#believe that it is taking its toll!!!
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holedyke · 9 months ago
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going to the dentist tmr for the first time in 5 years. and at 8am no less
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ganondoodle · 1 year ago
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the golden dragon zelda she only does the transformation for the final fight in the sky, here she is just after doing it chasing after 'ganondorf' to save link, she tackles and bites gan to make him let go of link
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(notes written here again for better reading) - horns are vaguely shaped like the hyrule crest - she has feathers and markings on the nose to reference owls - green mouth to switch the colors around (and neat contrast), bc gan has a blue mouth, zelda now has green, and if link ever was a dragon hed have it red -markings on the head feathers are a reference to the lil things satori and rumi (blupee?) have on their head
(totk rewritten project)
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kath-artic · 4 months ago
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today has instilled a new zest for life in me. oh god things could be so so much worse!
#was hanging out w friends yesterday and my one friend got pulled over going through a toll booth near my house#turns out his registration was expired and he didnt know and they towed him car#he had the cops take him to my house bc the dmv doesnt take walk ins. stayed over. we took him to the dmv in the morning#2 hours in there to fix the registration + another 2 to get his parents to transfer him money for it#go to the towing place and they cant release his car bc theyre a private company that works for the state#(he was pulled over on the parkway so it was a state trooper)#and they need a release form from the state police who are located at an unmarked building off the side of the parkway#like its not on the map#we go. finally get an officer to come out. officer comes out. says he cant give him the form bc his license is suspended#because he got a ticket 1 year ago and had a court date but he had just moved and the courts had his old address#so he never received his summons and the court just assumed he was ditching them#PLUS. once the state trooper found the actual ticket my friend remembered that he had gotten pulled over bc his phone#was in his hand but he was using it as a GPS bc he was new to the area. and the cop wrote up a ticket but never gave him one#so he didnt even know he had been written up#so now his car is stuck in south jersey. he has to take the train up to north jersey. beg the brooklyn courts to let him appear online#and then somehow get back down here and get the paperwork to get his car. meanwhile its also $250 every day the tow people have the car#i just cant believe how this didnt all happen at once. how it was quite literally one thing after the next in a straight line of disaster
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horce-divorce · 5 months ago
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It has been 0 days since the last "old man leaves blood tracked around the entire house and goes on with his day UNbothered" incident....
I cannot fucking verbalize how disturbing this shit is... I literally can't get up at 7am to take a sleep-drunken piss without having to wake up fully and fucking bleach the floor because I look down at my shoes and realize I'm STEPPING in someone else's BLOOD. AGAIN!!@!!@!!!!!!!!!!!
same guy that leaves food out for the mice, puts his used dirty dry ass dentures flat on the kitchen counter, leaves bloodied bandages on the TABLE!!!!!!
and every time you try to have a conversation with him he goes "oh haha!" and trundles off, absolutely utterly regardless of what the topic is. Period. Always. Once during a fucking tornado he sat upstairs watching TV, chuckled at us rushing to the basement as the sirens wailed, I informed him "we already lost everything once, we don't need to do it again" and he said "ha ha ha" and went and sat in front of the TV again.
Once he said "I wonder why the mice keep coming back in the summer?" And Bel looked him in the eyes and said "you! It's because you leave them full course meals every day, you should scrape your plate off into the garbage when you're done with it :)" he said "oh haha!" Wandered off and then never once cleaned his plate, continuing to leave full plates out overnight (im talking 3 corn cobs biscuits and gravy), and "thawing" ALREADY THAWED MEAT on the counter for upwards of 10 hours before just... sticking it back in the fridge???
He is literally not even on this plane of existence. To the point where he refuses to use his cane and yet falls down multiple times per day. I don't understand how he continues to live. Fucking energy vampire. Literally!who needs a cane! he just asks us to help him up off the floor! then refuses said help while we stand there and watch him struggle. he has THE most weaponized incompetence i have EVER encountered. He literally just likes an audience!!!! That's all he wants and he gets it for free every day!!!! Every day he lives one day longer and Thorin, Bel and I feel years age off our fucking lives in exchange!!!!!
I CANT! KEEP DOING IT! I NEED TO FIX MY CAR AND GET OUT OF HERE IM GOING FUCKING INSANE I DIDNG SIGN UP FOR DAILY BIOHAZARD WASTE REMOVAL IN EXCHANGE FOR MY FUCKING LIFE!!!!!!!LIVING IN THE WOODS IS BETTER ILL TAKE IT ANY FUCKING DAY
Hot tip: if you become homeless DONT just take the first offer of a roof over your head IF you can absolutely help it at all, ESPECIALLY if you became homeless due to fleeing abusive family. You will very likely just end up with someone else's abusive dad instead :) repeatedly :)))
#me#his foot js literally festering and falling OFF and bleeds nonstop and he changes his bandage like..... maybe once every 24hrs. maybe.#the fact that he bleeds on the bathroom floor DAILY is bc he just puts a sock on it and goes to bed#then bleeds thru his entire sock by like 1am#'hes giving you a place to stay be nice' the TOLL it takes is PSYCHOLOGICAL!!!!!#our friend (his kid) invited us here. not him. he literally doesnt even remember we are here lmao.#he likes having other ppl here to torment besides his own family#unfortunately when u become homeless u get a lot of offers of help from ppl who are simply opportunistic rather than genuinely kind.#pat falls solidly into this category.#i think his wife is slightly more kind than neutral but she makes constant excuses for him#even when there's 4! other witnesses and beer cans all over the house she doesnt beleive hes drinking!#so maybe she cares more but she likewise doesnt do anything about any of it. ever. she just lets him fuck up whatever he wants.#theres a REASON why so many homeless people would rather be the on the fucking street than take any random offer of housing.#even from a housing commission. bc it is likewise staffed by people and people are opportunistic fucks.#a lot of ppl want to THINK of themsleves as someone who would help a homeless friend in a pinch#w/o actually realizing what that entails#then when you (the person in need) say 'actually i need a different thing instead bc what you gave me isnt all that helpful'#suddenly your 'friend' of many years is calling you the ugliest words youve ever fucking heard#saying you took advantage and that youre ungrateful and that youre not trying and you dont want help.#its very easy for everyone to believed the housed person in that scenario.#they have all the power. they control the narrative.#prsnl
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t-u-i-t-c · 1 year ago
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Showdown! Farewell!? The End of Darkness and Light
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that-metalhead-ace · 4 months ago
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Just deleted tiktok lets gooooo
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nyerusnova · 1 year ago
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Going to toss in my two cents here real quick but I firmly believe: Batman cannot kill, and there cannot be exceptions to that rule, or else the entire ethos falls apart.
Like trust me, Bruce Wayne has personally contemplated killing people multiple times, and has come very close to it before. It is not that he doesn't ever want to kill, but he knows that the Batman cannot kill. Because if he does, then the hope of Gotham is lost, nevermind elsewhere at large. People will have no reason to believe in their heroes, when their heroes decide to play judge, jury, and executioner. Even if we (and diegetically, many characters) know that certain criminals/villains will never change their ways and only want to cause more harm, Batman especially cannot go that far.
Other heroes (most notably Wonder Woman) do fight for more "pragmatic" reasons, and thus will take a life when they deem necessary. But Batman is not one of them. What he's fighting for is not just harm reduction, it's to show people that goodness and justice can prevail. And you might not agree with that ideology, but that's still something important to exemplify -- both in-universe and out.
If he kills, then even ordinary people will have no reason to trust him. Batman goes from a symbol of hope to a yet another symbol of fear for the people of Gotham.
And no, the Joker of all people is not an exception -- he is in fact a major point/reason for the rule. Could maybe other people kill the Joker? Yeah, sure. Narratively boring in most cases, but it would take out the trash. However, of anyone in that universe, it absolutely cannot be Batman. Because that is exactly what the Joker wants: chaos! That's why him being taken out by other people isn't as interesting, because to him his own death is largely meaningless. What the Joker wants is to prove that anyone can be pushed to that edge, including someone as righteous as Batman. If Batman kills him, then the Joker has successfully destroyed the hope of Gotham. He wins. And that's not something Batman can ever take back or recover -- it's game over.
As for Jason: keep in mind that Jason has had chances to kill the Joker himself. But he hasn't, because he wants Bruce -- Batman -- to do it. It presents an interesting quandary, because with this, Jason isn't thinking about the big philosophical picture that Bruce is. (If you want a generous take on him, he is more "pragmatic" about harm reduction. Killing the Joker would save lives, and he wants Bruce to see that. A more realistic take is that it is selfish desire for vengeance as the main driving factor. I won't get into his characterization it now because it's a mess that deserves 10 posts on its own.) At the end of the day, what he really wants for his father to choose him, over his own ideals. And he's not even entirely wrong in wanting that. Fundamentally, that's what makes the conflict between them so interesting. Bruce cannot put his children or loved ones first; he is a hero first, and everything else second. That's the tragedy in being a hero. That bears it's own meta, imo.
In short, Batman's no-kill rule has persisted in comics for decades for a good reason.
I'm actually curious now to find out what the common consensus is so
#batman#bruce wayne#poll#dcu#comics#bruce has in fact mentioned that he lowkey wishes he could just murk people sometimes!#there are pre- and post-DITF issues of Batman and Detective Comics where it comes up!#like its not about what it would do to bruce or his psyche or whatever.#... even though it would fuck him up psychologically and that's a whole can of worms -- but moreover:#its about why he became batman in the first place and why he continues to BE batman#criminals SHOULD fear him but to innocent people? he is their Dark Knight.#it doesn't work if innocent people are afraid of him -- which they may be if he starts killing people#and yes! even if its just 'one rly bad person just this one time i swear'#why would you as a random citizen have any reason to believe that's true? think about what that justification really sounds like.#like NEVERMIND the social implications of all this....#and i brought up jason because ppl in the notes are bringing up jason and hooooooo boy.#anyway i have more complicated thoughts that are scattered around friends DMs but its 2am gn lol#nyerus.txt#TO ADD because i don't think i made myself clear: bruce would also not be okay if he ever did kill#even though he's contemplated it before he does also feel strong against taking a life -- but i wanted to mention#that when it comes to the joker and such he HAS admitted that he almost wishes he could bc he knows it will save ppl down the line#the toll it would have on him is immense for several reasons#(even tho i believe its mentioned somewhere that he *has* killed in self defense before when he wasn't batman yet?)#but it's complicated. you have to look at this question from the perspective of both the character and the symbolism of it.#the latter is what i was trying to get at moreso with this post
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yandere-daydreams · 18 days ago
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Screening: Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).
Pairing: Yandere!Capitano x Reader (Genshin)
Word Count: 2.6k.
TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Somnophilia, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Fingering, Size Kinks, Arranged Marriage, and Obsessive Behavior. Mild Spoilers for the Natlan Story Quest.
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Capitano only ever visits you at night.
Part of it is merely the reality of Harbinger’s schedule. If he’s in Snezhnaya at all, let alone lodging within his own estate, it’s a given that he’ll still be working tirelessly to carry out the Tsaritsa’s will, whether that means training incoming soldiers or busying himself with the paperwork deemed necessary by more bureaucratic types, like Pulcinella and Pantalone. It’s rare for him to return home (if it’s fair call that lifeless, desolate place by such a sentimental name) early enough to speak with you properly, and when he does, you only seem to hurry off to bed all the earlier. He’s not a fool. He knows you aren’t fond of him, that the company of your husband brings you little comfort. There’s no doubt in his mind that you assume yourself to be as ornamental as his manor, as his medals, as every other gift from his archon that he displays and maintains not out of gratitude, but polite obligation. He’s never corrected you. From what he can tell, the thought that he bears no great fondness for you has only ever eased your mind – eliminating such troublesome thoughts as those of a loving husband or happy marriage.
No, you don’t believe he loves you, and as far as he can tell, you’ve been given no reason to love him. Thus, he visits at night.
In plainer words, when you’re not in a state to remember he came to you at all.
You don’t share a bedroom. He has his barracks, attached to his office and furnished with only the barer essentials, and you have your nest – a small bedroom tucked into the tightest corner of the highest floor, just large enough to allow you to hoard all the softened, frivolous things you think you’re collecting behind his back. He’s careful not to brush against the woven tapestries crowding your walls as he crosses the threshold, not to disturb the careful arrangements of heaped blankets and silver trinkets you tend to leave scattered across your floor. He only pauses in front of your vanity – removing first his helmet (which, he notes with an inordinate amount of satisfaction, slots perfectly into the space left between your many combs and perfumes) then his coat, left draped haphazardly over the velvet-cushioned stool. He had the foresight to have the metal of his helmet tinted, to allow silver adornments of his uniform to tarnish beyond the point of reflectivity, but your mirror provides fewer safeguards. His vision catches on his own face and despite his better reasoning, lingers there.
The rot is no better or worse than it was when he first came to Snezhnaya, and yet in the dim light of your bedroom, it always seems a little more progressed. A jagged line of decay connects the corner of his lips to the point just above his ear, discolored flesh contained on either side by thick barriers of frostbite giving way to pure, abyssal void where there should’ve been bone. The skin around the corner of his mouth had gotten the worst of it. Grit teeth catch dull moonlight where his lips pull away and char, red viscera visible where the rot had nearly been allowed to take its toll. He’s thankful, in moments like this, that you keep your distance. Surely, it’s better to think yourself married to a monstrous man than know you were bound to monster merely masquerading as one.
Letting out a shallow breath, he forces himself away from the mirror and toward his true destination, your bedside. It’s with only the upmost care that he brushes away the sheer curtains, that he kneels onto the down-stuffed mattress – careful not to wake you with unnecessary noise or thoughtless movement. He finds you as he often does; slumped against your headboard, your sheets clumsily thrown to the side and the book you must’ve fallen asleep reading still spread open in your lap. It’s a good thing he cares for you more than he appears to. Snezhnayan nights are unforgiving, and without his daily visits, you most likely would’ve frozen to death by now.
Your book is closed and placed on the neared nightstand, your body drawn carefully onto the mattress, where you roll unconsciously onto your side. Your nightgown (your favorite, judging by how often you where despite the vastness of your collection) is long enough to reach your ankles, and yet, your fitful sleep and his disturbance has the skirt pooling at your waist. Your body is no stranger to him, and yet, impatience pricks as the back of his throat as he moves closer, as his fingertips graze over your ankle, then your thigh – so plush in comparison to his hardened, calloused form. It’s only when he reaches your hip that he thinks to remove his gloves. There aren’t many things he’s willing to risk exposure to feel, even fewer he lacks the self-restraint to resist, and yet, he never seems to be capable of that same control when it comes to you.
His hands were, thankfully, spared from the worst of the corruption’s wrath – his skin in-tact save for a small patch of exposed bone near the jut of his left wrist. You stir slightly as he traces aimless patterns into your waist, but your anxiety passes with time, and he waits until you’ve gone still to slip two fingers bellow the hem of your panties, dragging the thin material down just far enough to cup your sex properly. One day, he may grow brazen enough to take more time, to undress you completely and take in your body as a whole, rather than dividing it into such meager bits and pieces, but tonight, he contents himself with the slick heat of your cunt, the raspy breath you let out as he rocks the heel of his palm gently against your clit. It only takes a moment for you to reposition yourself, settling onto your back and parting your legs, making room for him in your bed where your heart remains closed. He knows nothing you could do in such a state would ever be considered intentional, but he spares a small smile as he leans forward, kissing the top of your head to the best of his limited ability. Despite himself, he cherishes the rare moments of faux-mutual intimacy he shares with you. Your mind, of course, would never let you take a walking corpse as a husband, but your body isn’t quite so discerning.
You’re sensitive, dampening quickly under his dutiful touch, and not for the first time, Capitano is reminded of why he grew to love you. He knew you were a delicate thing from the moment you were given to him – a former servant of the Tsaritsa, rewarded for your years at her beck and call with a hasty betrothal to a masked stranger and a sudden dismissal from your post. He’s sure one of the other Harbingers had something to do with it – the Doctor with his cat-like grin and morbid sense of humor, or perhaps Columbina with her warped idea of romance – but he had no reason to refuse, and you were never going to try, even if you’d been sobbing too violently to speak on your wedding day. No, he wouldn’t hear your voice until weeks into your marriage, after you’d begun to settle into your new role. Even then, you’d trembled through every word, your eyes never leaving the floor at your feet.
Your request had been a simple one – to have one of his soldiers help you bury the dead rabbit you’d found in the manor’s gardens that morning, while you were tending to your evergreens. When he mentioned that it would be difficult to bury much of anything this deep into winter, that surely the task would be better off left entirely to his soldiers, you only bowed your head. “I know,” you’d said, wringing the fabric of your skirt. “I… I don’t think they’d treat it with much care, though. I’d rather handle the poor thing myself.”
 His first visit to your bedroom would come a little more than a month later. He still fucks his fist to his memory of your expression, from time to time.
Two of his fingers slip into you with ease. Your lips part at the sudden intrusion, a high-pitched mewling sound escaping from somewhere deep in your chest as he curls his digits against your clenching walls. Upon further thought, it must’ve been the Doctor responsible for your engagement – no other Harbinger would have a sense of humor cruel enough to see such a delicate creature paired with such a beast, to know how your thighs would twitch and shake as you struggled to take his fingers and still think it to be a fitting match. He really does try to be gentle with you, but he’s still human, still at the mercy of his vices, and the way your breath hitches as he thrusts a third digit into you is worth more to him than any amount of gold or gems or angels’ song.
His free hand is braced beside your head, his wrist angled to better allow him to fuck knuckle-deep into you, but his eyes remain fixed on your face as your features scrunch and relax in turns, as your lips purse only to fall open for every little, pleasured noise that bubbles up inside of you. The loose collar of your nightgown falls off of your shoulder, and his mouth finds your exposed collarbone, tongue lapping greedily (but harmlessly, he reminds himself, harmlessly) over your chest. It’s strange, how drawn he is to you, but not unexpected. Rot always spreads the fastest when fed with fresh meat.
You arch your back, crying out as his fingers curl inside of you, and his head dips lower – latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, gently, his teeth barely grazing your skin. Your hands knead satin sheets mindlessly, and against his will, his mind drifts to how you’d look if you were ever forced to take something more substantial than his fingers, if you’d paw at his chest the same way as he eased you onto his cock. The thought alone has his digits pumping into you with a reckless sort of haste, his palm grinding sloppily against your clit until you stiffen underneath him, until your pretty cunt spasms and drips around his fingers.
Ultimately, it’s not your climax that wakes you, but his own weakness. You buck against his hand and, with a deep groan, he slips – teeth burrowing into the supple curve of your breast with just a touch more force than he’d ever used, before. His eyes dart back to your face just as yours blearily flutter open, still weighed down by sleep and clouded by exhaustion. In the place of panic, displeasure, you portray only confusion – the corner of your lips quirking downward as you struggle to make sense of the sight in front of you. It’s only as he draws back, carefully removing his hand from the space between your thighs and resuming a more dignified position, that you seem to remember how to speak. “…my lord?”
“It’s only a dream, my love.” He cups your cheek, tilting your head back and pressing another feather-light kiss into your forehead, then your cheek. “Close your eyes and rest.”
Your gaze remains fixed on him for a second longer, but with time and coaxing, you retreat back into yourself, letting your eyes close and your head lull into his hand. With an airy laugh, he lays you down, righting your nightgown and covering you with the sheets and quilts you neglected, when trusted with the task on your own.
It only takes him minutes to don his helmet and slip out of your bedroom and yet, by the time he crosses the threshold, he’s already longing for tomorrow’s visit to come all the sooner.
~
You can count the number of times you’ve sought Capitano out on a single hand. You try to limit how often you speak to him, how many reasons he has to re-think the convince of his marriage to you, but doing dangerous things is sometimes necessary. You hope that, one day, you’ll grow a bit braver and those dangerous things won’t be so hard to do, but that’s not a reality you currently live in and, thus, not a reality worth entertaining, at the moment.
(You also hope that, one day, you won’t consider it dangerous to speak to your own husband, but as you’ve already explained, fantasy is something you rarely had time for. Best not to focus on something so romantically outlandish and devote your attention to crueler truths.)
You find him in his war room of an office, where he almost always resides when he’s home. You can hear him muttering to members of his legion as you approach, but by the time you reach the doorway, they’ve been sent elsewhere – out of earshot. You’d planned to hold your composure, to meet the void where Capitano’s eyes should’ve been, but it’s one thing to plan to be daring and another to try and force yourself into the pit of endless blackness existed beneath his helmet. Ultimately, you settle for keeping your eyes narrowed at your own feet and your shoulders squared as you break the quiet.
“Good morning, my lord. I’m so sorry to bother you, but…” Suddenly, your throat feels dry, your legs unsteady. You risk a quick glance toward him, but regret it in an instant. You wish he wouldn’t wear that helmet, not at home, not around you. You’d heard that his face was no great work of art, that he’d been left scarred by some ancient battle, but it couldn’t have possibly been worse than the blankness he expects you to satiate yourself with, in place of anything more substantial. Many people had scars, but very few thought to hide them underneath such punishing masks.
You clear your throat, forcing yourself to go on. “Were you in my bedroom last night?”
His back straightens, and for a moment, you’re able to convince yourself that, if you’d been able to see his expression, he would’ve looked taken aback. “Of course not,” he says, and you take pains to convince yourself that the note of condensation you hear is simply a product of your imagination. “Why do you ask? Did something disturb you?”
You try (and fail) not to recall the distorted fragments that’d been haunting you all morning – all broken, all confused, too ungrounded to be called a memory yet too vivid to be written off entirely as a dream. A sharp pressure in the pit of your stomach, a damp heat dripping down your chest, a man with a scarred face and your husband’s voice laid over you; none of it makes sense, but you can see it in your mind clear as day, feel its realness in the soreness of your chest and the ache between your thighs. Capitano has never shown an interest in, uh, consummating your marriage, and even if he did, you would never think him capable of something like… like that. He’s a Harbinger, a leader, an honorable man – albeit, a very cold one, too. Even if he’s never been particularly kind to you, he isn’t a monster, and you would be ashamed to think of him as one.
“No, no, it was my mistake. I—I think it was just a bad dream.” You force yourself to laugh, falling into a shallow courtesy. Of course. Of course. It’d only been a dream. It was foolish of you to come to him at all. “I’m sorry to waste your time on such a petty matter, my lord.”
His solace comes in the form of a curt nod, a silent dismissal. You take that as a sign to make your escape, retreating before you can say anything else to make yourself seem paranoid and foolish.
Hopefully, tonight will prove to be more restful.
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pucksandpower · 4 months ago
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Rock and A Hard Place
Lando Norris x Reader
Summary: the aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix has your protective side clawing to the surface
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Lando trudges into his driver’s room, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. The scent of champagne clings to him, a bitter reminder of the podium celebration he’d just endured. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the world and its expectations.
You’re already there, waiting for him. Your eyes soften as you take in his dejected posture. “Hey, champ,” you say softly, approaching him with open arms.
Lando looks up, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a storm of emotions swirling in those color changing depths — disappointment, anger, and a hint of relief at seeing you. “Some champ I am,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you wrap your arms around him.
“You finished P2. That’s still amazing,” you remind him, your voice gentle but firm. Your hands move to the zipper of his race suit, slowly peeling away the champagne-soaked fabric.
Lando lets out a bitter laugh. “Second place is just the first loser, isn’t it?” He winces as he moves his arms, the physical toll of the race finally catching up with him.
You shake your head, helping him out of the suit. “That’s not true and you know it. You fought hard out there.”
“I fought, alright,” Lando agrees, his voice tinged with frustration. “Fought with the team, fought with Will, fought with Oscar ...” He trails off, shaking his head.
As you help him step out of the suit, you can feel the tension radiating off him. “Talk to me, love. What happened out there?”
Lando sinks down onto the small couch in the room, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “It was all going so well at the start. Pole position, you know? I thought ... I really thought this could be it.”
You sit beside him, your hand finding his. “And then?”
“Oscar had a better start,” Lando explains, his free hand gesticulating as he speaks. “He took the lead, and I was right behind him. We were flying, both of us. But then the team ...” He pauses, swallowing hard.
“What did the team do?” You prompt gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of his hand.
Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of hurt and confusion in them. “They told me to pit before Oscar. I undercut him, took the lead. I thought ... I thought they were backing me for the win.”
You nod, encouraging him to continue. The pain in his voice is palpable, and your heart aches for him.
“But then they started pushing for a swap,” Lando continues, his voice rising slightly. “They wanted me to give the position back to Oscar. Can you believe that? After I’d fought so hard to get there?”
“That must have been so frustrating,” you say softly, squeezing his hand.
Lando nods vigorously. “It was! I mean, I get team orders, I do. But this ... it felt like they were playing with me. One minute they’re helping me get ahead, the next they want me to give it all up.”
“Did you argue with them?” You ask, though you already know the answer from the tension in his body.
“For laps,” Lando admits, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Will probably has a headache from all my yelling. But in the end ... in the end, I had to do it. Three laps from the end, I let Oscar by.”
You lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. “That must have been a really tough decision.”
Lando’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. “It was. I ... I know it was the right thing to do for the team. But it hurts, you know? To be so close and then ...”
“And then have it slip away,” you finish for him. “I can’t imagine how that feels.”
Lando’s quiet for a moment, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. “It feels like shit, if I’m honest,” he finally says, a weak laugh escaping him.
You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “But you did it anyway. That takes a lot of strength. A lot of maturity.”
He shrugs, but you can see a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Maybe. Still doesn’t feel great, though.”
“I know,” you say, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “But I’m so proud of you. Not just for the podium, but for how you handled everything.”
Lando leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely,” you affirm. “You showed real team spirit out there. And let’s not forget, you started on pole. That’s incredible in itself.”
A small smile starts to form on Lando’s lips. “It was a pretty good qualifying, wasn’t it?”
You grin, nodding enthusiastically. “It was amazing. You were flying around that track like it was your personal playground.”
Lando’s smile grows, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I did feel pretty good yesterday. Like I could do no wrong.”
“Because you’re talented, Lando,” you remind him, your voice warm with affection. “So incredibly talented. One race doesn’t change that.”
He looks at you, his eyes softening. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”
You shrug, a playful smirk on your lips. “It’s a gift. Plus, I happen to be your biggest fan.”
Lando chuckles, the sound warming your heart. “My biggest fan, huh? I thought that was Zak.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Zak’s got nothing on me. I’ve got the inside scoop on Lando Norris.”
“Oh yeah?” Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “And what’s that?”
You lean in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “That he’s not just an incredible driver, but also the kindest, funniest, most amazing person I know.”
Lando’s cheeks flush slightly, but his eyes are bright as they meet yours. “You’re biased,” he accuses, but there’s no heat in his words.
“Guilty as charged,” you admit with a grin. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
Lando’s hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs.
“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” you reply, leaning into his touch.
For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Then Lando speaks again, his voice softer now. “You know, even with everything that happened ... standing on that podium, I couldn’t help but think about how far we’ve come. The team, I mean.”
You nod encouragingly. “It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?”
“God, yes,” Lando agrees, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Remember when getting into Q3 was a big deal? And now we’re fighting for wins, getting double podiums ...”
“It’s incredible,” you say, your voice filled with genuine awe. “You should be so proud of the part you’ve played in that.”
Lando’s quiet for a moment, considering your words. “I am,” he finally says, a note of surprise in his voice. “I really am. It’s just ... sometimes it’s hard to see the big picture.”
You nod, understanding. “That’s why you’ve got me. To remind you of how far you’ve come when you’re too close to see it yourself.”
Lando’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. “What did I do to deserve you?”
You grin up at him. “You were just you. That’s more than enough.”
Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the room temperature. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “So much.”
“I love you too,” you reply, heart swelling with affection. “Forever and ever.”
As you lean in to kiss him, you can feel the last of the tension leaving Lando’s body. The disappointment of the race isn’t forgotten, but it’s faded into the background, overshadowed by the love and support between you.
When you finally pull apart, Lando’s smiling — a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “You know,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I think I might need some help getting this champagne off me. Fancy a shower?”
You laugh, standing up and offering him your hand. “Lead the way. I hear you’re pretty good at that.”
As Lando takes your hand, his earlier frustration seems a distant memory. There will be other races, other chances for victory. But right now, in this moment, he has everything he needs — the love of his life, a promising career, and the knowledge that no matter what happens on track, he always has a home to come back to in your arms.
***
The soft glow of candlelight flickers across the table, casting dancing shadows on Lando’s face as he leans in, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. “You know,” he says, his voice low and playful, “I think I might actually be hungry enough to eat everything on this menu.”
You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Everything? Even the fish?”
Lando’s nose wrinkles, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Okay, maybe not everything. But close enough.”
The restaurant buzzes with quiet conversation around you, a contrast to the chaos of the track earlier in the day. It’s a small, intimate place, tucked away from the main streets of Budapest — a hidden gem Lando discovered during one of his previous visits to the city.
“I’m just glad we managed to sneak out without anyone recognizing us,” you say, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers with his. “It’s nice to have you all to myself for a change.”
Lando’s thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes soft in the candlelight. “Trust me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
As the waiter approaches with your drinks — a local craft beer for Lando and a colorful cocktail for you — Lando’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, a small frown creasing his brow.
“Everything okay?” You ask, concern coloring your voice.
Lando nods, but there’s a hint of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Yeah, just ... social media’s going a bit mad about the race. Some people aren’t too happy about how it played out.”
You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Hey, look at me. What matters is that you did what was best for the team. That takes real strength.”
Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of gratitude and lingering doubt in them. “I know, I just ... sometimes I wonder if I made the right call.”
Before you can respond, a loud voice cuts through the restaurant’s gentle ambiance. “Oi! Is that Lando Norris?”
Lando stiffens, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as you both turn to see a man stumbling towards your table. The strong smell of alcohol precedes him, and his eyes are slightly unfocused as he points an accusatory finger at Lando.
“It is you!” The man slurs, swaying slightly as he reaches your table. “The guy who gave up the win. What kind of racer does that, eh?”
Lando takes a deep breath, his media training kicking in as he forces a polite smile. “I’m sorry, mate, but we’re trying to have a private dinner here. Maybe we could chat another time?”
The man ignores him, his voice rising. “Nah, I wanna talk now. You know what? None of the greats would’ve done what you did today. Senna wouldn’t have moved over. Schumacher wouldn’t have. Hell, even Hamilton wouldn’t have.”
You can see Lando’s jaw clenching, his earlier good mood evaporating. “Look, I understand you’re upset, but-”
“Upset?” The man interrupts, laughing bitterly. “I’m not upset, I’m disappointed. You had a chance to prove yourself today, and you blew it. That’s why you’ll never be a world champion.”
The words hit Lando like a physical blow. You watch as he flinches, the doubt and self-recrimination from earlier flooding back into his eyes.
That’s when something inside you snaps.
You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. The restaurant goes quiet, all eyes turning to your table.
“Excuse me,” you say, your voice calm but with an edge of steel, “but I think you need to leave. Now.”
The man turns his bleary gaze on you, a sneer twisting his features. “Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?”
You step closer, your eyes flashing with anger. “I’m someone who actually understands what happened out there today. Unlike you, who’s clearly talking out of your arse.”
Lando reaches for your hand, his voice low and urgent. “It’s okay, really. Let’s just ignore him.”
But you’re not about to let this go. Not when this drunken idiot is tearing down everything Lando’s worked so hard for.
“No, it’s not okay,” you say, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “This man,” you gesture to Lando, “drove an incredible race today. He started on pole, fought hard for every position, and when it came down to it, he put his team first. That takes more courage and integrity than you could ever understand.”
The drunk fan scoffs, but you’re not finished.
“You want to talk about the greats? Let’s talk about them. Senna, Schumacher, Hamilton — they all understood the importance of teamwork. They all had races where they had to make tough decisions for the good of the team. That’s part of what made them champions.”
You’re on a roll now, your voice rising with passion. “Lando didn’t give up today. He showed exactly why he’s one of the best drivers on the grid. He proved he can make the hard calls, that he understands the bigger picture. That’s what separates the good drivers from the great ones.”
The man opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “And you know what? The fact that you can’t see that says a lot more about you than it does about Lando. A true fan, a true lover of the sport, would understand the complexity of these decisions. They’d appreciate the skill and the emotional strength involved, not just blindly demand wins at any cost.”
The restaurant is dead silent now, everyone watching the confrontation unfold. Lando’s looking at you with a mixture of awe and affection, his earlier doubts forgotten in the face of your fierce defense.
The drunk fan, however, isn’t backing down. “Oh, spare me the lecture,” he sneers. “You’re just defending him because-”
You don’t let him finish. In one swift motion, you pick up your cocktail and dump it over the man’s head.
Gasps echo through the restaurant as the colorful liquid drips down the man’s face, soaking into his shirt. For a moment, he stands there in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“I think,” you say, your voice cold, “that you need to leave.”
The man splutters, wiping ineffectually at his face. “You ... you can’t ...”
“She can, and she did,” Lando says, standing up to join you. There’s a new confidence in his posture, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “And she’s right. About everything.”
The restaurant manager appears then, flanked by two burly waiters. “Sir,” he says to the drunk fan, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We don’t tolerate harassment of our guests.”
As the man is escorted out, still muttering under his breath, the tension in the room gradually dissipates. A few nearby diners even break into applause, offering you supportive smiles.
Lando turns to you, his eyes shining with a mixture of love and admiration. “That was ... wow. Just wow.”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, the adrenaline of the moment starting to fade. “I’m sorry if I made a scene. I just couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”
Lando shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Are you kidding? That was incredible. I’ve never had anyone defend me like that before.”
The manager approaches your table, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that incident. Please, allow us to comp your meal and offer you a bottle of our finest champagne.”
Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say? Fancy celebrating for a change?”
You laugh, the last of the tension leaving your body. “Absolutely. Though maybe I should stick to water from now on. I seem to have misplaced my cocktail.”
As you settle back into your seats, the other diners returning to their own conversations, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand again.
“Thank you,” he says softly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “Not just for what you said to that guy, but for believing in me. Even when I struggle to believe in myself sometimes.”
You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Always. You’re an incredible driver. But more than that, you’re an incredible person. That’s what I love most about you.”
Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through his chest that has nothing to do with the candlelight or the promise of champagne. “I love you too. More than I can put into words.”
As the waiter arrives with a bottle of champagne and fresh glasses, you raise your glass in a toast. “To Lando Norris,” you say, your voice full of pride, “future world champion and the best teammate anyone could ask for — on and off the track.”
Lando clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “And to you,” he adds, “my fiercest defender and the love of my life.”
As you sip your champagne, the earlier incident fades into the background. What remains is the warmth of your love for each other, the pride in what you’ve accomplished together, and the excitement for all that’s still to come.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter, good food, and quiet moments of affection. By the time you leave the restaurant, hand-in-hand, the difficulties of the race day seem like a distant memory.
As you walk back to the hotel, Lando pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You know,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “I think I might need to hire you as my official defender. You’re much scarier than any PR team.”
You laugh, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “Please, as if you could afford me.”
Lando grins, his arm tightening around you. “Oh, I think I could manage. How does a lifetime contract sound? All expenses paid, of course.”
Your heart skips a beat at the implication behind his words. “A lifetime, huh? That’s a pretty long time.”
Lando stops walking, turning to face you. In the soft glow of the streetlights, his eyes are full of love and certainty. “Not nearly long enough, if you ask me.”
***
The bedside lamp casts a dim light across the hotel room. Lando’s arm is draped lazily over your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you both bask in the comfortable silence. The events of the day seem far away now, eclipsed by the simple pleasure of being together.
“I think,” Lando murmurs, his voice heavy with contentment, “this might be my favorite part of race weekends.”
You turn slightly to face him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Even better than qualifying on pole?”
Lando grins, pulling you closer. “Well, maybe it’s a close second. But only because I get to do this every single night.”
You’re about to reply when Lando’s phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating with an incoming call. Lando groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “If that’s Andrea calling to debrief again, I swear ...”
But as he reaches for the phone, his eyes widen in surprise. “That’s ... weird.”
“What is it?” You ask, curiosity piqued by his reaction.
“It’s ... it’s Seb,” Lando says, his voice a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Sebastian Vettel.”
Before you can respond, Lando fumbles with the phone, his usual dexterity deserting him in his surprise. Somehow, he manages to not only drop the phone but also lose his balance, tumbling out of the bed with a yelp.
You can’t help but laugh as Lando scrambles on the floor, trying to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. “Hello? Seb?” He says breathlessly, still tangled in the bedsheets.
“Lando?” Sebastian’s familiar voice comes through the speaker, tinged with amusement. “Are you alright? It sounded like you were wrestling a bear there for a moment.”
Lando’s face flushes as he rights himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. “No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh, dropped the phone. Bit surprised to hear from you, to be honest.”
You scoot closer, curious about this unexpected call. Sebastian rarely reached out unless he was attending a race, which had become a once-a-season occurrence since his retirement.
“I can imagine,” Sebastian chuckles. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”
“No, not at all,” Lando assures him, even as you playfully poke his side. “What’s up, Seb?”
There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone becoming more serious. “I watched the race today. Quite a day you had, wasn’t it?”
Lando’s shoulders tense slightly, the memories of the race and its aftermath flooding back. “Yeah, it was ... intense.”
“I can imagine,” Sebastian says, his voice softening with understanding. “Team orders are never easy to deal with, especially when you’re fighting for the win.”
Lando nods, even though Sebastian can’t see him. “It’s just ... I don’t know. Part of me feels like I should have fought harder, you know? Maybe I gave in too easily.”
There’s a gentle sigh from Sebastian’s end. “Do you remember Multi 21?”
Lando’s brow furrows in confusion. “The incident with you and Mark Webber? At Malaysia in 2013?”
“That’s the one,” Sebastian confirms. “I was in a similar position to you today, but I made a different choice. And I want to talk to you about it, if that’s okay.”
Lando’s eyes widen, and he quickly puts the phone on speaker so you can hear too. “Of course, Seb. I’d really appreciate that.”
Sebastian’s voice fills the room, carrying the weight of experience. “Back then, I was young, hungry for success. When the team told me to hold position behind Mark, I ... well, I ignored them. I overtook him and won the race.”
“I remember watching that,” Lando says softly. “It was a big deal at the time.”
“It was,” Sebastian agrees. “And you know what? In the moment, it felt amazing. I won, I had proven I was the faster driver. But looking back now, I realize it came at a cost.”
You watch as Lando leans forward, hanging on Sebastian’s every word. “What do you mean?” He asks.
“It damaged the team’s trust in me,” Sebastian explains. “It strained my relationship with Mark, with the engineers, even with some of the fans. And more than that, it ... it wasn’t the right thing to do.”
Lando’s quiet for a moment, processing this. “But you were racing. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Fight for every position?”
Sebastian’s laugh is gentle, understanding. “That’s what I told myself at the time. But being part of a team means sometimes putting the team’s needs above your own desires. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to apply in the heat of the moment.”
“So you think I made the right call today?” Lando asks, a hint of hope in his voice.
“I think you showed incredible maturity and team spirit,” Sebastian says firmly. “It’s not easy to give up a potential win, especially when you’re in the position to fight for it. But by doing so, you’ve strengthened your team, shown your commitment to the bigger picture.”
You can see Lando’s shoulders relaxing as Sebastian speaks, some of the doubt from earlier melting away.
“But what about the championship?” Lando asks. “Every point counts, and I gave up quite a few today.”
Sebastian’s voice takes on a thoughtful tone. “Championships aren’t won or lost in a single race. They’re built on consistency, on the strength of the team as a whole. What you did today? That builds the kind of trust and respect within a team that can carry you through an entire season.”
Lando nods slowly, his fingers intertwining with yours as he listens. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“Plus,” Sebastian adds, a smile evident in his voice, “there’s something to be said for karma in this sport. The goodwill you build up? It has a way of coming back around when you least expect it.”
“You really think so?” Lando asks, a hint of his usual optimism creeping back into his voice.
“I know so,” Sebastian assures him. “I’ve seen it happen time and time again. The drivers who put the team first, who understand the bigger picture? They’re the ones who end up with long, successful careers. They’re the ones who become true champions.”
You squeeze Lando’s hand, seeing the impact Sebastian’s words are having on him.
“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says, his voice thick with emotion. “I really appreciate you calling. It means a lot.”
“Anytime, Lando,” Sebastian replies warmly. “We’ve all been where you are. It’s important to support each other in this crazy world of Formula 1.”
There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone lighter. “Now, I hope you’re not spending the whole night dwelling on this. You’re in Budapest, after all. Beautiful city. Plenty to celebrate.”
Lando chuckles, some of his usual cheerfulness returning. “Don’t worry, we’ve been making the most of it. Even had a bit of excitement at dinner.”
“Oh?” Sebastian’s curiosity is piqued. “Do tell.”
Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s just say my girlfriend has a mean cocktail toss.”
You can’t help but laugh as Lando recounts the incident at the restaurant, Sebastian’s warm laughter joining yours through the phone.
“Sounds like you’ve found yourself a keeper there,” Sebastian says, his voice full of amusement and approval. “Don’t let that one go.”
Lando’s eyes meet yours. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to.”
As the call winds down, Sebastian’s tone becomes serious once more. “Remember, Lando. What you did today? That’s the mark of a true champion. Keep that spirit, that integrity, and you’ll go far in this sport. And in life.”
“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says softly. “Really, thank you.”
After they say their goodbyes and Lando hangs up, he sits there for a moment, still processing the conversation. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“You okay?” You ask gently.
Lando nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Actually, I’m better than okay. That was ... wow. I can’t believe Seb called just to talk about that.”
“He clearly thinks highly of you,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “And he’s right, you know. What you did today? It was pretty amazing.”
Lando turns to face you, his eyes shining with renewed confidence. “You know what? It was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still want to win. But maybe ... maybe there’s more than one way to be a champion.”
You smile, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s my Lando.”
As you both settle back into bed, Lando pulls you close, his voice soft in the darkness. “Thank you for being here through all of this. For defending me, for supporting me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You snuggle closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “You’d probably still be on the floor after falling out of bed,” you tease gently.
Lando’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Probably. Good thing I’ve got you to keep me grounded, then.”
***
The early morning sunlight streams through the large windows of the hotel’s breakfast area, shining over the scattered tables. The room buzzes with the quiet chatter of guests and the clink of cutlery against plates. At a corner table, a group of McLaren team members are huddled together, their conversation animated despite the early hour.
You spot them as you enter, your eyes immediately drawn to Will Joseph, Lando’s race engineer. He’s gesturing with a piece of toast, apparently deep in discussion about yesterday’s race. For a moment, you consider joining Lando for breakfast in your room, but the memory of Will’s voice over the team radio, pushing Lando to give up his position, makes you change course.
With a bright smile fixed on your face, you approach the table. “Good morning, everyone!” You say cheerfully, your voice causing the group to look up in surprise.
Will’s eyebrows raise slightly as he recognizes you. “Oh, good morning,” he replies, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Lando not with you?”
You shake your head, your smile never wavering. “He’s still getting ready. I thought I’d come down and grab us some coffee.” Your eyes lock onto Will’s. “Mind if I borrow you for a moment? I’d love to chat about yesterday’s race.”
The other team members exchange glances, sensing the underlying tension despite your cheerful demeanor. Will hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course, no problem.”
As Will stands to follow you to a nearby empty table, you turn to the others. “I promise I’ll return him in one piece,” you say with a wink, eliciting nervous chuckles from the group.
Once seated at the new table, you lean forward, your elbows resting on the surface, fingers interlaced. Your smile remains, but there’s a steely glint in your eyes that makes Will shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“So, Will,” you begin, your voice light and conversational, “quite a race yesterday, wasn’t it?”
Will nods, his posture stiff. “Yes, it was. A great result for the team, all things considered.”
“Mmm, indeed,” you agree, your head tilting slightly to one side. “A double podium. That’s certainly something to celebrate.” You pause, your smile growing a fraction wider. “Of course, it could have been even better, couldn’t it?”
Will’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Well, in racing, there’s always room for improvement, but-”
“Oh, I’m not talking about the racing, Will,” you interrupt smoothly. “I’m talking about your performance.”
Confusion flickers across Will’s face. “My performance?”
You nod, your expression one of exaggerated sympathy. “Your radio communications, to be specific. You know, I couldn’t help but notice how ... persistent you were with Lando yesterday.”
Will’s shoulders tense visibly. “I was just relaying the team’s strategy-”
“Were you?” You ask, your voice dripping with false innocence. “Because from where I was standing, it sounded an awful lot like emotional manipulation.”
Will’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up his neck. “ I... that wasn’t my intention at all. I was just doing my job.”
You lean back in your chair, your smile never faltering. “Your job is to support Lando, to help him perform at his best. Not to badger him into submission when he’s fighting for a win.”
“The team decision was-” Will starts, but you cut him off again.
“The team decision is one thing, Will. How you communicate that decision is another entirely.” Your voice drops lower, the cheerfulness giving way to a steely edge. “Do you have any idea what it does to Lando when you push him like that? When you make him doubt himself in the middle of a race?”
Will shifts uncomfortably, his breakfast forgotten. “I never meant to-”
“Of course you didn’t,” you say, your smile returning full force. “Which is why we’re having this little chat. So you can make sure it never happens again.”
Will’s brow furrows. “Are you ... are you threatening me?”
You laugh, the sound light and airy, completely at odds with the intensity of your gaze. “Threatening? Oh, Will, don’t be silly. I’m just having a friendly conversation with my boyfriend’s colleague. I’m simply pointing out that if I ever hear you speaking to Lando like that again, well ...” You pause, your smile widening to show teeth. “Let’s just say I can be very creative when it comes to protecting the people I love.”
Will swallows hard, his face pale. “I ... I understand.”
You clap your hands together, the sound making Will jump slightly. “Wonderful! I’m so glad we had this chat. It’s so important for the team to be on the same page, don’t you think?”
Before Will can respond, you stand up, your cheerful demeanor back in full force. “Well, I should get back to Lando. He’ll be wondering where his coffee is. Have a great day, Will!”
As you turn to leave, you pause, looking back over your shoulder. “Oh, and Will? Remember, Lando’s not just a driver. He’s a person. A brilliant, talented person who deserves respect and support. I trust you’ll keep that in mind next time you’re on the radio with him.”
With a final, dazzling smile, you walk away, leaving a stunned Will staring after you.
As you make your way to the coffee station, you can’t help but overhear snippets of conversation from the McLaren table.
“What was that about?” One of the engineers asks Will as he returns, looking slightly shell-shocked.
Will shakes his head, reaching for his water glass with a slightly trembling hand. “Just a friendly chat,” he mutters, his voice lacking conviction.
You smile to yourself as you pour two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to Lando’s just the way he likes it. As you head back to your room, you can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It might have been a bit dramatic, but if it means Lando gets the support he deserves on track, it’s worth it.
When you enter the room, Lando’s just finishing getting dressed, his hair still damp from the shower. He looks up as you enter, a warm smile spreading across his face.
“There you are,” he says, crossing the room to take one of the coffee cups from you. “I was starting to think you’d got lost on the way to the breakfast buffet.”
You laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just ran into some of the team downstairs. Thought I’d say good morning.”
Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Oh yeah? Anyone in particular?”
You shrug, your expression innocent. “Oh, you know, just the usual suspects. Will was there.”
Lando’s eyes narrow slightly. “Will, huh? And how was that?”
“Oh, you know,” you say airily, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just a friendly chat. Nothing to worry about.”
Lando studies you for a moment, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story?”
You set your coffee down and wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Because you know me too well. But trust me, it’s nothing bad. I just ... may have had a little talk with Will about how he communicates with you during races.”
Lando’s eyes widen. “You didn’t ...”
“I did,” you confirm, your tone unapologetic. “Someone needed to say something. The way he was pushing you yesterday, it wasn’t right.”
For a moment, Lando looks torn between embarrassment and gratitude. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “You really are my fiercest defender, aren’t you?”
You grin, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of his hair. “Someone’s got to look out for you out there.”
Lando shakes his head, but his eyes are soft with affection. “You know I can fight my own battles, right?”
“Of course you can,” you agree. “But that doesn’t mean you have to fight them alone. We’re a team, remember?”
Lando pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, we are. The best team.”
As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you can’t help but feel a surge of love and protectiveness. You know Lando is more than capable of handling himself, both on and off the track. But if you can make things even a little bit easier for him, if you can ensure he gets the support and respect he deserves, then you’ll do whatever it takes.
Because at the end of the day, that’s what love is. It’s standing up for each other, supporting each other, and facing the world together — whether that world is the circuits of Formula 1 or the quiet moments in a hotel room.
And as Lando looks at you, his eyes full of love and gratitude, you know you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Because he’s worth it. He’s worth everything.
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leclerc-hs · 1 year ago
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Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: anon request 'Charles flying to see his lover in another country but getting so needy he ends up fucking her in the hallway of her apartment on the floor.' Warnings: smut, 18+, spitting, unprotected sex Word Count: 1,239 Author's Note: please comment any thoughts!!! I love hearing feedback. I had fun writing this!! Hopefully it's up to your standards. I'm still new at this whole writing thing. BUT ANYWAYS CHARLES P2!!! BITTERSWEET END TO THE SEASON. CAN'T BELIEVE ITS OVER. TIME TO TOSS THE SF-23 IN THE TRASH!!!!!! French edits made by @shewantsvengeance!!!!
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
CHARLES WAS NOT a particularly needy person. In fact, one would say that he tended to be self-sufficient and independent. But when he was needy, he was needy. And quite demanding too.
He wasn’t supposed to be home for another two days, but he couldn’t bear the idea of having to wait longer.
For three long weeks, the absence of your touch weighed heavily on him. Your inability to attend the races due to work in the past few weeks had taken a toll, unraveled his composure and pushed him to the brink of madness.
Which is how he found himself standing in front of your door in the middle of the night, urgently pounding his knuckles into it. A suitcase at his side, and his hair disheveled. He was already hard. He hasn’t even seen you yet, and he could already feel the blood rushing to his cock.
You could barely unlock the door before feeling him push it open and slamming it shut, leaving his suitcase abandoned in the hallway of the apartment building – long forgotten in the heat of the moment. 
He was so needy. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t even wait to go down the hallway to the bedroom.
His lips immediately pressing into yours as he pulled you into him.
“Bébé, I need to feel you,” He groaned in between kisses, pushing you up on top of the table in the entry way of your apartment. His hands exploring every inch they could find, kissing and biting into your skin with intense desire. He repeatedly brushed himself up against your lace covered core, letting you feel just how hard he was. How much he wanted you. How much he needed you.
It was almost too easy. You were only in a silk robe, with lace underwear and a thin tank top.
“Charles,” you moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers slip past the lace to rub your clit in soft circles. You gazed up at him as he hastily pulled down your spaghetti strap tank top, allowing your breasts to spill over the fabric. His other hand immediately pinching your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger.
The attack of his hands on your nipples and your clit was enough to send you over the edge quickly. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Like it was his. Because it is.
“So fucking hot,” Charles groaned as he watched the lace of your lace underwear dampen from your orgasm. “Missed you so much baby,” he leans over to press his lips to yours amidst your moans.
Your hands roamed his body, which was still mostly clothed, aside from his sweats half shoved down. Too impatient to fully get undressed. You glanced down at his cock; it was smooth, and you could see the precum dripping from it. Poor baby, you thought.
“I need you,” you squeezed his biceps as Charles stood up straighter and looked down at you.
His gaze darkened, and you could feel it penetrating your soul. It carried a possessive intensity. His left hand firmly gripped your hip, anchoring you to the small entryway table. He stood between your legs, leaving them spread completely.
“Gonna take all of me like a good girl, right?” He mocked as he aligned himself with your entrance. He didn’t push in right away, just held it there as he stared down at you pressed against the table. Like you were his own personal feast. 
You couldn’t find the words. All you could do was nod your head eagerly.
“Look at you,” his fingers rolled one of your nipples between them slowly, “my sweet little girl just waiting to be fucked hard until you cum all over my cock.”
“Please,” you begged. You were not against begging. Especially if it meant you could finally feel him. You couldn’t slip out another beg before he pushed himself right into you. The burning stretch eliciting moans from both of you.
“Merde,” he hissed. The squeeze of you on his cock was heavenly. “So warm, ma chérie” He was ravaging you now. There was something different with Charles tonight, not by much – but a slight difference. He was more urgent and eager than normal. Like you would disappear into thin air if he didn’t grip your hips so tightly. 
His gaze never faltered from yours as his hips rocked into yours aggressively. The room was full of breathy moans and the entry level table banging into the wall along with each thrust of Charles hips into you. 
The force of his hips sent the small white lamp tumbling to the floor, shattering it no doubt. Neither of you bothered to glance at it. Too unraveled in each other. It was as if you didn’t even hear the lamp break.
One of your hands grasped your knee closer to your chest, while the other gripped onto Charles bicep of the arm that pressed into your neck. His hand squeezing your neck ever so slightly with just the right amount of pressure.  
“Charles, I’m going to,” you didn’t even finish your sentence before he cut you off.
“Yeah? Again? That quick?” He was so fucking cocky. “Open up for me, baby.” 
You didn’t even have to question what he meant. Instantly opening your mouth, he spit a string of his saliva into your mouth. His eyes burning into your soul. You felt your pussy clench around his cock at the feeling of his saliva hit your tongue.
“Fuck. Your tight pussy can barely fit me, huh?” It was so tight. Charles could feel himself shuttering at the feeling. “Need to stretch you out. Three weeks was too long?” His hips were faltering with each thrust as he felt himself edging closer to his orgasm.
A sound similar to a sob claws out your throat as his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. Over and over and over. 
“Please, I need to,” you were a whimpering mess. Charles found it so endearing how hard you would try to wait for his permission. 
“Not yet,” You thought you could cry on the spot. Until he yanked you off the table and onto the floor. You now straddling him.
“Rub that pretty pussy all over me baby,” He was leaned up on his two arms, looking at you with an eyebrow cocked and smirk. “Get yourself there.”
You felt yourself immediately working yourself over his cock. His eyes were all over the place. Looking at your face, the bounce of your breasts, and the way he disappears into you. The position driving him much deeper than before and the feeling of your clit brushing against him was too much.
It was like he knew. Knew all the signs that you were there. “Oui, mon amour,” he replied, “let me feel you.”
It was only a few more strokes before you felt yourself cumming all over Charles. The sound of your moans getting choked up as you pulled Charles up closer and pulled his lips to yours. 
He quickly rolled over you, pulling out and releasing all over your tank top, some hitting your breasts. 
You were exhausted, a limp pile of bones, as you felt him collapse down onto you. Not even caring that his cum was all over you both now. He just wanted to be close to you. 
You were smiling hard up at him. Soft laughs were now leaving your mouth, “Guess I should buy a new lamp.”
He scooped you up and carried you to the bed. The bed he couldn’t make it to earlier.
“Unless you want another lamp to break, let’s not bother.” 
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srslyblvck · 3 months ago
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in my arms, five hargreeves
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pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader
synopsis: In the chaos, you break down, and Five comforts you, giving you new hope.
genre: angst, hurt-comfort, fluff
warnings: mental breakdown
author's note: this is to cope with the ending of tua s4 cuz idt i will be recovering from that anytime soon lmao
word count: 0.5k
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE WORLD WAS ENDING. Again.
You had lost count of how many apocalypses you and the rest of the Umbrella Academy had thwarted. Each one had left you more exhausted, more broken than the last. The constant fighting, the never-ending chaos, and the relentless pressure to save the world were taking their toll. There was no time to rest, no time to heal. Just fight, survive, and then do it all over again.
But this time, it was different. You could feel it in your bones. The hopelessness, the crushing weight of responsibility—it was all too much. You had always prided yourself on being strong, on never showing weakness. But now, standing in the ruins of yet another battle, you felt yourself breaking.
The others were scattered, each dealing with their own demons. But you couldn't keep going. Not like this. You sank to the ground, tears streaming down your face as the overwhelming sense of despair consumed you. You had tried so hard, fought so long, but it never seemed to be enough.
You didn't hear Five approach. He had always been the enigma, the one who seemed to have everything under control. You and he had clashed countless times, your arguments as fierce as the battles you fought. But now, as he knelt beside you, all the animosity seemed to fade away.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual edge. "What's going on?"
You couldn't bring yourself to look at him. "I can't do it anymore," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't keep saving the world. It's too much. I'm tired, Five. I'm so tired."
He was silent for a moment, then moved closer, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace that was surprisingly gentle. You stiffened at first, not used to this side of him, but then you let yourself relax into his arms. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I know," he murmured, his hand rubbing your back in soothing circles. "I know it's hard. But you don't have to carry this burden alone."
You shook your head, the words spilling out between sobs. "I don't want to let everyone down. But I'm losing hope, Five. Everything is in chaos, and I can't… I can't keep pretending I'm okay."
Five tightened his grip on you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You're not letting anyone down. You're human. You're allowed to feel this way. We've been through hell, and it's okay to break sometimes."
You clung to him, his words offering a glimmer of comfort amidst the darkness. For so long, you had believed that showing weakness was a sign of failure. But now, in Five's arms, you realized that maybe it was okay to let someone else in, to let them help carry the weight.
The chaos around you seemed to fade as you cried, Five's presence grounding you in a way you hadn't thought possible. He held you tightly, his hand gently stroking your hair. It was a side of him you had never seen before, and it made you feel a strange sense of comfort amidst the pain.
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, but for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope. Not for the past, but for the future. Because as long as you had Five by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.
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anantaru · 1 year ago
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EX HUSBAND NEUVILLETTE
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— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband neuvillette headcanons
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, fluff, crack lmao, he‘s trying his best, very rough like he’s feral!!!!, fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, but the sweetest man, a little possessive without him realising
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ex! husband neuvillette, who— as was wildly anticipated, would not instantly vanish from your life nor leave you stranded alone beside the mental toll that a separation would leave on the both of you— even after the grief-stricken divorce was at last, ultimately finalized and carried out.
ex! husband neuvillette who thought that— with the fullness of his devastated heart, that in his own very eyes, it was beyond a doubt commonplace to aid and assist his ex-wife in the so called "aftermath" of your troubling divorce, whilst more urgently, be in no qualms that you're being cared for with everything and anything you could possible need.
ex! husband neuvillette, who of course, would double check with you to not suddenly overstep any boundaries or take up space that you might need— yet bare in mind, if you were to ask him for help on any matter really, he'd immediately leave everything behind to fulfill your wishes first, considering he is used to it, but the man will tend to forget about his own personal needs which he needed so he could function properly— yet now with you out of the picture, walking back to his current reality was becoming a taxing task.
ex! husband neuvillette, who, aside from his own separate challenges and demands, would never dare to cast aside his important work of practically running the nation of hydro. much obliged, he was a prestigious, praiseworthy man, thus the reason for him to pull more effort and sleepless nights into his occupation.
ex! husband neuvillette who couldn't believe that you both were divorced in the first place because in all seriousness, there wasn't much changing and aside from a couple instances, for example that he wasn't seeing you frequently, it felt the same way to him.
ex! husband neuvillette who, after a couple weeks into your divorce, will suddenly become a little more distant, not responding to letters you would occasionally send to make sure he was okay— with the immediate turbulent, overcast weather in fontaine adding to the closing eeriness of the entire situation. it's constant, clouded and gray, a mirage of cold rain and an incoming storm, and the people of fontaine will begin to question what had happened or if it was simply an unlucky past couple of weeks.
ex! husband neuvillette who doesn't like the idea of divorce, as might be expected he understands it, but in his own regard, he does not approve of it, but he accepts it— additionally, he wouldn't force you to stay with him, again, why he had agreed on it in the first place. the man would lie to himself if he'd say that it doesn't break his heart, the unclouded thought of wholly erasing the person he referred to as his 'wife' off his entire life was a frightening pondering.
ex! husband neuvillette wasn't willing to accept it, ever, but he did it for your sake and the small possibility of you becoming close again, in the future? perhaps, he was willing to wait endlessly, condemning himself to a lifetime in darkness, knowing full on well that his most desired dream to reconcile arguably wouldn't come true— on top of that, after careful, deep talks on how to properly navigate your divorce and being separated from now on, you have both ultimately agreed on remaining 'friends' in a sense, such was easy to state of course but you longed to make the best out of it, or at least try.
ex! husband neuvillette who will against all odds, still keep his wedding ring put on its designated place. granted, he had gotten quite accustomed to the feeling of it being wrapped around his finger and doesn't want to take it off. if you do decide to ask him about it, given that you aren't wearing yours anymore, he will plainly state that he got used to it way too much and it had grown on him, really, becoming a part of his person so ultimately taking it off would result in the same as him severing a limb off his body.
ex! husband neuvillette who still calls you his wife unintentionally, in the beginning of the first couple of weeks, it will happen almost all the time. be that as it may, he doesn't do it on purpose to somehow hurt you or make you uncomfortable, and he was aware of the fact that he needed to get accustomed to the feeling of being single again, of not being married anymore but calling you his wife just warmths his chest and hugs him from inside and out.
ex! husband neuvillette bets on it, it's like his whole day could be stacked with work on end, without a second of tranquility in sight, rain droplets covering the nation of hydro, but when he thinks about you, only you, a smile coruscates over his soft lips, increasing his heart beat, it's all so painful but he wouldn't want it any other way because nothing, and he emphasizes it deeply, nothing would be as painful as having you gone form his life.
ex! husband neuvillette who, and pay attention now, this would only happen if his strong, rational thinking skills and durable emotions towards keeping the laws of this world truthful were somewhat altered in an instance of weakness, but he would adore to throw and punish every new person you would date after him behind bars, yet not before properly dragging them to a trail that they cannot win, for him to look down on them— again, it's a small fantasy he wouldn't bring into life, he honored his noble work.
ex! husband neuvillette who knows that even day dreaming about such wrongful ideas were full of holes and malice, yet beyond it, he keeps himself restrained in not interfering in your new relationships— which he had thought must be a lot, you could say he believed that you were already out and about in the dating world, overthinking the worst out of all possibilities that could happen.
ex! husband neuvillette who will oftentimes send the melusines out to check up on you and tell him how you're doing— no, don't misunderstand, he doesn't want to know if you were dating again, he wouldn't, after all, this was your personal life and he wasn't your husband anymore. but then again, surely checking every now and then wouldn't hurt a soul, right?
ex! husband neuvillette will send you freshly picked flowers frequently, or have your favorite dish made by a professional chef. how can i forget to mention that he tends to buy a small, cute souvenir that would remind him of you and send it your way instantly. at how things were slowly progressing, the man will be quite embarrassed in facing you again, granted that you had promised to remain friends, he fears that the constant raining and pouring around fontaine would make it desperately obvious on how he was truly feeling, what can there be left anyways, nothing but the untouchable part of him, his aching soul begging for closeness.
but ex! husband neuvillette does not want to trouble you, fearing he might become overbearing in his doings, but he misses you, this time it's more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. he longes for a moment where he can see and feel you again, his mind circling through emotions and pondering, sinful dreams stitching his psyche together and calming down his heart.
ex! husband neuvillette who will be surprised, yet overly thrilled as if he was about to jump off his chair, when you ask the sweet melusines to hand him over a letter— the scent of the thin paper reminding him of your fragrance, a similar one he noticed whenever he kissed your neck. beyond question, they couldn't have told him fast enough, he finishes up the necessary work load for the day, at once forging ahead to your once shared house. you know it by now but he does not falter, he wants this to be perfect, carefully picking up a bouquet of flowers, with the flowers in questions being the very ones that have been decorating your wedding venue back in the day, oh sweet memories, he hopes he doesn't come off as crazy.
ex! husband neuvillette who tries to play it cool, it's not a big deal, but why were his hands sweating? his breathing was fast too, burgeoning, each following step towards your home, his limbs and muscles would begin to tremble, it's evident and almost aflame, but the weather has been nice again all of a sudden, for once in fontaine and he couldn't wait to see you.
ex! husband neuvillette who cannot say anything when you open the door for him, all these miles with the memories of your passionate time together pouring back into his mind. it's silly, but so real, and there was a silence, although not of an uncomfortable kind, it was overthrowing the hefty atmosphere.
and honestly, you think ex! husband neuvillette was cute when he was all overwhelmed and bereft of speech, even cuter when he’s silently walking past the door, your hands slowly wrapping around the bouquet of flowers to place them aside, on top of a wooden drawer before panning your eyes back into his grasp— which was his piercing, conquering gaze.
you could perceive the cutting tautness, how the reinforced pressure alone couldn't be torn, not with a sharp knife, no sword, no blade, because forthrightly— there wasn't anything on this planet that was able to part this emerging and crashing body chemistry.
all fairness to the situation— your captivation was off the charts, two people unable to coexist while parted, searching within your souls to understand what was happening. yet then it hit you, that maybe— heavily placed on a single maybe, that there might've been a cruel mistake in how things ended between you both;
or did they end?
because like a bullet piercing through soft flesh, it gave the impression away as if you were both moving closer to your sweet frames until you could clearly feel his warm, clothed chest pushed against your own— hopeful eyes remained locked within your gazes as you carefully slide your hands behind his neck without breaking his stares.
ex! husband neuvillette whose breathing was all fast and hasty, yet much swifter was his never ending intention to kiss you again and taste your lips in the process, he cannot stop himself anymore, but he must— for some reason, he cannot fathom that this might be reality and that you both would have a second chance in this life after all.
"kiss me." you suddenly whisper, eyes aglow with his own enlarging at the nervous utterance, subtle touches weaving together and showing your open truths.
ex! husband neuvillette feels how tense he has gotten and tries to relax— on top of that, he was reminiscing about the past and the bare memories of your writhing body splayed under his large one, his entire weight on top of you, just the whisper of his sinful imagination made his mouth water— he truly believes he was in fact dreaming right now, especially when you tell him to kiss him again.
there were no thoughts to process anymore, no focus he could grasp on to remain clearness— what was left were true, unfaltering desires and the scalding pain of waiting. that‘s when you kiss him instead, his body immediately welcoming your fervid warmth, pulling his head towards your own in a heart beat.
ex! husband neuvillette felt a heavy hardship being lifted off his shoulders the moment your lips touch his, and each one of the words he had planned to spell out to you, they form into a sting that was beating into his heart, repeatedly, the sharp stitches seeping into his veins slowly. and he refuses to cry in front of you, or expose to you that everything that had happened after your separation was covered in nothing but a silent numbness.
swallowing the lump in his throat, ex! husband neuvillette guides you to the bedroom, it was hard to decipher what was real or not, each motion of your lips rounding across his own felt like he was dreaming the most beautiful dream of them all. the whisper of cold air brushes across your bodies when he opens the door to the cold room, his own imagination going wild when he peeks at the neatly made bed, or the wooden drawer next to it, still having your wedding picture on display.
ex! husband neuvillette who takes his time in undressing you, the fear of someone taking you away from him again, even now, was still there and he wanted, no, needed to relish in this as good as possible. neuvillette wets his lips, nervous, "my love.. are you sure about this?" and he hesitated for a second— but when you tug at his own sleeves now, fondling with the expensive garment, nodding your head and expertly wrapping your digits into the thin fabric to help him out of it, he knows you wanted it as badly as he did, popping his arms back so you could pull his coat down, your mouth twisting into a subtle smile.
ex! husband neuvillette who touches you featherlight, slowly parting your legs to settle in between, and butterflies expand in your belly when you admire his beauty from up close again, his muscles twitching when you decide to lightly graze his skin with your fingertips, smoothly sliding over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. 
ex! husband neuvillette who could honestly cry the moment he first slides his cock into you again, kissing you again and again, more deeply, more feral and in need before licking into your mouth, leaving his large hand to wander down to the plush of your ass and push you into the mattress when he first bottoms out of you. you're so warm, wet and comfortable while you're clamping down on him. and neuvillette pistols his hips like an electric light, hoping he'd be able to hit so deep inside your warm cunt till you practically feel him stir up your guts.
and a moan slowly builds up in your throat as your tits brush against his strong chest— whilst neuvillette places a delicious, fast pace on you, the bare strength of his thrusts making the headboard bounce back and forth the wall as he nibbles on your bottom lip while fucking his cock into you, your gummy walls squelching at each well received pump.
ex! husband neuvillette who roughly palms your tits and plays with your nipples with his hips moving in a feral tempo— whilst those breathy, wet pleas of your name, the ones he whispered against your ear, evolve into gluttonous, hungry groans, whilst the thought about losing all of this made it more difficult for him to say anything at all, his throat acting as a trap for that one sentence he intended to spell out, the sound of it awaiting to break free— but the nervousness couldn't be surpassed as he takes a hold of your hand, desperately clutching on it before grinding his erection back into you, a pulse surging through the entirety of your walls.
ex! husband neuvillette who finds it mesmerizing on how you were so responsive to his every nibble and touch, his thudding cock diving between your legs while he fists your tits in his warm hand, your lips parting with cries and begs while meeting his hungry pace.
his hips, much bigger than yours, keep hitting into you, a lustful gaze on your facial expression clouding your mind as he makes you feel so unbelievably good, soaking your sheets as you kiss him, famished and hot, feeling his needy grunts exhaling through his lips as you clench down hard, gazes meeting once and for all, "i love you." you say, almost cry it out, and neuvillette wanted to be patient with you, claim your body to its full exhaustion afterwards, but not now, he cannot keep his cool this time— not anymore, not after you said those very three words he wasn't able to utter out all night.
you're truly driving him insane, and his body was pressing hotly against yours as you wiggle and writhe under him, puppy eyes watching him please you from under your lashes while you’re requiring more of his cock in you, please please, you say, your pussy clamping around his girth and milking him for good.
ex! husband neuvillette who tells you, "i love you too, i love you too.." in quick, fast paced syllables, and the burning veins in his body turn numb when you begin to cry out of joy and pleasure, hastily pushing your heels into his back to signal him to fuck you harder as he pounds away into your creamy pussy, dragging his hard erection along your sore walls and burning pleasure spots.
now— your nails simmer over his defined back, both sweetly indulging in each others company and the feeling of being one again, nothing else but solid, fast paced pleasure which was turning him on, so fucking much, his breathing puffed and winded, throwing his head back as you're doing your best to match his insane rhythm.
your pussy swallows him up like magic, your damp lashes tickling his shoulders as he buries his face against your neck to suck on the wet flesh, in accessory to the numerous amount of praises, declarations of love and filthy curses plastering your sweaty skin. or how about the swallowing screams and begs of your name that ripple through him as you moan out fervently, twitching under his towering body and arching your back.
oh, well? it's now or never your “ex” husband fears, and he decides to push his pulsing cock deep into your hole, deeper, just a little bit more, please! until you're desperately screaming into his shoulder, as far as it can fit into your little pussy, sending you over an intoxicating edge.
and ex! husband neuvillette was, at long last, back at where he should be, where he should've been all along, with you, making passionate and meaningful love to each other, because the man needed it, needed you close to him, and he cannot and will never again, paint the world without you in it.
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©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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emmyrosee · 7 months ago
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Suna Kaiya kicks. Like a lot.
In your tummy, she kicks like you wouldn’t believe, far more than Akito ever did, and it fills you with so much excitement to know she’s happy, she’s healthy, and she’s excited to meet you both.
She’s moving more than usual today, and your hands come up to cradle your stomach, smiling down and letting your thumb soothe over it.
“Morning momma,” Rintaro says, and you smile as Akito sits happily perched on his dads shoulders.
“Morning, mumma!” Your six year old chirps, and you laugh at the duality of them. At the sight of your hands, two pairs of green eyes fall to your stomach, and two wide smiles grow. “Is Kaiya kicking?”
“She is bud,” you beam, moving to pour him a cup of juice as Rin sits him down at the table. “You wanna feel?”
“Yeah!” He says excitedly. With his juice you walk over to him, letting his tiny hands press against your swollen stomach, and he giggles at the feeling. “My baby sister is crazy!” He takes the juice from your hands and brings it to his mouth to sip.
“Rin, you are wanna come feel?” You ask, and he chuckles and shakes his head. He’s always loved your baby bump, loved the kicking of his babies that are growing inside of you, but lately, at his touch, Kaiya’s been kicking more furiously, roughly, and it’s taking its toll on your back.
He’s thrilled she’s already in tuned with his touch. But he hates the effect it has on you.
You roll your eyes, “Rintaro, Kaiya will always kick and hurt my back, you may as well feel her while she’s active and not resting.”
He gives you a small nod and a nervous sigh, stalking over to you and gently resting his hands on your belly. Instantly, the baby kicks at the warmth of his hands, but you’re sure to not pull a face or shift away while he does.
“She’s going crazy,” he laughs, looking at the bump fondly.
“Told you,” you say, gently carding a hand through his hair.
“Dang,” he chuckles, leaning over to kiss your head. “We really made that…”
“How?”
Both of your eyes widen and instantly dart to look at Akito, who’s cheeks are stained with strawberry juice and dark brown eyebrow quirked in interest.
“Uhh-“
“Time to get dressed!” You chirp, moving from Rintaro’s grip to meet your son, whose eyes are curved in confusion.
“But I haven’t had breakfast yet!”
“Breakfast in the living room today, whoo!” You quickly say, looking at Rin nervously who merely laughs at your distress, shaking his head before he starts making breakfast.
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daretoassume · 3 months ago
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77 quotes to change your perspective
carl jung
"if the path before you is clear, you are probably on someone else's."
"until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate."
"the world will ask who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you."
"it all depends on how we look at things and not how they are in themselves."
"there is no coming to consciousness without pain."
joe dispenza
"can you accept the notion that once you change your internal state, you do not need the external world to provide you with a reason to feel joy, gratitude, appreciation, or any other elevated emotion?"
"if you want a new outcome, you will have to break the habit of being yourself and reinvent a new self."
"if you were to start investing your attention and energy into the unknown, your body would then be able to follow your mind into the unknown—a new experience in your future."
"if you cannot get beyond your stresses, your problems, and your pain, you cannot create a new future where those things do not exist."
"if you focus on the known, you get the known. if you focus on the unknown, you create a possibility."
eckhart tolle
"the primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it."
"life is not as serious as the mind makes it out to be."
"you find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life but by realizing who you are at the deepest level."
"pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within."
"most of the so-called bad things that happen in people's lives are due to unconsciousness. they are self-created, or rather ego-created."
wayne dyer
"when you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself."
"you are not stuck where you are unless you decide to be."
"begin to see yourself as a soul with a body rather than a body with a soul."
"be miserable. or motivate yourself. whatever has to be done, it is always your choice."
"you are what you choose to be today. not what you have chosen to be before."
louise hay
"every thought we think is creating our future."
"i do not fix problems. i fix my thinking. then problems fix themselves."
"you have been criticizing yourself for years, and it has not worked. try approving of yourself and see what happens."
"there is no written law that says that because you once believed something, you have to continue to believe it forever."
"the more we love ourselves, the less we project our pain onto the world."
jen sincero
"if you are serious about changing your life, you will find a way. if you are not, you will find an excuse."
"your life is your party. you get to choose how you invite people and experiences and things into it."
"you need to go from wanting to change your life to deciding to change your life."
"what you tell yourself on a daily basis is more powerful than you know."
"comparison is the fastest way to take all the fun out of life."
tony robbins
"it is your decisions and not your conditions that determine your destiny."
"you cannot have a plan for your day until you have a plan for your life."
"belief in limits creates limited people."
"the only thing that is keeping you from getting what you want is the story you keep telling yourself."
"if i could uncover what beliefs and values control me, i could literally redesign myself."
marcus aurelius
"the happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts."
"our life is what our thoughts make it."
"the best revenge is not to be like your enemy."
"every living organism is fulfilled when it follows the right path for its own nature."
"today i escaped anxiety. or no, i discarded it because it was within me, in my own perceptions—not outside."
jay shetty
"the more we define ourselves in relation to the people around us, the more lost we are."
"actually, the greatest detachment is being close to everything and not letting it consume and own you."
"it is impossible to build one's own happiness on the unhappiness of others."
"if you are satisfied with who you are, you do not need to prove your worth to anyone else."
"the grass is greener where you water it."
mel robbins
"if you only ever did the things you do not want to do, you would have everything you have ever wanted."
"you are one decision away from a completely different life."
"when it comes to change, goals, and dreams, you have to bet on yourself."
"change your decisions, and you will change your life. and what will change your decisions more than anything? courage."
"if you have the courage to start, you have the courage to succeed."
alan watts
"man suffers only because he takes seriously what the gods made for fun."
"never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command."
"you are under no obligation to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago."
"a person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts. so, he loses touch with reality and lives in a world of illusions."
"hurrying and delaying are alike ways of trying to resist the present."
ram dass
"the quieter you become, the more you can hear."
"your problem is you are too busy holding on to your unworthiness."
"i can do nothing for you but work on myself…you can do nothing for me but work on yourself."
"free yourself from the illusion of good and bad days. labeling time makes us nostalgic for the past and demanding the future. there is only here and now. let it be."
"no matter what someone else does to you, never put anyone out of your heart."
lao tzu
"care about what other people think, and you will always be their prisoner."
"the best fighter is never angry."
"respond intelligently even to unintelligent treatment."
"if you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading."
"nature never hurries, yet everything is accomplished."
muhammad ali
"if my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it—then i can achieve it."
"do not quit. suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion."
"he who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life."
"i have never let anyone talk me into not believing in myself."
"i am the greatest. i said that even before i knew i was."
steve harvey
"you cannot leave what is important to you up to someone else."
"stop wasting time looking at someone else's reality while doing nothing about yours."
"the dream is free, but the hustle is sold separately."
"your dream has to be bigger than your fear."
"you cannot tell big dreams to small-minded people."
albert einstein
"i am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. imagination is more important than knowledge. knowledge is limited. imagination encircles the world."
"anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."
𓍯 entryfromsane004 (extracted from the old blog two years ago)
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limethefirst · 3 months ago
Text
Savior
pairings: Logan Howlett x teen!reader (platonic)
warnings: torture, violence
summary: after a year of being experimented on you’re finally saved and taken to a safe place where it’ll never happen again
a/n: Logan x platonic readers always have me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure so…here’s more!!! Logan is so bbg.. also Void Runner pt3 is in the works🫡
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Normality was something people were used to seeing, most people were what the rest of society would consider ‘normal’.
Those who were considered ‘abnormal’ were mutants; humans who underwent a strange mutation that gave them the X-gene. Many viewed them as dangerous, evil even, many kidnapped and would experiment on them.
Unfortunately for you, you were a mutant, and to make it worse, one who was being experimented on and exploited.
Thankfully there were a group of people who were supposed to help and save these mutants, these people were the X-men. Today was your lucky day, today was the day you’d be saved, if only you knew that.
“Transfer 26 back to their cell,” an unknown guard said to your handler. Your eyes were trained to the ground, you knew talking would only cause punishment.
You’d been here for almost a year, your powers had devolved recently and you were quickly taken away.
The power of protection, or so that’s what most of the lab workers said. You had to power to conjure force fields around you as well as others or other objects, but you weren’t able to hold it for long; another perk of the power was you could conjure half shields, something you’d be able to use if you ever needed to protect only the front part of your body.
The walk back to your cell was taking its toll on your body, the constant pain and pressure you were put through finally attacking at you. Your wrists and neck itchy from whatever metal was around it, suppressing your powers.
Finally you tilted your head up, noticing the lack of mutants in the cells as you walked, you believed you were the last one left, the others dying from neglect or refusal to cooperate.
Before being able to be put into your cell, a loud ringing began to blaring over the compound, red lights flashed and everything shut down.
That’s when you saw him, The Fucking Wolverine.
His claws looked as if they were glistening against the contrast of the red, you watched as he began to take down many of the guards, each one down by the second. Your handler grabbed his smaller pistol; hidden within his lab coat for moments like this, but instead of aiming it at the beast in front of him, he grabbed you by your shirt.
He held the gun against your temple, the cold metal making a shiver go down your spine.
“Let the kid go,” You could hear Wolverines voice, it was stern but you could tell he was pissed; his jaw was clenched and his fist got tighter, his claws covered in blood, as was the floor.
It was almost as if luck had decided to visit you for the first time in years, because suddenly, everything shut down, the power was gone. The item suppressing your powers had just fallen down. The metal clinking against the floor.
This was your chance.
Quickly you summoned a shield around yourself, hearing a gun go off by your ear; but instead of a thump of a body hitting the floor, all that was heard was the sound of a bullet hitting the ground.
This was when Wolverine took the chance the strike, killing the man in an instant.
The man turned back to you, his face held not much emotion, maybe a hint of pity.
You weren’t able to say much, before you knew it you had passed out, perhaps the exhaustion from earlier finally caught up to you.
You slowly began to wake up, the room was the bright, it looked like a doctor’s office. You looked down, your white prison like clothes not replaced with a gown.
A taller woman entered the room, she noticed your eyes had opened, she gave you a warm smile and introduced herself as Dr Jean Grey, quickly excusing herself to go get the rest of the faculty.
Each person had said their hellos and such, besides two, the man in the wheel chair and Wolverine. The man in front of you began to talk but his mouth wasn’t moving, it was strange but he let himself explain before carrying on.
“Hello there dear,” the voice echoed in your mind, “I am Charles Xavier, I’m currently speaking to you through your mind if you haven’t noticed,” he looked at you for acknowledgment before continuing, “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time now, you’re currently at my school for gifted children, a place for mutant kids to learn about their abilities away from those who fear them, I’m here to offer you a place to stay.”
Charles looked at you, a warm smile on his face. He hoped you take him up on his offer, “I’d like that a lot,” you replied in your mind, assuming he’d be able to hear you as well. This was confirmed when he nodded at you and slowly left the room, but not before saying something you couldn’t hear to whoever was left in the room.
You looked at the man who’d saved you, his arms were crossed and he stood tall before you, “Listen kid, since you’re staying I’ll be helping you out a bit around here to you get used to it,” he said looking at your bruised arms, “I’m sure Charles told you what this place is and what not,”
But before he could say anything else you cut him off, “You’re name,” was all you could mutter before he finished his sentence.
“What?” He asked, confused by what you meant.
“What’s you’re name”
“Logan, I’ll be your history teacher and combat instructor,”
You blinked, confused before understanding he was probably a teacher here.
“Y/N, I’m Y/N,” you looked at the man, seeing if he’d say anything else, “Where will I stay?” You asked him.
“We have dorms, I’ll show you to yours right now, it’ll give you time to change and explore the place,”
“Hm alright, thank you”
“Don’t mention it kid,”
Logan showed you your room, it was ten times bigger than cage they held you in. Their first thing you did when Logan finally left was shower, once you exited you saw some clothes on the bed, with a note from another teacher here who you knew as Ororo or Storm.
Quickly you changed into the clothes, wanting to see the place.
When you left the room you noticed the hallway with a bunch of other doors, many rooms were empty; there was still lots of room for new mutants to make this their home too.
Slowly you made your way to the main hall, there were many other kids your age, each one with a special ability of some sort, you saw one kid with ice, another going through walls.
You started to make your way outside next, seeing more kids playing. Suddenly you hear someone yell.
“Watch out!” You put out your hands, a shield forming around the front of your figure. The kids who threw what seemed to be a football all cheered, before asking you to throw it back to them, which you hesitantly did.
You turned back around ready to head inside when someone stopped you.
“Didn’t think I’d get to see you use your power again so soon kid,” Logan was now at your side, walking you to the door.
“Would you rather I get a football to the head?” You smiled at him, a playful tug at your lips.
“So what do you think of the place?” He asked you, slightly eyeing your figure, trying to see if you felt comfortable yet.
“It’s big,” he smirked at your words, big was an understatement in his opinion. Then a sigh left you, “I feels like too much for me to take in, I can’t believe this isn’t a dream,”
Logan stopped walking, this causing you to stop too and look at him; he put his hand on your shoulder and looking you into your eyes, “Trust me, it feels like that at first but I promise you’re safe here now, if ever need someone you can always come find one of us, got it bub?”
“I got it Logan,” You gave him a warm smile, and you felt yourself feel somewhat better. The two of you began to walk back inside, you felt safer knowing you had someone in your corner now.
“Do you guys have Oreos here?”
“I can get you some.”
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zer0wzs · 3 months ago
Text
"𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙤"
[ gn!reader ] jason todd does not know how greatly positive the impact of owning a dog is wc: 1232
AN: i whipped this up just randomly my apologies if its kinda just . eh??? i still like it to some extent and oh!! this is my first jason pov fic
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“That’s Milo, I’m guessing?” Jason mused.
“Yeah! Isn’t he the cutest?” You grin, pointing at the four-month-old beagle. It’s Jason’s first time meeting the dog. He’s only known him through pictures so far, but you’ve only had him for a few days anyway. “Gosh, he’s the absolute cutest.”
Like a slightly dismissive father, Jason wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting a pet. Rent is high enough as it is, even in terms of Gotham’s cost of living, and as wonderful as the idea is, it would only dent his schedule.
You, however, go against his views (Not that he ever forced it on you) and adopt a rescue puppy from a nearby shelter.
“I don’t know. You might like the dog more than me.” He joked.
He’s still on the fence about this. Though you live on the more well-off side of the city, the neighborhoods here still aren’t the safest place to walk dogs. He’d hate to see you devastated if the dog got hurt.
“Aww,” you pout, giggling as you walk up to him and pinch his cheek—Milo cuddled in one arm. He’s perplexed, for sure, but he doesn’t reject this affection at all. Hell, he likes it for sure. “My pretty Jay is jealous.”
He scoffs, not knowing how to reply. His snarkiness is wiped. How embarrassing. He felt his cheeks flushing and eyebrows cinching. God, this was embarrassing. You’re kind of embarrassing. He wants it no other way, though. “No, I’m not? I did not say anything like—”
“It’s okaaaay,” you hum, swaying on your feet as you put Milo back on the floor. You pull his cheeks and sway each other back and forth. “You’ll always be my number one.”
He feels a kiss on his cheek, and his body pulls him back to look at it. It has its own mind that is disposed of you at this point.
The faint smell of your citrus shampoo is less notable. It’s been slowly replaced by the eternal fuzzy dog smell Milo, like any other dog, holds. He doesn’t hate it. Although he loves your usual scent, this is nice too. 
“What do you think?” You ask, breaking the silence one more. He sees the way your shoulders freeze a little and the way your eyebrows worriedly pull up. “Do you think he’s cute, or—”
“I think Milo is very lively. Very energetic. I like him.” Jason assures you with a hand holding your face, thumb caressing the cheek. “I’m just worried that it would take a toll on—”
“I know, I know,” you sigh. “I got this, though! You know how long I’ve been preparing for this.”
And he does. He’s seen you do the research. He’s seen you visit the shelter multiple times. He’s seen you saving up the money for the puppy—including food, vaccines, medicine, toys, and whatever things you fear the dog may need. He’s seen it all, and he questions why he’s even doubting you.
You’re smart. You’re strong. He comes to the conclusion, though, that he still holds the position to worry. He believes in it. At the end of the day, your safety and comfort is his responsibility.
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You two are walking Milo—or, rather, you are; Jason’s just more than happy to accompany you.
He declines your many offers to hold his leash. He fears losing something that means so much to you or hurting him with a simple tug because of his sheer strength. He’s calculated, sure, but he’s not cut for this simple life. He knows roughly how much it would take him to bring down a squad of armed men, but he does not know when a batter is over or undermixed.
You don’t know that, though. It’ll stay that way, he thinks.
“I think this is it.” Your voice snaps Jason out of his thoughts. He looks at you and sees that you’re radiating, no, buzzing in excitement when you spot the sign that says, ‘dog park. “Here, Milo!”
You step inside the fenced area, and the puppy is more than eager to explore the new territory. Unclasping the leash from his collar, you give him a kiss on his snout before he runs to the pack of dogs—some big, some small.
He sees your caution that borders on uneasiness, watching if the dogs are friendly to him or not. 
“He’s adorable,” he says to break the tension, watching him play with his friends.
The worry on your face is lessened as you look at him. “Well, they do say that pets look like their owners.”
“Mmm, I see it,” he hums, pulling you closer by the chin and giving you a peck on the lips.
 “You really think so?” You bury yourself to his side. Your skin is an awful lot colder than his. He supposes, though, that it's just his body. That it simply overheats.
“Mhm.” He nods, pulling you impossibly closer to him with your head tucked right under his chin.
“Aw, thank you.”  The two of you stand like that for a few minutes.
Jason thinks it's sweet. He feels a foreign tenderness that’s only known to you. He’s learned to like it.
This feeling brings him close enough for him to imagine a family with you. The two of you are parents, and Milo is a son—your son. 
Too soon? His eye twitches as he sweeps the dream under the rug.
“Jay, look!” You grinned, pointing to Milo and some other dogs.
He’s surrounded by a pack of dogs, but they are clearly far from fighting. He definitely is an outgoing pet, something he probably got from you—or would get if-, yeah.
“I’m glad he’s getting along well. For a second, I was worried that the dogs would be hostile towards him.” 
“I don’t any man or dog could be angry at him. He’s too cute to be mad at.”
You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. “I totally agree.”
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Jason is sitting by your kitchen island figuring out a jigsaw puzzle you got him when he hears you giggle uncontrollably.
“Milo, Miiiilooo,” You cooed, cuddling the puppy closer and closer to your face. He licks your face, teeth faintly grazing the tip of your nose. You’re only giddy about it. “I love you.”
It’s right then and there, after that interaction, where everything clicks: Jason realizes he does not want, or rather cannot, be with anyone else.
Ever so gentle and ever so kind, you are. It only shines through with how much heart you can and do pour into this puppy. No matter how many shoes he tears through, the rolls of tissues he makes a mess out of, and the times he’s chewed through your hair, it seems that your love is always bountiful and dedicated.
He realized how shallow this sounds. Maybe it’s just the way he was raised. To be grateful for any semblance of gift you had.
“Darling,” he calls out.
“Yes?” You answer, lying on the floor while petting Milo.
“I love you.”
Jason thinks that he wants to be more than welcoming to the small creature. Getting a dog might be a good idea.
Certainly, you seem confused, and he’s almost scared that you’ll reject it. He knows that that won’t be the case (or, at least, he listens to you tell him that).
“I love you too, Jay-love,” you smile.
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