#Welcome to Doozy

[blueshinefox]

There's a fourth one called GO! Cartoons, but I'm VERY embarrassed about it and I probably won't be telling anyone about it. I know what it's about, and my favorite shorts were The Summoning and Welcome to Doozy, but I'm too embarrassed of it nowadays.

I highly doubt that very many people know about Too Cool! Cartoons, since you have to have seen Bee and PuppyCat and/or Dead End to know about it, but it has still been revealed as something that is indeed being watched.

[electronicgalah]

Uhh another attack, this is The Firedancer by lazyslugcat!

[hepbaestus]

:\

[donationwayne]

Feelin Good (Could be Better) Chapter Five

Hello, I'm behind posting chapters over here but I've updated my fic again!! We're officially at the halfway point. (its completely written just posting as my irls beta it!)

You can read the first, second, and third, fourth, fifth chapter of my fic over on AO3 right here

CHAPTER SUMMARY

In this chapter, Buck visits Eddie's while drunk off his ass, post dinner with his parents. He has a lil flashback of his childhood...

Summary

The Buckley parents come to town, turning Buck's already shaky mental status from precarious to worse. Despite avoiding a dreaded dinner at all costs, Buck consents to join Maddie, Chimney, and his parents for dinner. Buck is super fine thanks for asking, he'll just bake about it. And think about kissing Eddie, obviously. Secrets are revealed, leaving the 118 reeling.

a lil snip

Buck wants to blame the urge to kiss Eddie on the significant amount of booze in his system. But if he thought booze was the only reason, he was lying to himself. Kissing Eddie is an ever-present urge that's lived with him since the first day they’d met. From the very moment he’d spotted Eddie, shirtless and well-muscled, it had done something to his insides. Buck’s pretty sure that night his body chemistry was entirely rearranged. His attempts at flirting were bumbling and embarrassing. The 118 likened Buck to a dog pissing all over the fire station to mark his territory. Buck was never quite sure after that day how to classify his friendship with Eddie. There were times it felt so much closer and more intimate than friendship, but although they bantered, Buck had never been sure it could be considered outright flirting. At least not reciprocal. Through the years, they’ve always had a tactile friendship, always bumping shoulders, pressing their legs together, and even occasionally sharing a bed. He’s also mostly kept his crush under lock and key, outside of the one time Maddie very jokingly accused Buck of having a boy crush on Eddie. He’d almost blurted to her right there that it was more than a childish crush—so much more to him at least. Instead, he’s only confided in a single person at the 118. Hen always humored him, never pushed him, and had gone all soft around the edges when he’d confessed his feelings to her. They’d spent one night at a gay bar after his confession, getting deliriously drunk and discussing all their gay escapades through the years.

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

I DID IT!!!

[ratatatastic]

"Your first full season in the American League (Stockton Heat 2016-17; AHL) you played with Garnet Hathaway, Brandon Bollig and Jamie Devane. And I'm wondering—those are 3 tough guys. Did you guys do any work together? Did you ask them for tips and stuff? Because in prepping for this podcast, I'm watching all your fights and like, brother, you know what you're doin'! You know what I mean? You're counter-punching Maroon, you got a good grab, control, you're coming in, you know which guys are lefties so you're working that strategically. You really know what you're doing!"

"Yeah, that's—It's something that... I always love being aggressive and fighting, and stuff like that. So I was always drawn towards these guys—Growing up, watching the tough guys, you watched Don Cherry; my favourite part was always the fighting and the big hitting, and stuff like that. Once I turned pro—every tough guy I played with—I would ask to drop the gloves and for them to show me something.

Whether it's something they always do, something they don't want a small guy like me to do to them...just picking up tips from every single one of them. Huge shoutout to those guys! I played with a lot of tough guys, especially in the American League, and every one of them showed me something that I carry with me to this day.

Right to the first guy: [...] in my Stockton days. He was a Toronto legend growing up where I grew up. He was my stall-mate, he's such a badass, cool dude. I remember dropping the gloves with him in practise, and asking him to show me some things. I'm always trying to learn, and do different things.

When I first started fighting although I asked for—to show me... it's not too comparable because our fighting styles are a little bit different; he fights a different caliber-type of fighter than I do. When I first started fighting I was more a straight defensive fighter—you know, you hold on and when you see an opportunity you punch, and other than that it's a pretty boring fight. And then as you get more comfortable and you start to learn a little bit more—get punched in the face a couple times and realise, you know, it doesn't hurt all that much...then you can start to try new things. I still remember the first time I ever threw a left punch in a fight! Definitely a lot of trial and error...

Jamie Devane, specifically—actually, I remember I got in a fight...Jarred Tinordi blew up Rasmus Andersson in the middle of the ice. I can't remember the hit exactly, but it was elbow to the dome. It could've been clean, I don't know. I remember looking around... we had some tough guys on our team, like we said—none of them were on the ice. I'm looking around like 'Aw, fuck. I'm gonna have to...I guess it's my number, I'll go...'

I go over and I fight him, we grab on and he punched me once—whatever. I go to punch him, I'm like this far from his face...

...So I realise 'Oh god, this isn't gonna work out very well.' I kind-of just hold him out there as much as I can...He's just punching my helmet, I couldn't sleep on this (my left) side of my head for like 2 weeks! Helmet's broken, it doesn't click anymore—Helmet's broken.

I get in the locker room, I'm like throwin' my shit and Devane was actually—I don't know if he was hurt or scratched that game—comin' out of the shower and sees me all pissed off, he's like, 'What the fuck happened?' I'm like, 'This fucking—fuck, Tinordi!' and he was like right away, 'Did he string you out?' And I'm like, 'Yeah, I couldn't fucking touch him! I couldn't get in there!' He's like, 'Alright, tomorrow (because it was a back-to-back) I'll go out with you and I'll show you what to do when that happens.'

He showed me what to do. If it happens again I'm gonna revert back to what he said. I would imagine it's gonna work because he's been in that situation multiple times where he's stringed guys out. He told me what guys do against him and what works and what doesn't.

It's things like that: where I'll go out of my way or they would go out of their way—but just that respect to acknowledge how tough...these guys are...they're just as willing to help out a guy that's willing to do something like that for his teammates."

The Buzz Pod | 8.7.24 (x)(x)

"[Devane] is one tough customer! Obviously a lot of guys listening to this probably have no idea who he is 'cuz he's an AHL-lifer, but guys he's—"

"I've never seen that guy lose a hockey fight once! Never seen him lose a fight!"

"He's as tough as they come, man!"

[partyinthemysterymachine]

✨💖the moods of goomt💖✨

hello it's me again comin atcha live from my little corner of hell

just here to promise and solemnly swear that i will continue to be as insufferable and obnoxious about GOOMT as humanly possible at every opportunity, and i can assure you, from the bottom of my heart and hungry soul, It Will Only Get Worse™️

thank u for ur time

bonus judgment:

shut the fuck up Kidd

[bylightofdawn]

S C R E A M

Writing this Cody and Rex reunion has me going absolutely feral. I am legit listening to my sad romance breakup/makeup playlist on Spotify.

Not because I'm shipping Codex here but the vibes its the vibes of this scene.

No one warned Cody that Rex was alive because they either didn't know (Slick) or just assumed he'd been told (Echo and Gregor)

Meanwhile Rex knew and legit hauled ass from the other end of the galaxy but hasn't allowed himself to really believe it until he actually saw Cody.

I might vibrate through time and space because the emotions I am experiencing while writing this scene is gonna send me into another dimension. I just love my Rex and Cody reunion scenes which is why I wrote that purely self-indulgent post Geonosis Cody lands on planet after the battle trying to keep his shit together while trying to find out of Rex survived his first battle without him.

Which...Imma go re-read real quick so I can make some call backs cause ugh that fic also gives me all the feels.

EDIT: Ahahahaahahh I'd FORGOTTEN I'd written Slick into Dulce so it's kinda a perfect linear circle

[koshercosplay]

it's time for my yearly chanukah merchandise ratings! how are there always so many to choose from. as always, this year is a doozy and I am as bitter as ever lmao

this was quite literally labeled "hanukkah cone tree." gee I wonder which winter holiday is The One With The Trees. surely it's the jewish one with all the fire. let's make it blue and white just in case. 4/10 there is no excuse for this

why are the chairs so far apart. why is there nobody there. why are there so many grapes. what even are those green things. why is there soup. will the mysteries never cease. 7/10 purely because it's pretty

I for one welcome our jewish alien cousins. not sure what this has to do with chanukah but I want to hear about jewish life on mars so 8/10 friends come in out of the cold and have a latke with me

the more I looked at this, the worse it got. there's a literal christmas tree and tinsel but oh it's got blue lights so it's fine. and as we all know, children regularly hold fully lit candle menorahs with mittens while going door to door during a snowstorm. I guess who are we to stifle a child's latent desire for arson. 5/10 somebody save that poor dying kitten

this poor magen dovid is being forcefully converted to christianity and we need to help it. quick somebody put this on a sufganiyot stack. 4/10 we all know the intended target audience isn't interfaith families okay

do I even have to say it. please just. just stop. get One (1) Jew to weigh on your hanukkah products, I beg you. -392928373/10 walmart owes me a personal apology for making me see this with my own two eyeballs

I spent a full five minutes staring at this shirt desperately trying to make it make sense. I shouldn't have bothered. it's worse than the hebrew could ever be. 2/10 amposzu zusach mezchamal to you too

congratulations, once again you wrote gibberish. this says nothing. it's not chanukah, it's not happy holidays, it's nothing. the letters on the dreidel are an ACRONYM people! there's an order! 3/10 it's antisemitic that this has over 4,000 sales (thank you @quartzfox for sending this to me. now you all have to see it too.)

now these are CUTE. and the dreidel letters are in the correct order too, which is unfortunately impressive. 10/10 no notes, it has cats, would wear

(previous years 1, 2, 3)

[vexcor]

#12.3

(I'll give it a try at actually writing instead of prompt adding. I might be rusty tho) (Ahem) "What do you mean the projector isn't working?" Hal's question broke the tension in the room, voice laced with disbelief and exasperation.

"I said what I said, Hal." Answered Superman, forcing himself to let go of the machine to not break it; he couldn't hope to control his anxieties. "The projector is alright... But it's not pulling anything out no matter how many times I trigger it."

"Are there Phantom Zone projector mechanics anywhere?" Flash added with a grain of salt.

It had already been several days since the news reached the attentive ears of the Justice League, how several government agents were hurt and hospitalized after an attack on their facilities by what many had mistaken to be superman.

Had it not been for the fortunate fact that Superman was preventing several bank robberies back in Metropolis, the hundreds of eyewitnesses attesting to this, and the camera footage further proving this, the government would have had no issue taking the blue-clad hero away.

But if these atrocities were not done by Superman? Then by who?

They already had some leading theories, and one by one, in the span of these recent days, began to discard them.

So far, they had disproved cloning, time travel, and mind control.

It was only when Wonder Woman presented her idea that the blood in Clark's impenetrable and resilient body ran cold. "What if these Kryptonians came from the Phantom Zone?" She had said, casting silence into the room as everyone saw the merit of chance the idea possessed.

It was unlikely, but not impossible.

This then brings us to their current predicament, the subject of interest being the projector sitting harmlessly on the table.

Problem being? No prisoners came out of the machine.

This meaning? One of Clark's nightmares came true.

-

"All raise a glass for King Phantom!" Bellowed a Kryptonian, raising his own glass of spectral wine as many of his kind and their beloved ruler sat at a feast.

It was an absolute delight for them to see their savior so calm and relaxed, not so long ago he had been a trembling youth leaking hatred for all to witness.

The memory of their king's first formal order was one to cherish, it was the first of many to come that would cement the halfa's position as their almighty ruler.

It was even more admirable that their god had such admirable control of himself, to the point of restraining his emotions in order to not be unreasonable.

(Danny wanted war. But Clockwork taught him better than that.)

But now was a time for celebration. Those insignificant enemies of their king held nothing against their united strength, and because of that, justice was rightfully served.

("They hurt what I love." Phantom had uttered. "Let us return the favor")

The feast was delightful, at the end of the day.

And when Danny sat on his bed after spending nightly hours with his healing family, he felt more at ease than ever before.

#12

Right, let's see... So, King Danny gets some housing complaints, some ghosts really are just spamming claims over non-ghost beings bothering them near their homes. So as the peacemaker he is, Danny simply goes there, a weird region of the Ghost zone really, they even named it differently because it wasn't green (among other odd quirks). He did find fun in the irony of it being called the "Phantom Zone". Anywho, the non-ghost beings there are obviously all the dangers the Justice League just doesn't deal with and dumps in that dimension. Staying in the Phantom zone for long enough (I'd say maybe a week) is sufficient enough for these beings to be considered "Infinite Realms" subjects despite not being dead. Like immigration or whatever. Dany, empathic enough due to the whole "stand out" and "odd ones out" mentality, takes all of them under his wing and in short adds them to his royal guard or other similar posts regarding their strengths.

So in short, you could say Danny was wrapped and gifted a bunch of Kryptonian soldiers for his already overpowered army.

May I add that the mentally deteriorating effects of the Phantom Region (as I'm calling it now) would probably affect the Kryptonians enough to view Danny as a divine savior after he pulled them out of madness and gave them purpose again? So they're probably very intense about their new positions and don't want to disappoint their king and grace in the slightest.

[lomlhwa]

glory hole (v.c)

pairing: sex worker!reader x patron!vernon

preview: vernon's friends found a club that has secret glory holes. they know he's dying to get laid, so why not visit the glory holes?

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is basically bent over a table and chained down, monster cock vernon, spanking, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump), degrading, reader calls vernon 'sir', unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.2k

song recs for this fic: gimmie more by britney spears

a/n: this one's a doozy

vernon anxiously nibbles on his fingernail as he waits for his friends to arrive. he’s standing outside a raunchy club, looking like a total creep. why did he agree to this? there’s no way he’s actually this desperate to get off. 

just as he’s about to walk away, his friends round the corner, laughing and carrying on. “yo vernon! you excited, buddy?” his friend, mingyu, asks. vernon shrugs. “i guess so.” mingyu throws his arm over vernon’s shoulder and guides him into the club.

they head straight for the back of the room, finding a small desk that looks like a reception desk. “hey, reservation for jeonghan?” his other friend walks up. reservations for glory holes is insane. “ah, welcome back sir. 4 of you today?” the receptionist asks and jeonghan nods. the receptionist smiles and types something into her computer.

“would any of you gentlemen like protection? we make sure our workers are all clean but if you’d like the extra precaution, let me know.” everyone shakes their heads so vernon follows suit. the woman smiles again. she hands all four of them waivers to sign. he reads it carefully before signing it and handing it back.

the receptionist rises from her chair and walks over to unlock the door beside the group of friends. “your rooms are numbers 5 through 8. remember, feel free to engage in any of your fantasies as long as you don’t seriously injure anyone. their chains are easy to rotate if you wanna change positions. enjoy your 2 hours with our lovely women.” with that, the door is shut. 

“alright boys, see you later,” mingyu shouts before running into a room and clicking it locked. all of the other disperse as well, leaving vernon alone. he wanders to the last one of their rooms available. room number 6. he can already hear the sounds of skin slapping coming from other rooms.

he opens the door hesitantly, finding you bent over, humming to yourself. when he clicks the door locked, you jump and stop humming. “welcome sir. feel free to use me as you please. i’m here for your pleasure,” you recite the standard welcome message to the new patron who has just walked in. you can only hope it’s not some gross middle aged man with a tiny cock again.

when you feel no contact for another 5 minutes, you get worried. “sorry, i don’t mean to not touch you, i got dragged here by my friends and i feel bad using you.” you can’t help but stifle a small giggle. a man feeling bad about using a glory hole? that’s a new one. “sir, this is my job. just fuck me already.” by now, you’re certain he’s an ugly, washed up man. 

finally, you hear his belt jingle and you know he’s sucking it up. you hear him take a deep breath before shoving into you. you gasp at the size, your walls stretching painfully around him. you grip your chains with such force that your knuckles turn white. 

“fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters before beginning to move. he starts off slow, knowing that the stretch is painful. he grips your hips tightly, leaving finger indents in your soft skin. he snaps your hips against yours, driving his cock against your g-spot and prodding your cervix. it’s been so long since you actually enjoyed a patron, but this felt so good. you wished you could reach your arm back to hold his arm or something. 

“you’re such a good slut, aren’t you?” he says before landing a hard smack on your ass. clearly he has managed to get much more comfortable. you nod your head, agreeing with him. you can feel your release building up with every thrust. such a timid man fucking so well is unheard of. but you’re loving this. you grip your chains for dear life, gasping for air as your orgasm creeps up. “god, please sir i’m gonna cum,” you beg, barely fighting it off. 

“you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop fucking you. i’m not done yet. i’m gonna use your hole until i cum” vernon smacks your ass again and you fall over the edge. your legs shake violently. if it weren’t for the chains, you would be snapping your legs closed. he continues to jackhammer into your hole, pushing you past the edge and towards another orgasm. you notice that his thrusts are getting sloppy, signaling to you that he’s close. “please cum inside me, sir. i need it so bad,” you plead, your walls squeezing around him. he digs his nails into your sides as he cums, filling you to the brim. the sensation sends you into another orgasm, this time you squirt all over his legs and the floor.

“aw, the cumdump likes being filled so much that she couldn’t take it,” he snickers, running his fingers over your sensitive core. you shake and twitch at every small touch. “i’m gonna flip you over, i wanna see your pretty face.” he hooks his arms around your waist and rolls you over. being rolled over holds your arms down to your chest with the chains, still trapped. 

when you’re finally situated and you see his face, you’re astonished to see how beautiful this man is. you almost wish this wasn’t a business exchange, but you know better than to get attached to customers. “well aren’t you a pretty little thing. so pretty and such a whore,” he comments, stroking your face. he ducks down to situate your crossed legs around his waist. he reaches down between you to shove back into you.

“i have 15 minutes left, i’m gonna get another orgasm out of you.” 15 minutes? how has it already almost been 2 hours? he slides into you easier this time, your hole having yet to recover from his previous entry. your arms strain against your chains, wishing you could grab onto him to ground yourself. he pounds into you ruthlessly, his only focus being to drive you over the edge.

he reaches down to rub your clit and you throw your head back, your eyes crossing involuntarily. “oh my fucking god,” you croak, your voice getting caught in the back of your throat. you squeeze your legs around his waist, desperate for release. with 5 minutes left on the clock, you plead for your orgasm. “cum with me, slut. i’m gonna fill you up again,” he demands, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. 

as he feels you tighten for a final time, he leans down to kiss you. you hadn’t been kissed in so long so this surprised you. you kiss him back, cumming onto his cock as he simultaneously fills you up to the brim.

he pulls out of you and flips you back over into your original position just as his time strikes zero. “h-have a good day sir. feel f-free to return whenever you’d like,” you stutter the standard goodbye message. he slaps your ass one last time before pulling his pants back up and walking out. 

as the door closes behind him, he finds his friends coming out of their own rooms as well. “so? how was it?” jun asks him, patting him on the back. “so good, and she’s so hot,” he says, gesturing back to his room. 

“i will be coming back.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[shotmrmiller]

Situationship into Relationship.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: disgustingly explicit, p in v, pregnancy talk. Strap in, its a doozy.

Since the first time Simon physically ruined you for other men forever, the both of you spent half of his leave in the bedroom, and the other being the best friends you were. Eventually, you noticed Simon practically moved in with you. Toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom, black balaclavas inside your knickers because Simon is a closet pervert, and thinking back on how he's treated you in the past before this situationship— unsurprising.

Then things went from situationship to a relationship. Simon, in a manner that's all him, didn't even ask. Simon and you had been resting on your couch, book in your lap and feet tucked under his thick thighs, when his cell started ringing. Simon picks up the television remote with one hand to pause the movie and answers his phone with the other.

"Soap."

You glance up from your book to look at him.

"No." a pause.

"No, I don't care that you flew out here to visit," followed by a suck of his teeth and then a deep resigned sigh.

"I'm with my girl. No, you cannot ask what her name is. Now piss off.", and as if nothing happened, Simon just unmutes the television and wraps your foot with his hand. With a secret bashful smile, you look back down at your book.

Now that leads you to now. Simon has to leave to a mission for a possibly yearlong mission— and you knew what you were signing yourself up for— doesn't mean it didn't hurt every time he left.

Raising to your toes you pull him to you in a hug. You feel his arms wrap around your waist tightly and he shoves his unmasked face into your neck.

"I'll miss you," you whisper with a sniffle. He kisses your neck in a comforting manner before he says,

"I'll be back before you know it, sweetheart. You just make sure you're eating well."

He pulls away reluctantly and puts on his balaclava, then looks down at you. A mischievous glint in your eyes has him squinting his eyes at you.

"Maybe the next time, you can leave me with some company."

His eyebrows furrow as he says, "I didn't know you wanted a pet. I could look into—"

"A baby, Simon."

His blue eyes widen, and you can see the outline of his gaping mouth behind his mask. Giggling, you step forward, pressing your side to his and putting your hand on his chest as you— almost painfully— tilt your head up to look at him . He shakes from his stupor and makes eye contact, tossing an arm around you.

"Simon. Did you hear about the accident back at base?"

"No. What happened?"

"If you want the answer, come back home to me."

Nodding he says, "My heart will hold you when my arms cannot."

Your lip trembles in a pout and your eyes mist. Slapping his chest, you say in a shaky tone, "You bastard," and in a much smaller, vulnerable voice, "I love you too."

Simon nods before pressing a kiss to your hairline. He then turns, grabs his bags and leaves.

---

It's been 8 months since Simon left.

8 long months since you hugged him last. You got scarce calls from him, letting you know he was alright before having to cut it short, and for that you were grateful. But you still missed him. Hopefully today you'd get another call from him, you thought as you went to bed.

As you're burrowing in the comforter, you hear the door unlock. Ripping yourself from the bed, you scramble to the living room.

With a breathy tone, you say his name.

Si is back home. Your Simon's back.

He locks the door, drops his bags, and opens his arms wide. Your reaction is immediate and visceral. Launching yourself into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck— ripping his mask off, putting both hands on his cheeks and smothering him in kisses.

"If this is the welcome I get for being away for so long, maybe I should do it more often," he jokes.

"Don't you fucking dare. I was miserable without you."

Holding you up with his arms, he pulls his face away from you and asks, "Well? What accident happened at base?"

"Oh. A Humvee ran over a box of popcorn and killed 2 kernels."

He huffs from his nose.

"Good one, love."

Simon finally takes notice of what you're wearing — one of his black shirts and pink knickers underneath.

"I haven't forgotten about your little comment you blindsided me with. You want me to make you a mum? Beg me for it, pretty."

"Oh please, Si. We'd make such pretty little tots. It'd be half of me and half of you— I'd always have a part of you with me, even if you were across the world. I'm also ovulating this week and I'm," you dig your fingernails into his traps, "so irrationally aroused it's not even—"

He cuts you off with his mouth as he kicks off his boots, leaving them scattered by the front door and he's jogging to the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed, he grabs your hips, fingers curling into the waistband of your knickers, and pulls you to the edge of the bed— haphazardly pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder as he kneels.

Your pussy is already slippery from arousal and the extra hormones in your body, and your face flushes. How embarrassing. Simon notices your expression because he says, "What a pretty little quim my girl's got. All this for me?" he leans in and inhales deeply, "You smell so sweet, love. I have to get a taste."

His long tongue immediately starts drawing languid small circles on your clit, and you're letting your head hang back with a moan before he stops and slaps your thighs with both hands— causing you to raise your head and look.

"You keep those eyes on me and watch what I'm doing to you, pretty."

With a fierce blush, you acquiesce, and he goes back in— eating pussy like it's his job— and you're approaching the end of the cliff at an alarming rate. He squeezes his fingers into the meat, forcing you to keep eye contact— your eyes staring into steel blue as his tongue flicks your swollen clit repeatedly before he lowers, stiffening his tongue and sticking it into your hole— and rubs his nose over your nub. Your thighs start to shake, digging the heels of your feet into his shoulders—and the intensity of his gaze holding your own sends you over the edge.

Toes curling and your feet hooking across the back of his head to pull his face further into your pulsating pussy to ride out your nerve-scraping orgasm. Getting down from your high, limbs loose and like molasses, you rub the only two brain cells you've got at this moment and wonder if you drowned him.

You glance down between your legs and Simon is there with an irritatingly smug grin as his nose shines with your come and drips from his chin.

"Be good for me now, pet. I ain't fuckin' you until you give me one more."

Before you even get to protest, he pacifies you with a, "I know you're painfully sensitive. I promise I'll be gentle."

And he does. He spits on your pussy, and you whimper at the contact before he oh-so softly starts tapping your clit directly with the bottom part of the tip of his tongue in a sharp, but feather-light, staccato rhythm while using the pad of his thumb to rub small delicate circles where your lips split open and you're coming in seconds.

You're drained. Empty of all thought and energy, your vision is hazy when you feel Simon take your foot that was pressing into his shoulder by the ankle and puts it into his mouth — tongue swirling around your toes— and lets out a filthy moan. The sensation of his tongue in between them sends a shiver from the bottom of your spine up to your scalp, body hair standing on end.

Dropping your foot, he gets up with a grunt, yanks off his shirt and undoes his trousers to free himself.

"How do you want me?"

He chuckles darkly and says, "Don't worry your pretty little head, pet. I'll take care of everything— you just lie there and let me take what's mine."

Maneuvering you on your back in the middle of the bed, he brings your legs together before shifting them to your right side, his left, knees bent at a 90° angle—and your upper body is still facing him—when he pushes your legs with one massive hand into the mattress and uses the other to hold himself up, palm digging into the bed by your head.

Simon pushes in, long hefty cock stretching you open in one solid stroke. There's a sting as he forces you open on him, and he's bottoming out with an obscene squelch bit but it's these first few minutes that are you love the most. The first firm strokes that feel so intense, you're pushed to your limits. The lack of time to adjust to him lights your nerve endings on fire, you love it.

In this position, he covers your body completely, like a shield. He's all you see. All you need to see.

Every time his balls are pressed up against your pussy, you feel a burn, deep inside as the tip of his cock presses firmly against your cervix and it forces a groan out of you with every thrust.

Now he's grabbing your arm—hand engulfing your elbow—as he lies down on his back, pulling you to straddle him. He takes his cock in his hand so you can lower yourself on it and you wince at how sensitive you feel, and his tip is barely in.

Simon takes notice, of course, he's always attentive to you and your needs— and he coos at you.

"Deep breath, sweetheart. You're doing perfect," he grunts as half of him disappears into you, " The only one that can take all of me so well." And like a stone dropping into a pond, surface tension giving into the weight, you drop and take the rest of him in your body.

It's too much, you think, but can't help and grind down on him. The pinch in your lower belly is too much but you twist that pain into pleasure— otherwise, Simon will notice and stop. You really don't want him to stop.

Peering up at you through his lashes, Simon takes pleasure in your expression. Lightly tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers strong enough to jolt your head to the side a bit, but never to hurt you, and says, "Look at that cock-drunk look on your face. Fuckin' hell, I could stare at you all day."

Simon is so large, your knees barely skim the comforter— can't even bounce on his cock properly— that he just takes over. He tells you to flatten your feet on the bed, like you're sitting on your haunches and puts a palm on your chest to lean you back at an intense angle— pulling a loud mewl from your throat.

He raises his legs, knees bending and planting his own feet flat on the bed and shoves his forearms underneath your thighs to grip your ass and lifts you as if you weighed nothing. He lifts you, at the same time lowering his hips to bed, to leave just the tip at your entrance before he yanks you down— his own hips slamming straight up to meet you halfway to fuck you.

He's feeling you squeeze his cock in a tight vice, your moans getting high and whiny— all of your tell tales signs that you're close.

"This," he says with a particularly hard thrust, "is my favorite part." and focuses on making you come on his cock. The sheer strength behind his thrusts sends you careening straight into a blinding orgasm.

You're keening so loud you know the neighbors are going to put in a noise complaint, but you couldn't care less. You've probably had one of the most intense orgasms in a long time, and Simon just fucked you through it without a single stutter in his pace— the only sign you see that he was straining was the sweat dripping down his temple towards his jaw and the rapid intake of breaths coming out of his mouth.

He looks down at where you two are connected and you leaked cream on his happy trail, making it stick together, and he groans at the sight.

Now that you'd come, it was his turn to get his pleasure. And he was gonna take it. He's tossing you up and down like his own personal pocket pussy, and you swear you can feel him trying to open the plug of your womb with the flared head of his cock. His grunts are deep and get louder the closer he gets. It takes him 8 more brutal strokes and he's choking out, "Fuck, I'm gonna come. Fuck, fuck, fuck," and he bites his bottom lip and lets out a whimpered, pathetic wail— something you've never heard before—as he stiffens and grinds into you. You think you can feel his coming moving from the base of his length to the tip where it spurts into you in such a large quantity, it's spilling from in you and dripping down onto him.

Your hands are on his chest, putting all of your weight onto them, as your legs lower back down. Simon, underneath you, removes his arms from under you and straightens them out to where your legs are— grabbing onto your calves.

As he comes down from his high, his gaze clears and intensifies on yours— causing you to blush under the scrutiny of it— and with emphasis says, "I love you. Marry me."

You give a deep sigh. You should've known Simon would be as unorthodox as possible. It's almost like he only lets intrusive thoughts out when around you. Giving your walls a clench, making him hiss, you tell him, "Fine. But you're going to the Mexican restaurant down the street. I've worked up an appetite and they don't do delivery."

Chuckling quietly, he slaps both of your thighs saying, "A'right, love. Let me get dressed."

He gets changed at an alarming pace before leaving. You lie back on the bed, head on the pillow, and close your eyes for a minute before the door opens again. Simon comes back in and heads straight for the bathroom in long strides. After a second, he turns to head back out and you catch a glimpse of something— another obnoxious scrunchy, this time in a lime green, on his wrist. Again. You don't even wear those anymore because you cut your hair off into an asymmetrical pixie. Snorting, you figure that's as close to a wedding band that he's ever gonna wear.

A/N: ill be in the VIP section in hell, popping bottles.

@thychuvaluswife @corvusmorte

[jiubilant]

The racism present in TES does make me uncomfortable at times, but what's a real doozy is that I genuinely can't find any lore community where I don't see excessive fantasy racism that at best is just plain unfunny and at worse just actual irl racism. If I see another "The Snow Elves deserved extermination" post I might go crazy.

Its also another thing where if you don't have an analytical eye of the lore it can often seem like the games are actually justifying that sort of stuff, intentional or not.

Sorry, this was a bit of a vent ask after I was inspired by your posts on the topic. I've been recently playing a very modded playthrough of Oblivion and really enjoying it so far, so that got me back into the fandom.

well hey welcome back :) i might jump back into oblivion too once i've beaten bg3

i made a reddit account recently and one of the first things i saw in r/skyrim was several people tossing around an antisemitic dogwhistle. it's an unfortunate reality that any work of fantasy featuring racial essentialism as a plot point or gameplay mechanic is tailor-made for bigots whether bethesda intended them as the game's audience or not

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 1: udon

contents: gojo satoru x reader, slice of life, fluff, tw!ptsd, gojo being annoying, gojo calls you babe

summary: reeling from your last mission, gojo irritatingly persuades you to make udon. you reluctantly learn to appreciate his company while gojo unexpectedly gets to know you better.

wc: 3.3K

“his presence was so lively that he couldn’t help but take up space even in his silence. you weren’t sure if it was the warmth of the udon comforting you or his presence.”

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

the dark shadows of the halls welcomed you as you dragged your tired body towards your room. resting your head on your closed door, you try to ease the fresh guilt in your mind after having to wake ieri at this ungodly hour.

sorry ieri.

you make a mental note to pick up something for her this week as a thank you.

ever since your recent promotion, the higher ups have gotten increasingly comfortable sending you out on longer missions. this one was a doozy – 3 weeks, the longest you’ve ever been away. Shirakawa was beautiful albeit too quiet, the chaotic cacophony that made up Tokyo was more comforting to your ears. It was a long and arduous 3 weeks, multiple curses with multiple people involved – you were nearing your limit and were ready to be consumed by your fluffy bed. exhausted. running on empty. you felt like your body was going to give out, exhausted by even the thought of having to shower. but deep down, it was the slow growing hollow feeling in your bones that you were concerned with. you were worried that it would devour you from the inside out until there was nothing left of you.

your head pulsed against the your still closed door, groaning softly as you superficially attempt to calm your irregularly beating heart. it was a new rhythm that you were strangely getting more and more acquainted, you were almost thankful for the noise – it was a reminder that you were still alive. you were even grateful for your audible panting for if it got too quiet you could still hear the screams of helplessness, see the massacred bodies, feel the adrenaline spikes accompanied by the burn of your lungs and –

the bandaged wound on your side jolts alive, a reminder of your service – your duty. a promise. growing pains sucker punch you back into the darkness of reality. glazed eyes glance down at your whitening knuckles, gripping the door knob.

breathe. nothing can hurt you, you’re safe. just breathe.

the rustle of an opening door shakes you out of the corners of your messy mind.

“well, well, well – look who’s still alive! how was the mission, babe?”

just fucking breathe.

you groan in annoyance.

ugh babe? ugh. not this. not right now. what was he doing up at this hour?

gojo’s voice was too cheerful, his taunting smile was too sharp for your dulled senses. you didn’t have the stamina for this right now.

“m’ not in the mood, gojo,” you mutter, voice foreign to your own ears. the hollowness threatened to spill into waking reality. opening the door with a click, you quickly turn your weary body away from the tall, lanky boy. wanting to hide yourself from him, you retreated into to the familiar darkness of your room. but before you could shut the door, an irritating foot stops the final barrier from closing.

“i’m hungry.”

you stare at him like he grew two heads – finally something to accurately represent his gigantic ego. what was he playing at? dark glasses slightly down his slender nose and unphased gojo takes a quick peek at your inscrutable stare, meeting it with a cheeky smile before speedily waltzing into your room and diving aggravatingly onto your neatly made bed.

“uuuuughhhhhhh gojo – oh my god – can you not – “

eyebrows furrowing, you run a hand through your unruly hair in irritation. you were home for a mere hour and you already wanted to strangle him – a new record. with someone blessed with six eyes, he truly couldn’t see a thing. blind to the little things, too preoccupied focusing on a bigger picture…and that bigger picture right now was to annoy you.

gojo had a playfulness that was usually more tolerable– but not tonight. tonight you were nearing a cliff and gojo was shoving you closer and closer to the edge of insanity.

he whines your name. “i said, I’m hungry,” he repeats stretching his long legs out, making himself comfortable on your bed.

“okay, so that’s my problem – why?” rolling your eyes as you walk deeper into your room, switching on the bedside lamp. a warm light illuminates the room, simultaneously emphasising your fatigue while radiating gojo’s mischief. his loose t-shirt rides up slightly as he picks up the pink bunny plushie on your bed – a gift from geto for your birthday.

“come with me to the convenience store?” he holds the bunny’s hands together in a begging motion, “pleasepleasepleaseplea–“ voice pitched up two octaves.

“no. go by yourself!” you huff as you rummage through your dresser finding some soft shorts and a baggy t-shirt before sitting on your bed, making sure to keep your distance from the white haired intruder in your room. you stare at him irritatingly, testily bouncing your knee up and down.

“but I want someone to come with me!” the bunny says with a hand on it’s hip, the other pink plush arm moving a long ear out of his face impatiently.

“then go wake up geto!” you snap. he whines your name as he aggressively hugs your bunny plushie.

“he left for a mission yesterday… and anyway I want you to come with me. c’mon just this once? I know you must be hungry. I can hear the ol’tummy grumbly grumble from hereeeeee.”

gojo’s pale face pouts with a frown at your silence. “c’mon look! you’re making Bun Bun sad, look at him – he’s crying!” gojo moves the bunny’s little hands over its face, the plushie’s sweet little body hunched over.

god damn. Bun Bun was actually crying. shit, you had to act fast.

irritated you rub your eyes, your headache was slowly building to a peak and your patience was running dangerously thin. if you didn’t stop him from whining, you’d just have to kill him.

“uuughhhh why don’t I just cook for us? I have shit in the fridge I think?,” you counter, desperately trying to find a way to stop his grovelling instantly.

he hesitated, considering your offer.

you exhaled in relief, enjoying the sweet, sweet silence. the joy of the almost absence of gojo.

but it was over too soon. “huh. I didn’t know you were the cooking type,” gojo counters with a questioning expression on his boyish face. he shifted slightly snuggling into your fluffy pillows.

“yeah, sure. I can cook,” you mumble, massaging your temple. you were not really paying attention to what he was saying, you were busy trying to convince yourself that this was the better option than murdering satoru gojo.

gojo impatiently uses one of your bunny’s stumpy pink arms to annoyingly paw at your cheek while you were in thought. “…so is that a yes to food?”

when did he get so close? ugh.

you slap his arm away, abruptly standing, stomping your way towards your bathroom.

“...babe? I said, is that a yes to food?”

wincing as you move to unbutton your uniform jacket aggressively, exposing a flimsy tank underneath you turn to him.

you watch as gojo’s bright eyes stare at your healing wound briefly before taking in your figure, gawking at the sight of your chest before a cocky smile paints his pale face, his ears going slightly pink.

“oOoOoh do you need me to help undress–“

“get out.”

“but what about – “

“fine- fucking fine! just leave – now.”

his lanky body springs up from your bed in victory. gojo gently lays down your bunny on the bed whispering “see Bun Bun? I knew we’d win. I always do.” kissing the top of his little head, before swiftly walking out of your room with a bright smile, “meet you in the kitchen!”

shaking your head as you into the bathroom, you turn on the shower faucet and can’t help but notice the growing silence in his absence. looking into the mirror before getting into the shower, you were surprised to find the ghost of the smallest grin on your face as well.

you walk into the kitchen with wet hair and comfy clothes to find gojo rummaging through the fridge. his tall frame hunched over, inspecting a jar of kimchi while he was humming what you recognized was the digimon theme song. the light of the refrigerator illuminated his firm, muscular body while you noticed that his eyes were now free from his usual dark glasses. his stark white hair tousled more messily than usual, courtesy of the habit that you recognized was from gojo running his hands through his hair.

joining him at the fridge, you ignore the warmth radiating off his body, and bump your hip to shove him out of the way. you hear his amused scoff and feel his judgey eyes on you. undaunted by his stare, you rustle in the fridge to find what you need.

placing a bundle of green onions and udon on the kitchen counter, you begin to fill a small pot with some water from the sink. you eye gojo expectedly, his hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, his head tilted curiously watching you.

was this asshole expecting you to do all the work? this fucking guy.

you jut out your elbow poking his firm side as he dramatically pouts at you, whining your name. you roll your eyes and place the pot on the stove.

“grab the dashi, mirin and soy sauce in my cupboard. then add some of each to this pot once the water boils,” you directed stiffly, beginning to finely chop the green onions.

perhaps mercifully sensing your quickly depleting energy, gojo dutifully returns with the ingredients and wordlessly does what you instructed. as he stirs the dashi, soy sauce and mirin into the broth, you add the udon, stirring with chopsticks separating the noodles carefully.

gojo begins rambling on about the increasing price of his favourite convenience store cake roll and how it’s still worth it because “…the Hokkaido whipped cream on the inside totally justifies the price increase. it really makes a difference, it’s so much richer, and that texture?! mmmpfffffhhh, it’s so fucking good, babe…”

you scrunch your nose in disgust at his overly enthusiastic moan.

gross. dude it’s just food.

“gojo, stop with the babe.”

“ehhh! what?? why? that’s you,” he pouts, moving one of hands on his hips while stirring the pot absentmindedly.

“i never agreed to that! anyway, I thought that was what you called geto,” reaching over, lowering the heat of the stove.

“nah, babe – suguru’s baby. you’re babe. big diff.” he explains leaning closer to you, eyes waiting for your challenge. but before you could argue, he was off rambling about his favourite cake rolls once again.

“… did ya hear that they were going to come out with a few new flavours? I know, crazy right? matcha and sesame!! wonder if it’ll be better than the original, i mean it’s hard to beat an icon. say… d’ya remember that one time – wait were you there that time? … or was it shoko? nah, it was probably shoko, I would’ve remembered if you were with us, babe. anyway, this one time I ate 6 of the cake rolls in one sitting and suguru – hey! are you listening to me?”

gojo cant help but drink in your appearance- were you paler than usual? your frame slightly swayed from exhaustion while you gently stirred the udon, staring into the bubbling broth mindlessly. your hair was still damp from your recent shower and you smelled slightly of lavender and vanilla. you smelled sweet, he wouldn’t mind smelling like you. he noticed how you’d favour your left side due to the wound, slightly wincing if you turned... it must have been pretty bad if shoko couldn’t heal it fully outright. but what worried him most was your almost unfamiliar eyes. you clearly weren’t listening to him, eyes dull, unfocused - there was no one there. usually your eyes were bright, full of life like when the early moon would illuminate the waves of the ocean. subtle and peaceful at first glance but vibrant and beautiful at a second glance. what he liked best was there was a sliver of rebellious glee in your gaze. a fleeting instance of chaotic delight. he caught a glimpse of it when you and shoko brainstormed lies to tell yaga to get out of training so you both could get that new blush in shinjuku, or when you finally pinned suguru for the first time after trying for months. gojo couldn’t help but be curious about your elusive nature. but currently your eyebrows furrowed like you were thinking about some that physically pained you, consumed by the chaos within.

“… uh hey – maybe you should sit down, babe. you don’t look so good right now..”

“oh now he’s concerned.” you quip. it didn’t take six eyes to see that your body was slowly reaching its limit. scrunching your eyes shut, tossing your body onto the nearest chair with a sigh. you weren’t in the mood to argue any longer.

he cringed slightly before softly protesting “hey. i knew you were fine - ”

“uh huh. don’t forget to add the green onions on top.”

“oh so bossy! but don’t not worry, I like-”

“gojo, can you like.. not be yourself for just 10 minutes? my head is killing me right now… please?” you interrupt his yapping, placing your pounding forehead on the table.

gojo snickers as turns his back from you, gently stirring the bubbling pot. he carefully places a bowl of steaming udon topped with green onions in front of you as well as a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. saying your thanks, you dip your spoon into the soup, swirling the clear broth. you watch the green onions float to the top. gathering the broth in your spoon, you almost groan as the warmth of the broth gently eases the pounding of your head while the light saltiness satisfyingly leaves a warm trail of comfort as it slid down your throat. glancing over at gojo curiously, you watch as he blows on his steaming noodles pinched between his chopsticks, slurping loudly before his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

pretty tasty, eh?

you and gojo eat in silence, the slurping of noodles enough of a conversation between you. admittedly, it was nice being in his company when he was quiet. his presence was so lively that he couldn’t help but take up space even in his silence. you weren’t sure if it was the warmth of the udon comforting you or his presence.

you’ve had udon like this before - just a few day ago a cute little grandma in Shirakawa made you the very same dish in her home. you could still feel her pleased smile as you complimented her cooking for the first time, the rasp in her voice when she protested when you helped her clean up, the warm touch of her wrinkly hands when she brushed the hair out of your face, the smell of her cozy house on fire, her blood staining –

putting down your chop sticks with more force than intended, you push the rest of your unfinished bowl towards gojo, his large hands instantly accepting the bowl without question. you feel the brush of his warm fingers against your cold shaking ones against the smooth porcelain of the bowl. hesitating at his touch briefly, you move quickly to creating more distance between the two of you.

“… where’d you learn to cook like that?’’ gojo questions through a mouthful of udon, unshaken.

“it’s just udon, gojo. it was really simple.”

“yeah.. but just because something is simple doesn’t mean it isn’t good! your mom teach you?”

“mnm, something like that. I’d used to watch my mom cook when I was younger. she hated cooking but begrudgingly learned because she had feed us. I guess she saw it as her duty as a mother.” you mused eyes closed.

“well, that’s stupid. she could have just bought food or hired a chef or something if she really hated it, couldn’t she?”

you huff in amusement, “you’re such a brat, y’know?”

“i’m just saying!! you shouldn’t have to do things that you don’t want to do.” gojo exclaims, putting down his spoon beside his second empty bowl.

“i mean, she did hated it. absolutely hated it but…her love for us was just stronger than her hate of the task. she learned our favourites and adjusted recipes to our liking, even though it would’ve been more work for her.”

“sounds like a dedicated woman.”

“she was, yeah. did … your… uh mother cook you dinner when you were a kid?” you realised you didn’t know anything about gojo’s family. you heard about his clan – the strength, power and influence that his family had – but you realised he never spoke about his family. his mother or his father, anyone at all. did he have any siblings? was he like his family? was he closer to his mother or his father? did he have his mother or father’s eyes? by name he was gojo, a part of a prestigious, ancient family but by spirit maybe… maybe he was just satoru.

oh god. imagine if his whole family was like him. your eyes narrow at the thought.

he hums thoughtfully, fiddling with his chopsticks, picking at the abandoned green onions in the bowl. “nah, the chef would make food for us, that was always good. but… my mother… she did make me dango one time.”

“is.. that your favourite dessert?”

“when she made it, it was.”

a silence fills the room, a thoughtful silence. when you dared to look into his eyes. there was something there that you didn’t recognize, the blue in his eyes was softer, more vulnerable. the usual mischievous spark behind his smile was missing, replaced with a forlorn thoughtfulness that you never associated with gojo.

this.. was new. you rest your heavy head on your palm and sighed. maybe there was more to gojo than cockiness, bravado and sheer power.

“Is that why you like cooking? reminds you of her?” gojo asks breaking the pregnant pause, drumming his fingers on the table.

“...babe? babe, you really gotta work on your listening skil-“ he peers across the table at your slumped figure, mouth slightly opened, breathing slowed with your head on the table.

gojo leans across the table to take a closer look at your face. it was a rare sight seeing you so defenseless, unshielded by your protective barriers you would put up around everyone. but even in sleep you still looked troubled, brows furrowing slightly. what was going on in that head of yours? gently, he touched the crease in between your eyebrows and chuckled when your face instantly relaxes to his touch. he smiles.

you could smell the blood sticking to your uniform, the screams of the villagers, their mutilated bodies beneath your feet as a disembodied hand reaches to grab your throat, squeezing painfully -

you jolt awake with a gasp, your soft comforter crumpling beside you. a thin sheen of sweat decorated your forehead. clammy fingers combing through your messy hair to self soothe.

you were in your room. you were safe. the sunlight across your wall indicated that it was probably early afternoon. you were alive.

but how.. how did you get here? did gojo.. carry you? ugh, god that’s embarrassing.

you put your head in your hands, groaning at the awkwardness. you reach on your beside table to grab your phone but you notice that Bun Bun was leaning against your lamp, posed to hold a hastily scribbled note with familiar handwriting:

thanks for the udon, babe xxxxx ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

beside the note was a cake roll.

rubbing the restlessness out of your eyes you wondered how someone who talked so much could make your busy head so quiet. scoffing at his antics, you smile.

a/n: gojo would 100% die for Bun Bun. woo hoo! it's here – thank you for all the support and love so far 🥺💓 -- head image credit: Poco's Udon World dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 17 - I Ain't Worried

The ending of this chapter was my absolute favorite to write! Me and my Americaness is shining bright in this chapter! I live in Florida for half the year for uni - so I love the state. Logan also needs lots of love and a forehead kiss :D

I'm so sorry for the last chapter, but wait to send me the therapy bills cause the next chapter is gonna be a doozy (I apologize in advance)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Much love

GO AMERICA RAAAWWWWWWW

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“MAAXXX!” 

Max jumped at the sheer volume of your voice. Last he knew, you were all the way at the Williams garage. It wouldn’t be possible for you to possibly be able to scream that far. Yet, you were known to surprise him. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to be dragging one Logan Sargeant by the hand. The latter looked almost…scared? The Dutchman quickly put his data pad down and turned to your direction. By now, you had dropped the American’s hand and was pushing him closer. 

“Just tell him,” you told the blond, who was currently digging his feet in the concrete. Logan only rolled his eyes as Max lifted an eyebrow. He looked between the younger two, waiting for someone to spill the beans. 

You huffed, since Logan was taking too long. 

“Logan here wanted to see if you’d want to join us at the beach after the race today to celebrate points last race. Since there’s really no good beaches in China. ”

A squawk came from the American. “I didn’t want to ask, you did.” 

Now, that could have hurt Max’s feelings, but he really didn’t know the American well enough to be offended. 

The senior Red Bull racer shifted his stance. “Sure. I mean, who’s coming?” 

Finally, Logan spoke up. “Well, right now it’s just us because someone,” he gave you a look, “jumped the gun on the invite. I was going to send a text out.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. 

Max thought for a moment. All you had to say about the American was nothing short than amazing. And for just a second, Max felt pretty bad as he looked at the two of you, who were waiting for an answer. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like fun!” 

With the way Logan’s head whipped up and the hope in your eyes, Max knew he made the right choice. 

“Perfect,” the William’s driver whispered, not in full belief that THEE Max Verstappen was going to go to the beach with them. 

You playfully punched his arm. “I told you!” you all but whispered as Logan smiled down at you. 

The three of you kind of stood in awkward silence, until you grabbed Logan’s hand once again. “Come on, we got to go find your other half!” 

Logan didn’t get a say in anything else as you dragged him in the other direction, back to the McLaren garage. 

A laugh from behind Max startled him a bit. He looked over his shoulder to find you manager looking fondly at your disappearing figure. Another eyebrow raise silently questioned the man. 

Vito caught his eye and gestured to you. “It’s great to see her making friends. Well, more than just Arthur and Ollie.” 

Max just hummed as he put a hand across his forehead to be able to see through the bright Miami sun. Yes, it was hot and the beach was the last place that he wanted to be after a sweaty race. But, you and Logan seemed so hopeful. He could see Kelly now approving of how he was letting loose a bit. It had been too long since he allowed himself to have fun. 

A ding of his phone had him looking for the rectangular device. He let out a dry laugh as he saw a text from Charles. 

Emotional Support Rival  

I hear the kids have roped you in as well to go to the beach after this? 

Mad Max 

Yep  Couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes  And it’ll be fun to let loose, ya know?  Also, who else is coming 

Emotional Support Rival 

Yeah  And the American kid too  He’s strangely growing on me  Uh, it’s Lando, Oscar, Alex, George, me, Logan, and then the kid 

Mad Max 

Ah, cool  And same  Well, good luck today 

Emotional Support Rival 

Yeah, yeah, yeah  I’ll try to stay out of the gravel  :D 

The emoji made Max shudder as he stared at the little smiley face that you had roped Charles into using more often. He could take it from you, but not from anyone else. 

You suddenly made your way back into the garage, a bit out a breath. 

“You done running everywhere?” Vito questioned, handing you a bottle of water. 

“Yep! Beach trip is a go!” You fist pumped. “I’m so glad I brought my swimsuit.” 

You started to ramble about everything you wanted to do at the beach. A few key words such as “recreation of the beach scene from Top Gun” and how “oddly strange it was that Logan reminded you of Ryan Gosling in the Barbie movie.” Everything just made Max chuckle to himself. 

He was a bit nervous that he wasn’t starting pole today. Charles had just nabbed it out of his grasp. You had surprisingly gotten back up the grid after what happened at Suzuka and then a placing of P7 at Shanghai, your lowest finish yet. 

Shanghai Results 

Max Verstappen – 25 points 

Charles Leclerc – 18 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 15 points 

George Russell – 12 points 

Lando Norris – 11 points 

Oscar Piastri – 8 points 

Y/n L/n – 6 points 

Alex Albon – 4 points 

Logan Sargeant – 2 points 

Carlos Sainz – 1 point 

Fernando Alonso – 0 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

But now you were starting back at the top with him and Charles. 

Starting Grid 

Max Verstappen 

Charles Leclerc 

Y/n L/n 

Oscar Piastri 

Lando Norris 

Logan Sargeant 

Alex Albon 

George Russell 

Carlos Sainz 

Fernando Alonso 

Lewis Hamilton 

Lance Stroll 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Valtteri Bottas 

Pierre Gasly 

Esteban Ocon 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

“Our starting grid looks promising today at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Now, the Williams seem strong today as Logan Sargeant qualified his highest position yet. He seems like a man on a mission for a podium. We’re glad to see that Y/n L/n is back up top following her crash back at Suzuka and then a low finish at Shanghai.” 

The camera focused on you in your car, waiting for everyone to flee the scene. You caught the lens and gave a small peace sign, before suddenly becoming embarrassed as you put your visor down. It was finally time for the race as everyone got off the starting line. 

Sure, you could have been even more nervous after your crash, but you had just shrugged everything off and got back to it. 

“We see the drivers in the formation lap now. There goes our race leader Max Verstappen followed by Charles Leclerc. Now the drivers we are going to be focused on today are the Williams drivers, Logan and Alex. We want to see if Sargeant can keep his cool in the hot seat, both figuratively and literally as the temperatures are high today.

“All the drivers are back in their spots and now they patiently wait for those five red lights…

And it’s lights out and away we go at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. There goes Max Verstappen, already pulling away from the very beginning. Down they go toward the first corner and CHARLES LECERLC GOES OFF THE TRACK! But it seems like he is back on and I’m getting radio of no damage so he’s still in, but what a start. 

“Y/n L/n is up to second with Oscar Piastri now in third with Logan Sargeant who has gained a position. Lando Norris is behind him with the other Williams car making him a Williams sandwich.” 

“Alright Mitch. Can we try to convert this into a win maybe?” You pressed the radio on as you had been called into the pits right behind Max. 

“Ah, that’s a negative kid. Max has been given the priority for this race.” 

“Boooooo. Max is a certified rookie-hater.” 

“Seems like Y/n L/n is not happy with that team call.” David Croft chuckles after listening in on your radio. 

“Who is currently behind me?” You asked as the last lap was nearing. 

Mitch responded. “Piastri is behind, but Sargeant is in DRS to him.” 

When she said that, your heart did a little jump. Secretly, you were hoping that Logan would get the jump on Oscar. (But no one had to know that.) 

With two more laps left, you needed to check in one again as you could see a vehicle catching up. 

“Mitch, status for the car behind me please.” 

“It’s, uh…Is this correct?” You heard her whisper to someone else. 

“Uh Mitch? Priorities please!” Your car jerked around the corner that sent you into the last lap. 

“Sargeant is 2.385 seconds behind you and not gaining. So just get across the finish line.” 

“LOGAN?!” 

“Yes. Logan.” 

You didn’t even realize that you had crossed the finish line. 

“AND WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? LOGAN SARGEANT CROSSES THE LINE IN A PERSONAL BEST OF A THIRD POSITION! A WILLIAMS IN ON THE PODIUM AND HIS TEAMMATE COMES AFTER HIM TO MAKE IS A 3-4 FOR THE WILLIAMS TEAM!” 

Max crawled out of his car and raised his hands once he was out on the concrete. He turned and expected you to immediately run toward him like the last 1-2, but you never showed up. All he could see was you hunched over…a Williams?

When did that get there? 

“LOGAANNNN!” you yelled down into the cockpit as you were practically in there with the American. 

He batted you away so that he could get out with you. And once he was out, he was glad that he was ready for you as you jumped into his arms. Your helmets clashed as the two of you came together, but you could deal with a concussion later. He gently placed you back on the ground, but was again bulldozed over by his teammate. 

It was at that moment you noticed a Dutch driver standing by himself, a bit dejected. You quickly jogged over and jumped on his back. 

“Maaaaxxxxx, another podium baby!” 

The Dutchman was glad that he had his hands on your legs as you leaned back and almost fell over. 

“Kid are you trying to kill me?” 

“Yes, you rookie-hater. Are you ever going to let me win?” you whined as he let you back down gently so that the two of you could get weighed. 

“There will come a time kid. You have to be patient.” 

Once your helmet was off, he could see your pouted lips. “I don’t want to be patient.” 

Sadly, Arthur was off getting trained for endurance racing and wouldn’t be back to a race until Monaco for Charles’s home race. So, your favorite interviewer was not there after the cooldown room. 

Yet, it was enjoyable due to the blond in the room. The three of you watched the TV and winced as you saw Charles go off the track. 

“Sheesh,” you grimaced. 

Max sighed, “And he said he’d try to stay out of the gravel.” He looked over at Logan. “Nice job on the overtake with Piastri.” 

Logan kind of just stared at him for a moment before coming back to reality. “Thank you. He went a bit wide, and I tried to keep my elbows out." 

You punched him in the side and he let out an oof. “Keep your elbows out my ass. You drove phenomenally.” 

The podium celebration was amazing, but you were looking forward to one thing and one thing only. 

“Alexa, play I Ain’t Worried by One Republic.” 

Sand kicked at your feet as you ran behind Logan as he threw the egg-shaped ball at Oscar. The Aussie may have fumbled a bit, but he was able to run down the long stretch toward the opposite’s goal. 

“Max!” he yelled and threw the ball to the unexpected Dutchman. The ball hit Max’s head and tumbled to the sand. You threw your hands up in frustration. 

“Max!” you groaned. The remaining boys of Lando, Alex, George, and Charles all laughed at your frustration.  

“What! This is not football!” He pointed to the American football in the sand. Charles leaned down to pick it up. Surprisingly, he twirled it well in the air. 

“Technically, it’s American football!” Logan yelled from the other side, where you were standing with your hands on your hips. 

George took the ball from Charles and chucked it to Lando. The Brit should have been looking the other direction, because to him you came out of nowhere and bulldozed him over. 

Logan put his arms up, pretending to be a field goal. “And tackle!” 

The curly-hair boy pretended to spit out sand as you stood, football in hand. 

He looked up at you in amazement. “Where did you learn to tackle like that?” 

You spiraled the ball perfectly back to Logan. “Live in Texas for 5 years. If there’s nothing bigger there than sweet tea and Bucees, it’s football.” 

This time, Oscar was able to get the ball and run all the way to your “end goal.” 

“Touchdown!”

“This was so not Top Gun,” George sighed as he kicked sand. “The shirtless ones always win.” 

“Uh George?” Logan asked, making the taller Brit look up at the other shirtless drivers. You were technically shirtless as you only had your bikini on. 

A bigger sigh left George’s lips. 

“So can we all agree that I’d be Maverik?” 

“Logan, if anyone was Maverik, it’d be me. Y’a know, main character vibes. You can be Rooster.”

“Doesn’t he die?” 

“No silly, that’s Goose in the first one.” 

“Who would I be?” 

���Bob. Oscar, you’d be Bob.” 

Race Results 

Max Verstappen – 25 points 

Y/n L/n – 18 points 

Logan Sargeant – 15 points 

Alex Albon – 12 points 

Charles Leclerc – 11 points 

Lando Norris – 8 points 

Oscar Piastri – 6 points 

Carlos Sainz – 4 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 2 points 

George Russell – 1 point 

Fernando Alonso 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Lance Stroll 

Pierre Gasly 

Zhou Guanyu 

Esteban Ocon 

Valtteri Bottas 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Championship Standings 

Max Verstappen – 150 points 

Charles Leclerc – 95 points 

Y/n L/n – 65 points 

Lando Norris – 61 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 49 points 

Oscar Piastri – 45 points 

Carlos Sainz – 33 points 

George Russell – 31 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points  

Alex Albon – 20 points 

Logan Sargeant – 17 points 

Lance Stroll 

Pierre Gasly 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings 

Red Bull – 215 points 

Ferrari – 128 points 

McLaren – 106 points 

Mercedes – 80 points 

Williams – 37 points 

Aston Martin - 23 point

Racing Bulls – 21 points 

Alpha Romeo 

Haas

Alpine 

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 highway to the DANGA ZONE - podium (with my favorite American and teammate) and some well deserved beach time after

liked by logansargeant, arthur_leclerc, b0x_b0x_nightmare and 73,295 others

maxverstappen1 uh I was on the podium too??

y/n.89 we're all tired of you being on the top step charles_leclerc yes, let's have the poor people have a chance landonorris POOR PEOPLE?? YOU MAKE MORE THAN I DO oscarpiastri you're getting paid??

logan2sarg AMERICAN ON THE PODIUM - ONE STEP CLOSER TO FREEDOM RAAAWWRRRR

sargeant_log this post has signaled the Americans

arthurxy/n ARTHUR BACK IN THE LIKES

maxverstappen1 I'm your only teammate??

logansargeant and I'm the only American driver?? y/n.89 oh be quiet

emotional_support_rivals I was thankfully at the beach, and let me tell you - an exact replica of the top gun beach scene

lestappenlove lemme guess...Logan is Maverick? y/n.89 NO HE'S ROOSTER

y/n.nation our girl looking prettyyyy - mystery boy must be keeping her happy

maxverstappen1 has posted

maxverstappen1 the progression of the day : sun time, burnt time, shade time

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappencom, dutch_lion, max_max, and 2,948,923 others

max_fan lobster max is back

kellypiquet did you remember sunscreen?

maxverstappen1 yes y/n.89 no he didn't

lestappenlove max in a bucket hat is something I didn't know I needed

redbullracing should we add umbrellas to the car?

f1_group I wonder who won the football game

y/n.89 Logan, max, oscar, and I won - while Lando, Alex, George and Charles LOST alex_albon it's because somehow you are freakishly good at the sport, Logan grew up playing it, Oscar grew up with Logan and Max just wins everything charles_leclerc Max is a certified everyone-hater

formula1_power this beach trip is my Roman Empire

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant my job is beach

liked by williamsracing, oscarpiastri, freedom4logan, and 95,294 others

L_sarg YEAAAHHHHH PODIUM ON HOME SOIL

l2_fan WTF IS A KILOMETEERRRRRRRRR

y/n.89 your fans scare me just a bit

logansargeant they don't bite y/n.89 YES THEY DO

williamsracing FREEDOOOMMMMM (did we do that correctly?)

formula1_fan Logan on the podium has boosted my morale for living

cota_official can't wait to see you again in October! (maybe top step this time?)

author guuyyyyssssss cota_official sorry... usa4logan HELLO??

oscarpiastri happy for you mate

barbie and what a great job you do at beach Logan

charles_leclerc has posted

charles_leclerc beach, please

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 1,843,923 others

sharl16 its the return of the blue filter

cha_cha_red the caption is giving "72 best beach instagram captions to share your vacation fun"

y/n.89 do you have his search history or something? charles_leclerc quiet or I'd have to drop something ferrarifan what do you know

ferrari_failure glad he's having some fun

red_flag the groups' captions hit hard - I'm dying

maxverstappen1 why don't you just say the word??

landonorris cause he's under contract charles_leclerc legally I can't say can't say anything, read my lips y/n.89 why is he crying, and what does that have to do with "pitch perfect" ??

scuderiaferrari remember to use sunscreen!

alex_albon has posted

alex_albon freedom or whatever

liked by lilymhe, albon_pets, logansargeant, and 835,920 others

alobono love the matching Williams tank-tops with Logan

y/n.89 sun or whatever

logansargeant sand or whatever oscarpiastri beach or whatever landonorris the sea or whatever

aa_on_top why he walking like that?

y/n.89 chafing alex_albon SHUT UP georgerussell63 penguin

williamsracing you look great Alex

y/n.89 not williams flirty on the main @.lilymhe they're trying to take your boyfriend lilymhe they can have him :) alex_albon LILY??

fan_of_f1 probably the only one who doesn't need sunscreen

albon_alex23 not Alex getting bullied on HIS post

landonorris has posted

landonorris my toes got wet

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.89, lnfour, maxfewtrell, and 839,183 others

lnfournation big stretch

la_la_lando is he napping??

y/n.89 it was all too much for little Lando Norris maxverstappen1 couldn't handle losing at football landonorris I was JUST resting my eyes charles_leclerc suurreeee

ln_4 suns out, tits out too I guess

last_lap_lando are those....weights??

y/n.89 he said it was for the "pump"? idk if he found it tho y/n_nation she is really coming for them all today

mclaren watch out for sharks!

lando_norizz oh to just lie down on the sand and play with my best buds

oscarpiastri has posted

oscarpiastri I'm bob

liked by mclaren, lilyzneimer, auzzieauzzieauzzie, and 834,294 others

top_gun_enthusiast f1 & top gun crossover when??

y/n.89 Logan would go nuts - he has a crush on tom cruise logansargeant Y/NNNNNNN oscarpiastri it's true

oscah81 an aussie in his natural habitat

osc_pastry florida?? oscah81 the water??

hoe4oscarpiastri bless George and his shirtless pictures influences

danielricciardo can't believe you didn't invite me????

y/n.89 there was only room for one aussie plus we've already been to the beach together?? carossainz55 it's ok, they forgot me too Daniel landonorris guys be quiet, you're making y/n cry cause now she feels bad charles_leclerc she already cried because she saw a lonely crab DO NOT make it worse

mclaren ice bath thirst traps coming next?

micLaren_bois ahhhh thank you y/n for this content

georgerussell63 has posted

georgerussell63 gave out a master class on shirtless posts today

liked by carmenmmundt, mercedesamgf1, russellgeorge, and 194,284 others

russellgeorge the king of shirtless pictures has arrived

king_george63 when did George get a jeep?

y/n.89 he didn't, he asked these random guys if he could take a quick picture and ended up breaking the wipers logansargeant it's true, I was there georgerussell62 y/n you do not need to tell all my secrets. do I need to call toto? y/n.89 you don't scare me cause he liked me more than you mercedesamgf1 play nice George - toto

he-just-tUrned-in0-me the second picture is everthing

y/n.89 he ate the sand right after georgerussell63 Y/N!!!! alex_albon you new here? just ignore it

george_at_merc this just ties all of their posts together

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing podium, points, and some all American football

liked by f1, y/n.89, logansargant, arthur_leclerc, and 803,195 others

logan4freedom GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS

williamspookies GOD BLESS AMERICA y/n.89 AND GENTLEMEN logansargeant START. YOUR. ENGIIINNNEESSSSS alex_albon I am only slightly concerned

f1mia glad to have you all here! until next year RAWWRRRR

charles_leclerc can you please take out the gravel pleaasseeee

b0x_b0x_nightmare this year's podium was so wholesome

best_rookie I knooowww, max with Logan and y/n was a trio I didn't know I needed

tomcruise great job @.logansargeant, glad I got to watch

logansargeant OH MY GOSHHHHHH y/n.89 he just died but can you give miles teller my number please? maxverstappen1 y/n no, you have a boyfriend???? y/n.89 he's the one who told me to ask??????????

box_box_official this weekend will always be on repeat

williams_fan this whole weekend was so wholesome, can't wait for more

author oh, uhhhhh readers what did you do? author get your therapy bills ready?

formula1_fanatic can't wait to see what the rest of the season holds :D

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[kyuureimu]

— Kyurem can feel his heartrate suddenly begin to spike, a thunderous pounding at his throat and a deafening ringing in his ears. Time slowed to a crawl. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so... vulnerable in such a way.

He had just said mere moments before that he had sworn off such connections. But this was different, he knew. He has witnessed this phenomenon countless times, he was not so blind to not be able to recognize it for what it might be. Though there was a key word there: witnessed.

The dragon has always kept a very healthy distance away from others, and an even unhealthier insistence that there was a boundary line that should never be crossed. He cannot commit himself to others, as his only commitment should ever be to his kingdom, to guard and protect and oversee her people. He could be close with reigning monarch of his choosing, but it was a different sort of connection and even that, he knew, was fleeting at best. He was their patron god first and foremost, and he cannot be distracted from his sacred duty.

...And that era was long gone, lost to the waves of time and war, as was the Great Dragon. 'Guardian of Nothing' was what he called himself since. A true Hero connection was the closest thing he ever had to an inseparable bond. And twice since he established it, twice his entire life has been burnt to ashes because he let the loss of which completely and utterly break him.

And he has since then proceeded to hurt everything he ever loved.

But the moment the stranger brushed their hand with his, everything stopped. His anxiety snuck up on him at the last moment, afraid that his turmoil will leak out and freeze the both of them over. Though what he instead found... was a warmth he thought he would never experience again, with a soothing hum to accompany it. His mind felt like static and before he knew it their hands threaded together like woven cloth, and that hum steadily grew into a harmonious little melody.

Kyurem has only ever known the beauties of the earth, but now he felt as if he was basking in the vast wonders of the cosmos itself. And it was breathtaking.

All at once his face flushed and a fresh wave of embarrassment flooded his senses. He so desperately wanted to look away, but when gold eyes met gold again he saw the growing signs of tears. He blinked, considering for just a moment, then gave a coy little smirk. He could offer a handkerchief, or simply ignore that he ever saw them, but instead he reached out once again with his free hand to cup the other's face. Delicately he ran his thumb across their cheek to brush the tear away before they fell, the touch so feather light and soft it felt no different than that of snow falling on warm skin.

His grip on their entangled hands tightened, idly circling his calloused thumb over their knuckles. Slowly he shifted their grasp to fully enclose his hand in theirs and he turned, ready lead them on their way. "R-Right, yes of course. It is just up the hill here, a short walk through this side of forest. Shall we?"

With a tug he took his first steps, slow and steady to allow the other to keep pace with him. The wild pokemon of the Giant Chasm popped in and out of view, curiously watching the two of them in awe; they know it was incredibly rare to ever see their Warden personally bring a stranger any further down their territory.

It wasn't long until he brought them to a peculiar spot along the cliff, not too far from the branching path that leads to the Victory Road. Kyurem approached, placing his free hand along the face of the rock and making a series of circular motions. An intricate pattern made itself visible and reacted to his touch, glowing and spiraling outward with his movements. With a sudden click the surrounding rocks began to rumble and part, revealing a hidden walkway.

It was dark upon entry, naturally, but with another swift gesture on rock the space began to illuminate from an array of runes lining the walls. It was a quaint and rustic little space, possessing only the essentials. Bed, table, countertop, cabinets, and a little area in the back separated by partitions. Curiously there was a distinct lack of obvious appliances, and many of the furniture was carefully handcrafted and built directly into the space itself. Kyurem rarely made use of it personally, as this was his forward outpost for his patrol more than anything. But it made do for his needs.

"Um... I know it is not much, but please make yourself comfortable," he offers, gesturing inside. He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck then proceeded to the kitchenette to start brewing the tea.

It felt like an agonizing eternity between their request and him displaying the inner turmoil Kyurem was dealing with, a personal conflict the stranger had not dared read, for fear of what might lay below his hidden depths and lonely chasms. Their drive to know him was so deep and personal, any mortal being might’ve considered it inappriopriate, no matter how removed from the burdens of blood and bone it may be. People generally tended to fear any sense of vulnerability with strangers, and for good reason.

Kyurem had no pheasable way of posing a threat to their life, even if he wanted to try. The strange could just snuff him out, but it would destroy them to do that kind of thing to him. The idea of reducing his gentle, tender face to nothing but the stardust he was made of forever ago hurted to even think about.

Especially now that Kyurem so readily reached out to them, despite his prior apprehensions.

He was so close, yet so far away. All it’d take was for this golden, sullen stranger to reach out and take his hand; to lock their fingers with his and to pull him close, feeling the life between his apprehensive frame, one so beautiful to them despite what may have been missing.

The stranger hesitated at first, Kyurem’s shy but warm smile touching their core. What if they broke him?

What if they killed him?

What if his fate was sealed and labeled for death the moment they touched him?

They reach out, slowly and almost automatically so. Their hand shakes, fighting its own desire to withdraw, afraid Kyurem might immediatly turn to dust and vapor, reduced by the strangers fire, their eternal zenith, the endless apex from which their life’s sun would never set.

Their fingertips find his, a sensation that could have reduced themself to ash with its intensity, had such a thing been possible. His fingers rougher than theirs, as though their tender yet perfect digits had taken all the gentleness from Kyurem’s. His skin was cool, but not unpleasantly so; an almost perfect companion to their own deep warmth.

The stranger couldn’t help themself anymore. Apprehensive yet hungry as their fingers were for the sensation of closeness, their fingers spread slowly in such a way to thread together with Kyurem’s, afraid to let go, afraid he’d disappear and leave them alone in the void again, with themselves, and their insurmountable grief.

They were terrified he would find out who, WHAT they were by this mere simple, yet scarily intimate touch, that he would revolt in shock and disgust, and tear away from them.

They felt the faint glimmer of tears, barely held back in the corners of their lustrous eyes. Their gaze could no longer hold his.

They didn’t want to let go.

Their hand finally found the courage close around his, sealing the simple, terrifying and beautiful beginning of their bond.

“I would… like tea. Thank you.”

Their voice found not the strength to fully surpress the wavering within, but they didn’t notice. Their eyes were only drawn to him, so close, and now no longer isolated from them.

They never wanted to let go of Kyurem ever again. How inappropriate, no?