, Why? Gonna put that Art Major to work?” [Name raised an eyebrow at him from the kitchen, as she grabbed a couple different varieties of chips.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Four - Broken Heaters and Absent Roomates Aligned

“Thanks for letting me crash, Daisuke.” [Name] sighed, as she threw her duffel bag to the side somewhere beside his second-hand couch. Daisuke nodded, “Yeah of course. They said the freeze is supposed to be pretty bad. Wouldn’t want you sitting in your apartment with a busted heater.” Without words, [Name] acknowledged that any traces of roommates were missing. It was still only just after New Year’s, and Daisuke was clearly the only person who made a beeline to get back on campus.

1:25 AM, and [Name] had only managed an hour-or-so of sleep. She groaned and pulled the thin blanket Daisuke had oh-so graciously provided her with over her shoulders and made her way towards his bedroom.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the door open, she could just barely make out Daisuke’s sleeping silhouette, and the edge of his bed. Deciding she had little to lose, [Name] crawled into the bed and shook him by the shoulder slightly.

“Dai. Dai, wake up. Don’t freak out.”

She was only met with a groan, signaling that he was only slightly conscious. “I’m freezing out there, all you left me with is this thin-ass blanket,” she feigned sadness to get his attention.

“No one told you that you had to sleep out there.” He muttered into his pillow.

“I was trying to be appropriate!” She can’t see it, but Daisuke raises an eyebrow at her remark, as if to say, ‘Seriously?’

“Look, my fingers are basically gonna freeze off”

“Let me see,” Daisuke takes her fingers into his grasp and thinks for a moment, “Feels the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. Your fingers are like, always warm. No different now.”

“Well I feel cold.”

“I know what’d warm you up” He rested his head on the palm of his hand to face her, trying to analyze her face with the little moonlight that hit her just right. She only smiled and lowered her voice,

“Are you serious?”

“If you are,” Daisuke let his head hit the pillow again, and sighed “I’m too tired to move though.”

“God, you’re such a tease. Here, roll over. I’ll get on top.”

Daisuke did as she asked and gave her a loopy smile when she climbed over him.

“So pretty like this.” He ran his hands up and down her clothed sides as she reached into his sleep shorts and gently pulled his length out.

[Name] began to softly stroke him, until he was hard enough to slip in. Daisuke was already huffing out and tightening his grip on her waist. She lifted herself up a bit to slip her bottoms off, and when Daisuke went to assist, his hand was met with thin silk.

“No shorts?” He chuckled and she playfully slapped his chest,

“Shut up. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

[Name] inhaled and sunk herself onto him slowly. Daisuke was groaning at every inch of her core that he felt. When her hips finally met his, [Name] gasped and entangled her fingers with his, pinned beside his head.

Yeah, the sex felt great. It always had. but the view Daisuke had right now, [Name]’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, hair in every direction. He thought she was more beautiful than any beach sunset, late night drive or joint shared between two lonely people. Here, in her oversized tee, was the most gorgeous work of art Daisuke had ever seen, sat on his dick.

When her hips started rocking to a steady pace, he brought her right hand to his lips and mumbled praises into her fingers.

“So good for me.”

“You’re gorgeous here.”

“Just like that, keep going.”

They finished at the same time. [Name] rolled onto her back beside him, still catching her breath. Daisuke turned his head to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking back.

“It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“We’re at my place this time, you were on top, and you’re staying over. In my bed.”

“Yeah. In your navy blue sheets. Nice.”

“Do you feel different?” He pushed, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.

“You told me how I feel, Daisuke,” she sighed “the same, right?”

He nodded and looked back up at the ceiling,

“Warm.”

Five - Finding Comfort in Activities Other than Sex; Baking, Reading, Calling up a friend, Painting, etc.

The biting chill of winter had long dissipated, April showers had passed and May flowers were blooming as they do every year. Pinks, oranges, greens, they bloom before [Name]’s eyes, and it’s almost as beautiful as the days and nights spent with Daisuke.

Almost.

Finals season.

This afternoon pens are scattered around her living room floor, along with forgotten notebooks and sticky notes with words scribbled on that mean nothing to either of them, what matters is their connection, where they connect. Between each other's legs, on [Name]’s brown leather couch. The familiar summer breeze made for a sweaty study-session-turned-hookup, but [Name] is in her element. She’s almost too lost to notice the puffiness on Daisuke’s face, how his eyes are screwed shut, lips tucked in. Almost.

“Wait- Daisuke, stop.”

He halted any movements immediately, all hands off her skin. He was trying to catch his breath and search for any signs of discomfort on her face.

“Is it, um, are you-“

“Daisuke, are you crying?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, you could’ve at least let yourself finish”

The second [Name] saw the smallest tear pricking at his eyes, she pulled herself away from him immediately, and suggested that they both get decent.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience hook up with you when you’re clearly upset.” She explained, whilst handing him a coke and taking a seat next to him. Daisuke muttered just a small ‘Thank you’, opened it, and took a drink immediately as if to show that he didn’t feel like furthering the conversation.

[Name] sighed and propped herself up on her palms, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’re more than just some fuck-buddie to me, okay? I’m not gonna send you home after you clearly had an emotional experience.”

Daisuke took another sip of coke.

“Hey, since we have the time, think you could finish painting my table for me?” She nudged him.

And paint he did. At some point Daisuke wondered how little patience [Name] must have to not complete such a project. Her side table was a standard square one, the hardest part being the wait between each coat of paint. On the third and final, Daisuke finally decided to speak up about the earlier situation,

“My mom got me an internship.”

[Name]’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god! Daisuke, that’s really awesome. Where at?”

Daisuke painted over the last small area that needed its final quote. As he put his brush down, he turned his body towards her,

“Space.”

She laughed.

One - No excuses.

July 27th.

The air was still sweetly sticky with Summer, every fan unit blowing in [Name]’s apartment.

Today, there was no meetup to attend. No late night convenience store runs, no smoke to share, no broken AC unit, and no finals to pretend to study for. There wasn’t an excuse, just an “I’ll be there in 10” text. [Name] dressed herself up without knowing why. It’s another outfit that will be thrown on the floor the moment that boy walks through the front door. She glossed her lips, and rolled her lashes with mascara, but she knew that the gloss would be kissed off within the hour, and she has to hope that the mascara won’t run by the end of the night.

Without much surprise, no words are exchanged when he walks into her apartment. In fact, the door isn’t even closed before her lips are on his. It’s messy. As a matter of fact, she might have missed his lips the first time because pink lipgloss smudged against his cheek, but neither of them seemed to notice.

When they make it to her bed, all clothes are off. Daisuke pressed his lips against her neck as he lined himself up with her. When he pressed in, he started off with strings of praises. But the closer he was to finishing, his words began to sound like whispers of goodbyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, fuck, so much.”

It was slow, and careful, and nothing like the first time. And when he kissed her, it was like he was trying to make up for every individual day he would be gone on that goddamn ship.

“I love you.” Daisuke whined as he came with her. [Name] pretended like she didn’t hear.

They didn’t exchange words that night. Both of them took turns cleaning themselves in the bathroom, and then crawled into her queen bed. It’s not weird to hold a friend who you won’t see for a while, so that’s what they did.

Daisuke woke up first the next morning, [Name] still in his arms. The sunlight had already begun filtering in through her blinds, and it made her look majestic. He took this time for himself, to trace shapes on her bare back. To brush the hair from her face, and memorize her features. When she stirred awake, [Name] did her best to avoid eye contact, a common tactic she used in these situations. Surprisingly though, Daisuke believed this was his first time seeing her anywhere near bashful. He kissed the top of her head before speaking,

“It’s all different now.”

And [Name] almost winces. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Daisuke chuckled and pulled back from her a bit, “No, it’s different.”

“Why though?” [Name] sat up now. She was trying to salvage anything left of what they had. Trying to salvage the year they had, as if she could make it extend, and they could stay 22 forever.

“Because I don’t expect you to let life pass you by, waiting 382 days for your friend-with-benefits,” he explained, “but up there, It’s like I’ll be frozen where I am now. When I come back down, I’ll still feel 22. I’ll still want to leech off my parents and drop important things just to do stupid shit like painting a table.”

“It’s only a year.”

“A year that I will only be able to think about you the entire time. As long as I see the sun I’ll think of the summer I met you, and as long as I see the moon I’ll think of how you took me in my own car, or how you crawled into my bed that January night.”

Silence fell between the both of them now that there were no more words to say but goodbye. Leave it to Daisuke to find something else though,

“Why’d we do this anyways?” He asked, more directed towards himself than anything. Still, [Name] replied,

“Why’d I keep the side table I was never gonna paint?”

#authors first time publishing smut #daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke smut #daisuke FREAK #daisuke x reader #daisuke mw #daisuke juarez #daisuke x you #daisuke x female reader #daisuke x y/n

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tastesousweet · 2 days ago

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01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic fanfic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #martin and hamzah #hamzah fic #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantasticxreader #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #slushy virus #slushy noobz virus #thatmartinkid #mandysiphone

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fan-maddson · 2 days ago

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“Alright,” he smiled. “Just remember you have obligations here. Not just Fannie; Max, Wayne, Billy. You’re the head of the house. Fannie can do a lot on her own, but I’m not sure what she’ll do if something happens to you or Billy.”

Billy gripped the steering wheel tighter. His vision was swimming as he tried to keep from crying. He's bruised up. His right eye swollen shut. He took a deep breath. He didn't feel like partying. Not like this. He covered his face with his hands. Glad no one was around. Everyone inside at Fannie Maddson's house.

He let go, tears rolling down his face as he sat at the end of the street.

Glad for the nights coverage as he sobbed into his hands.

@fan-maddson

#stuffandthangsandangelwings

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rei-plswork · 3 days ago

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Just a dream.

Neuvillette x Gn!Reader

Comfort story

Cw: blood and death

You could barely breathe, gripping your chest in pain as you took hard gasps for air. Throat dry as you crawled closer to Neuvillette. You stared at him and he stared back with those now lifeless lavender eyes. Ones that you could not erase from your memory. Ones that used to brighten and stare back at you so lovingly.

You can still remember everything to the point it hurt. His smooth velvety voice that would call upon you from his soft lips or when he’d gently kiss you with them. His beautiful silver hair that you’d run your fingers through, tracing his water-like tendrils. His warm hands, which you’d hold as you walked together, gazing at the stores in Fontaine.

Now, his lips were dried and bloodied, not a breath escaping them. His hair cascaded his pale face and onto the floor, only to become greeted and soaked by a pool of crimson. His hands had become cold as ice, indicating his departure from the world.

You wanted to scream, shout, but that was impossible. The only thing you could do was attempt to breathe, choking out sobs as you cradled his bloody cold hand like a lifeline.

…

No.. wait. That was wrong, everything was wrong. What were you staring at again? There was blood everywhere and-

“(Y/n)..?”

A soft voice echoed in your ear. It was only when a cool hand touched your forehead did you snap out of your trance. You forcefully had to take a gasp of air, cold sweat dripping from your temple.

Where-? Oh right. You were having tea time with Neuvillette in his office and there he was, looking at you so lovingly yet with so much concern that it made your heart ache.

Did you fall asleep while Neuvillette chatted about the taste of the local waters of Natlan? That is most likely, though, that wasn’t as important as the gaping memory of your dream. You could barely remember it now that you’ve woken up.

“Darling, are you ill? Sigewinne is visiting today, maybe we can ask her to check you out.” Neuvillette spoke again, dragging you away from your thoughts. His voice was silky smooth, comforting your ears as you stare at his bright lavender eyes. A soft sigh of relief escaped your lips as you motioned him to sit next to you, which he quickly obliged without hesitation.

You were still trembling.

Just what did you dream of to have this effect on you?

Picking up your teacup, you muster up the strength to mutter a small, “I’m fine,” taking a deep breath to calm down as you stared at the cup now in your hand before back at him.

You had no idea what expression you were making yet you could guess based on the small furrow of his brows that it was not good.

Needing to feel his calming presence, you softly plead, “Hug me, please,” and he listens. His warm body wrapping around you, letting you burrow into the crook of his neck. The comforting sound of his heartbeat soothed you as he kissed your temples to further calm you down.

You were safe. He was safe. It was a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. Your dear Neuvillette was here, he always was.

…

A/n: this was from me making up a story in my head weeks ago. Apparently I still remember it so I write it. This is my first story on tumblr so I hope you liked it!! (Took like 2 hours.. I really suck at doing things quickly)

This is not in line with the canon events btw. Idk I’m taking it to a random direction.

Dividers from: @cafekitsune

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #comfort #cw blood #cw death #first time writing on tumblr #i hope yall like it #fluff #genshin impact x reader #should I make part 2?#probably gonna be full angst tho

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lala056 · 3 days ago

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Exhausting

I have no respect for billford shippers that look down on stancest shippers.

Oh what, you’d have me believe a genetic tie to a partner is somehow worse than being with someone that stabs through your hands, forces you to swallow live spiders, and also SA’s you by having yourself forcibly strip down in public and swing your clothes over your head like a helicopter? (sorry but anyone that forcibly removes your clothes and exposes your body, even if you’re a guy/lacking breasts and it’s just your chest, is committing SA against you. They’re exposing your body against your will plain and simple. Try to write that off how you like but that’s the facts)

The logic behind this baffles me honestly.

There’s a reason Alex titled that kissing drawing as "the worst drawing in the world" and then linked to an amazon BIBLE page (yeah I know that was part of a joke well guess what he frequently uses the bible joke for shipping in general so yeah).

Because he knows it’s BAD, TOXIC, PROBLEMATIC AS YOU GUYS LIKE TO LABEL THINGS. What I see people incorrectly accuse PROSHIPPERS to REPRESENT rather than the actual representation of the LIVE AND LET LIVE CREDO OF SHIPPING.

Ever stop to consider that maybe Alex didn’t do stancest or art involving Wendy/Dipper because he simply a) didn’t like those ships, which is valid since everyone has their own tastes, and he did base some of these characters on his own family so it’s close to home for him, or b) knows how toxic and chronically online a lot of haters are? That he wanted to avoid drama for this stream that he’s trying to milk every cent out of for CHARITY? (It's ridiculous how many times he felt obligated to say "REMEMBER IT'S FOR CHARITY" when shipping came up just to try and prevent any meltdowns from uptight fans and viewers. And even then he still didn't do some because he knew the fact of it being for charity still wouldn't fly for some- because a lot of people would rather watch REAL PEOPLE SUFFER to preserve their fictional sensitivities)

Not to mention he still works with Disney (chibiverse hello), any backlash (the form of false pedo accusations or incest apologist accusations being what happens to be thrown around all willy nilly nowadays over fictional bullshit) could get him blocked not only from working with the company ever again, but lose any input he might have over his beloved passion project and baby Gravity Falls itself?

This is a man who has said COUNTLESSLY that he doesn’t care about ships, has even encouraged people to "be weirder" and made omelet hypotheticals for how much HE DOESN’T CARE BECAUSE FICTIONAL SHIPS DON’T MATTER.

Alex Hirsch is a KING.

And it’s sad to see that so many of his loyal subjets are so bigoted and blind to ignore his own feelings in order to justify their own, or to somehow perform the mental gymnastics in order to absolve themselves of "thought crimes" so that they can feel like they aren’t bad people under the imposition of conservative purity culture.

The terms "cest" and "age" are trigger words now. If those show up in any form, pitchforks come out and roofs get burned. Companies overreact and overcompensate. He said Disney people were watching, so of course he’s gonna say and act in what is deemed an appropriate manner because even companies apparently prefer abusive relationships to ones that have a blood tie even if blood ties are wholesomely depicted.

The age old double standards.

And don’t get me started on bringing up Dipper Goes To Taco Bell. Alex and cast know of that story, they’ve made references to it in a video game and such, immortalized it. They engage with all corners of their fandom, also shown by Jason’s "saving the town" reference on stream.

Another thing, anyone notice how they laughed off the Dipper and Wendy suggestion Jason made, rather than exploded? BECAUSE THEY DON'T CARE IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS - and most likely turned them down because they know there's more drama about characters being aged up and crap so it wouldn't have mattered if they're adults now, there are people who will always see them as "kids".

Point is - If there was such a strong hate on Alex’s part about the darker side of fiction or taboos he’d do all in his power to make sure they were never mentioned again and be active against them.

He’s a kind, caring man that obviously likes to just get along with people, but he does put his foot down when he feels something is awful. He’s made political posts about presidents he feels are corrupt and spoken out against social injustice. You honestly think he wouldn’t speak out about those taboo ships in frank language if he thought that they shouldn’t exist and that the people who create for them are awful?

Newsflash, he would. Yes, he’d isolate a sadly small part of his fanbase, but he’s shown time and again he doesn’t care about being liked. He cares about what’s right.

And abusing others over which made up character kisses who, isn’t.

If you’re someone that mislabels proshippers too, to mean "problematic shippers", then as a billford shipper you’re one by definition. And yes, I'm including you AU billford shippers too because there is always some degree of toxicity.

Knock the hate and abuse off. People that go off about why their ship is justified and another isn't are the reason people leave fandoms and leave amazing works often unfinished, even Gen writers and artists.

#gravity falls #billford #stancest #alex hirsch #shipping #really tired of all ya'll

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polo-drone-084 · 2 days ago

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The Golden Pups Practice

Grayden, the Head Mascot of the Golden Army, had an interesting task ahead of him. It was one he hadn't tried before. Pup Handler 049 was out for the week, dealing with some other obligations. He had to watch over the occasionally unruly Golden & Polo Pups.

Grayden, was one of the pups as well, when he wasn't in charge. He remembered before Handler 049 left he said, "Vysor be a good bouieee and watch the pack for me while I'm busy."

Vysor (Grayden) couldn't deny a request from Handler 049, especially after he called him a good bouieees (good boy).

Grayden called a pack meeting with the other nine current pups in the pack. He wanted to get them ready for the upcoming Hockey match against the Pachy Pack. Unfortunately since it was an away game the pups couldn't be out being their overly energetic selves in the stadium. They could sit and cheer with Captain Brody and Handler 049 if they were good, well behaved pups but they wouldn't be able to get up to their normal antics during games. Doing things like licking willing fans faces, distributing Golden Army merch, and running around the stadium being silly.

Grayden knew a few pup members had other important roles during the Hockey match.

Chevy, Rocky (Herc/Scott), Max (Matthew), Ace (Leander), Buzz (Maximus), Spike (Trevor), and himself were all pups in the pack who would have be non pups for the match. Leaving Luky (Carlos), Milo (Alex), and Kai (Grant) on the sidelines if they weren't drafted to the Hockey team's reserve lines.

Grayden stood before the pups, "Pups, I know you prefer playing with balls and bones. Today though we're going to play with sticks and pucks. You're going to help make sure we do our best on Friday. We have a rival pack to beat. But they aren't fun pups, they're stinky elephants."

Growls could be heard from Ace (Leander) and Rocky (Herc/Scott), both had strong feelings about their opponents. Grayden did as well, but he didn't show it.

"Okay pups get changed and meet me back here in 30 minutes. We're going to make sure Chevy, Rocky, Max, and Vysor work on their teamwork and shots for the match as good hockey pups. You other pups are gonna help too."

The pups practiced for hours, for some reason most of them wanted to be shirtless during practice. Some of their bodies even had a golden glow to them, likely due to the Golden God influence seeping out through a determined Grayden, Herc, and Chevy.

Each pup practiced their shots, passes, blocks, and more. Grayden was quite pleased at how well behaved and determined the pups were. They may not be able to be pups during the match, unless they were well behaved on the sidelines, but Grayden knew the pack's bond grew with that practice.

He also knew Herc, Chevy, Max, and himself would do their best to make their fellow packmates proud during the match. But Leander (Pup Ace), Maximus (Pup Buzz), and Trevor (Pup Spike) would be busy being the costumed mascots and head waterboy during the match. Their cheers and support would be helping to boost the team to victory. Alex (Pup Milo) also knew how to cheer on the crowd and he knew Luky (Carlos) and Pup Kai (Grant) would be cheering for them as well. Grayden knew the pack would make him and Handler 049 proud.

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

Author's Note:

Just to clarify who everyone is

PDU-084/Grayden is also Pup Vysor.

Herc @goldenherc9 is Pup Rocky

Chevy @chevy-gold is Pup Chevy

Matthew @matthewgold-32 is Pup Max

Maximus/PDU-070 @polo-drone-070 is also Pup Buzz

Trevor @trevorgold52 is also Pup Spike

Leander @leander-gold-88 is Pup Ace

Alex/PDU-151 @polo-drone-151 is Pup Milo

Carlos @lukypuppy is Pup Luky

Grant @grant-gold43 is Pup Kai

Handler PDU-049/Ambrose @polo-drone-049

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

Do you also want to be a good Golden pup? Or maybe just join our Hockey team or the team, in general?

Join the Golden Army by contacting one of our recruiters, @goldenherc9 @brodygold or @polo-drone-001

#golden army #gold army #golden team #goldenarmy #join the golden team #thegoldenteam #gold #ai generated #golden tf #golden pup #golden gods #golden opportunities #golden brotherhood #pup pride #pup pack #golden pup pack #good bouieee #good boy #good boi

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ray935sworld · 1 day ago

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~ 2025 season Marmarc snippet ~

This is a first draft cause I wanna write and share my writing but uni is a bitch so no editing and/ or real introduction but somehow it got longe enough and now it's an actual story and not but who cares. 🐢, this is for you, my dear. 🙃

"Alex is pretty stressed" Marc said as he sat down next to Bez on the bed. The young man looked at him with tired eyes. He blinked a few times, clearly trying to let the conversation continue.

They hadn't seen each other for the whole day. And it had been a long and tiring day for both of them.

Softly he asked. "Oh no, is he okay?" "Yeah..." he reassured him. "It's just - Nadja said he's supposed to finish in the top 5. That's a pretty big ask. I mean, I believe in him but Aldeguer got a better deal. I mean, he's asked to be rookie of the year. He only has to beat a fucking aprilla and a Honda. That's not really hard and-"

"The fuck you just said?" Marco interrupted and sat up with an angry glance. His until then half closed eyes went wide. Marc blinked in confusion about to ask what was wrong when he remembered that his boyfriend was no longer riding a Ducati.

He felt the heat creep up in his cheeks, embarrassed to be caught like that. He stared at Bez, realizing how deep his words had to run and he knew he had fucked up. "I - No, baby, that's not what I meant-" he said quickly, reaching for the younger one, hoping the physical contact might settle his anger.

"A rookie on an aprilla. Not you. No, never you. A rookie on a aprilla isn't that big of a threat to a Ducati but you-" Bez scoffed. He had turned away, not leaning into Marcs touch. Something he had never done before. The rejection broke a small part of the Spaniards heart.

He watched how he turned his head away to avoid his touch in his cheeks. He saw how he pulled his legs away as if Marc's touch would burn him. "You know what? Go fuck yourself." he said and stood up.

He was already up when Marc grabbed his arm. He hung onto his wrist. He felt his skin and for a moment he felt settled. "No please. Listen, I-" But his boyfriend moved his hand away.

Marc wouldn't force it, so he let go. He stared at him, begging silently. He knew he had fucked up. He knew his phrasing could have been better. He knew it. But he had been to tired to realize beforehand. But at least Bez turned around. "I believed you when you said that aprilla was good... You know how anxious I was about the decision and you lied!"

The Ducati rider swallowed. He did remember the discussions they had about the younger ones move. At first it was just a theoretical question but at the end, Marco spoke openly about it. And Marc had encouraged him.

"I didn't!" he reassured him. "You did!" "I didn't! You asked if it'd be the right choice. And I always said yes because-" "And that was a lie!" "No! I honestly think it's the right choice... For you. I mean - look." He took a deep breath.

"You weren't happy in the last year. Like - not at all. The team didn't make you happy anymore-" "Do NOT talk about them like that. They are my friends!" he shot back, anger lingering in his voice. Mentally Marc took a step back. "I'm not saying they aren't." he said softly. He hoped a soft tone might calm him down.

"I'm just saying that maybe... You know... You wanting to make them - especially Rossi - proud wasn't excatly helping." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "Marco, I really don't think it's my place to-" "Say it, Marquez, or I'm walking out of here."

He felt his anxiety rise. No. He couldn't let Marco walk out of here, angry, sad. Maybe he wouldn't come back.

"I'm... I'm saying that as your boyfriend, who loves you like crazy, not as a rider, okay?" He looked at Bez, begging him to understand. And he did. The Italian looked at him and replied, slightly calmer "Okay." So Marc explained.

"You weren't happy in the team. You wanted to make them proud because of what they did for you. You felt you were obligated to archive something because you know how happy they were in 2023 and you couldn't do that in 2024. Or at least not in the same amount. You became desperate and angry at yourself and helpless. And I couldn't find a way to help you - until - well until you told me about that offer for Aprilla."

He remembered all the times Bez had stormed into the motorhome and growled something about 'this fucking bike' just to then bury his head in Marc's chest. Sometimes he had cried. Sometimes he had just laid there, pretending the world wasn't there. Marc hated it every time.

He wanted his boyfriend back. The one that came skipping in, a big grin on his face. He didn't care if it was because of Rubik or because of a podium he had scared but he needed that smile back. But during the last season it was like nothing really bought Bez joy, like his whole happiness was swallowed by his fear and anxiety and not even Marc could do anything about it.

"So yes, I said that it was the best decision for you. And maybe - yes it was selfish that my support was mainly based on the fact that I didn't want to see my happy, cheerful boyfriend go down the same rabbit hole as last year."

He felt tears in Hi eyes as he recalled the past.

"But fucking hell - I thought I'll lose you." he said in all honesty. "You can't seriously expect not to encourage you to take a way out. Yes the aprilla is worst than the Ducati. But that's a fact. You knew that when you took the offer. I didn't say anything against that. So yeah - as a rider - maybe you should have stayed on a Ducati because at the moment they are the best"

He saw teh way Bez eyes widen for a moment. But they both knew he was just stating facts.

"But the bike wasn't working for you. And maybe the 2024 or 2025 bike wouldn't work for you either. And I highly suspect that and I'm sorry for that. But maybe the Aprilia works better. I'm sure it will. Marco, I believe in you. You're one of the best riders on the grid. I know you can succeed... But it's not worth your mental and physical health. You can't ask me to actually support that when it's unlikely that it will work"

Marco looked at him, the anger in his eyes gone again.

"And if it doesn't work? If I lose the seat and no one's wanna take me?" "Than they are stupid idiots. Who cares?" "What if that moves destroys my career? Would you-" "If you ask me if I'd still love you if you weren't a motogp rider, I'll throw a cushion in your face. Of course I'd still love you. I love you like crazy. Don't tell me you can't see that? Please, don't tell me I've been that much of a bad boyfriend that you don't even believe that I love you regardless of what you do?"

Finally Bez sat down again, this time right on Marcs lap, which made the older one laugh.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have jump at you like taht because of it" Marco mumbled, his face hidden in Marc's shoulder. He just leaned against him.

"No you're not. It's okay. I love you. I love you so, so incredible much" "I love you too"

#motogp #marc marquez #marco bezzecchi #motogp rpf #ray's writing

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chaifootsteps · 2 days ago

Note

i should've mentioned it when we were talking about tuca and bertie and them doing things right, but the arc bertie goes through with her SA and reclaiming it thru taboo fantasies is very similar to what ive been through, right down to a therapist opening me up to this new side of sexuality, and while it all happened to me years prior to the arc happening in the show, it broke me out of my anti shipper mentality that gave me this sense of justice and rigid rightness in what i was doing.

just thought now would be a good time to bring it up too because of the allegations against you and how what happened to max is basically the same thing that's happened to me. it's such an uncomfortable feeling to know someone who brought you into this world sees you like that, and having a fictional character similar to that person to self insert with in writing has helped far more then feeling disgusted with myself ever did or has, because i can stop anytime i want, or just get to a point where i move on completely from being able to gain anything from this personally. (which im leaning towards for now,) it's like bertie's therapist said, "because this time, you're in control."

i just wish antis could at least be more open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, shaming victims for coping this way isn't helpful, and that the lack of nuance implies shaming these uncontrollable fantasies (because you can't control your thoughts and like bertie's therapist said, "brains are weird!", although ive also heard the fear and arousal part of your brain is closely related which explains so many kinks to me tbh,) is the only form of healing and getting better, which it never will be. this kind of thing, of re-exploring your trauma thru fiction like this, definitely doesn't help certain people and that needs to be respected, but for anyone it does, they shouldn't just be written off as "normalizing their abuse", because im aware enough to keep this to myself, and to other people like me.

come talk to me about me "romanticizing" horrible things in fiction when you remember vivs shows have millions of views, and THATS why her writing like a fanfic author is bad - not because she inherently is one at heart. a large audience of adults should engage with these heavy topics, (and deserve to have them be written well, even if the stans swear they don't because nuh uh it's Da Best cuz mama viv made it,) not literal children. regardless of this unfortunate demographic that's naturally been formed and then unnaturally encouraged by the creator to line her pockets with their parents money, i think people have a moral obligation to tell a well written story about dark taboo subjects when they have such a large scale of production and connections like this, with some gray area in between, because theres some pieces of media that aren't as big as vivs creations or as small as fanfic writers (compared to other indie creations like video games or shows,) either, like mouthwash, or that one horror game with a sibling incest ending. that's what i mean when i said you aren't gonna make anyone want to fuck a lizard, but that vivs story's spread sentiment that would give 1970s victim blaming, "well, what was she wearing?" arguments a run for their money in how gross they are. i don't think max is gonna make anyone want to fuck their own dad either.

i hope this all makes sense! i think this is the most vulnerable ive ever been in your ask box. thank you for being someone who makes me feel strong enough to talk about this.

No, no, it makes perfect sense! Thanks for sharing your story, Anon...that was an incredibly vulnerable thing to talk about, and it couldn't have been easy.

I don't know if it's due to social media or what, but people have gotten really, really terrible at the concept of "I do my thing that works for me over here, you do your thing that works for you over there, and even though we don't understand each other, we mind our business about it." Like you said, it becomes a different conversation the more widespread and professional your piece of media is -- the same way that feeding 1,000 people a day is different than cooking for yourself -- but when we're talking about you and me and Max and all the randos on AO3? An appropriately tagged piece of work that makes a sharp distinction between fiction and reality is harmless.

What isn't harmless is telling someone that their intensely personal coping method is wrong and shameful and that they're a dangerous, evil person because it makes you uncomfortable, and that they're either a bad survivor or lying about being one.

Here's the scene from Tuca & Bertie, because it's so well done and always relevant.

youtube

#Anonymous #viv stuff #video reply

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kathlare · 2 days ago

Text

beneath the stillness

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Max visits his best friend Lando, who has been avoiding everyone and struggling emotionally after encountering unresolved feelings related to his ex, Amelie.

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

November 24th, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

Max hadn’t heard from Lando in days. Usually, that wasn’t a huge deal. Lando was a busy guy—he had races, media obligations, and his own life to deal with—but the silence had felt... different this time. It wasn’t like Lando to go off the radar without any warning. They were best friends, and after everything they’d been through together, he knew when something was up. So, with a feeling of growing concern, Max made the decision to go check on him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this about Lando, but every time he did, it was usually something related to Amelie. Max had known from the start that Lando had never quite gotten over her, even after their messy breakup. Lando had tried to move on with other girls, but there was always something—always her—lingering in the background. Max had seen it all, witnessed the way Lando would shut down after hearing news about her or seeing her posts on Instagram. Lando never really talked about it, but Max knew better than to ask. Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

Max rang the doorbell, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, a small sense of unease settling in his chest. Cisca answered the door, her usual warmth replaced with something like concern.

—Max, good to see you,— she said, giving him a hug. —Lando’s in his room, but... he’s not doing too well. He’s been a bit weird since he got back. You might want to talk to him.—

Max nodded, giving her a quick smile. —Thanks, Mrs. Norris. I’ll go check on him.—

He made his way up the stairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps underfoot bringing a wave of nostalgia. Lando's family home was something of a safe haven for him, a place where they’d spent countless hours as kids, talking about everything from racing to the future to their stupidest inside jokes. But today, something felt off. The silence in the house was unsettling.

When Max reached Lando’s room, he hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly on the door. No response. He pushed it open slowly, and there Lando was—lying flat on his back, the duvet pulled up over his head like a shield. His usual cocky, upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found. Max’s stomach tightened.

—Lando?— Max called, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

A low groan came from under the blanket. Lando shifted slightly, pushing the duvet off his face to reveal a tired, unshaven version of himself—his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess, and his usual vibrant energy completely drained. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him look this bad.

—You look like shit,— Max said, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the concern gnawing at him. He crossed the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Lando didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling with a vacant expression, clearly not in the mood for jokes.

Max sighed and nudged him gently. —Come on, mate. What’s going on? You’ve been off the grid for days. I know you’ve been home from Abu Dhabi for a bit, but... you haven’t said a word to anyone. What’s up?—

Lando’s eyes flickered briefly toward Max, and for a second, there was a hint of recognition, but he quickly looked away, clearly not wanting to engage. Max could feel the weight of the silence between them. Something was seriously wrong.

—It’s Amelie, isn’t it?— Max asked quietly, his voice low.

Lando’s head turned slowly, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. The silence between them thickened, and Max felt the tension in the room as if it had physical weight. He didn’t need an answer; he already knew. The way Lando’s posture had slumped further into the bed, the way he avoided looking Max in the eye—it was all too familiar. Max had seen this before.

Lando didn’t answer immediately, and Max could tell he wasn’t ready to speak. But eventually, Lando sighed deeply, the sound of his exhale filled with frustration and pain.

—She’s back...— Lando mumbled, almost as if the words themselves were a burden.

Max frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He studied Lando's face, waiting for him to say more, but it was clear that every word was a struggle.

—Back where?— Max asked gently, even though he already had an idea of what Lando meant.

Lando shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed on a crack in the ceiling. —Back in this. Back in my head. Back in my fucking life, apparently.—

Max raised an eyebrow. —I didn’t know she ever really left, mate.—

Lando let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. —Yeah, well, I tried. You know I fucking tried, Max. I did everything I could to move on, to forget her, to, whatever. But then she just, poof, shows up again. Like nothing ever happened.—

Max sat back, crossing his arms. —What do you mean "shows up again"? You saw her in Abu Dhabi, didn’t you?—

Lando scoffed, sitting up slightly and leaning back against the headboard. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept properly in days. —Yeah, I saw her. She was there, all smiles and pretending like I don’t fucking exist. She ignored me the whole time, Max. Like I wasn’t even there. And the worst part? She looked...— He trailed off, swallowing hard as if the words physically hurt him.

—She looked what?— Max pressed, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

—She looked happy. Like, genuinely happy. And I just... I couldn’t handle it. Seeing her like that, knowing I wasn’t a part of it anymore... it fucked me up, mate.—

Max sighed, leaning forward again and resting his elbows on his knees. He watched his best friend closely, seeing the pain etched into every line of his face. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been there for Lando through the breakup, through all the flings that followed, through the long nights when Lando would get drunk and ramble about how no one would ever measure up to her. And now here they were again, back at square one.

—You’re not over her,— Max said simply, his tone not judgmental but matter-of-fact.

Lando shot him a look, his jaw tightening. —Of course I’m not fucking over her. How am I supposed to get over someone like Amelie? She was...— He stopped himself, running a hand over his face. —She was everything, Max. And yeah, maybe I screwed it up. Maybe I didn’t fight hard enough, or maybe I was just a stupid kid who didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because she’s gone. She’s moved on.—

Max stayed silent for a moment, letting Lando's words hang in the air. He could feel the weight of his friend’s emotions, the rawness of it all. Lando rarely let his guard down like this, and it wasn’t something Max took lightly. He leaned back against the chair by Lando’s desk, crossing his arms and watching him carefully.

—You don’t know that she’s moved on,— Max said softly, choosing his words carefully. —I mean, yeah, she’s dating that footballer, right? But that doesn’t mean...—

Lando cut him off, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. —Rodrigo fucking Riquelme. Yeah, I know. Trust me, I’ve seen the photos. They look perfect together, don’t they? He’s this big shot, all successful and charming and shit. Meanwhile, I’m just the idiot who fucked things up and ended up on the sidelines.—

Max frowned. —Come on, don’t do that. You’re not just some idiot, and you know it. You’re Lando fucking Norris. One of the best drivers in the world, with a career people would kill for.—

—Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean shit when it comes to her,— Lando muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. —She doesn’t care about that stuff. She never did. That’s what made her... different.—

Max could see where this was going, and it wasn’t anywhere good. He’d been here before, in this room, having this conversation in various forms. Lando’s feelings for Amelie weren’t new; they’d been festering for years, growing roots that he couldn’t seem to cut. Max sighed, running a hand through his hair.

—So, what are you going to do? Just sit here and feel sorry for yourself?— Max asked, his tone slightly sharper than he intended. —Because that’s not going to help. If seeing her again stirred all this up, maybe it’s a sign you need to deal with it. Like, actually deal with it, mate. You can’t keep burying this shit.—

Lando looked at him, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. —What the hell am I supposed to do, Max? Go to her and what? Beg her to take me back? She hates me. Did you not hear the part where she ignored me the entire time in Abu Dhabi? She didn’t even look at me. It’s over.—

—Maybe it is,— Max admitted, leaning forward again. —But you’re never going to move on if you keep running from it. If you keep pretending like you’re fine and hooking up with girls who mean nothing to you. It’s not working, Lando. It hasn’t worked for two years.—

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to his hands. The room was silent again, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Max felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. He knew Lando was hurting, but he also knew that the only person who could pull him out of this was Lando himself.

—Look,— Max said after a moment, his voice softening. —I’m not saying you need to do something drastic. But maybe it’s time to stop avoiding it. Stop avoiding her. If she’s going to be around again, you’re going to have to figure out how to deal with it. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep spiraling every time you see her.—

Lando let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the headboard and closing his eyes. —I don’t know if I can do that, Max. Seeing her again... it messed me up. It’s like every feeling I’ve been trying to ignore just came rushing back all at once. And the worst part? I can’t even be mad at her. I can only be mad at myself for letting her go.—

Max didn’t know what to say to that. He’d always believed that Lando and Amelie had something special, something rare. But he also knew that timing and circumstances could ruin even the strongest of connections. He just hoped that, whatever happened next, Lando would find a way to heal.

—You’re not alone in this, mate,— Max said after a long pause. —I’m here. I’ll always be here. But you’ve got to stop shutting everyone out. You’ve got to let someone in.—

Lando opened his eyes, looking over at Max with a small, tired smile. —Thanks, man. I appreciate it.—

—Anytime,— Max replied, clapping him on the shoulder. —Now, why don’t you get up, take a shower, and maybe eat something? You look like you’ve been living under a rock.—

Lando laughed weakly, the sound more genuine this time. —Yeah, okay. Maybe I do need to pull myself together.—

Max grinned, standing up. —That’s the spirit. Baby steps, mate. Baby steps.—

As Max left the room, he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope. Lando had a long way to go, but at least he was starting to acknowledge his feelings. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward figuring out how to move forward.

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destinedfordiapers · 1 hour ago

Text

Can’t Fight This Feeling

Despite your best efforts, a tiny smile crept across your face—even as your older sister lifted the back of your dress, exposing your messy diaper to the room.

“Ut oh, I think our little diaper girl made a poopoo! Yes, she did!”

And you’ve never been happier.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been drawn to the thick, crinkly, and delightfully comforting padding of diapers. You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t explain it.

Life was just better in a soggy diaper.

Yet, you always hid your shameful lust for diapers. Forced to fill your diapers in utter privacy.

Not anymore.

There is no going back.

Now everyone—your family, friends, and coworkers—knows you’re just a diaper girl. Every time they see you, they expect a thick, poofy, and most likely wet diaper between your legs.

Nothing makes you happier than seeing their eyes drift down, searching for your diaper bulge. Or those pitiful looks only reserved for a poor 25-year-old girl trapped in diapers.

For all they know, you can’t help it. You need your diapers.

You know the truth.

All those embarrassing accidents were part of your plan. To lock yourself into diapers.

To expose yourself as a diaper girl.

Sure, it was embarrassing to mess your panties in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. Or when you peed your pants at the Taylor Swift concert with your sisters.

But it was all worth it for this.

Nobody doubts why you're in diapers anymore.

“Oh good,” your younger sister says, hugging her two young daughters, “I’m proud of you two for keeping your pull-ups clean when Auntie Maria is still pooping her diapies!”

You blush, letting the humiliation wash over you.

That subtle, condescending humiliation you crave.

The humiliation your sisters are all too happy to provide. Because you, the golden child, are back in diapers.

“Stop teasing Maria, girls,” your mom scolds.

She looks at you with the same expression you’d expect from seeing a baby duck covered in oil, needing rescue. “Why don’t you go change your diaper, sweetheart?”

A pitiful look for a helpless diaper girl in a poopy diaper.

You oblige, grabbing your diaper bag. Doing your best to hide a smile.

As you reach the top of the stairs, your mom shouts, “Let me know if you need help, honey! I know messy diapers can be tricky!”

Exposing yourself as the diaper girl you are was the best decision you’ve ever made in your life.

#diaper captions #ab/dl community #ab/dl fiction #diaper humiliation

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ross-hollander · 8 hours ago

Text

Their skins are made...

...of metal, of course, but that aside- really, they haven't changed much. They look just like any other 'mech pilot outside of them. (Okay, maybe not like any other pilot; in the half-light of a dim hangar their eyes look an ocean-abyss black, but that's the most you'll ever notice.)

The point is, putting their 'mech in another's hands- it's a powerful thing to them. If it's in front of you that they choose to pop their canopy, climb out onto the gantry, and start rattling off what they need fixed, it means they trust you. And for some mechtechs, daunting as the pilot's requests might be, the fact that they're the ones being trusted to fill the order is enough to propel them into doing it. That sort of faith can be uplifting.

You can, in theory, take the 'mech from them. You shouldn't, but if you do, they will be obliged to you. Just take care to hide it very, very well. Scrap it and sell off the parts to eight different traders- one day, that 'mech will walk up to your great-great-grandchild's hangar, reassembled piece by painstaking piece, and blow the entire place to a smoking craterscape. They're patient, long-lived, and they can really nurse a grudge. (Don't try to melt it down. It won't work, and it also releases them from their obligation.)

But, supposing they do trust you with their 'mech, there's one very important thing to remember: when they ask for you to get it warmed up and re-armed, whether it's for one patrol or to redeploy permanently to another base, give it back. Sometimes it's time to let a good thing go.

#mechposting #rh.txt #microfiction #science fantasy #selkie #battletech #mechwarrior #mythology

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withlove-xixi · 3 days ago

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HI AGAIN since the nsfw alphabet w kabru i can't stop thinking about the lingerie kink.... if you can do a nsfw w him x gn reader please AAAAAA

— DREAMING OF LACE: kabru x f!reader

ᥫ cw: suggestive + lingerie ᥫ wc: 663 ★ HELP OK I KNOW YOU REQUESTED NSFW SPECIFICALLY BUT .. I READ KABRU AND LINGERIE AND INSTANTLY HAD AN IDEA I JUST HAD TO WRITE I HOPE THATS OK cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— KABRU DIDN’T LIKE TO DRINK, HE JUST LIKED GOING TO THE PUB.

[♡]: it was a strange thing his coworkers didn’t truly understand about him, another mystery about him they could never fully decipher. to them, it was simply one of kabru’s strange rituals. to kabru, it only meant he got to spend the night in your bed.

GROANS RUMBLED FROM HIS CHEST AS HE PRESSES AGAINST YOU, a hand on the side of your neck while the other works at the fabrics of your clothes, eagerly prying it off as his lips locked against yours in a passionate kiss. You moan back, hands moving to help Kabru with the strings of your tunic and you attempt to shimmy out of your pants.

He pulls away to catch his breath, hand moving from your neck to your cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb. Kabru stares at you with an intense adoration, one you wouldn’t normally see between two near-strangers who hook up occasionally. Still, Kabru kisses you like he means it, he touches you like it’s out of love.

It’s a strange relationship you have with Kabru; one meant to be filled with nights together just to stave off the loneliness and to satisfy one’s desires, but you’re certain somewhere along the days spent waking up to him naked on your bed and the nights he had simply kept you company by the bar, you had developed some form of emotion for the adventurer. Something that isn’t quite love, yet not far from it.

You can all but blame Kabru for it, especially when he stares at you like he does right now, with such pureness it sets your soul alight with nothing short of passion.

Kabru pulls away slightly, focusing his hands on the complexities of your garments to better rid them off you. He smiles as he works, a small smile that’s brimming with fondness, you feel a reaction in your gut. He tugs on the strings of your tunic gently, tenderly, then slides it off your shoulders, letting it flop unceremoniously on the ground.

He leans down your ear as his fingers trace the hem of your bottoms. “You look beautiful tonight…” He whispers, voice grown husky.

Your cheeks flare up. “You say that every night.”

“So? You look beautiful every night. It would be shameful of me not to notice, and even worse if I kept that knowledge secret.”

You roll your eyes; such a romantic, this man.

He tugs on your bottoms, firm and eager. “Take off your shirt for me, gorgeous. I have to see you.” His command is gentle, tender.

You oblige, pulling up your shirt over your head as Kabru slides your bottoms down your waist. There’s a poignant pause, and when his face returns to your vision, you find him staring even more intently at you, blue eyes tracing your figure from your shoulders down to your thighs. He licks his lips, hunger shining through his gaze.

You can’t help but smile, knowing well this is exactly how he’d react to seeing the new lacy lingerie you donned, something you bought just for him.

Kabru relaxes a bit, as if remembering you weren’t some prey he had to hunt, you all his tonight. He chuckles softly, an amused grin gracing his handsome features. His fingers trace over the lace, trailing down to the matching thigh garter that held up your sheer stockings. “Do you always wear this sort of undergarment?” He teases, eyes shifting from your lingerie up to muse at your reaction. He pulls at the garter then snaps it back against your skin, appreciatively watching the way the plush of your thigh jiggles from the force.

You swallow slightly, cheeks beginning to heat up with how small he’s making you feel now. “Oh… Only when I know I might run into you…” You admit shyly, sudden embarrassment swelling up in your throat making your voice a soft whisper.

Kabru’s breath hitches. He stares at you intently, almost in disbelief. Before you can say anything, he presses his knee up between your legs, grinding it against your crotch. He leans back down to kiss you, his tongue welcomed past your parted lips. His hands find your hips, holding onto the flesh tightly, possessively.

“Gods, you’ll be the death of me.”

#ꔛ xixi writes #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #kabru x reader #kabru #kabru of utaya #kabru dunmeshi #kabru dungeon meshi #dividers by cafekitsune

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fatigue-d · 3 days ago

Note

CHARLOS!!! The kind of trope that screams i miss my husband , or he wouldve done this if he was still here since they pretty much are divorced now

"I miss you "

Word : around 1 K

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

Charles moved gently under his sheets, his skin shivering from the cold. After almost four years with a certain Spaniard, he had forgotten how lonely it could be to sleep alone in a bed three times his size. He had got used to his husband's light snores, Spanish words whispered in the night. The memory of a vanished warmth engulfing his body, he had tried to hold on to it as best he could, trying to rediscover the softness and comfort that had lulled him through the nights, but nothing had helped, Carlos was no longer there, and everything in their house was a reminder of that.

His old toothbrush was still in the bathroom, sitting next to the Monegasque's, the two objects forming a pair so inescapable that Charles was obliged to abandon his own to buy a new one, unable to throw both away.

The kitchen cupboards were always full of products straight from Spain, sauces, pastes, spices, all used by Carlos, most of the time to reproduce the recipes of his beloved mother, which Charles was delighted to taste, although he didn't know how the dark-haired man managed to make these recipes so delicious.

If you looked at the entrance to the flat, as Charles sometimes did when he was bored, you could see a bag full of golf clubs. They had been put there after Carlos had the unfortunate tendency to drop things in his haste after being told about a round of golf by his friends. So, whenever the Spaniard wanted to go out, he had his clubs close to him. An ingenious decision by a more carefree Charles, a bitter reminder of his companion's absence for a mature Charles, but one that Carlos would surely have called a killjoy.

The previously bright flat seemed far more macabre, part of it being shamelessly ripped away, the place now haunted by a soul in perpetual search of the one who had once completed it.

Even Leo seemed less enthusiastic, the young puppy only chewing on what was up to him, his master becoming his only interesting toy, the cushions, clothes and duvets finally living without the fear of being torn apart by the mutt's jaws.

However....

Carlos had only been gone for 2 months.

2 short months.

Which seemed interminable to the younger man, they were still a couple, sending each other frequent messages. But Carlos was no longer physically at his side and Charles felt it.

And while Carlos was no longer living with the Monegasque.

Charles had no time for the Spaniard.

The man was constantly busy with the Italian team, being invited to the most sumptuous dinners as well as the most pointless meetings, always there to put on a good show, to represent the 'soul' of Ferrari.

And there was nothing Carlos could do about it. Already, when they were team-mates Charles was overwhelmed, the luxury brand asking much more of the younger than the older, after all Ferrari fans had become addicted to his smile and his eyes, much more than any physical or mental trait of the Spaniard, who had accepted his position as Side-kick.

But since he'd left for William, everything had speeded up, and he no longer even had the chance to call Charles, only being able to send him messages that he hoped the chestnut would have time to read. Perhaps where he lived was warmer, and traces of his loved ones could be seen everywhere. The fact remained that he no longer had any of Charles's possessions, not an accessory, not a piece of clothing, not even a gift, everything had remained in Monaco, their home.

He only glimpsed the Monegasque's life through social networks and the media, a bitter taste spilling into his mouth as soon as he remembered that not so long ago, he was the man behind the camera. The Monegasque loved having "artistic" images of himself or his dog, and Carlos in turn enjoyed taking photos of them, freezing this shared happiness so that he could savour it a little more later.

A promise had kept them going for a while, a simple promise but one that was so important to them, both of them knowing that if he broke it.....

Their relationship would be over.

It was entitled:

"If one of us calls at 16:55, the other is obliged to answer"

Quick, easy, concise.

And as the winter chill consumed his body, Charles thought about it, his eyes glued to the time on his phone. Should he do it or not? He had missed several of Carlos's calls unintentionally and the Spaniard had never complained, so it was his turn to make the first move, wasn't it? And then.... He missed the dark-haired man's voice, his slight accent warming the younger man's body, imagining the tired smile on his partner's face after a tiring, tedious but fortunately victorious race.

The minutes passed like drops falling one by one on a pane of glass, creating a trickle of water like a torrent. Charles counted them, the wait being both too short and too long, the hope of calling but the fear of having no one at the other end of the line growing inside him.

16:53

Charles hastily put his phone under his pillow, short of breath, there was no point in calling Carlos at this hour, he was bound to disturb him. Wouldn't he?

16:54

He fumbled around in bed, almost dropping his phone and breaking it. The screen of the device reflected on his pupil, where it read "Chili 🌶️❤️". His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, it had been a long time since he'd called his husband that. More affectionate nicknames replaced it, the sensation of them still beneath Charles's lips, waiting to be uttered once more....

16 : 55

Time did not stand still as the Monegasque expected, he was not after all in a romance a l'eau de rose, no important moment came, his fingers trembling in front of the icon to call.

And just as he was about to go back to sleep, his eyes darting around and the thought that had been haunting him for a week now finally seeming to come true, he heard a hum. It was short, quick, almost inaudible, but it was there and its mere existence was a breath of fresh air after weeks of swimming in doubt.

"Amor? asked the voice over the phone, a silly grin forming on Charles's face.

-Oui chéri ? replied the Monegasque, slowly catching his breath.

- I.... I mi-Wait! Are you still buying Leo the kibble I recommended?

- The ones that cost more than a gourmet meal?

- Hey! He deserves luxury, he's our prince after all.

- Yeah.... Our prince.... Charles replied, a melancholy smile forming on his lips as he remembered Carlos's love for his dog, their dog, and how jealous he had been of it.

-....

- You only called me to talk about this?

- Why would I call you about anything else? The Spaniard replied point-blank.

The answer was like a dagger to the heart. The Monegasque wasn't sure he could get over it.

- No reason.... I was just imagining things.

- See you in Australia? Promise?

- Promise!"

The call then ended, Charles curling up in his bed, while Carlos insulted himself because of his stupidity. It was the only time the Monegasque had answered him and he hadn't even managed to talk about what he wanted, the feeling of being too much growing inside him as the conversation progressed.

He did, however, write one last little message, hoping that the younger man hadn't fallen asleep yet:

"I miss you"

A little heart being sent in reply, breaking the brunet's heart even more.

Bloody hell!

Why wasn't he in Charles' arms!

He could have comforted him all he wanted, cooking pancakes until he was obese, singing the cheesy French music that the Monegasque loved.

He would have loved to be by her side so much....

So much that it consumed him.

The memories of this shared life were the best fuel for the fire that was destroying him little by little.

But hey...

They were going to meet again, or so he hoped.

The stolen kisses between each race, hidden from everyone's eyes, were surely the best way to stop this destructive fire.

But in the meantime, as it grew day by day, perhaps it would be unstoppable? The damage it would have caused was too deep, incapable of even being cured with any kind of treatment.

This....

Only time will tell.

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

I hesitated whether to make the ending happy or sad and I ended up with the open ending, I'm not sure if I'm 100% on theme but all in all I enjoyed writing this little story, I hope you enjoyed reading it 🤗

If someone had a request too

#charlos #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #1655

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