#and of course … the pre chorus….

[lexalovesbooks]

I’ll never get over how funny it is that the reason Teraeth reincarnated as one of the hellwarriors was because Atrin saw the man he was in love with (has literally never spoken to him ever in 500 years) and the woman he was in love with (he’s convinced she hates his guts) (knows they have some kind of affection for each other but is unclear on the details) volunteer one after the other and went ‘oh I cannot let them reincarnate together without me’ like yes he was emperor for five hundred years and undeniably changed the world yes he was an incredible warrior and strategist in his own right. Yes he volunteered to save the world because his crushes did it first and he didn’t want to be left out. Funniest guy ever.

[delicatepointofview]

bring pop songs with bridges back !!!!! i've had enough

[nayushikisses]

starts shaking and trembling like a leaf . never getting over this song literally every time i listen to it i get goosebumps

[gutsby]

Seeing Pink

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Warnings: 18+. DD/LG—DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T READ IT. This depicts two consenting adults in a fictional setting! Freeuse & somnophilia with a pre-negotiated safeword. Unprotected p-in-v/a. Soft dom!Joel. Corruption kink (!!) Reading a Regency novel while fucking…for the culture.

Note: ***Spoilers*** for Jane Austen’s Emma. The book has been out for 208 years, but I wanted to give y’all a heads-up.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke with your pants around your ankles.

You don’t remember falling asleep that way.

In fact, you’d always taken great pains to follow the rules: ‘Don’t play while daddy’s away,’ ‘Clothes on if he’s gone.’ So to find yourself sprawled out on the couch, just as you’d been when you dozed off waiting for him to come home—sans bottoms—was unnerving, to say the least. Glancing at your hand, you found your book was still in it. Only the words were harder to read now that your eyes were bleary and the letters were all…jumpy. Jumping?

Bouncing.

As your mind made the slow, steady descent back into your body, you sensed you were rocking back and forth.

Someone was rocking you with the force of his thrusts.

“Daddy!” you gasped, nose half-buried in a cushion.

You were lying face-down on the old, weathered sofa, and you could feel your old, weathered man behind you. Inside you. Stuffing that tight, shiny space between your legs as he straddled your hips from above. His own hips made a soft click, click, click with every piston of his weary bones. He said it’d been that way since the day he’d turned forty. You just might’ve giggled if the sound hadn’t been paired with the chorus of a soft, wet, and sticky-sweet pleasure you knew to be coming from you.

The head of his dick then carved a delectable path to the center of you, like he’d made it himself. You whimpered.

“‘M’sorry to wake ya, bug.”

You could hear his voice was strained.

Daddy never got a head start on playtime unless his day had been particularly rough—unless he really needed it.

Unless he saw pink in your hair, and knew this was okay.

It was your own, secret language, of course. A silly idea brought to fruition by an even sillier admission: when Joel had told you one night that there were times he just wanted to use your body to feel good. When his big one had been at work for hours, and you were so invested in your book and just couldn’t bear looking away, or you’d fallen asleep—would it be alright if daddy put himself inside you for a little while then? I’ll be nice and gentle.

The code was a pink satin bow.

When you tied that ribbon in your hair, Joel knew you were giving him permission to use you as he pleased.

And then there were other ways to make sure he only did what you wanted to do, even in this special ‘scene’; if it ever got to be too much, or you just didn’t want him to be in you or on you anymore, all you had to say was ‘cinnamon’ and your playtime stopped right there. Joel made sure of it every time, and he didn’t make you wait.

When you’d fastened the satin in your hair that night before nestling down to read, you hadn’t expected him to be taking you up on it, really. He’d been so tired lately.

“It’s alright,” you told him, while the air was knocked out of your body through the place he kept pounding you.

“I-I missed you, daddy.” You added, a bit sheepish.

At that—or perhaps just feeling your walls pulse around him—Joel groaned. He placed a broad, callused palm over your spine and held you steady while he fucked you.

“I missed you…more, sweet girl.” And it sounded like a confession. The smallest sliver of an apology: ‘I know I haven’t been here as much as I’d like to be—I’m sorry.’

You’d accept that attempt at making amends, and any other kind Joel would try to proffer, in a position like this. With his hand on your hip and the small of your back, wet member gliding back and forth between your folds, you felt useful to him. His sweet girl. No better thing to be.

Him filling you, and then you, in turn, filling the whole living room with your soft, staccato whines. So nice.

So kind of him to spend his days toiling in the heat to put a roof over your head, a book in your hand, and the silkiest, comfiest pyjamas that money could buy—pooling around your ankles now, but you didn’t mind.

You dropped the novel so you could use your hands. Try to lower your touch to the curve of your cheeks, then spread yourself open for his eyes to drink you in: your tight, dripping hole getting stretched around his cock.

That was what you’d wanted to do, anyway. What Joel liked to see, ostensibly. But the second your fingers lifted from the book, he tightened his grip and shook his head.

“Keep readin’, baby. Looks like you’re close to the end.”

You didn’t know what to say. His observation was correct; you were ten pages shy of completing Emma—but why finish now? Why read when he was right here? If you ever spread your legs while you read it was because you were too engrossed in the plot, and Joel needed release. It was rare he made the suggestion himself.

As if to answer your questions, he wedged his cock even deeper. Confirming his wants with a gentle authority:

“You do like your book, don’t you, sweet pea?”

He’d bought it just weeks ago. You nodded, emphatic.

“I— I do, daddy! I do. I just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words while his cock made you dizzy with pleasure, “Just…like you better, is all. Wanna feel you.”

You suspected that would work. From the rhythm of his hips, you guessed he’d be likely to assent at any second.

Then he didn’t.

Joel picked the book up and pushed it back to you.

“You can feel me just fine with your eyes on the paper. You did say you wanted to read to be more like a…?”

Uh.

Your brain blanked.

Then you remembered.

“Like a big girl,” you said, in a breath.

Those had been your words. Hardly of note to you now, with your cunt so happily occupied, but ones that Joel wasn’t ready to dispense with yet. Not when you’d been so eager to read these last weeks, to try proving yourself.

You braced your knees against the leather. Tried to shift yourself slightly while Joel kept knocking you back, again and again, with his balls slapping hard against your rear.

Then he slowed, and lowered himself, and came to rest with half his weight blanketing your soft, prone body and his face closer to yours. He kissed the shell of your ear.

“You do wanna get fucked like a big girl, don’t ya, baby?”

And he drove his cock in all the way down to the hilt.

You felt him in your tummy. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the book again and tried to nod your head.

This was a game you liked. An angle Joel loved. A dynamic between you two that turned your insides to syrup and your mind a soft, compliant puddle. He’d shown you what kind of treatment big girls get, and you felt your body wilt with the idea. Joel was laying overtop you now, hips rutting mindlessly against your ass and his arms sliding under you. Grazing the skin and feeling your breasts and telling you again, ‘You can show me, baby. No need to be shy. Daddy’s right here. You’re alright.’

Now it wasn’t so much the command which compelled you but the praise in that sweet Texan drawl. The patience. You could feel him stiff and hard and aching, but he was disciplined enough to wait—let you take your own pace now and show him, in your own special way.

You opened your book to the last page you’d read. Joel stroked your hair, and he kissed the edge of your cheek.

“You’ve made it so far, baby,” he said, admiringly, “Barely been two weeks and you’ve already finished it, nearly.”

You nodded. You let him play with your hair and graze your soft skin with his lips, and when his hips had stilled, you tried not to betray your disappointment. Daddy just wanted to see you could behave—you definitely could.

Even if all you wanted him to do was hold your body to his and fuck you senseless, make you cry and whine and squeeze all down his big, leaking cock while you came for him, you could stay calm. Good girls always did.

Big girls knew how to listen, and when to hold still.

“I like it…like it— a lot,” you told him, and you knew he knew there was more to those words than just the book.

With his hands still underneath you, Joel propped you up to rest more comfortably against a pillow. He slid one hand down your tummy and in between your legs, while the other kept squeezing your breast—tweaking the pebbled nub between forefinger and thumb and feeling you squirm under his touch. You gripped your book tight.

“Keep readin’, sweet pea,” he encouraged, words gentle, “I’d hate to be the one…distractin’ you from all the fun.”

How he could be so calm while talking such nonsense was beyond you. Maybe he’d grinned, too. You didn’t have the strength to peek behind you while his index started rubbing between your folds, and your walls clenched tighter. You wanted to wriggle your hips for friction, but as it was, you knew what you had to do.

You had to try.

At first you read a couple words. A short fragment of a sentence. You yearned to get more, really digest what the passage was attempting to convey—a friend of Emma’s getting engaged, as it was—but prospects were poor. Joel kissed your neck and toyed with your wetness and made you want to whine from all the tension within.

His cock was nestled deep. The smooth, bulbous head had found reprieve near the cusp of your cervix, and with every flick of his finger, it was like you could feel him sinking deeper. Kissing the most intimate parts of you while you had only to breathe. And think. And try to read.

“Learnin’ a lot?” Joel hummed in your ear.

You bit your lip and nodded. He knew you were full of it.

Your legs were now trembling around his hand and your eyes hadn’t moved so much as an inch across the page.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” he pressed.

“I— I— yeah. Yeah,” you whimpered.

“What’s been your favorite part to read?”

Not this one, that’s for sure. You swallowed.

“W— When…” Again, your mind was wiped of all memory.

“When…”

His index drew a slick, pretty lemniscate on your clit, and you wanted to cry. But you had to keep trying. For him.

“When— when Frank finally shows up,” you huffed.

“Frank who?”

“Frank Churchill. He’s…Emma’s old governess’s stepson. He visits for a little, and then Mr. Knightley gets jealous.”

You were out of breath. Joel was trying his best not to smile behind your back, but you could feel him now—there, and between your legs, making speech a struggle.

“Who’s he?”

The man sounded like a father with all his sweet and calm curiosity. Like he wasn’t balls deep in your heat.

“Old family friend. But he…he’s got a thing for Emma.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” And you had to pause to swallow. Suck in a breath when Joel nosed your cheek and told you softly, ‘Doin’ so good for me’ “—but he doesn’t know it at first.”

You felt encouraged by Joel’s words. Enlivened by the pulse of his cock inside you, and pushed toward release with every circuit of his fingers. He was treating you well, making sure it felt good no matter how much he teased.

And then he reached up, leaving your poor little clit to throb all on its own. Something caught between a moan and a plea—‘Joe-el’—bubbled deep in your throat. But Joel was too focused on the book in your hand; he had a wet, sticky finger flipping the page in a second. He’d turned it back, to a passage you had marked in pink.

The sight of the line you’d highlighted made your cheeks heat instantly. That made you want to wriggle away.

Joel held you closer.

“Why’d you mark this, honey?”

Again with the loving, probing tone. You couldn’t bear the thought of explaining your reasoning here. Not now.

But he urged you to read it. Pulled your body nearer to his and kissed the side of your head, while his body blanketed yours and his words were spoken as gentle as ever. He wanted to know what it meant. Why you’d marked it in pink, no less. No diffidence would do.

You balked. Blinked. Remembered that big girls listened.

‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’

And when you said it, it almost felt like telling him yourself. Your grip loosened from the book as soon as the words came out of your mouth, leaving Joel to hold it

“Knightley said that to Emma, did he?”

His eyes were scanning the page, eyes alight and lips smiling. From between your legs, you felt full, and yet nothing was more hollow or harrowing than presently hearing this man chuckle at the words that had made your heart swell in your chest that night. It felt belittling.

And not in the way you liked. Joel reached for your chin to tilt your face to him, and when you mumbled a short ‘yes’ to his question, he softened his hold. He hummed.

“I’m sorry, baby. ‘M’sorry. Knightley’s sweet, isn’t he?”

He nudged your cheek with his nose.

“Uh-hm,” you said, low. Ignoring the urge to be mature.

“Sweeter’n daddy?”

“Maybe.”

Joel grinned again. He shifted his weight. You were just about to tilt your head more, when he sat up completely. You felt his pelvis prod the flesh of your ass, and he left your book to you. He readjusted his grip on your hip in his hand while he used the other to knead your skin.

You keened at the change of angle—feeling the friction between the coarse grey hairs at the base of his tummy and the swell of your bottom, the brush of his manhood.

“Yeah? He treat Emma like this?”

And, to punctuate the question, Joel withdrew himself to the tip and slammed back in. He groaned with pleasure.

“Daddy,” you hissed, and he started sawing back and forth, gently like before, “He just…I— I— I don’t know.”

“400 pages in and they still haven’t fucked?”

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“They don’t do that. Mr. Knightley is a…a…gentleman.”

His thrusts were shaking you again, and you struggled to hold your book. Joel kept his motions shallow. Teasing.

“Is daddy not a gentleman when he does this to you?”

You could’ve laughed at that question. You did, a little bit.

“Plenty gentleman-ly, daddy,” you giggled, “Plenty.”

“Good,” Joel returned, swift.

Then, without warning or ceremony, he spit in his hand. He slicked his fingers with the stuff and sank his index and middle fingers between your cheeks—right above the hole he was stretching with his cock—and pressed.

You jumped, still getting fucked face-down, but now with the tips of Joel’s fingers circling a tiny ring of muscles.

His favorite to tease you with, of late. He leaned in.

“Even here?”

But before you could respond, and while thoughts of love, betrothals, and Georgian-era decorum were still floating through your mind, you felt one finger breach your hole. As his cock continued to slide messily, greedily inside your cunt, you let out a whine.

“Da-a-ddy.”

He knew what it would do to you. What it always did. Particularly when he was taking you from behind and telling you sweet and dirty things. Making you feel it.

You hardly knew what else to do but hold your book to your chest and purse your lips, sensing a familiar sting.

“Did men like him do this to sweet little girls like you?”

“I— I—”

“Or is that just daddy?” He pushed the finger deeper.

Your tender, yet-empty hole sucked him in like a dream. You almost couldn’t believe how quickly you spread for him, having only gotten touched in that new, precious place with just the tip of his thumb before. It was tight.

And tighter still, with Joel’s cock gliding in and out of your cunt and his finger sinking further in a hole he’d never fucked. You pressed your cheek to the couch.

“Go on,” Joel urged, gentle, “Use your words.”

You tried. You parted your lips and squeezed a nearby pillow for support, and Joel even pushed your book down flat on the sofa in front of you so you could see the words more clearly. Focus on those instead of his finger.

He pushed in to the second knuckle, and you whined.

Your mind was blanking again. You had only to say:

“He’s…like you, daddy. Knightley’s kinda…like you.”

Joel didn’t hamper the path of his index, but he did slow his hips. He let them peter off to only the gentlest of thrusts, while the motions of his finger flowed like a white-hot stream between your legs. Petting that tender little ring while diving in and out, swiftly, and teasing.

He stoked the flames of desire inside you with each new touch. He flattened his one free hand beside your book, anchoring himself a comfortable height above, and while you tried stealing a glance behind you, he peered down. Reading—or appearing to, anyway—as he fucked one hole with a gentle resolve and caressed the other. You’d never felt more full, or fucking insane to feel more of him.

Before you could even venture to beg, though, Joel said:

“How are we alike, honey? Tell me.”

You almost wanted to cry as his finger wiggled deeper. You had to answer, though. Recollect as best you could.

Stammering only the slightest bit: “He’s, uh, o— older.”

“Older?”

You could feel the smile start to stretch again overhead.

“Yeah. Emma’s twenty-one and he’s…a-almost forty.”

Presently, Joel’s smile morphed into a chuckle. Low.

“Almost forty? That must make me a fuckin’ fossil, then.”

“No!” you squeaked. And just when you had, Joel’s finger breached your hole straight down to the last knuckle. He let it rest while you squirmed, then dragged it out a little.

“I only—” You quickly tried resuming, but your brain was fried. Your body was limp, and all you could feel, or think, was the slow, sweet, and wet sensation tingling between your cheeks as Joel pushed his thick finger in and out, “—only meant he’s a bit more…experienced…than her. Knows her better than just about anyone, and he— he—”

Made you think of Joel. Made you dream of your own fifty-something lover situated amidst a world more than two centuries old, rousing the most romantic notions. You felt silly. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, were it not for the fear that your cheeks might sear them.

It didn’t matter, at length. Your sweet old man ensured it.

“‘S’okay, little bug. It’s alright. Makes me glad to think you’re thinkin’ of me while you read,” he told you, calm.

He stroked your hair. He stalled his hips, momentarily. And just when you thought you might’ve mustered the courage to speak to him yourself, you heard him again.

Except it wasn’t a word you heard—just a wet noise.

A glob of spit hitting the small of your back and sliding down, crawling slow between your cheeks for Joel’s warm, waiting finger. He withdrew the digit, and then he smeared his saliva all over the place he’d pried you open. Likely knowing you’d be too stunned to talk, he went on.

He worked his finger back in, now coated with a sheen of spit: “Always readin’…feelin’ new things, ain’t ya, baby?”

You nodded, and you scarcely even knew it.

“Only natural it happens like that,” Joel assured you, soft, “Daddy teaches, and you learn…and learn…like a big girl.”

With each new word he wanted to drive home, he pushed his finger in. Dragged it out. Curled it gently, as though beckoning you to him, then watched you rut your hips at the feeling of needing more. He sucked a breath through his teeth when he felt you ooze more, warm.

Nectar trickled down his length while your lips above were drooling, too. Your face was smushed to the cushion below, and your hips were tilted up, desperate.

“Daddypleasejustfuckit—fuck—now,” you cried out.

In all the time you’d been together, Joel had never heard you beg like that. The sound was gratifying to his ears, and his cock grew even stiffer inside you. Just barely checking himself, he moved his other hand to your hip.

Squeezing.

Trying to chide your lack of manners, your swearing.

“That ain’t how you ask daddy nicely, little lady—”

“Just make it full like my pussy, daddy, please.”

Though it was clear you knew better than to interrupt the man mid-sentence, you had used your ‘please,’ at least. Joel was strong, unyielding, in just about every place but the one between your thighs—and with words like those, he had only a moment before his primal drive kicked in and he wouldn’t be able to say no after that, for anything.

He would try to sound stern. Gruff, even. Mumbling something or other about how you had to be sweet to get this dick where you needed it, but the truth was that Joel couldn’t wait much longer for you, either. He caved.

He withdrew his finger, quick. Grabbed your hips. Spit.

Spit again. Smeared again. Felt perfectly depraved making this mess, but you seemed to like it all the same.

“Need daddy to teach you that, too?” he asked, hasty.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you answered, helpless.

“Yeah? Teach you how to take it up the ass?”

“Please, daddy.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

He smacked your ass, just before poising his tip where his finger had been. He would’ve liked to drag it out. But as it was, the old man was probably four pumps shy of blowing his load; you were all but melted on the sofa.

Joel couldn’t deny it drove him out of his fucking mind to see you like that. Legs spread, slit wet, eyes glossy and listless and so wholly bereft of any other idea in the world but the need for him. It made him sick. He loved you so much. And he’d show you, in ways that any mentor worth his weight in salt was apt to do: he let you feel it.

Slowly, at first. Just the tip made you flinch, and your teeth grit together. Joel found your hand and held it.

“Nice and slow—you’re doin’ so good,” he said.

Even if you didn’t feel like you were in the moment, he always made sure to let you know how much he liked it. How nice you felt stretched for him, how good you took it, and how he had no doubts his girl was made for this.

“Made for me,” he added gently, feeding you some more.

And when he surmised from your soft, strangled sounds that this change was a lot, breaths fast, he knew better than to press again. He pulled out and turned you over.

He had your legs over his shoulders in no time at all and, afforded this new view, was delighted to find a trace of a smile still on your lips. He kissed them. Then he tried to make it fit again. He felt you tremble and held you closer.

“That’s it—that’s my girl—almost there.”

“C’mon baby, just a little bit more to go.”

When you keened at the stretch over halfway through, he brushed the hair from your face and kissed your forehead

“I know. I know. Keep goin’, little one. I know.”

Like he knew what to say to get you the wettest you could be. Your eyes winced, and your cunt dripped a dizzying amount—leaking liquid heat down your slit to coat Joel’s tummy, his overgrowth of hair, and your aching hole, of course. The whole thing was taking you out of yourself with every thrust, and your fingers were laced tight in his. Letting him shower you with kisses.

“Daddy’s so mean for doin’ this, isn’t he?”

He was teasing again, nipping at the hinge of your jaw and pressing kiss after kiss while he stuffed you full. Your eyes were ablaze and fucked-out of their mind, as it was, but still, you managed to smile when he spoke it so soft.

“Not— not mean at all, daddy.”

“You sure?”

Joel wedged himself in to the hilt and grinned back.

You might’ve whined, but you felt too full. Euphoric.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed, head reeling, “I like it.”

“How much?”

Your gut clenched with the punch of his thrusts. Lids fluttered as Joel trailed his tongue up your cheek—another mindless, feral tendency he had close to climax. He held your face and fucked you tender as ever, and when the feeling in your tummy grew and grew and almost bloomed, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Groaning when your teeth met the muscle and bit it.

“I love it, Joel,” you corrected, panting against him.

He could’ve spanked you for saying his name—breaking character was your favorite way to get punished—but, at present, the man didn’t have the strength to do a thing. He just nodded, and grinned, and licked into your mouth and drove his dick so far up your body that he could’ve sworn he’d grazed your lungs. You kissed him again.

“I love you—” he groaned.

“I know, daddy,” you smiled.

“—so much.”

“I love you more.”

He spilled his warm, thick seed inside. You came undone. Your bodies melded and rutted together in a few last shuddering bursts, and with Joel pinning you down, kissing you more, guiding your lips against his own in a wanton tumult, you felt it—contentment. Full pleasure.

Another soft, dizzying, cum-drenched lesson with daddy.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing when Joel reached for you next, expression all smug and beaming.

Licking the sweat off your cheek like the freak he was.

“Did I ever tell you pink is my favorite fucking color?”

anyway this was my irl reaction to reading That Line for the first time:

#needthat

[amirasainz]

Can we please have more of little alonso? Like when she was born and nando holding her for the first time and the grid are confused where he is?

Or before the grid official meeting her, nanda showing them pictures of her and telling them about something cute she did.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

The newest dad on the grid

Fernando stepped into the paddock for the first time in weeks, his signature confident strut unchanged, but there was something different about him—an energy, a spark, a glow even. The break he had taken from the Formula 1 season to welcome his daughter had rejuvenated him in ways no victory lap could. The paddock, buzzing with its usual pre-race fervor, quieted as drivers spotted Fernando.

“Nando!” came a shout from Charles, who jogged over with a huge grin. “Welcome back! How’s... the baby?!” His face lit up like a kid waiting to hear about Christmas morning.

Max, never far from Charles, joined with a smirk. “Yeah, Fernando, how’s fatherhood treating you? You look—different. Happier, even.”

Fernando chuckled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “Ah, much better than any race, I can tell you that. Yn, my little girl, she’s perfect.”

George approached next, Lewis in tow. “Alright, alright, hold on,” George said, adjusting his perfectly tailored shirt. “Are we finally going to see pictures of this famous Yn? Because the way everyone’s been talking, she’s already an icon.”

“Wait, don’t start without me!” Lando called, sprinting over, followed by Oscar, Carlos, and Pierre. The group was forming faster than a DRS train on a straight.

Fernando, laughing at the commotion, pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let me show you.” He unlocked the screen and turned it toward them. The photo he showed was of a tiny baby swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her big brown eyes staring up at the camera with curiosity and innocence.

“OH MY GOD,” Lando exclaimed, practically squealing. “She’s adorable!”

“Look at those cheeks!” Charles leaned in closer, his face nearly pressed against the screen. “She’s like a tiny angel! I bet you can't stop kissing them.”

“She has your eyes,” Lewis said softly, his warm smile matching the tone of his voice.

Fernando puffed out his chest, clearly basking in the praise. “She does, doesn’t she? And she already loves motorsport. When I hold her and talk about racing, she doesn’t cry. She just listens.”

Max snorted. “Fernando, she’s like two weeks old. She probably just likes your voice.”

“She’s already your biggest fan, mate,” Carlos interjected with a proud grin. “Don’t listen to Max.”

Fernando swiped to another photo. This time, Yn was asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around Fernando’s finger. The group collectively let out a chorus of “Awwww!”

“She’s so small!” Pierre said, his voice unusually soft. “Like, her hand is smaller than your finger! How do you even handle her without being terrified?”

“It’s instinct,” Fernando replied with a shrug, though the softness in his voice betrayed his own awe. “The moment I held her for the first time, everything clicked. She’s everything now.”

As Fernando flipped through more pictures—Yn in a tiny onesie with a Formula 1 logo, Yn sleeping on his chest during a nap—the drivers grew more animated.

“Does she have a favorite team yet?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos.

“Obviously Aston Martin,” Carlos quipped. “She knows where her dad is.”

Fernando raised a finger. “Actually, she smiles the most when I hum the Spanish anthem.”

“Of course she does,” George said with a laugh. “Your baby, your rules.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Oscar asked shyly.

“Only when she’s hungry or tired,” Fernando said proudly. “She’s very calm otherwise. I think she’ll grow up to be very composed, like her father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered under his breath, earning a playful shove from Lewis.

The group continued to coo over the photos, and even the normally reserved drivers couldn’t resist commenting. Esteban smiled as he observed from a distance but eventually joined in, congratulating Fernando.

“You should bring her to a race one day,” Charles suggested.

“Yeah,” Lando added enthusiastically. “Imagine a tiny Alonso in the paddock, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Fernando grinned. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s better off at home with her mamá. She needs to be calm, not surrounded by all this chaos.”

As the drivers dispersed, Fernando was left with a lingering feeling of warmth. The camaraderie of the paddock had always been special, but now, as a father, he felt it even more deeply. Yn wasn’t just his world; she had somehow become part of theirs too.

Later, during the drivers' press conference, a journalist asked Fernando how it felt to be back after his short break.

“It feels amazing,” he said, his smile unshakeable. “But not as amazing as being a father. Yn is my inspiration now. Every lap, every corner—I’m racing for her.”

The other drivers in the room exchanged knowing smiles. Fernando Alonso, the fierce competitor, had softened in the best possible way. Fatherhood suited him, and they were all here for it.

[katsukikitten]

A rambling that adds more detail to this post about hockey players Izuku and Katsuki.

It doesn't help that you're the coach's pretty little daughter of one of the best hockey teams. At every home game and nearly every away game, you're there behind the plexiglass, insisting you buy your own tickets even when your dad can get you in for free. But occasionally you'll take his offer of a free game although it usually comes with the stipulation of being shoved into one of the manager's polo's, given a clipboard, and since this happened to be an away game you'd be forced to sit on the rowdy bus for the three hour drive.

But you really wanted to watch the championship and your paycheck came in too late when the rival match finals were FINALLY announced, it didn't help that the tickets were sold out in seconds!

So you'll stand by Daddy dearest trying to look important just behind the bench inside the cramped box the team will sit in while they wait to come on and off the ice. The team of course had to arrive early and since this was an away game, you had to look every bit the part of staff as everyone else. Which meant you too had to be in the locker room while the men stripped themselves with ease. Snarling and shoving playfully in the pre game excitement, arguing over who moved who's helmet and “where the fuck are we gonna eat after we win tonight?!”

Some of them speaking lewdly off their latest piece of ass and how Bakugou “had her barkin like a bitch in heat.” Before a chorus of laughs is shared sided from a hissed “Kacchan!” followed by a rough shove into metal lockers.

It isn't until they're all pulling on their jerseys on does your dad clear his throat. Giving the speech of the century but it half falls on deaf ears. Your cheeks burn as you feel every eye on you as if they only just now realized you'd been there the whole time but two men in partial catch your eye.

Izuku, beat red under his freckles, brows furrowed as if he's embarrassed he had such a dirty mouth in front of a lady. Embarrassed of the ‘locker room talk’ and how your tight pair of jeans has his cock twitching at the thought of you barking like a bitch in heat. His gloved hand comes to grip at the nape of his neck but it does little to quell the drunken gaze he gives you, his heated cheeks morphing into pure lust. Emerald eyes slipping around the room and when he sees Todoroki staring too intently at you his glare becomes deadly. Shouto looks away and then Izuku finds another poor soul to glare at, already possessive over something that wasn't even his.

The other being a toxic bromine, smiling wolfishly palming himself roughly as he keeps eye contact with you. Strong grip with his other hand on his hockey stick as he daydreams about you. He wants you in doggy first then missionary because you're so fuckin pretty and he's dying to know what you look like when you cum. Especially when you're creaming on his cock. He's dreamt about you before, he's fucked his fist to you before and he sure as hell has knocked some asshole’s teeth out over you before. It didn't matter if it was his own teammates or the opposing team with the exception that Izuku was allowed to make an occasional comment but no more than three before the childhood rivals would be at each other's throats.

Their gaze are always a little unnerving with their intensity, almost predatory and yet it never makes you feel uncomfortable. They'd proven before that they'd protect you when push came to shove, they did four seasons ago when you first moved to the city and before anyone on the team even knew the coach had kids, let alone a daughter. The bar was crowded, it was a rival team against some other team the city happened to give less of a shit about. The players were on an off day enjoying their few hours off the ice and of course the rough men chose a bar where they could watch a fucking hockey game and shoot shit.

You'd finally found a table with a decent view of one of the many TVs and the bar so you could easily get up and get yourself a drink. But your new male coworker offered to bully his way through the players for you, ending up at the end of the bar by a bulky curly haired man and loud ass ash blonde. Getting caught up in the game and taking your eyes off your coworker but only for a moment.

“Are you trying to spike her drink?” A thick scarred hand is over one of the glasses on the bar top, your coworker flushed red.

“Huh?”

“Ya fuckin dumb?” The ash blonde reaches over the curly haired man, yanking your coworker’s tie harshly, effectively smashing the man's face into the polished wood.

“He said were ya tryin to date rape that pretty woman over there?” The blonde cocks his head in your direction, a group of eight eyes turn to look over their shoulder and then back at your shitty coworker. Who stammers, tried to get himself out of the lie before the sweetest, deadliest voice comes from the freckled sunshine boy of the team.

“Smile.” But there's nothing but malice in his eyes as he snaps the photo, immediately texting it to every bar owner he knows. (Half the city!) Your coworker fled and they offered up a seat at the bar for you but you politely declined after that they periodically glanced back to see if you left yet and if you were still okay.

So it wasn't like the only thing they wanted was to get their dick wet right?

Bedsides what probably made you super hot to them was the fact that you were the coach’s daughter, aka off limits.

Sighing as you watch them skate around the rink gracefully despite their size, Izuku and Katsuki passing to one another before taking shots at Kirishima in his full gear as they all warm up. Soon the stadium will be packed with throngs of people pressing into the glass behind you. Most of them rival fans banging on the plexi in hopes to distract or rile up the team, not realizing you'd be distraction enough.

Because all night a pair of emerald and bromine eyes will be glued to you. One giving his killer smile and the other smirking as he delivers a deadly wink.

[runninriot]

Could've Been You

written for @steddiemicrofic

prompt: shower | wc: 399 | rated E | cw: accidental voyeurism, sexual content | tags: pre Steddie, confident Steve Harrington, Steve/OC (past), Eddie has a crush on Steve, Steve wants Eddie

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s here. It’s not even a party, just a bunch of college students getting wasted, playing stupid drinking games.

"Never have I ever... had sex in the shower" someone says and Eddie feels suddenly sick.

Out of the eight people playing, only one lifts his drink, followed by a chorus of wolf whistles and- all Eddie can do is stare.

The guy drinking is Steve. And the problem is, Eddie knows he’s not faking it.

Because he saw it.

Tried to forget about it ever since, jerked off to the image more times than he can count.

He didn’t mean to watch. It was an accident. He was just minding his own business, already half asleep because it was fucking late, way past the time he expected anyone in the dorms to still be up.

But there they were, barely hidden behind a half open curtain, the noises leaving no doubt about what was going on.

Eddie wanted to leave, wanted to turn around and get the fuck out of there, but his eyes were glued to the scene and his legs wouldn’t move, so he stayed. And he watched.

Saw Steve leaning against the shower wall, one leg hooked over a guy’s shoulder who was down on his knees, mouth busy sucking Steve’s cock while pumping two fingers into his hole.

“You good Munson?” Someone asks but Eddie barely registers it, wordlessly stands up and leaves.

Out in the hallway, he feels like he can breathe again until a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Hey, are you okay? Your face is all red."

Of course, it’s Steve.

"Y-yeah no. I, uh, just wanted to smoke," Eddie stammers.

"Good. Because for a moment I thought you were ashamed."

"A-ashamed? Why would I-"

Steve’s suddenly so close, his lips brushing his ear as he whispers

"Did you like the show? Did it make you hard? Did you touch yourself to the memory that night?"

Eddie’s souls leaves his body.

"I-I’m sorry! Please, don’t be mad!"

Steve must think he’s a fucking pervert. But why is he smiling like that?

"Could’ve been you, you know. I would’ve let you fuck me against the tiles."

Eddie must be hallucinating.

“Or you could just take me to your room and fuck me there.”

But if this is a fever dream, he might as well just go for it.

[starryficsfinishwen]

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

don't forget to like, comment, share, and reblog!!

— starry

[littlefireball]

ᴊᴏɴɢꜱᴀɴɢ|ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴜ*ᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀʀᴅ (ᴍ)

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏʀɴʏ

ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ

ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴛʜʀᴇᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ|ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ|ʙxʙ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴘʀᴇɢ|ᴅᴏᴍ & ꜱᴜʙ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

"So, who first?" Jongho toys with the belt in his hand, flashing a wicked smile. His pheromones are intoxicating, sending you both into a frenzy of desire. The anticipation is palpable as you both yearn to be the one to succumb first, eager for him to ravage you relentlessly.

"We both want you…" you murmured, a blush coloring your face.

"Yeah, please." Yeosang chimed in.

Jongho caresses yeosang's waist, the gentle touch giving him goosebumps and moaning for more.

"You, an omega, how dare you to dominate my other omega, huh?"

"No, that's because I'm in my heat…"

"Oh, so you help her? Is that true?Yeosang, I need words."

"Ye…yes."

"It seems you two make friends, huh? You don't need me anymore?"

"No, of course no!"

"Is that so?"

Suddenly, without warning, he plunged straight into yeosang's hole, pushing it as far as it would go, causing him to let out a loud moan.

"Ahh please, jjong! We both need you."

"I know, I know." His tone was teasing, his fingers stroking yeosang's skin back and forth, but not moving.

"Want to be fuck? Y/N?"

"Yes, please."

"Say my name."

"Please, my alpha."

"Good." Jongho's hand slid down, his touch igniting a fire within Yeosang as he caressed him, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft. The gentle strokes sent shivers down Yeosang's spine, causing him to lean back against Jongho's chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Do you dominate her? Hm? Show me how you make love to her," Jongho whispered in Yeosang's ear, his lips brushing against his skin, teasing his sensitive spots. Pressing his chest against Yeosang's back, Jongho pushed him down, guiding him into your warmth.

"Oh fuck!" A simultaneous arch of your backs as Yeosang finally felt the exquisite sensation of being enveloped in heat.

"Fuck her with me," Jongho urged, planting a tender kiss on Yeosang's temple before thrusting deeply. Yeosang followed suit, his movements syncing with Jongho's, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies.

"Ah~fuck~" Moans and cries filled the room as they moved in unison, your passion escalating with each thrust. Jongho's rhythmic movements created a symphony of desire, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the air. Yeosang, though not as large as Jongho, brought a different kind of intensity, each stroke sending a jolt of electricity through their bodies.

"Ah, yes, oh, God!" The room filled with the symphony of their pleasure, their voices blending in a chorus of ecstasy. Jongho quickened his pace, the sound of their bodies colliding, mixing with the slaps of flesh, creating a crescendo of desire. His balls slaps yeosang's ass while yeosang's cock keep rubbing your inner walls.

Their bodies move in perfect harmony, the intensity building with each passing moment. Your breasts bounce, cries fill the air, and Yeosang's eyes drink in the sight before him, a tableau of passion and desire.

"Ah!Ah!Ah!" Jongho presses firmly against Yeosang's waist, drawing you both closer as your chests meet, allowing him to penetrate deeper. With each rhythmic thrust, he leans in, creating a powerful motion that resonates through your body. You adjust your position, bending your legs to enhance the sensation, feeling Yeosang's breath on your face as you close your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the experience.

The weight of both men on top of you adds a hint of intensity, making it slightly challenging to catch your breath. You find yourself gasping for air, your throat feeling dry, yet the pleasure overrides any discomfort as your moans escape effortlessly.

"Keep going, jjong!" "Such a slut huh?" He spanks yeosang and leaves a red mark but not painful enough to make him scream. He bites his lips as everything is overwhelming. Your warmth and wetness wraps his cock so well while his hole is being filled with heat and excitement.

Both of their cocks twitch when they thrust so deep and so hard. It feels like Jongho wants to break through the limitations of both of you. Your hands are secured over your head while yeosang tighten with each thrust, the slight pain causing you to close your eyes tightly.

"Hmmm…" "Let me see how you make out." Yeosang listens to Jongho once more and kisses your lips. You open your mouth slightly, letting him slide into your mouth, your tongues rubbing against each other, exploring, licking, and sucking on each other's lips.

"How good you are." Jongho's thrusts grew more intense, eliciting a muffled cry from you that was quickly silenced by his kiss. His hands gripped Yeosang's waist firmly, leaving red marks on his smooth skin as the passion between them escalated.

As your lips parted, a shared scream filled the room, the intensity of your connection echoing off the walls. "Slow down, Jjong!" you managed to gasp, the overwhelming sensations leaving you breathless and dizzy. Yeosang too felt the rush of pleasure building within him, his body trembling as the desire reached its peak, a trail of fluid marking the intensity of the moment. The fluid secreted in his hole overflowed to the point where it slid along his thighs to the ground as his legs were shaking constantly.

"Cum and I'll slow down," Jongho's words are a tantalizing promise, pushing you both to the brink. You both reach climax and Yeosang cums all in your cunt and you juices also cream his cock fully. But it is not the end. With a swift motion, he lifts Yeosang and lays him back on the bed, his lips trailing down his neck in pursuit of his mutual climax.

"Ah~" Yeosang arched his back, wrapping his legs around Jongho, inviting him to delve deeper into their shared passion. The rhythmic motion of Jongho's thrusts reverberate through the room, the bed creaking in time with their fervor. Once more, Jongho's movements intensify, sending a surge of pleasure through Yeosang as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Oh shit!It hurts!" "Hold on, babe." Yeosang's muscles feel like they're being ripped apart, and the pain is unspeakable. Jongho's size grows even bigger, and he keeps pounding into the deepest part of his body. He kisses Yeosang's lips, biting each other fiercely, and there was an atmosphere of passion in the hot kissing scene. Their tongues were wildly entwined, and their kisses were no longer gentle, but filled with desire and fervor.

Not knowing how much time passed, but only knowing that Jongho keeps thrusting wildly, completely emptying the yeosang's body. Once again, he pulls yeosang up and sits him on his lap, stroking his buttocks back and forth. The softness of it makes him desire more, squeezing and stroking it from time to time.

Jongho's huge size is too much for him to bear, but at the same time, yeosang is so excited that every time rubbing and pushing as it sends a tsunami of heat all over his body. He looks at Yeosang's cock with erection and arches a satisfied smile.

"Wanna cum?" "Hmm…" He was already too dizzy to speak.

"Help him, Y/N." You, who have only been watching them and resting, are suddenly brought back to reality. Following his words, you sit obediently behind yeosang and touches Yeosang's slightly hard cock with your cold hand.

"oh fuck! Y/N." His breathing quickens with your movements. It started with your warmth, but now it's your frigid touch that's making him moan. Jongho increased the pace and intensity, and the stimulus simultaneously pushed Yeosang to climax again and cum all on your hand.

The sight of Yeosang climaxing and leaning on his shoulder in a pitiful manner shook Jongho's heart and all the heat rushed to his tip. He makes a hissing sound and after a few thrusts, he cums and leaves his mark on Yeosang's body.

"Good job, my boy. rest first, okay?" he softly strokes through yeosang's hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Yeosang nodded and closed his eyes, as if opening them would take all his strength. He lays back on the bed and watches as Jongho shifts to straddle you.

"So, you resting well?"

"Yes, please, I want you."

"How hard do you want me to fuck you?"

"Just fuck me as your doll, jjong." His ego is satisfied by your words and becomes even more strengthened. He lifts your chin and kisses you. Speaking of which,it seems to be the first time you've ever kissed each other. The inexplicable sensation brings tears to your eyes, and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him take over control, robbing you of your sweetness and air.

He thrust into your cunt mixed with yeosang's sperm, a sensation he'd never felt before and one he was extremely addicted to. Your scent is not only peachy sweet, but also the scent of vanilla. Oh shit, he loves these scents so much. He totally loses control of your scents as he throws his head and thrusts very deep. No words can describe his craziness and speed; there is no gentleness but only raw emotion and endless lust.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!" That's what you can say and in your mind. You have no idea how many times he thrusts and how long the painful feelings take over you. His size seems to have become bigger than last time. You couldn't help but moan loudly to express your excitement and pleasure.

"You take me so well." His dirty words make you so dizzy. You open wide your thighs more to let him can fuck you harder and deeper. Your fingers are gripping the bed sheet and turning white. Your forehead is covered with sweat. The pain of him penetrating your most intimate space is a little too much for you to bear, but it's not as painful as it was before. You let him slam into your depths, pushing both of you further into orgasm.

"Jjong, I can't hold it anymore." "Then cum with me, my girl." These words make your heart erupt like a fountain of emotions, soaking every corner of your body. "AH fuck!" You lift your head when climaxing, but Jongho doesn't stop. The pheromones from both of you have been acting as fuel for his desire. "I can't get enough of you both." He picks you up and places you on top of yeosang, not leaving your genital cavities, and continues to thrust.

"Fuck her with me again, sang. i want to see you cum." jongho murmurs on your chest, dropping crushing kisses on your chest, licking over the hickey that yeosang has marked on you. Yeosang listens to him and carefully presses his cock against yours, feeling like he's going to break through your limits.

Now there is only a thin wall separating their cocks; they can feel each other's thrusts clearly. What a wonderful feeling it is. Jongho can watch you both moaning; Yeosang can feel your warmth wrap around his cock while watching his lover. For you, everything is overwhelming. Their breaths intertwine and their scents fill your nostrils; Jongho's movements are fast and powerful, causing you to groan; Yeosang's thrusts are not rough but the slow in and out teases you in the same way.

"Both of you are so delicious, so perfect for me." Three of you finally lose all of sanity and control in this nonstop and crazy sex. Not knowing when to stop or should I say none of you want to stop. Lust takes over your bodies, desire takes over your mind. Mating, Breeding, and Cumming are the only three things in your mind…

Luckily, the three of you remembered to bring Rocky and Aurora back after five more rounds.

-

Your bond with Yeosang had grown stronger and more comfortable since that day, a change that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the group.

"It looks like you two are getting along better," Yunho observed between bites of his buckwheat noodles. You both shared a smile in response.

"So, what have you been up to together?" San's unexpected question left you two momentarily speechless.

"Umm…just helping each other out when needed!" you replied with a chuckle, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. But suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, causing your food to come rushing back up. You covered your mouth in a panic, trying to contain the unexpected regurgitation.

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked, his voice laced with concern as he rubbed your back. In a strange turn of events, he too began to feel queasy. Unable to hold it in any longer, both of you rushed to the restroom and vomited, with Jongho following closely behind. He instinctively patted your backs, a gesture of comfort that seemed almost second nature to him.

"Are you two so close that you synchronize even when you're vomiting?" Wooyoung teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, nothing like that!" you quickly dismissed, trying to downplay the situation. But Jongho's next words caught everyone off guard.

"They just get pregnant at the same time," he said, causing a collective gasp from the group and they almost squirt.

And in that moment, it became clear why your relationship with Yeosang had improved so significantly.

tag list: @angelsaway

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (11/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @queenshikongo3

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 11: Same Ol’ Mistakes

Flashback to Early 2019 - New York City

Laughter and chatter echoed through Ayesha's newly purchased condo in New York City. The housewarming party was in its prime, celebrating her big move and the start of her career at a prestigious law firm.

Rorie stepped in, Lewis by her side, her stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nerves. After nearly four months of dating, she was finally introducing Lewis to her closest friends.

Their relationship had been a whirlwind, progressing faster than Rorie could have ever imagined. Despite Lewis's hectic racing schedule, they'd managed to steal moments together whenever possible - stolen weekends in exotic locales, late-night FaceTime calls, and surprise visits to race tracks. Rorie had fallen hard and fast, the intensity of their connection taking her by surprise.

"Ladies!" Rorie called out, approaching the group gathered in the living room. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Five heads turned, eyes widening as they took in Lewis Hamilton standing beside their friend. Rorie made the introductions: "Lewis, these are my girls - KiKi, Deja, Tia, Britt, and of course, our hostess, Ayesha."

A chorus of hellos and nice-to-meet-yous filled the air. As Lewis shook hands with each woman, Deja felt her breath catch. She'd recognize that smile anywhere - it was the same one that had dazzled her that night in New Orleans during All-Star weekend 2017.

Lewis paused as he reached Deja, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

Deja's heart raced, but she kept her cool. After all, she was here with her new boyfriend, a rookie for the Knicks. "Oh, I just have one of those faces," she said with a casual laugh. "I get that a lot."

Lewis nodded, accepting her explanation, and moved on to greet the others.

KiKi couldn't resist teasing, "So, the elusive Lewis finally graces us with his presence! We were starting to think Rorie had an imaginary boyfriend."

Britt chimed in, "Yeah, if it weren't for those paparazzi shots, we might not have believed you existed!"

Lewis laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry about that, ladies. The racing schedule can be a bit crazy as hell." As they settled into conversation, Lewis looked around the apartment approvingly. "This is a great neighborhood, Ayesha."

Ayesha beamed. "Thanks! It took some searching, but I think I've found the perfect spot."

Tia couldn't resist chiming in with a grin. "Speaking of perfect spots, Rorie, so this the man that's been flying you out to all those exotic locations? Your passport must be tired of you!"

Lewis smirked, a hint of cockiness in his voice. "Guilty as charged. What can I say? I like to show my girl the world."

Rorie playfully rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't encourage him, Tia. His ego's big enough as it is."

The group laughed, the atmosphere light and celebratory. KiKi leaned in, whispering to Rorie, "Damn, girl. You didn't tell us he was this fine up close. Does he have a brother, a cousin, something?"

"What about Khalil? I thought you two were trying to make it work?" Rorie asked, giving her friend a curious glance.

"Fuck that nigga, let me tell you how I had another bitch call me about messing around with him. I’m not trying to be nobody’s sister wife," KiKi shook her head with a sigh. "Besides, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

Throughout the evening, Deja found herself stealing glances at Lewis, memories of that night in New Orleans flashing through her mind. But each time, she'd remind herself of her current relationship, of the life she was building now.

Rorie felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Her two worlds were merging seamlessly, and the future looked bright. Little did she know that beneath the surface of this perfect evening, seeds of future complications were already being sown.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The January chill nipped at Rorie's newly blonde locks as she stepped out of the car, New York City's skyline twinkling against the night sky. She ran a hand through her hair, still adjusting to the dramatic change. The decision to go blonde had been impulsive, a desire to shake things up for the new year, but now a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. The Maison Spoiled event buzzed with anticipation, fashion's elite mingling in a dazzling display of wealth and influence.

"Fuck, it's freezing," Rorie muttered, tugging her fur-trimmed collar closer. Lewis chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist as they approached the entrance.

"You'd think after all these years, you'd be used to it," he teased.

Inside, warmth enveloped them along with the soft clink of champagne flutes and hushed conversations. As Maison Spoiled's newest ambassador, Rorie felt the weight of expectation on her shoulders, coupled with a lingering exhaustion from their whirlwind trip to Brazil.

Their time in Bahia had been... intense, to say the least. Between lazy beach days and family time with Lyric, Rorie and Lewis had rediscovered a passion that left them both pleasantly sore and perpetually grinning. "Trying for a sibling," they'd joked, though the underlying hope was real.

Now, as they made their rounds, exchanging air kisses and pleasantries, Rorie caught snippets of conversation that made her pulse quicken.

"Hamilton to Ferrari? No way..."

"For 2025, I heard..."

Before she could process the implications, Julian Polak appeared before them, his eyes sparkling almost as brightly as the diamonds adorning the room.

"Rorie, Lewis! So glad you could make it," Julian beamed, clasping their hands warmly. "Rorie, you're absolutely glowing. Brazil must have agreed with you."

Rorie felt her cheeks warm, memories of sun-soaked skin and tangled sheets flashing through her mind. "It was... rejuvenating," she managed, sharing a knowing glance with Lewis.

As Julian launched into a passionate explanation of Maison Spoiled's vision, Rorie's mind raced. How had the Ferrari news leaked?

The night wore on, and the whispers grew louder. By the time they left, it was clear that Lewis's move to Ferrari was the worst-kept secret in the room.

Back in their hotel suite, Rorie kicked off her heels with a sigh. "Babe, we need to talk about what happened tonight."

Lewis nodded, loosening his tie. "I know. I've already got calls from Toto and the Ferrari team. We're gonna have to move up the announcement."

Rorie flopped onto the bed, her mind racing. "This is gonna be a shitshow, isn't it?"

Lewis sat beside her, running a hand through his hair. "Probably. But hey, at least it'll take some heat off the lawsuit drama, right?"

Rorie couldn't help but laugh. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Kiki:

Girl, have you seen what's trending? #HamiltonToFerrari is blowing up!

"Great," Rorie groaned. "So much for keeping things quiet until your birthday."

Lewis's 39th birthday was just days away, and they'd planned to make the announcement then. Now, it seemed, they'd have to pivot.

"You know what?" Lewis said, pulling Rorie close. "Let's just roll with it. We'll confirm it tomorrow, have a proper celebration on my birthday, and deal with whatever comes our way."

Rorie snuggled into his embrace, feeling the tension start to ebb away. "You're right. We've dealt with worse, haven't we?"

As they lay there, strategizing and stealing kisses, Rorie's phone buzzed. It was Kiki calling.

"Girl, spill the tea!" Kiki's voice rang out as soon as Rorie answered and put her on speaker. "Is it true? Ferrari?"

Lewis chuckled. "News travels fast, huh?"

"You have no idea," Kiki replied. "So, it's legit?"

They spent the next few minutes giving Kiki a rundown of the situation, promising to fill her in on more details later.

After hanging up, Rorie turned to Lewis, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Speaking of Kiki... can you believe she did that to Deja?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean the beat down? Yeah, but that's just KiKi."

Rorie shook her head, still in disbelief. "I can't believe she actually did it. I mean, I was thinking about doing it myself, but..."

Lewis burst out laughing. "You? Fighting? Babe, I've seen you stub your toe. You're not exactly Mike Tyson."

Rorie swatted his arm playfully. "Hey! I could totally throw down if I needed to."

Still chuckling, Lewis reached for the room service menu. "Sure, Rocky. How about we order some food instead of planning assaults?"

As they waited for their late-night feast, Lewis's phone pinged. He showed Rorie a photo from his mom, Carmen, of Lyric fast asleep in their Monaco home.

"Looks like he's settling in well," Rorie smiled, a hint of longing in her voice.

Lewis nodded, "Glad that he and Mum are doing well." His mother and Nina seem to have everything under control. The two of them were set for an extended stay in NYC before heading to Brackley for the unveiling of the 2024 season car for the upcoming F1 season.

The knock on the door came just as Rorie's stomach growled, perfectly timed. Lewis answered and wheeled in their feast, the aroma of truffle fries and gourmet burgers filling the suite.

They settled onto the plush sofa, plates balanced on their laps, when Lewis's eyes lit up with that mischievous glint Rorie knew all too well.

"You know," he said, taking a bite of his veggie burger, "this place has got me feeling all sorts of déjà vu."

Rorie glanced around, eyebrow raised. "Yeah? How come?"

Lewis grinned, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "Babe, this is our old love nest. Same suite we holed up in when we first started dating. Remember? My condo was a construction zone, and we..."

"Oh my god," Rorie cut in, memories flooding back. A smile played on her lips as she recalled those early, heady days. "How could I forget? We barely left this room for a week."

"Mmm," Lewis hummed, pulling her close. "Maybe we should recreate some of those memories, for old times' sake."

Rorie laughed, but there was a glint in her eye. "Another night, maybe. We've got all week, after all."

As they ate, conversation flowed easily, jumping from topic to topic. Rorie found herself sighing wistfully. "You know, I kind of miss that condo. It had the best view of Central Park."

"We could always get another one," Lewis suggested, only half-joking. "Add it to our real estate empire."

Rorie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Right, because what we need is another home to manage. Speaking of which..." She hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I've been thinking about hiring a personal assistant."

Lewis's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? That's not a bad idea, considering how crazy things have been lately."

"I actually had Yael and Penni screen some candidates a few weeks back," Rorie continued, her excitement growing. "I've already done a couple of interviews. There are two that really stand out."

And just like that, they were off, Rorie detailing the potential assistants, their qualifications, and her impressions. Lewis listened intently, offering his thoughts and asking questions. The conversation meandered, touching on their early days, current challenges, and dreams for the future. The night stretched on, New York City humming below them, a perfect backdrop to their plans and promises.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

A couple of days later, the early morning light filtered through the curtains of their suite, casting a warm glow over the room. Rorie stirred, slowly waking up to the gentle sound of Lewis’s breathing beside her, her bonnet slightly askew from her slumber. She turned to find him already awake, his phone in hand, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Happy birthday, babe," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Lewis smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned to her. "Thanks, love. Best way to wake up."

Rorie grinned, cuddling closer. "How does it feel to be one year older? The big 3-9."

"Like I’m just getting started," Lewis chuckled, setting his phone aside. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But I’ll admit, writing that post took a bit out of me."

"You posted it?" Rorie asked, propping herself up on one elbow, curiosity piqued.

"Just hit send," he nodded, a touch of nervousness in his voice. "It’s official. Everyone knows now."

Rorie gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m proud of you. This is a huge step, but it’s the right one."

Lewis leaned back against the pillows, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Yeah, it’s been a long time coming. I’ve been with Mercedes for over a decade. But Ferrari… It feels like the right move for the next chapter."

"So, you’re really going to be wearing red, huh?" she teased, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness underneath. "Looks like Lyric needs to start learning Italian now."

Lewis chuckled, pulling her closer. "He's learning French from Nina, might as well add Italian to the list. He’ll be a little polyglot by the time he starts school."

Rorie laughed, imagining their toddler babbling in multiple languages. "Mmhmm, and you’ll be fluent in all of them, trying to keep up."

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until Rorie’s stomach growled, breaking the peaceful silence. Lewis laughed, his hand brushing her hair away from her face. "Breakfast in bed?"

"Definitely," Rorie agreed, her eyes lighting up. "But after we eat, you should check your phone. I bet the internet’s already buzzing."

Lewis sighed, knowing she was right. He reached for his phone, seeing the notifications already piling up, but he set it back down, choosing to focus on the woman in front of him instead. "The world can wait."

They spent the day in a blissful bubble, ordering room service, lounging around in their plush bathrobes, and indulging in their favorite reality shows. No extravagant parties, no guest lists—just the two of them, savoring every moment.

"Where are you sneaking off to?" he asked, his eyes following her every move.

"Just stay right there," Rorie called back over her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips as she padded across the room.

She disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she wasn’t wearing her oversized t-shirt and boy shorts anymore. Instead, she’d slipped into something much more revealing—a black lace crotchless lingerie set that hugged every curve of her body. The sheer fabric clung to her skin, the delicate lace tracing the curve of her hips, and the thin straps crisscrossed over her back, leaving very little to the imagination.

Lewis’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her. "Damn, Rorie," he murmured, his voice low and filled with heat.

But Rorie wasn’t done yet. She reached behind her back and pulled out a small box, then from the other hand, a single cupcake that she had secretly ordered from room service earlier. The cupcake was simple—chocolate with a swirl of vanilla frosting and a single candle stuck in the middle.

"Happy birthday, Mr. President," she sang in a sultry voice, channeling her inner Marilyn Monroe as she swayed toward him, the cupcake in one hand and the box in the other.

Lewis’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his mouth curling into a grin. "You really know how to spoil a man."

She placed the cupcake in his lap and then handed him the small velvet box. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

His curiosity piqued, Lewis opened the box to find a pair of handcuffs nestled inside. His grin widened as he looked back up at her. "Now, this is going to be fun."

Rorie leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish."

Lewis held her gaze for a moment, the tension between them thickening, before he closed his eyes and blew out the single candle on the cupcake. When he opened them again, his expression was full of intent. "You know exactly what I want for my birthday," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Rorie giggled, running her hands through his braids. "Oh, I know," she replied teasingly, picking up the cupcake to place it on the bedside table. She then leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, sensual kiss that quickly deepened, becoming more urgent as their need for each other grew. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles before she pushed him gently back onto the bed. Lewis let her take control, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, the black lace lingerie barely contained the curve of her ass. The delicate fabric accentuated every inch of her body, and Lewis couldn't help but run his hands along her thighs, marveling at the softness of her skin.

"God, you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

Rorie smiled down at him, her hips moving in a slow, teasing grind against his growing arousal as her fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

Lewis watched her, his breath coming in shallow gasps as she took her time, savoring every moment. When she finally freed him, he groaned in relief, his hands gripping her hips as he urged her closer.

But Rorie wasn’t done teasing him. She leaned forward, her hands braced on either side of his head as she kissed him again, her tongue slipping into his mouth to taste him. Then, she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Are you ready for your present?"

Lewis’s answer was a low growl, his hands tightening on her hips. "I’ve been ready all day."

With a wicked grin, Rorie reached for the handcuffs and secured one around his wrist, her movements slow and deliberate, giving him plenty of time to protest if he wanted to. But Lewis didn’t. He watched her with dark, hungry eyes, his teeth biting his lower lip as the anticipation made his pulse race.

Once his hands were cuffed to the headboard, Rorie sat back on his thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before her. Lewis Hamilton, the man who commanded so much power and respect on the track, was now completely at her mercy. And she intended to make the most of it.

She pressed a kiss to his chest, then another, trailing her lips down the hard planes of his torso. Lewis shuddered beneath her touch, his muscles tensing as she moved lower, her mouth leaving a heated trail across his skin.

"Rorie," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t make me beg."

She chuckled softly, her breath ghosting over his abdomen as she glanced up at him. "I love hearing you beg, though."

With that, she took him in her mouth, and Lewis let out a low growl. The sensation of Rorie’s lips and tongue on him was almost too much to handle. He tried to focus on the feeling of euphoria building within him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with every movement of Rorie’s head.

He tugged on the handcuffs instinctively, wanting to hold onto something as pleasure coursed through his body. Rorie smiled around him knowing the effect she was having on him. Her mouth worked magic on him, her tongue swirling and sucking with expert precision. Lewis’s hips lifted off the bed, desperate for more as he lost himself in the moment. He could feel the tension building in his core, and he knew he was close. But Rorie seemed to sense it too, because she pulled back suddenly, leaving him panting and aching for release.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "I’m not finished with you."

"Fuck…baby…" Lewis groaned in frustration, his voice thick with need. "What are you—"

His words were cut off as Rorie climbed up his body, straddling him again but this time facing away, causing him to have an eyeful of her pert ass. She reached behind her, teasing him with her touch as she positioned herself over his throbbing erection. Slowly, agonizingly, she lowered herself onto him until he was buried deep inside her.

They both moaned at the overwhelming sensation, Rorie gasping as she took him to the hilt. The feeling of him stretching her so perfectly made her shiver with pleasure. Lewis's hands clenched around the handcuffs, his muscles tensing as he strained to move with her, desperate to match her rhythm but unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

Rorie began to rock her hips back and forth, setting a slow, torturous pace that had Lewis gritting his teeth in frustration. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I need more."

A soft laugh escaped Rorie’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You want more?" she asked teasingly, her voice a seductive purr. "You want me to fuck you harder?"

Lewis's response was a low, primal growl as he bucked his hips up to meet hers, driving himself even deeper inside her. The sudden movement made Rorie moan loudly, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through her body.

She began to move faster, bouncing on his lap with reckless abandon, her moans and the sound of her skin slapping against him filling the room. Lewis’s head fell back against the pillows, his entire body taut with pleasure as he watched her, utterly captivated by the way she moved.

"F-fuck," he groaned, unable to form any other coherent words as she took him closer and closer to the edge. His entire world had narrowed down to the feel of her tight heat surrounding him, the sound of her moans, and the sight of her body moving so perfectly above him.

Rorie’s hands trailed down his thighs, gripping them tightly for support as she rode him with everything she had. Her body glistened with sweat, her hair falling in wild tendrils around her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Lewis felt inside her, the way he was making her feel like she was on fire.

She could feel her own orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter with each movement. Lewis’s eyes were glued to her, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and adoration that only made her want him more. He loved seeing Rorie like this—uninhibited, wild, and completely lost in the moment.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Lewis groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He wanted this to last, wanted to savor every second of it, but Rorie was making it impossible. "You take this dick so well, baby."

She sped up her movements, her moans turning into cries of pleasure as she chased her release, her body moving with a frantic urgency. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice breathless and desperate. "I’m so close…"

"Me too, baby," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers with each thrust. "Come with me."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, Rorie’s orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of it. The sight of her coming undone above him, the feel of her tightening around him, sent Lewis over the edge as well. He came hard, his entire body shuddering with the force of his release as he emptied himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them breathless and trembling from the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. Eventually, Rorie released his hands before collapsing onto the bed beside him, her body still humming with satisfaction. Lewis reached out with his newly freed hands, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

As they lay there, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Rorie let out a soft, contented sigh. "You might’ve sweated out my silk press," she teased, her voice playful and light.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Worth it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, snuggling closer to him, her heart full as she closed her eyes. "Definitely worth it," she whispered, her voice filled with love and contentment.

A few weeks later...

The Bahrain sun beat down mercilessly as Lewis strode through the paddock, his race suit unzipped to the waist. The air thrummed with anticipation, mechanics and engineers scurrying about like worker bees.

"Fuck, it's hot," Lewis muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "You sure you two don't want to wait in the air-conditioned hospitality area?"

Rorie shook her head, her newly blonde hair catching the sunlight. "We're good. Right, Lyric? We want to see Daddy off properly."

Lyric nodded enthusiastically, his little hands gripping Lewis's race suit. "Daddy fast car!"

They scanned the Mercedes garage, taking in the controlled chaos around them. C.J. appeared, tablet in hand, his presence a welcome addition to their entourage.

"Rorie," he said, his voice calm amidst the noise, "just a reminder that you have that call with Tommy Hilfiger in two hours. Do you want me to set up in the hospitality suite?"

Rorie nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, C.J. That would be perfect. And can you make sure Lyric's snacks are ready? He's going to need a distraction during the call."

"Already taken care of," C.J. winked, high-fiving Lyric before stepping away to handle the arrangements.

Lewis couldn't help but smile. "I still can't believe how quickly he's gotten a handle on everything. Reminds me of KiKi, but with better organizational skills."

Rorie laughed, the sound carrying over the roar of engines being fired up nearby. "Don't let KiKi hear you say that. She'll have your head."

They stood there for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere. Lewis felt that familiar pre-race buzz coursing through his veins, heightened by the knowledge that this was his last season with Mercedes.

"You nervous?" Rorie asked, reading his expression like an open book.

Lewis shook his head, holding onto Lyric's hands as he wriggled around him. "Nah, just… ready, you know? After New York, I feel like I could conquer the world."

Memories of their New York getaway flashed through his mind. Late nights, room service breakfasts, and days spent tangled in sheets… It had been exactly what they needed before diving back into the madness of the F1 season.

A mischievous glint appeared in Rorie's eyes. "Well, that week was pretty spectacular. Maybe we should make it a pre-season tradition."

"Don't tempt me," Lewis growled playfully, leaning in for a kiss that was perhaps a touch too heated for their surroundings.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Bono's voice cut through their moment. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need our driver in the car, not making out in the paddock."

Lewis chuckled, handing Lyric over to Rorie. "Duty calls. You two behave yourselves, yeah?"

"Us? Always," Rorie grinned, adjusting Lyric on her hip. "It's you we're worried about. Don't go breaking any records today, it's just testing."

"No promises," Lewis winked. With a final kiss, Lewis jogged towards the garage, his mind shifting gears. The unveiling at Brackley, the Vogue party in London - it all felt like a distant dream and now he was preparing for another long season.

As he slipped into the cockpit, the familiar scent of leather and fuel enveloping him, Lewis felt that surge of adrenaline he'd come to love. This was his element, where everything else faded away and it was just him, the car, and the track.

"Alright, Lewis," Bono's voice crackled through the radio. "You ready to show these youngsters how it's done?"

Lewis grinned, revving the engine. "Let's fucking do this, Bono."

As he pulled out of the pit lane, Lewis caught one last glimpse of Rorie and Lyric. Rorie gave him a thumbs up, her decision to step back from social media and focus on family making her presence here all the more special.

Lewis's car disappeared down the track, and Rorie felt the familiar mix of pride and anxiety wash over her. She bounced Lyric gently on her hip, more to soothe herself than him.

"Alright, little man," she said, turning away from the track. "Let's go find C.J. and get ready for Mama's call."

They made their way through the paddock, Rorie nodding and smiling at familiar faces. The F1 world was like a traveling circus, and after years of being part of it, she'd grown accustomed to the rhythm of testing and race weekends, but this year felt different. With Lewis's impending move to Ferrari looming on the horizon, there was an undercurrent of anticipation that seemed to follow them everywhere.

As they entered the air-conditioned oasis of the hospitality suite, Rorie let out a sigh of relief. The Bahrain heat was no joke, and she silently thanked whoever invented air conditioning.

C.J. was already there, his efficiency never failing to impress her. He had a laptop set up, a spread of healthy snacks for Lyric arranged nearby, and was typing away on his tablet.

"Everything's ready, Rorie," he said with a smile as they approached. "I've got the Tommy Hilfiger team on standby for your call in about an hour and a half. Also, I took the liberty of preparing some talking points for the new campaign, if you'd like to review them."

Rorie nodded gratefully. "Thanks, C.J. You're a lifesaver."

C.J. grinned, a hint of sass in his voice. "Just doing my job. Though I do expect a glowing review at my next performance evaluation."

Rorie laughed, appreciating his ability to keep things light even during their hectic schedule. "Keep this up, and you might just get it."

She settled Lyric with his snacks and toys, and her mind wandered to the upcoming campaign. Despite her decision to take a step back from social media, her commitment to her partnerships remained strong. The Tommy Hilfiger collaboration was a big deal, and she was determined to give it her all.

"Mama, look!" Lyric's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was holding up a crayon drawing of what she assumed was meant to be Lewis's car.

"That's beautiful, baby," she smiled, ruffling his braids. "Should we hang it up for Daddy to see later?"

As she helped Lyric tape his masterpiece to the wall, Rorie caught a glimpse of one of the monitors showing the track. Lewis's car zipped past, a blur of silver against the desert backdrop. She felt her heart rate quicken, a mixture of excitement and worry that she'd grown accustomed to over the years.

"He's looking good out there," C.J. commented, following her gaze.

Rorie nodded, her eyes still on the screen. "Yeah, he is. Last season with Mercedes... he's got a lot to prove."

"Don't they all?" C.J. quipped, earning a chuckle from Rorie.

She turned her attention back to the papers C.J. had prepared, immersing herself in the details of the Tommy Hilfiger campaign. As she read, she couldn't help but reflect on how much her life had changed. From financial analyst to philanthropist and entrepreneur, married to one of the greatest F1 drivers of all time... sometimes it still felt surreal.

"Rorie?" C.J.'s voice broke through her reverie. "The Tommy Hilfiger team is ready whenever you are."

Rorie took a deep breath, centering herself. "Alright, let's do this."

She sat down in front of the laptop, Lyric coloring quietly nearby under C.J.'s watchful eye, Rorie felt a sense of purpose wash over her. She might be taking a step back from the limelight, but she was still very much in the game.

The call began, and Rorie slipped effortlessly into her professional persona, discussing designs, photoshoot concepts, and marketing strategies. As she talked, she could hear the distant roar of engines from the track, a reminder of the two worlds she straddled.

An hour later, as she wrapped up the call, Rorie felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd nailed the meeting, Lyric had behaved perfectly (with some help from C.J.'s expert distraction techniques), and according to the occasional updates from the team, Lewis was putting in some impressive lap times.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric announced as soon as she closed the laptop.

Rorie laughed, scooping him up. "Me too, baby. What do you say we go find some lunch and then see if we can catch Daddy between runs?"

C.J. chimed in, already tapping away at his tablet. "I can have something brought up if you'd prefer to stay in the cool air. Or I've got a list of the best spots in the paddock if you're feeling adventurous."

Rorie considered for a moment, bouncing Lyric gently. "You know what? Let's be adventurous. We've been cooped up in here long enough."

They made their way out of the hospitality suite and into the bustling paddock. The energy was palpable, with teams rushing about and journalists hunting for stories.

As they navigated through the crowd, Rorie spotted a familiar face heading their way. Toto Wolff, Mercedes team principal, approached with a warm smile.

"Rorie, Lyric! How are my favorite spectators doing?" he greeted them, ruffling Lyric's hair affectionately.

"We're good, Toto. Just finished up a call and now on a hunt for some lunch. How's Lewis looking out there?" Rorie asked, unable to keep the hint of concern from her voice.

Toto's smile widened. "He's in top form. You'd never know it was testing, the way he's pushing. But then again, when does Lewis ever take it easy?"

They chatted for a few more minutes, the conversation naturally drifting to the upcoming season and the changes it would bring. As they said their goodbyes, Rorie couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. This would be their last season with Mercedes, a team that had become like family over the years.

"You okay?" C.J. asked softly as they continued their quest for food.

Rorie nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yeah, just... a lot of emotions, you know? But we're here to support Lewis and enjoy the ride. Speaking of which, I think I smell burgers. What do you say, Lyric? Ready for some lunch?"

As they approached the food stalls, the aroma of grilled meat and spices filling the air, Rorie noticed a woman standing near one of the counters. The stranger's gaze was fixed intently on her and Lyric, a little too intensely for comfort.

Rorie leaned closer to C.J., keeping her voice low. "Hey, do you know who that is? The woman in the blue top?"

C.J. glanced discreetly in the direction Rorie indicated, his brow furrowing. "I don't recognize her, but she's got a paddock pass. Must be with one of the teams or media."

Just then, the woman locked eyes with Rorie. A wide smile spread across her face as she began making her way towards them with determined strides.

Rorie felt a flicker of unease, instinctively holding Lyric a little tighter. Before she could react further, her bodyguard, who had been maintaining a respectful distance, smoothly intercepted the approaching woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the bodyguard said politely but firmly. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The woman blurted out, "Rorie! I'm Athena... I'm your sister. Well, half-sister."

Rorie felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She instinctively held Lyric a little tighter, skepticism evident in her eyes.

Athena, sensing Rorie's disbelief, quickly pulled out her phone. "I know this must be a shock. Here, let me show you..." She swiped through a series of recent photos showing her with Martin and two young men. "That's our dad, and those are our brothers, Azariah and Aaron."

Rorie's mind raced, trying to process this unexpected encounter. She glanced at C.J., who looked equally stunned but maintained his professional composure.

"I... I don't know what to say," Rorie managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She studied Athena's face, searching for any family resemblance.

Same nose, same chin. Just like the men in the pictures as well.

Athena's smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this. I've been wanting to meet you for so long, and when I saw you here... I couldn't let the opportunity pass."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to center herself. "This is... a lot to take in. How did you even get in here?"

"I'm an intern with one of the media teams," Athena explained. "I didn't plan this, I swear. It was just luck."

C.J. stepped closer, his voice low. "Rorie, do you want me to handle this?"

Rorie shook her head, her eyes never leaving Athena. "No, it's... it's okay." She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "Look, Athena, I appreciate you reaching out, but this isn't the time or place for this conversation. There's a lot to unpack here."

Athena nodded, looking crestfallen but understanding. "Of course, I get it. I'm sorry for ambushing you like this. Could we... maybe talk later? When you're ready?"

Rorie hesitated, then nodded. "Give your contact info to C.J. here. We'll be in touch."

As Athena scribbled her details on C.J.'s tablet, Rorie's mind whirled with questions and emotions. This encounter had just added another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous time.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric's small voice broke through her thoughts, grounding her in the present moment.

"Right, baby. Let's get some food," Rorie said, grateful for the distraction. As they turned back to the food stalls, she knew one thing for certain - she and Lewis would have a lot to discuss tonight.

______________________________________________

Lewis looked up from where he was helping Lyric into his pull-up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Sister? Aaliyah's here?"

Rorie shook her head from a nearby armchair, her fingers flying over her phone screen as she scrolled through search results. "No, not Aaliyah. Athena. Apparently, she's my half-sister. Martin's daughter."

"What the fuck?" Lewis muttered under his breath, careful to keep his voice low enough that Lyric wouldn't pick up on it. He finished fastening the pull-up and reached for the lotion. "When did this happen?"

"At the food stalls earlier," Rorie replied, her eyes still glued to her phone. "She just... appeared. Said she's an intern with some media team."

Lewis smoothed lotion over Lyric's skin, his mind racing. "And you're sure she's legit?"

Rorie sighed, finally looking up from her phone. "She had pictures, Lewis. Her with Martin and two guys she said were our brothers. And get this - she's in a master's program for communications in London. Interning with a boutique media agency that covers sports, trying to break into F1."

"Convenient," Lewis remarked, his tone skeptical as he helped Lyric into his pajamas. "Bit of a coincidence, don't you think? Her just happening to be here?"

"My thoughts exactly," Rorie agreed. "I mean, it's the first race of the season. Of course, I'd be here. It feels... I don't know, orchestrated somehow."

Lewis finished buttoning Lyric's pajama top and gestured for Rorie to join them on the bed. She set her phone aside and sat cross-legged on the mattress, creating a little family circle. Lewis reached for the small jar of argan oil pomade they used for Lyric's hair.

As he gently worked the product into Lyric's scalp, careful not to disturb the neat braids, he asked, "What do you want to do about it?"

Rorie watched Lewis's careful movements, a small smile playing on her lips despite her troubled thoughts. She loved these quiet family moments. "I don't know. Part of me is curious, but..."

"But you're worried it's some kind of set-up," Lewis finished for her. He understood her hesitation all too well. Their life in the spotlight had taught them to be cautious, especially when it came to unexpected family appearances.

"Exactly," Rorie nodded. She reached out to hold Lyric's hand, the toddler's eyes already drooping with sleep. "C.J. has her contact info. Told her we'd be in touch."

Lewis finished moisturizing Lyric's scalp and carefully slipped a silky bonnet over the child's head. "Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight. Let's sleep on it, yeah? See how you feel in the morning."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence. "Yeah, you're right. One crisis at a time, right?"

"Story time!" Lyric suddenly piped up, his sleepy eyes widening with renewed energy.

Lewis chuckled, reaching for the book on the nightstand. "Alright, little man. One story, then bed. Deal?"

They settled in, Lyric nestled between them, as Lewis began to read. It was a familiar tale about a little race car that could, one of Lyric's favorites. Rorie found herself relaxing as she listened to Lewis's soothing voice, the day's stresses momentarily fading away.

As the story came to an end, Lyric's eyes were firmly shut, his breathing deep and even. Lewis carefully scooped him up, and together they carried him to his crib in the adjoining room.

They stood there for a moment, watching their son sleep peacefully. Lewis wrapped an arm around Rorie's waist, pulling her close. "Whatever you decide about Athena, I'm here. We'll figure it out together."

Rorie leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. "I know. Thank you."

As they made their way back to their own bed, Lewis couldn't help but marvel at the constant curveballs life seemed to throw their way.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[kdogreads]

Waiting in line to pick up my nephew from pre-school and thinking about picking up the kids from school with Carmy

We exist in the amazing @thebearer ‘s universe ok 😍🫶

—

He is usually at work so you pick up the girls by yourself. It’s no big deal, of course, but their first question is always, “Is daddy home yet?”

You try to let them down easily everyday with a gentle, “No, but he will be soon,” and a promise to stop at Starbucks on the way home.

Today was a special day, though. It’s the day before Halloween, the crisp fall air swirls around your mom SUV (You told Carmen absolutely not to a minivan) when you pull into the pick up line and roll the windows down. And Carm had somehow managed to take the afternoon off.

The girls were so excited to wear their costumes to school this morning. Teddy dressed up as a magical-fairy-princess-slash-mini-Michael-Myers and Willow is a chef, just like her Daddy.

It was only a few minutes of chatting with Carm about the restaurant and what you needed from the grocery this weekend before the school bell rang, signaling the girls would be running out any minute. Carmen ducked down in the driver’s seat as much as he could while you got out of the car like normal.

Both girls came running towards you with some kind of Halloween craft and a small bag of candy, already squealing and excitedly regaling their spooky party and what all of their friends wore.

“Okay, okay! Let’s get home so we can make dinner for Daddy,” You prompted hoping they would start climbing into the car.

Both girls popped open their doors and slung their backpacks in. You had to look away to hide your smirk as the big reveal was about to happen.

“Katie had on the biggest princess dress I’ve ever seen, Mama, and James was a Power Ranger and— Daddy?” Teddy squealed with joy and caught Willow’s attention who also started giggling uncontrollably.

“Hi my babies! How was sch—uugh,” Carmen started but was met with an elbow to the ribs as the girls started climbing over each other to get in the front seat and hug him first.

A chorus of giggles and kisses filled the air and your heart. You ducked your head a bit in embarrassment when someone’s knee bumped into the car’s horn, but the smiles in the cars nearest to you melted away your worries. It seems the parents and teachers nearby thought the sweet reunion was just as precious as you did.

“Mama! Did you know Daddy was in here?” Willow questions you with a hand on her hip. Boy were you in trouble when she got a little older and a little sassier.

“Alright, alright, girls. Get in your seats, yeah? We have a surprise for you at home,” Carmen finally put an end to the adorable cuddle puddle happening in front of you.

“A surprise?” Both girls squealed as they climbed back into their own spots. Carmen simply wiggled his eyebrows in the rearview mirror as giggles filled the car yet again.

You could feel the buzz in the air as they excitedly discussed what it could be. You piped up only once with a solid, “Nope,” when someone said something about a puppy.

You spent the evening carving pumpkins Carmen and you had picked out earlier that day and drinking warm apple cider that had been steeping on the stove all day.

It was a simple fall activity day, but it filled your heart to the very brim with love for your perfect little family.

—

A/N: I could die I love them 😭😭 thank you again to my idol for creating such an in-depth universe for us to live in our delulus 🫶❤️

[piltoversfinest-caitvi]

Oil & Water · PVRIS

They confirmed it was a rejected pitch song for the soundtrack from mostly Caitlyn's POV so of course I have to add it here!

[Verse 1] Do you hear my call, is it going through? Do you even know that I'm willing to Break down any door Bleed on every floor Just to get to you?

[Pre-Chorus] Maybe it's foolish but I wouldn't do this For anyone else but you But I'm born to do this Fall and keep moving Up on my way to you

[Chorus] (Why can't you just) Pull me closer But you keep pushing Always send me over Like oil and water, it's true But I still fall into you

[Verse 2] Am I what you want? Do you feel brand new? Yeah, we know the cost, but is it the truth? Yeah, we know we shine Born out of a fire And we're burning through, through

[Pre-Chorus] Maybe it's foolish but I wouldn't do this For anyone else but you But I'm born to do this Fall and keep moving Up on my way to you

[Chorus] (Why can't you just) Pull me closer But you keep pushing Always sends me over Like oil and water, it's truе But I still fall into you If you give me your cold shoulders I'll bravе the storm and keep my arms wide open We're oil and water, it's true But I still fall into you

[Post-Chorus] Maybe it's foolish but I wouldn't do this For anyone else but you But I'm born to do this Fall and keep moving Up on my way to you

[an-insignificant-flower]

Namonaki Watashi

名も無き = lit. "without a name," pre-noun adjective that can mean "anonymous," "ordinary," or—as I believe befits this song—"insignificant". Notably, 無き is an older form of ない, but while the latter functions as a complete clause, the former requires a noun follow it.

Verse 1

一雫雨を　一雫ください hitoshizuku ame wo　hitoshizuku kudasai 一雫愛を　一雫ください hitoshizuku ai wo　hitoshizuku kudasai

One drop of rain, please give me one drop One drop of love, please give me one drop

The dictionary puts 一滴 (いってき, alternatively ひとしずく) as more common than 一雫 (ひとしずく). However, the latter seems to be more literary, used for sake labels, restaurants, and a 2002 hit song by the female J-pop group, Zone.

Additionally, 雫 is distinctly a kokuji, or "country character," one of Japan's creations without a Chinese equivalent. It's purely hieroglyphic as such, literally depicting that which falls from a cloud.

Prechorus 1

名も　無い　わたしは　あな��と　出会いました namonai watashi wa　anata to deaimashita 名も　無い　わたしにも　蝶や　風や　夢が‥ namonai watashi ni mo　chou ya kaze ya yume ga...

I, who am insignificant, met you (for the first time) Even I, who am also insignificant, (the) butterflies, (the) wind, (the) dream...

Sakurai uses the older form of Namonaki in the title only, but uses the more modern form in the lyrics themselves. In the Japanese, the difference is extremely subtle, with only one phoneme changing from -ki to -i. The grammatical implication in English is far more clumsy, but worth exploring to see the difference: The title reads "Insignificant Me" while the lyrics read "I, who am insignificant,..."

The line ends with ellipses, leaving the thought unfinished, and the use of ya for "and" implying the list is only a part of all that is in the scene give the verse an impressionistic feel.

Chorus

狂い咲く　花たちよ　今は　咲き乱れよ kuruizaku hana-tachi yo　ima wa sak'mi dare yo 狂い咲く　命共　乱れ　乱れ　乱れ kuruizaku inochi domo　midare, midare, midare

Fellow flowers blooming out of season, bloom profusely now! Fellow flowers blooming out of season, together live wild, wild, wild!

I adore the use of kuruizaku here. Of course, kuruu is a familiar verb in Buck-Tick's lyrics, whether it refers to going mad with love or at the state of the world or simply "going crazy." Here it's used in a set phrase referring to off-season blooming. And as with kemono-tachi (from "Beasts of Night"), the narrator includes himself among those he is speaking to: outcasts and others who "don't fit in."

Sakimidare, another set phrase, lends itself to the imagery of endless fields of blooming flowers so thick that you can't see the green leaves beneath them, or even the peak day of cherry blossom season when the world is awash in pink.

I've used an apostrophe unconventionally here to refer to Sakurai's pronunciation. The word has five full mora (sa-ki-mi-da-re), but Sakurai sings it in four (sa-k'mi-da-re). I actually could not make it out in the album version of the song; only upon listening to the "Taiyo to Ikarosu" B-side at high volume could I hear the separate consonants distinctly fitted into one note.

As a lone verb midareru means "falling into disarray," but as a repeated call lends itself better to "lapsing into chaos," and I was tempted to choose "riot" as a command due to the character's more direct translation. However, following the previous line with the set phrase sakimidare, there is an implication that it attaches itself to inochi domo the same way, meaning a closer translation might be, "together, live exuberantly." Think Carpe diem ("Seize the day") with the raving enthusiasm of Scrooge on Christmas morning.

Verse 2

ありがとう　愛を　陽だまりの　日々を arigatou　ai wo　hidamari no hibi wo 一輪の　花を　髪飾り　君に ichirin no hana wo　kamikazari kimi ni

Thank you, for the love, for day after day in the sun For the single flower adoring your hair

Prechorus 2

名も　無い　わたしに　あなた　と　お別れ　来た namonai watashi ni　anata to o-wakare kita 名も　無い　わたしにも　赤や　黄の　夢が‥ namonai watashi ni mo　aka ya ki no yume ga...

You and I, who am insignificant, bid farewell Even I, who am insignificant, (the) red and yellow dream...

Although the lyrics imply simply that the flower speaking (perhaps the very one in the listener's hair from the previous line) was discarded, it's hard to listen to this line as one of the last lyrics in the last song presented to us on Sakurai's last recorded album.

As before, ya implies there are more colors, though red and yellow are noteworthy for the line. I don't know whether it was intentional, but it calls back the first line of "Gessekai": Aka ki iro himawari, "red, yellow sunflowers".

Instrumental Bridge Chorus Chorus

Sakurai often wrote lyrics from the point of view of a particular character in his mind, performing a role on stage. However, I am tempted to read this one assuming less use of the figurative mask. It seems very in his character to express such humility, to refer to his fans (and/or his family, as I have also suspected of other songs of his) as the source of his sunshine and objects of his gratitude, and to plead us all to live our lives to our fullest.

[bungeo-ppangie]

23:52 // training

ღ pairing. bf!idol!riki x trainee!gn!reader

ღ contents. romance, fluff, lil bit angst?

ღ synopsis. you've been training for the past few hours on fever's choreography, and all you wanted to do was strangle both your coach and riki(actually innocent but his group so his fault). but what do you get? teased by riki. and more practice. of course.

﹒⪩⪨﹒scene below cut

"fluidly, yn! why are your transitions so powerful? start over!" your dance coach reprimanded, giving you a frustrated sigh before pressing down on the replay button to start you over again. even though you were well-known as the undisputed best at dancing during evaluations, the dance coach somehow always found more issues with you than anyone else- even newbies weren't forced to stay as many extra hours in the practice room as you.

you inwardly groaned as you heard the opening chords of fever again, quickly changing to the starting position. if you had asked anyone else, they would have told you it was perfect- no revisions needed. however, it seemed like you would be stuck here for quite a while yet, judging by the deteriorating attitude of the coach. you loved riki, but at the moment, you were really wishing he made the choreography easier to master. dancing was fun and all, but you just hoped you could rest soon.

as if god had heard your prayers, riki burst into the room as the first pre-chorus began, startling your coach.

"sorry coach, i just need to borrow yn here. manager approved my request to personally train her for dance for a while, if that's alright with you." your ever so beloved boyfriend told her, smiling angelically. coach threw you a final glare before pausing the music and leaving the room, muttering something about how kids these days were just getting lazier by the generation.

as soon as she was gone, riki bounded over to you for a hug, grinning widely.

"is that fever you've been dancing to for the past 2 hours?" he laughed cheekily, ruffling your hair as he handed you a much appreciated bottle of water.

"ugh, yes. i love your choreographies, but please stop performing them so well. coach keeps finding the tiniest differences when she compares my dancing to yours. at this rate, she'll convince hybe to kick out their best dancer at monthlies." you pouted, looking up at your (unnecessarily tall) boyfriend as he smiled.

"personally, i prefer your dance over mine, but i might be biased. let's go through it once together to check though, yeah?" he said comfortingly, rubbing your back before heading over to start the song from the stereo again. you pretended to glare at him as you got back into the starting position, but you never complained about any kind of time you got to spend with your busy boyfriend.

as you both danced through the song, he commented on some points you might want to improve on("tilt your head back a bit more- and your right foot is just a bit early"), but those were like compliments when compared with coach's sharp remarks.

you were panting when you finally finished up, wanting to collapse from the sheer amount of time you've been dancing for.

"thanks so much for giving me some rest there" you said sarcastically, letting him lead you to the corner of the room to sit down. riki smiled at you as he dabbed sweat off your head with a towel, your half-meant complaints only seen as endearing by him.

"hey, be glad you're getting trained by the great nishimura riki of enhypen!" he teased you, poking your cheek and pulling you into his arms. you tried to get out of his grasp to no avail- the kid was spending way too much time working out nowadays.

"be glad you get to help train the great yn! i'll debut soon, and you'll regret not getting my autograph earlier!" you laughed, allowing yourself to fall back into his arms.

"i'm not sure i'd be satisfied with an autograph, though..." he smirked at you, making you suddenly feel nervous.

"what do you mean, not satisfied-" you said, pretending to be offended as you tilted your head back to look at him. however, you were unfortunately cut off before you could finish your sentence. fortunately, it was because riki's lips were on yours, making you smile into the kiss.

"what was that for?" you asked, wishing you could will yourself to seem annoyed. your face betrayed you, as it always did around riki, your cheeks tinted pink and your lips curving into an unavoidable smile.

"mmm, i don't know, i just wanted to. now can i have another kiss?"

[arsquare]

Hello everyone!

As I take on more projects and expand my practice, it feels prudent to write monthly newsletter posts to keep followers up to date on what projects I'm currently undertaking. So here's the update for October/November 2024!

Zines

Currently I'm participating in two zines, both of which will likely be released in November!

One is the Detective Conan Fanzine, which is dedicated to the 26 movies of the franchise. I was assigned Movie 2, and I've posted a preview below! The full illustration will be available on INPRNT after the zine releases.

The other is the Counter-Pale Resistance (@de-fanzine-cpr-pale), which is a Disco Elysium fanzine. Participants take inspiration from song lyrics to create their piece, whether it's an illustration, comic, or writing. I created an illustration of Harry and Dolores for this zine! I quite like this piece-- it will be available on INPRNT after the zine releases, and I'll also be making gold foil postcards of it. Stay tuned!

Additionally, COMPASS: A Heishin Anthology (@haidocityzines), which I did several illustrations for, has been released for free digitally! Download your copy here. There are also merch bundles remaining if you're interested.

Merchandise

I've been putting together a Kaishin merch bundle in the past several months to go with a polished print version of Breaking Stasis (link goes to the original version-- polished version will be uploaded at a later date), my 2021 Kaishin Secret Santa manga. There's going to be a bookmark, a memopad, and a postcard in addition to the book. I'm waiting for the last of the merch samples to arrive! When they do, I'll photograph them and open up pre-orders.

Remember this? The pages are now fully toned and I've fixed the illustrations that were bothering me...

Pre-orders will likely open on Friday, Nov. 8th, and will close before the end of the month. A more detailed announcement is coming in early November!

Additionally, I've added several prints to my INPRNT:

Commissions

Commissions are currently closed! However, you may contact me at any time via email at soharsquare@gmail.com or soharsquare on Discord to add your name to the waitlist. Folks on the waitlist will get priority when commissions open up again.

Upcoming Events

November 23rd: Tabling at KDF26 (Tainan, Taiwan)

December 10th: Lecture on creating fanzines and doujinshi, hosted by the NCKU Manga Club (Tainan, Taiwan)

December 14th-15th: Tabling at FFK17 (Kaohsiung, Taiwan)

This probably isn't relevant to most people here, but I figured I'd put this out there just in case!

CHORUS

CHORUS is my current comic project! It's a 16-chapter BIRDMEN fan manga, and we've just uploaded the last pages of ACT 2. If you liked my previous comics, please consider checking it out at @birdmenfanmanga! Most of my love at this time is going into this project.

A more extended newsletter on CHORUS can be found here.

Subscribe to the Monthly Newsletter Elsewhere

In times like this when social media websites are imploding for one reason or another, I think it's nice to have multiple bases of communication. Of course, monthly newsletters will always be posted on Tumblr, but you can also join my Community Discord for these updates as well. I have also set up an email subscription list.

Thank you all for the support thus far!

Love, Soh Arsquare. Oct. 27, 2024.

[INPRNT | Ko-fi | Commission info]

[x-uno]

Brewing Blooms: Florist!Sanji x Barista!Reader

note : indecisive me couldn't decide on whether I should make Sanji a barista or a florist ;v; I STRUGGLED FOR THE WHOLE DAY but ultimately ended on him being a florist - :DDDD LIKE HEAR ME OUT IT'S LITERALLY PERFECT FOR HIM

| 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

THE FIRST RAYS OF DAWN'S GENTLE LIGHT pierced through the half-closed blinds, painting a soft, golden canvas across the snug interior of your coffee shop. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans intermingled with a hint of cinnamon, creating an aromatic symphony of warmth and comfort.

You, a dedicated barista and the proud owner of this intimate coffee sanctuary, were no stranger to the early hours. The soothing hum of espresso machines, the rich fragrance of freshly ground coffee, and the hushed conversations of your loyal patrons composed the daily chorus that cradled your mornings. Yet, on this particular day, the serenity of your routine was disrupted by an explosion of energy and excitement. 

Amid the soft pre-dawn glow, Nami flung the coffee shop's door wide with an enthusiastic flourish, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers in her hand. "Y/N! Flowers for you!" she cried out, her voice brimming with excitement. Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, startled and confused. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise as you turned to face Nami, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Flowers? For me? Who on earth...?" Your mind raced, wondering who could possibly be sending you flowers. It had been a while since you'd been involved in any kind of romantic relationship. You didn't recall mentioning any recent love interests to Nami.

Nami's gaze danced with amusement, her lips curving mischievously. "You never told me you had a boyfriend!’"

You chuckled at the assumption. "Believe me, Nami, if I had a boyfriend, you'd be the first to know. This is quite a surprise, though." You carefully picked up the card attached to the bouquet, your fingers deftly sliding it out from among the blossoms. 

Nami leaned closer, her curiosity piqued. "Well, what does it say?" With a puzzled expression, you read aloud, "For Petal Paradise?" 

"Petal Paradise…Petal - OH!" Nami snapped her fingers in realization. "It’s the flower shop that just opened nearby."

You raised an eyebrow. "Petal Paradise, huh? They must have had a mix-up with the delivery. I should probably return these." You murmured, adjusting your hold on the bouquet.  "Can you manage without me for a bit?’"

Nami waved her hand dismissively. "Of course, Don't worry about the café. Just go next door and play nice with the florist." She winked mischievously. 

You chuckled at her playfulness and nodded. "Thanks, Nami. I'll be quick." 

With that, you headed next door to Petal Paradise, your curiosity growing as you approached the charming flower shop. The little bell above the door tinkled softly as you entered, and the fragrant air of the flower shop enveloped you. 

Sanji, the talented florist, was busy arranging a stunning bouquet, his nimble fingers carefully selecting each flower and placing it with precision. 

You cleared your throat to get his attention. "Excuse me," you began, "I think there was a mix-up with a flower delivery. I received these at my café, but they seem to be intended for Petal Paradise." You held out the bouquet to him. 

Sanji, with his hands still delicately arranging the blossoms, looked up with a warm smile. His eyes sparkled with appreciation as he examined the bouquet you held out. 

"Ah, a mix-up, you say? Well, it's fortunate that you're the one who received them. After all, these flowers deserve to be in the presence of someone as radiant as you."

"Are all florists in this neighborhood so skilled in flattery?"

Sanji chuckled, his confidence unwavering. "Only the ones who recognize true beauty when they see it." 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you retorted, "Flattery will get you everywhere, won't it?’’ Sanji flashed a grin and leaned in a bit closer, his eyes filled with playful mischief. 

"Everywhere and anywhere, bubs. It's a florist's secret weapon, you know."

"Oookay, casanova," you said, shaking your head with a grin, "Are you taking the flowers or not?" You gestured to the bouquet in your already outstretched hand, bringing the conversation back to its original purpose.

Sanji's composure snapped back to the task at hand as he accepted the bouquet, his fingers gently brushing against yours. "Oh, right! Sorry!" 

With the bouquet now in his care, Sanji straightened up and extended a hand toward you, a friendly smile gracing his features. "I should have started with a proper introduction. I'm Sanji." 

You returned his smile, placing your hand in his. "Y/N. I own the coffee shop next door."

As you spoke, your gaze naturally drifted to the intricate tattoos adorning his arm, peeking out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The designs were an intriguing mixture of vibrant blooms and winding vines, a testament to his deep connection with the world of flowers. Your eyes followed the intricate details, captivated by the colors and the artistry behind them, unable to hide your curiosity. But just as quickly as your gaze lingered, you averted your eyes, not wanting to appear too intrusive.

"Neighbor!" He grinned widely. "Well, I guess it might be fate, madam!"

"Fate, huh?" 

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but I'll be counting on you to visit me whenever the need arises." He handed you a card with a wink.

"The need to get flowers, you mean?"

"Well, of course! But also the need to get to know me better."

His cheeky response took you by surprise, and you found yourself laughing at his audacity.

"We'll see about that." you replied, the words were more of a playful challenge than anything else.

taglist: reply to be added !

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