#how do i STILL HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS

[harrysfolklore]

secret - cs55

summary: carlos has been keeping his relationship secret for 6 months. the world has no idea that he's dating an a list actress

wc: 5.4k words + social media posts. face claim: emilia clarke

folkie radio: guys... why does it feel illegal to post a carlos fic that's not little bitch?? anyway i hope you like this LEAVE FEEDBACK !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram Spain, you have my heart ❤️

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username1 QUEEN

username2 she’s glowiiiing

arianagrande mother 🤎

username3 imagine being the highest paid actress in hollywood looking like that i wouldn’t take shit from anybody

florencepugh you’re the actual loml

↳ yourinstagram Love you baby flo

username4 single yn is glowing

username5 spain also has my heart but i’ve never been there i’m just obsessed with carlos sainz

username6 carlos sainz in the likes wbk he’s a fan since the first season of game of thrones

anasainzvdec 💓💓

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 1,570,487 others

carlossainz55 Short break before heading to Silverstone 🇬🇧

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username1 HOTTEST MAN ALIVE

username2 carlos don’t do this to my ovaries

scuderiaferrari 🌶️🌶️

username3 if he is single who is taking all this boyfriend content

username4 THATS A HUSBAND

blancasainzv 🙌🙌🙌

username5 CARLOS LET ME JUMP ON YOUR BONES

username6 it’s a crime that this man is single looking like this (not really)

landonorris A family man

↳ georgerussell63 😂😂😂

↳ username1 carlando forever

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You stand in front of the mirror, applying the last touches of makeup as sunlight streams through the bedroom window. The reflection shows Carlos lounging on the bed behind you, his dark eyes following your every move. You can't help but smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze.

As you prepare to leave, your mind wanders to the whirlwind romance of the past six months. It all started with a tweet- Carlos expressing his admiration for your character in Game of Thrones. You hadn't known much about Formula 1 then, but his charm and genuine enthusiasm caught your attention.

Fate brought you together at a high-profile fashion event months later. You remember how your heart raced when he approached you, confidently asking for your number. Within days, he'd asked you out on a proper date.

Now, six months later, you're living in a blissful bubble of secrecy. Neither his fellow drivers nor your co-stars have any idea about your relationship. It's a mutual decision - you're both in the spotlight, and this connection feels too important to expose to the world's scrutiny just yet.

You've just returned from a short trip to Spain, where Carlos introduced you to his family. The warmth of their welcome still lingers, making you feel even more connected to him. His parents had embraced you immediately, and you'd spent hours laughing and sharing stories with his sisters. The trip reinforced the feeling that you truly belonged in Carlos' life.

"Do you really have to leave?" Carlos asks, his Spanish accent more pronounced in his sleepy state.

"You know I do, darling. This film isn't going to shoot itself," you turn to face him, taking in his tousled hair and bare chest.

Carlos props himself up on his elbows, a playful smirk on his lips. "But I can think of so many better ways to spend the day."

You walk over to the bed, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips. "Tempting, but I've got to go. We can't all race cars for a living, you know."

His hand catches yours as you start to pull away. "Just five more minutes?" he pleads, pulling you closer.

You allow yourself to be drawn in, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're impossible," you say, but there's no real frustration in your voice.

"Impossible to resist, you mean," Carlos wraps an arm around your waist, nuzzling into your neck.

"That too," you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. "But seriously, I need to leave soon."

He sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows. "Fine, fine. Go be a famous actress. Leave me here all alone."

"Drama queen," you roll your eyes, standing up. "You've got meetings later anyway."

As you gather your things, Carlos watches you with a mix of admiration and affection.

"You know," he says softly, "sometimes I still can't believe this is real. Us, I mean."

"It's real," you assure him, with a small smile, "And it's ours."

"I guess my obsession with Daenerys Targaryen paid off," Carlos grins, sitting up, "Though I have to say, the real you is even better than any character."

"Smooth talker. No wonder I fell for you so quickly," you roll your eyes playfully as you walk over to the bed, cupping his face in your hands. "As tempting as that is, love, we both have responsibilities. But tonight, it's just us."

He leans into your touch, then pulls you down for a deep kiss. When you part, both slightly breathless, he whispers, "I can't wait."

With a final blown kiss, you slip out of the room, your heart full and a smile on your lips. Another day of keeping your relationship under wraps begins, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Your mind is already counting down the hours until you can be in his arms again, safe in your private world built for two.

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ynupdates YN arriving for filming today in London!

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username1 MY BUBBB

username2 why so serious

username3 she has a movie premiering in two months and she’s already filming another talk about an icon

username4 love the fitttt

username5 streets say she’s got a boyfriend now 👀

↳ username1 source: trust me bro

↳ username2 SPILL THE DEETS

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You sink into the plush couch in Carlos' living room, the aroma of your favorite pasta filling the air. This has become your ritual - intimate dinners at home, safe from prying eyes and camera flashes. Sometimes you cook together, but tonight you've ordered in from that little Italian place Carlos adores.

"This is perfect," you sigh contentedly as Carlos settles beside you, two plates balanced in his hands. "I'll take nosy neighbors over paparazzi any day."

"Agreed," Carlos chuckles, handing you your plate, "Though I'm pretty sure my neighbor thinks I've developed an unhealthy obsession with takeout."

"Little do they know you're just obsessed with me," you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Guilty as charged," he grins, pulling you closer.

As you eat, you share stories about your day. Carlos absently traces patterns on your knee, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

"Oh," you say, remembering suddenly. "My team suggested something interesting today."

"What would that be, amor?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

You take a sip of wine before answering. "They think it would be a good idea for me to attend the Silverstone Grand Prix."

For obvious reasons, you haven't been able to join Carlos for a race since your relationship began. The need for secrecy and your busy schedules have kept you from sharing this crucial part of his life.

So when your team suggested you should attend the British Grand Prix at Silverstone to promote your new movie, you felt a surge of excitement. The prospect of finally seeing Carlos in his element, even if you had to pretend not to know each other, made you giddy.

"Really? That's... wow," Carlos said, his eyes twinkling.

"Don't get too excited," you nudge him playfully. "We'll have to pretend we barely know each other, you know."

Carlos groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "You mean I can't sweep you off your feet in front of thousands of fans? How will I cope?"

You laugh, setting your plate aside to cuddle closer to him. "I'm sure you'll manage. Just think of it as acting practice for both of us."

He wraps an arm around you, his voice growing softer. "You know, I always imagined the first race you'd attend would be as my girlfriend. With everyone knowing how lucky I am."

"I know, love," your heart swells at his words. "But hey, we'll still be together, even if no one else knows it."

Carlos nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're right. And I am happy you'll be there. Even if I have to pretend I'm not crazy about you."

"Well, there's no pretending now," you look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Show me just how crazy about me you are."

With a playful growl, Carlos pulls you onto his lap, dinner forgotten as his lips find yours. In moments like these, the secrecy feels worth it - these moments are yours alone, untouched by the outside world.

As you break apart, slightly breathless, Carlos murmurs against your lips, "Maybe we can sneak a moment at Silverstone. A secret rendezvous in the paddock?"

"Now that would make headlines", you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. "'Famous actress and F1 star caught canoodling behind the garages.'"

"Worth it," Carlos grins, pulling you in for another kiss.

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carlossainz55 Beyond excited for Silverstone this weekend. Let’s do this 🙌

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username1 MY MAN

username2 he’s really the hottest man alive

scuderiaferrari We got this 😌

username3 SILVERSTONE MORE LIKE CARLOSTONE

username4 manifesting another silverstone win

username5 my girl yn in the likes she’s so real

landonorris 🥵🥵🥵🥵

↳ username1 these two being single right now just means they get to be menaces

↳ carlossainz55 Weird

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The early morning light filters through the curtains of your bedroom as you help Carlos adjust his red Ferrari hoodie. Your fingers linger on his shoulders, savoring these last private moments before the chaos of race day begins.

"Remember," you tease, smoothing down his collar, "hands to yourself out there, Sainz."

"That might be a challenge, amor," Carlos grins, his eyes sparkling, "Especially with you wearing my number."

You playfully swat his arm, adjusting the Ferrari cap with Carlos' number that sits atop your head. "I mean it. We've managed to keep this under wraps for six months. Let's not blow our cover now."

"Fine, fine," he pulls you close, nuzzling your neck, "But you owe me for this torture."

"Torture, is it?" you laugh, tilting your head to give him better access. "Such a dramatic driver I've fallen for."

"In all honesty," Carlos pulls back, his expression suddenly serious, "I wish I could shout it from the podium today. That I'm the luckiest man in the world because I have you."

"Soon," you promise, cupping his face. "For now, let's enjoy our little secret."

With a final, lingering kiss, Carlos reluctantly steps away. "I'd better go. See you out there, amor."

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Hours later, you arrive at the circuit, your stomach fluttering with nerves. The Ferrari cap with Carlos' number feels like a subtle declaration, a secret sign that only you and Carlos truly understand.

"We'll start with Ferrari," your manager explains. "Given your... interest in the team."

You nod, fighting to keep your expression neutral. If only she knew the real reason for your interest.

As you approach the Ferrari garage, you spot Charles Leclerc first. Carlos had told you stories about his teammate before – his skill on the track, his competitive nature, and his charming personality. Now, seeing him in person, you understand why he's such a fan favorite.

Charles notices you approaching and breaks into a warm smile. He steps forward, extending his hand. "Hello there! I'm Charles Leclerc. Big fan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," you shake his hand, returning the smile. "I've heard great things about you."

"All good, I hope," he chuckles. "Is this your first time at a Grand Prix?"

"It is! I'm thrilled to be here. The energy is incredible already."

"Oh, just wait until the race starts. There's nothing quite like it." He pauses, then adds, "Have you met my teammate yet? He's around here somewhere..."

As if on cue, you hear a familiar voice behind you. "Did someone mention me?"

Your heart skips a beat as Carlos approaches and it takes every ounce of your acting skills to keep your expression neutral as he extends his hand.

"Carlos Sainz," he introduces himself, a cocky smirk on his lips, "Welcome to our garage."

As you shake his hand, you're hyper-aware of every point of contact. This man knows every inch of you, has held you countless times, yet here you are, pretending to be strangers. It's thrilling and frustrating all at once.

"It's great to meet you both," you manage to say, proud of how steady your voice sounds. "I can't wait to see you race."

"Well I hope we make a good first impression," Carlos said, and the look in his eyes told you that it was taking everything in him to keep his hands away from you.

"Carlos is being modest," Charles chimes in. "He's had some of his best performances here. You might be in for a treat today."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Carlos. "Is that so? Well, now I'm even more excited to watch."

Carlos rubs the back of his neck, a gesture you know is partly genuine modesty and partly an act. "Charles exaggerates. But I'll do my best to put on a good show for you- I mean, for all the fans."

"I'm sure you both will," you say, including Charles in your gaze to avoid suspicion.

A crew member approaches, informing Carlos and Charles that they're needed for a pre-race briefing shortly, and at the same time, a photographer appears asking for a picture. You pose with Charles first and shortly after Carlos stands next to you, his hand almost squeezing your waist sending shivers down your spine.

After the photo, you reluctantly step away. "I should let you get to your briefing. Good luck in the race, gentlemen!"

As you walk away, Charles say to Carlos, "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

Carlos feels a sudden pang of jealousy, fighting the urge to declare that you're his. Instead, he replies with a smug tone, "She certainly is. But remember, we're here to race, not to admire the guests."

You make your way to the McLaren garage, where you're introduced to Lando Norris, Carlos' best friend. Lando's infectious energy has you laughing within minutes. You can see why he and Carlos get along so well, and you find yourself wishing you could share stories about your boyfriend with his best friend.

As you're about to leave the McLaren garage, your phone buzzes with a text from Carlos.

Against your better judgment, you find yourself making excuses to your team and heading towards Carlos' driver's room. You slip inside, closing the door behind you and praying no one saw you.

Carlos is there in an instant, pulling you into his arms. "Dios mio, do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you out there?"

"Behave yourself, Sainz," you laugh, melting into his embrace, "We have an image to maintain."

"Oh? And what image is that?" he pulls back, his eyes twinkling, "Because right now, all I can think about is how adorable you look in my cap."

"Flatterer," you tease, running your hands up his chest, admiring how the race suit fits him. "You don't look so bad yourself in this. First time I'm seeing it in person, you know."

Carlos grins, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. "Like what you see?"

"Maybe," you say coyly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "But shouldn't you be focusing on the race?"

"You're killing me, hermosa," he groans dramatically, pulling you back against him, "How am I supposed to focus on driving when all I can think about is you?"

"Well," you suggest, "Maybe you need some motivation. Win the race, and I'll give you a proper celebration later."

"Now that's what I call incentive," he pecked your lips, and suddenly his eyes light up with an idea. He reaches for his phone. "Wait, I need a picture of you in that cap. My good luck charm."

You roll your eyes but pose anyway, tilting the cap at a jaunty angle. Carlos snaps the photo, grinning widely.

"Perfect," he says, showing you the result. "This is going to be my new favorite picture."

You're about to reply when a knock at the door makes you both freeze. "Carlos? Are you in there? Last pre-race briefing in two minutes," comes a voice from outside.

You stifle a giggle as Carlos calls back, "Be right there!"

He turns back to you, stealing one last passionate kiss before reluctantly stepping away. "This isn't over," he promises.

"I should hope not," you tease, straightening his collar. "Now go out there and make me proud."

As Carlos heads for the door, he pauses, looking back at you with a soft smile. "Te amo, YN."

"I love you too. Now go be the champion I know you are."

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f1world THESE TWO 🥹🥹🙌

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username1 AHHH THEY LOOK SO CUTE

username2 i bet carlos’ fanboy ass was shaking

username3 they look so good together hello????

username4 not yn zendaya-ing

username5 HER SMILE

username6 love them so much they should date

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yourinstagram SILVERSTONE. In another life I was a F1 driver. Yesterday I got to hang out with real ones and their pretty pretty cars. And I did not play it cool 😌

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username1 AHHHH ICON

username2 QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK

username3 she should go to every gp idc

scuderiaferarri You’re welcome anytime 🙌

username4 “got to hang out with real ones” and just posts carlos

username5 WHERE IS MY LANDO X YN PIC

emmacorrin 😍😍😍😍

username6 CARLOSYN YES

charles_leclerc Lovely to meet you 😘

↳ username1 and she didn’t post him help

carlossainz55 An absolute pleasure to chat with you 😉

↳ yourinstagram Likewise !

↳ username2 DATE

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carlossainz55 Triple header done, time to recharge and come back stronger in Hungary! 💪🏻

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username1 CHILIIIIII

username2 of course he was going to post his pic with yn he's such a fanboy

username3 ICONS IN THE THIRD PIC

scuderiaferrari Always the Smooth Operator 🌶️

username4 YN'S FACE IN THE THIRD PIC

username5 i ship carlos and yn

username6 i like the british gp bc actual cool celebrities attend not like the miami gp

yourinstagram Amazing weekend ❤️

↳ username1 HELLOOOOOO

deuxmoi has added to their stories

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After the excitement of Silverstone, reality had set in quickly. You had to fly to Switzerland for your latest film project, while Carlos was called to Maranello for team duties. The goodbye had been bittersweet.

Now, a week later, you're on set in Switzerland, immersed in the world of your latest film. The day has been long, filled with intense scenes and multiple takes. As you trudge back to your trailer, your mind wanders to your boyfriend, wishing you could share the day's triumphs and frustrations with him, but he was miles away.

You open the trailer door, lost in thought, and nearly jump out of your skin when you see a figure inside. Your heart rate skyrockets, then immediately settles as you recognize the familiar silhouette.

"Carlos?" you whisper, a mix of shock and joy coursing through you. "What are you doing here?"

He turns, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Surprise, baby!"

You rush into his arms, all exhaustion forgotten as he envelops you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you, and you feel the tension in your body melt away.

But as quickly as the joy comes, worry follows. You pull back slightly, glancing nervously at the door. "Carlos, how did you even get in here what if someone sees you? We can't risk-"

He silences your concerns with a gentle kiss. "Relax, amor. I was careful. No one saw me come in."

Despite your worries, you can't help but lean into him again, savoring the feeling of being in his arms after a week apart.

"I've missed you," you murmur against his chest.

"I've missed you too," he replies, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back, "It's like I'm addicted to you, I can't be apart from you for too long."

You look up at him, taking in the warmth in his brown eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw that you love to trace with your fingers. The realization of how much you've missed him hits you all at once, and you pull him down for a deeper kiss.

When you part, both slightly breathless, you can't help but laugh softly. "This is crazy, you know. What if my co-stars come knocking?"

"Then I'll hide in the closet like a teenager sneaking around. It'll be exciting."

He shrugged and you playfully swat his arm, but you can't deny the thrill of having him here, in your space, surrounded by the world of your work.

"How long can you stay?" you ask, hoping against hope that it's more than just a fleeting visit.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," he says, a hint of regret in his voice, "I know it's not much time together but I really needed to see you, kiss you, just be with you."

"I have to go back to filming now," you say reluctantly. "But I'll be done in a few hours."

Carlos nods understandingly. "Go, cariño. I'll wait here in your trailer. Maybe I'll raid your snack stash," he adds with a playful wink.

You laugh, giving him one last quick kiss before heading out. "Behave yourself, Sainz."

The rest of your filming flies by, your spirits lifted by the knowledge that Carlos is waiting for you. As soon as the director calls wrap, you hurry back to your trailer, your heart racing with anticipation.

Carlos is lounging on your small couch when you return, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, his face breaking into a warm smile. "There's my star."

You collapse into his arms, sighing contentedly. "I still can't believe you're here."

After a few moments of just holding each other, you both decide it's time to head to your hotel. You peek out of the trailer, checking if the coast is clear.

"Okay, I think we're good," you whisper, grabbing Carlos' hand and making a dash for it.

You weave between trailers and equipment, your hearts pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Just as you're about to round the final corner to the parking lot, you spot a crew member heading your way.

"Quick, behind here," Carlos whispers urgently, pulling you behind a large lighting rig.

You both hold your breath as the crew member passes by, mere feet from your hiding spot. Once they're gone, you share a look of relief and almost burst out laughing at the same time. The situation was definitely comic.

As you make your final dash to your car, you hear a surprised voice calling your name from behind you. Turning slightly, you see one of the production assistants, their eyes wide with surprise as they take in the sight of you and Carlos hand-in-hand.

Without stopping, you give a quick wave and a "Goodnight!" before practically diving into your car. Carlos follows suit, and you peel out of the parking lot perhaps a bit faster than necessary. Thank god you're not the race car driver in the relationship.

Once you're on the road, you let out a long breath. "Well, that was close,"

"It's okay, amor," Carlos reaches over to squeeze your hand reassuringly, "Even if they saw us, it doesn't have to mean anything."

"But what if they start asking questions?" you glance at him, unconvinced, "Or worse, what if they tell someone? Deuxmoi is already onto us after Silverstone, what if someone tips them?"

"I still don't understand what Deuxmoi is," Carlos looked at you with confusion, which made you laugh, "But we'll deal with it. Remember, we haven't done anything wrong. We're just two people who care about each other."

You nod, trying to let his words calm you. "I know, I know. It's just... I'm not ready for the world to know yet. To have our relationship picked apart and speculated about."

Carlos brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "I understand. And we'll do everything we can to keep our privacy."

"Okay," you agree, offering him a small smile. "Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down."

"It's because I love you," Carlos says simply, his eyes warm as they meet yours at a stoplight.

The rest of the drive passes in comfortable conversation. By the time you reach the hotel, you're feeling much more relaxed, ready to enjoy your time together.

As you park the car, Carlos turns to you with a mischievous grin. "Now, shall we make another escape to your room, or do you think we can manage to walk in like normal people this time?"

"I think we can risk it. But if anyone asks, you're just my very attractive Swiss tour guide."

"Tour guide, huh?" Carlos waggles his eyebrows. "I can think of a few places I'd like to show you."

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you get out of the car. "Come on, horndog. Let's go before you get us into more trouble."

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gossiphub Guess who got caught sneaking out of a movie set in Switzerland? None other than actress YN and Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz! 📸 These two were seen holding hands and looking super close. Could this be the start of a new power couple? What are your thoughts?

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username1 OMFGGGG

username2 AH I KNEW IT

username3 this was expected after silverstone

username4 THE POWER THIS HOLDS

username5 the couple we didn’t know we needed

username6 YALL what if they’ve been actually dating for longer 😭

username7 I NEED MORE OF THIS

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sainznews “YN is someone I admire a lot. Right now, though, I'm fully focused on the season and my performance on the track. I prefer to keep my personal life separate from my professional life.” -Carlos today !

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username1 BROOOO

username2 he said you’re NAWT getting details

username3 bold of the interviewer to ask 😭

username4 i really want them to be a couple but maybe they’re just friends

username5 COME ON SPILL THE DEETS

username6 oh well

username7 his ass was shaking

liked by carlossainz55, blakelively and 2,309,681 others

yourinstagram The train ride home ❣️

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username1 iconic behavior

username2 girl come here address the rumors

gemmachan A beauty 🤍🤍

daisyedgarjones 🥹🥹

username3 i love that both of them are just playing dumb

username4 CARLOS IN THE LIKES

username5 ah shit they’re not going to confirm anything

username6 CARLOSYN IS REAL

username7 potential it couple and they’re playing dumb

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The headlines hit like a tidal wave after your Swiss rendezvous. "A List Actress Spotted with F1 Star Carlos Sainz!" "YN and Carlos Sainz: Secret Romance?" Paparazzi photos of your flooded gossip sites and social media. Fans and media alike dissecting every detail of the grainy images.

You and Carlos spent hours on the phone, figuring out your response. "Maybe we should just confirm it," Carlos suggested one night, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Not yet," you replied, biting your lip. "Let's wait for it to die down a bit. We don't owe them an explanation."

So you played it cool, neither confirming nor denying the rumors. Carlos deflected questions at press conferences with his characteristic charm, while you posted on social media as if nothing had changed. It was stressful, constantly looking over your shoulders, but you managed to keep your relationship under wraps for a little longer.

However, as the world premiere of your movie approached, you made a decision. Curled up on the couch with Carlos during a rare weekend together, you turned to him, tracing patterns on his chest.

"I've been thinking," you started, your heart racing.

Carlos looked at you, his eyes soft. "About what, cariño?"

You took a deep breath. "I want you to come with me to the premiere. As my date. I'm ready for the world to know about us."

Carlos' face lit up with pure joy. He sat up, pulling you onto his lap. "Really? You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure," you nodded, cupping his face, "I love you, Carlos. I'm tired of hiding it."

He peppered your face with kisses, unable to contain his excitement. "I love you too, YN. So much. You have no idea how happy this makes me."

"I think I have some idea," you teased, gesturing to his beaming face.

Carlos pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "No more sneaking around? No more pretending we're just friends?"

"No more," you confirmed.

He kissed you deeply, pouring all his love and excitement into it. When you parted, both slightly breathless, Carlos grinned. "So, do I get to coordinate my tie with your dress?"

"Is that all you're thinking about? Fashion?" you rolled your eyes affectionately.

"No," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "I'm also thinking about how I get to show off the most beautiful, talented woman in the world as my girlfriend."

The night of the premiere arrived quicker than you expected. Carlos looked devastatingly handsome in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled. As you put the finishing touches on your makeup, you caught him watching you in the mirror, his eyes full of adoration.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Nothing. I just can't believe how lucky I am."

In the limo on the way to the theater, Carlos took your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin. "Nervous?" he asked.

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "A little. You?"

"Excited," he replied, bringing your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. As the limo approached the theater, you could already hear the roar of the crowd. Carlos pulled you close, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Remember, no matter what happens out there, it's just you and me. Okay?"

"You and me."

The limo door opened, and suddenly you were blinded by camera flashes. Carlos stepped out first, then turned to offer you his hand. As you emerged, the crowd's volume doubled. Carlos kept his hand on the small of your back, a constant reassuring presence as you made your way down the carpet.

When you reached the photo spot, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. The crowd went wild, cameras clicking furiously. You could hear reporters shouting questions, but you focused on Carlos, on the warmth of his touch and the love in his eyes.

As you made your way down the carpet, Carlos couldn't seem to keep his hands off you. He'd lean in to in your ear, his hand never leaving your waist. At one point, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, sending the photographers into a frenzy.

You stopped for a few interviews, Carlos by your side the whole time. When asked about your relationship, you simply smiled and said, "We're very happy together." Carlos would beam at you, his pride evident in every glance.

By the time you entered the theater, you were both giddy with excitement and relief. As you took your seats, Carlos leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. "You were amazing out there. I love you so much."

You turned to him, your heart full. "I love you too. Thank you for being here with me."

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gossiphub 🚨🚨CARLOS SAINZ AND YN HAVE ARRIVED TOGETHER AT HER PREMIERE IN LONDON

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username1 OMGGGGG

username2 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES

username3 IT WAS REAL ALL THIS TIME

username4 power couple of the century

username5 they look so cunty omg f1 needed a couple like this

username6 FACE ECONOMY TOGETHER

username7 IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TIME

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yourinstagram My handsome date 🥰

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username1 AHHHHH

username2 CARLOS I WASNT FAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME

username3 man he is so HOT

andrewgarfield Can you get me tickets for a Grand Prix?

↳ username1 HEEEEELP

↳ yourinstagram 🙄🙄🙄

↳ carlossainz55 You’re welcome anytime, mate!

username4 yn blessing us with boyfriend carlos content already

username5 this relationship is the best thing that happened to us

landonorris Oh he showers

↳ maxverstappen1 Really impressive

↳ username1 THE GRID IS HERE

↳ carlossainz55 Cabrones

carlossainz55 I love you mi amor ❤️❤️

↳ yourinstagram 🥹

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,937,267 others

carlossainz55 My 👸❤️

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username1 OH LORDDD

username2 SIMP CARLOS

username3 he’s so in love my heart

scuderiaferarri ❤️

anasainzvdec Hermosa!

blancasainzv 🤍🤍🤍

username4 this relationship is a blessing for real

username5 CARLOS POSTING HIS GF???? HIS A LIST ACTRESS GF ?????

username6 i love them sm

username7 how long do you think he waited before turning his insta into a fanpage of her

fernandoalo_oficial 👏👏👏

pierregasly Double dates?

↳ francisca.cgomes PRETTY PLEASE

↳ yourinstagram Absolutely 🥰

yourinstagram I loveeeeeee youuuuu

↳ carlossainz55 ❤️

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The Dutch Grand Prix in Zandvoort, the first race after the summer break. You were attending again, but this time, you walked into the paddock hand-in-hand with Carlos. There was no need for secrecy. You were here as his girlfriend, and the world knew it.

Fans call out your names as you make your way through the paddock, and you both wave, Carlos' arm protectively around your waist. The comfort of being able to show your affection openly still feels thrilling.

As you approach the Ferrari garage, you spot Charles chatting with some engineers. He turns and breaks into a wide grin at the sight of you two.

"Well, well, if it isn't the happy couple!" Charles calls out, walking over to greet you.

"Charles, I don't think you've been properly introduced to my girlfriend yet," Carlos laughs, pulling you closer.

You exchange pleasantries, and then Charles shakes his head, chuckling. "You know, I feel terrible now. I literally wanted to ask you out that day at Silverstone because I had no idea you were together!"

You all share a laugh at the irony, and Carlos playfully narrows his eyes at his teammate. "Watch it, Leclerc. She's taken."

"Be nice, darling," you swat Carlos' arm lightly, "Charles is just being honest."

As you watched Carlos chat animatedly with his teammate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of rightness. This was where you belonged, by Carlos' side, sharing in his world.

"Carlos, we need you for a quick strategy briefing," the engineer said, glancing at his watch.

Carlos nodded, then turned to you with an apologetic smile. "Duty calls, amor. I shouldn't be too long."

"No worries," you assured him. "I'll find ways to entertain myself."

He leaned in, kissing you softly. "I'll text you when I'm done," he promised, then followed his engineer out of the room.

With some time to kill, you decided to explore the paddock. It felt liberating to walk around openly, no longer worried about being spotted or sparking rumors. As you passed the McLaren garage, a familiar voice called out to you.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Smooth Operator herself!"

You turned to see Lando Norris grinning at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Lando!" you greeted him warmly. "How are you?"

"I'm good, but more importantly, how are you?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Finally free from the chains of secrecy, eh?"

You recalled the night when the headlines about your relationship with Carlos had broken, and Lando had been the first to reach out. That evening, over dinner at your place, you and Carlos had shared the story of your six-month secret romance with him. Lando had been surprisingly supportive, and since then, he'd become a close confidant and ally.

You chatted with him for a bit, he was someone always fun to talk to and you were happy Carlos had someone like him in his life.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a text from Carlos.

"Let me guess," Lando said, a knowing smirk on his face. "Lover boy is calling?"

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. "As a matter of fact, yes. I should probably go."

"Go on then," Lando shooed you away playfully, "Go be disgustingly in love somewhere else."

You laughed, giving him a quick hug before heading towards the Ferrari hub. As you walked, you felt happy to be able to walk openly into his private space without worrying about prying eyes or rumors.

You knocked softly on the door of his driver's room. "Come in," Carlos called out.

As you entered, you found Carlos sitting on the small couch, still in his casual team gear. He looked up, his face breaking into a warm smile as he saw you.

"Hey you," he said, standing up and crossing the room to pull you into an embrace.

"Hey yourself," you replied, melting into his arms. "How are you feeling?"

Carlos pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your waist. "Better now that you're here," he said, his eyes twinkling.

You laughed softly, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Charmer. But really, how are you?"

He took a deep breath, his expression turning more serious. "A little nervous, if I'm honest. The pressure is high here."

"That's natural," you nodded understandingly, your hand coming to rest on his cheek, "But Carlos, you're amazing. You've got this."

"Thank you, cariño," he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly, "Your support means everything to me."

For a moment, you both stood there in comfortable silence, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. There was no rush, no fear of discovery. Just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment before the storm of the race.

"I love that we can do this now," you murmured, breaking the silence. "No sneaking around, no looking over our shoulders."

Carlos smiled, pulling you closer. "Me too. It feels right, doesn't it? Having you here with me, openly by my side."

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. "It does. I'm so proud to be with you, Carlos. To support you."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. You responded eagerly, pouring all your love and support into the gesture.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, your fingers tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment. "Ten minutes, Carlos," came a voice from outside.

"I should go," you said reluctantly, but Carlos held onto your hand.

"Stay with me?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Just for a few more minutes?"

You nodded, squeezing his hand. "Of course."

You sat together on the small couch, Carlos's arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder. No words were needed; your presence was enough to calm his pre-race nerves.

As the minutes ticked by, you felt Carlos take a deep breath, his body shifting as he prepared mentally for the race ahead.

"Time to go be a superhero," you said softly, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

Carlos smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before standing up. "Wait for me at the finish line?"

"Always."

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yourinstagram Heart eyes for my smooth operator 🥰

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username1 AWEEEE

username2 she’s down bad

arianagrande glowiiiing ✨

username3 couple of the century

username4 i love how they were keeping it lowkey but now they can’t stop posting each other as they should

scuderiaferarri Our paddock queen ❤️

username5 yn don’t get used to the ferrari red you’ll be wearing blue next year

username6 GET MARRIED ALREADY

anasainzvdec 😍

username7 every time the camera showed her she was either panicking or grinning from ear to ear I LOVE HER

carlossainz55 Mi amor 🤍

↳ username1 CARLOSSS

↳ username2 that should be me

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carlossainz55 P10 ➡��� P5! Beyond happy to share the race with my love @/yourinstagram 😘 Special weekend ahead at Monza, can’t wait to race in front of our Tifosi!

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username1 AHHHHHH

username2 BEST COUPLE EVER

username3 YN DID HOT LAPS WITH CARLOS !!!!

↳ username1 BEST VIDEO EVER

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SO BAD

scuderiaferarri The Tifosi awaits ❤️

anasainzvdec 🙌

username4 VAMOS CARLITOS

username5 yn and carlos sainz dating is the best thing ever

charles_leclerc 👌👌👌

yourinstagram I love you 🥰🥰 I could get used to this

↳ username1 QUEEN NEVER LEAVE THE PADDOCK

↳ username2 we need her at every race

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Mark ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Mark x f!idol!reader

summary: you and you boyfriend Mark are paired up for an interview, but do you even know you're texting each other? No.

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Mark got comfortable in the plush, pink chair of the Kode set with a shy smile, "Ah hello, I'm Mark from NCT." He pushes his earbuds into his ears and begins playing his music, "today I'll be known as Cheetah. Um, I couldn't really think of anything else and the fans already call me a cheetah so it was easy to think of."

On the opposite side of the wall, you settle into your own chair while smiling at the camera while introducing yourself, "I was so confused when I was asked to pick a wild cat as my screen name. It was such an oddly specific category, and even weirder when you told me cheetah was already taken. Anyway, I chose Tiger because they're the next prettiest."

Your music begins to play through your earbuds as your phone vibrates from the first message from your partner. "Yo?" you read in confusion, staring at your screen with pure confusion, "is that it? This is a man isn't it? Girls don't talk like this."

On the other side of the wall Mark laughs softly, covering his mouth as he reads the message. "This person is so happy. I've never seen anyone write hi with this many i's."

You and Mark text back and forth for a while, sharing your hobbies and sending memes back and forth until the both of your are giggling madly on your respective sides of the set. Of course, after nearly 2 years together you'd know how to make each other laugh, even without knowing you're texting each other. Your partner still doesn't give you any identifying traits or hints as to who they are. Well, besides clearly being a man based on how he texts.

Following the instruction of the staff, you send a screenshot of your home screen. You pout, feeling slightly bad for your partner. Just two days ago you'd gotten a new phone and hadn't yet had the time to make it yours. It was stuck with the boring default background and a handful of apps you considered to be essential. You explain as much with the text accompanying the screenshot.

And Mark's screenshot? Well, it might as well be just as boring as yours. He has the blur set on the photo so all you see is an indistinct mess of colors. Two distinct blobs which could be the shape of two people or two flowers or two guitars or two cats.

"Wow," you say as you typed out the word, "we are two very boring people. You really don't want me to know who you are."

Mark laughs out brightly while he reads your text, "me? You haven't even changed your own yet!"

"I told you I just got a new phone and haven't had time yet!" You laugh to yourself while typing out your message.

Your joking back and forth gets the two of you off track while you playfully poke fun at each other back and forth until the staff ask you both who you think you're texting. Mark looks at the camera while he tries to think, "I have no clue. It's a girl, surely but it could be anyone. Do you pick random people off the street to do these videos?"

On the other side of the wall, you blush softly, covering your face while your face cools down, "is it weird if I say it's my boyfriend? He just seems so much like Mark."

It's one of the few times you've ever referred to Mark as your boyfriend for any sort media. You and Mark had technically been a public couple for about a year now, since your respective companies had come out with their statements to reveal your relationship. How you'd been able to conceal a year of your relationship was beyond the both of you. Well, a lot of dark, oversized clothes and hats and masks to conceal your faces.

After the company statements, you and Mark seemed to be even better at hiding. You barely glanced at each other at award shows, and if you did, it was only friendly, nothing that could be interpreted as anything else. There were very few glimpses into your relationship beyond birthday and anniversary posts with obscured faces and sharing each other's most recent comebacks on your stories. Privacy was something you both valued and of course you were more than ok with doing any type of promotion with Mark, it just never worked out that way. Until now (not that you knew). Plus, it wasn't like this interview would give anyone any important details of your relationship anyway.

When the staff prompt you both to share a screenshot of your most recently listened to songs, you stare at your screen with a look of blank surprise, "this is just a mix of Drake and Justin Bieber. It's Mark, it has to be."

You zoom in on the picture, mumbling about how you see more music that is so distinctly Mark while on the other side Mark looks at the screenshot you send excitedly. "She's a fan! Of me! Wow, she's listened to Child and Golden Hour and 200! Ok, I have to chill out a bit," he tells himself even as he types out his message telling you that you have good music taste.

You snort at his message just as the staff laugh at the exchange at the same time. The head producer instructs you both to find your baby pictures to send to the other.

You look up from your phone, looking at the camera and the staff, "surely, you'd think a couple who have been together for this long have seen pictures of each other when they were kids, right?" The staff nods in response before you speak again, "well, we haven't! I've only seen what has been posted online. Same for him!"

Mark sends you a picture of him as a baby where he's a few months old and you coo immediately. You zoom in as close as you can drawing your phone closer to you face as you star adoringly at the baby on your screen. "He's the cutest little thing I've ever seen! I've never seen a cuter baby in my life! Oh, I just want to squeeze his cheeks and cuddle him," you gush over the adorable picture of the chubby baby boy with an adoring look on your face.

Mark looks at his phone, the camera, the staff, his phone again, the camera again with a look of pure and utter confusion as he looks at what he can only assume is a child covered in frosting. "You can barely tell this is a human, how is this supposed to help me figure out who I've been texting?" Mark asks, zooming in on the picture while the staff bursts out in laughter. When he finds out who he's talking to...

So when he staff ask for a final guess as to who you've been texting you say Mark's name confidently while Mark ultimately utters out, "Maybe someone from a girl group... maybe it's Yeri."

When the staff ask you both to stand and get ready to face each other to reveal yourselves. Instead of walking toward Mark, you find yourself behind the set so you're behind Mark.

Mark walks forward slowly, waiting to see when he'll spot his interview partner, but when he sees an empty spot, he faces the camera and the staff with a quizzical smile, "was I talking to a ghost?"

They laugh softly and murmur amongst themselves while you finally reach forward and tap his shoulder softly. Mark jumps, completely scared by the touch. He turns to you with his eyes wide with surprise, "you?!"

"Yes, me!"

After you're both seated at the high top table and calmed down from the surprise meeting with on another, you're both ready to talk to each other in front of the camera once again. You smile softly at your boyfriend, "I knew it was you."

Mark scoffs, "how?"

"Yo," you repeat the word from his first message with a poor imitation of his voice, "all the Drake, all the Bieber-- oh my gosh, Mark! Your baby picture!"

Mark laughs, taking your hand in his out of view of the camera, "speaking of baby pictures, what did you send me?"

Your brows furrow softly at his question, "I sent you a picture of me as a baby."

"There's no way that was you. You look like a little cake monster."

"It was from my first birthday..." you pout at Mark.

"Don't get pouty with me, you were completely covered, how could I have known? I can pout too! My face used to be your homescreen and now it's the plain default screen," Mark tells you with a playful pointed look.

"Mark," you deadpan, "you were with me when I got my new phone."

"Oh yeah..." Mark blushes with embarrassment.

"Anyway, who did you think I was?"

Mark squeezes your hand nervously beneath the table, his thumb rubbing at your knuckles a little anxiously, "I had no clue, to be honest. I knew you were a girl but I didn't know it was you."

When the staff ask Mark how he didn't know but you did, all he can do is blush and laugh out a nervous response. You turn to him with a playful accusatory look of your own, "yeah, how come you didn't know?"

"I don't really pay attention to how you text, just what we text about..."

You and the staff coo as you pinch his cheeks and cup his face lovingly, "you're so cute, but you were cuter as a baby."

"My mom says the same thing," Mark rolls his eyes.

Your conversation winds down and you both pose for the selfie at the end. You both pull silly faces, cheeks pressed together and eyes scrunched shut with your tongues sticking out.

Despite the stupid picture you both took, the screen fades to black with a completely different picture of you and Mark laughing while looking at each other with hearts in your eyes and bright smiles on your faces.

[verdantchan]

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 9 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He shows you a softer side of him. Until he doesn’t.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, rough sex, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, knife, over-stimulation, bondage, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, age gap, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

"How old are you, actually?"

He raised a brow, but didn't yet look up from his newspaper. You could tell you had piqued his interest by the way his eyes crinkled into a smile. It even seemed genuine to a certain degree.

You sat beside him and watched him with a keen eye, not hiding that you were staring at him.

"Is there a reason why you want to know?"

You shook your head. "You won't tell me your name or anything else about you that matters. At least give me that."

He hummed softly. "I'm forty-five." He finally looked up from the paper and regarded you with mild amusement. "Is that a problem?"

You shook your head again. It indeed wasn't. You had long guessed that he was quite a bit older than you, but to you he didn't come off like a lecherous old man who was after young women to keep him young and moist.

He was simply...older.

Not old.

"No, I guess not."

He looked back down at the paper, while you kept shifting on the couch beside him restlessly.

He managed to successfully ignore your restlessness for a minute, before he sighed and set the paper down.

"I know I will regret this, but what is going on?"

"Have you been with many women before?"

The ridiculousness of the question didn't just surprise him. To your own ears, the question sounded even sillier spoken out loud. But you couldn't help it.

The question kept tormenting your mind and it had been doing so for days. You had to ask or you would go insane. Even more so than you already were.

You couldn't tell why the thought of him with someone else made you feel like you were in the worst humanly possible pain, but it did.

It made you feel like you were slowly suffocating under the weight of a thousand stones.

And how pointless was it?

It was in the past. You were the future, right?

Good God, what were you even thinking about?

"Are you jealous?"

He didn't even try to mask the amusement in his voice. For some reason that made everything even worse. Of course you were being fucking ridiculous.

Your face flushed a deep shade of crimson and you looked down at your hands. "I'm not jealous." You murmured.

Despite not even looking at him, you could sense the wide, unhinged grin that took possession of his face.

"You are." He said victoriously. "You're jealous over me."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to come up with something sharp and witty, but the truth was simply that.

You were jealous.

More so, your body stood in flames of wild, raging jealousy.

"Aw, come on. I was just teasing you." He tipped your chin up. "Don't pout."

You forced yourself to keep your eyes on him. His expression had softened somewhat, but there was still a hint of amusement and satisfaction in his eyes. You hated him.

Especially did you hate his eyes.

Even more so when they softened.

You hated everything about him. The way he moved and looked so effortlessly sexy when he did. The way he looked whenever he stood in the kitchen, flipping the pan around like a professional chef. You had once caught yourself staring at him when he tossed a grape in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth. He had failed miserably. At first it hit his cheek and then it landed on the ground, before it rolled under the fridge. Something rather inelegant, coming from such a dashing man.  The way he looked at the grape and then at you, looking caught in the act. The way his lips curved into that delicious smile. Almost sheepishly.

Almost innocent.

“It’s your fault. Your presence is distracting to me.”

Your heart ached when you realized it.

You didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. But you tried to. God, how hard you tried.

“Can you just answer the question?” You murmured.

He hummed and looked to the side in thought. “I’m not sure how many it were. I didn’t exactly keep count.”

Awful.

“Were all of them victims to your incomparable abduction skills?”

He smirked. Your relationship had come a long way. Now you were allowed to tease him, without having to expect a punishment in return.

Sometimes.

It depended on his mood. And by now, you had gotten pretty good at telling when he was in a good mood and when he was to be avoided and obeyed.

It was easier to be attentive when your health was at stake.

Or your life.

“No”, he mused with a strange sense of sincerity, “and also you came along willingly.”

You scoffed. “You’re even crazier than I thought. Or just fairly ignorant.”

He laughed. God, you hated when he laughed.

It was so easy to lose yourself in the sound of it.

“Whatever it was, you’re here now. And as for these other women…It doesn’t matter how many they were, none of them held any meaning to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. But you did? You meant something to him?

You couldn’t ask him that. As much as you wanted, your lips couldn’t form those words. Your fear of being mocked or rejected was far too great. The thought of him making fun of you for so obviously falling in love with him, him, your tormentor, him, your bane, your curse, your horror. It  was terrifying to you.

He would never love you. He was incapable of having these kind of feelings. Of course, he had never said that. But you could tell. People like him had obsessions. No more. No less.

You were just something pretty for him, something to put on his shelf and look at with a satisfied smile. Something to use when he got bored or excited. And then you’d go on the shelf again. And by the time you became boring to him, by the time your beauty would begin to fade and signs of age and life would show on your face or the color of your hair, you’d be gone.

Gone like the wind or the ocean breeze. You’d be gone and he’d obsess over something else.

The thought made your heart ache with such fervor, it nearly made you cry, then and there. And what was the worst about it? The thought of him killing you, it didn’t hurt you half as much as the thought of him replacing you.

You had always known you had a weakness within you. Something that might accept when things got worse, something that refused to fight at some point and simply gave up. You had experienced it with your mother.

You just didn’t know how deep this weakness ran.

When he saw the distant look in your eyes, his amusement faded and was replaced by something softer. He frowned slightly and held out his hand to you.

“Come.” He murmured. “Come, sit on my lap.”

Reluctantly you took his hand and let him pull you on his lap. You straddled his thigh and faced him, but the expression on your face was still one of silent sadness.

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before he cupped your cheek in his palm. The softness. There was the softness again. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

You hated him the most when he was gentle.

“But you’re not like that.” He said quietly.

When your brows furrowed in a mixture of quiet disbelief and uncertainty, he shook his head and gently trailed his thumb down your cheek. His touch was so gentle, it made something in your chest ache. Your heart, most likely.

His eyes glowed in that soft brown and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He whispered. “I know that I’m deranged, sweet girl. I know I’m probably not what you ever anticipated for your life. But one thing about me is steadfast and true. I’m honest.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you inhaled a shaky breath. “So?” You murmured.

“So…” He murmured back as he gently placed his free on your hip to steady you. “I don’t think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Because, sweet girl”, he purred and leaned closer to brush a soft kiss along your cheek, “Because I say so.”

Your eyes slowly fell shut and you felt yourself lean into his embrace. It felt good to be held by him. It felt safe, which was ironic enough.

He slowly slid his fingertips under your shirt and up your spine. It was one of the best things about him. He never ran them up your waist. He always skipped your waist.

The word mouse was as dead as Latin in these halls.

And he always asked if you had eaten already and when you lied, he could tell.

Never before had you met someone so attentive. When he wasn’t angry with you or angry because of anything else, he was the perfect man.

The way he looked at you was enough to make you swoon. The way he touched you enough to make you shiver.

The way he kissed his way from your cheek down to your neck made you gasp every time. And even when he ravaged you, he somehow always made sure to check if you were still there. You never got the chance to detach and stare at the ceiling, stare at the wall, stare at the floor. He caught your gaze, tipped your chin up and made sure that you were there.

That you wanted to be there.

And you didn’t have to say when you didn’t. He caught on that, too.

And then he’d let you sleep.

Or read.

“Are you tired?” He whispered with a soft nip to your earlobe.

The sigh that came over your lips was involuntary. A part of your mind was still hung up on the women. The women who had been there before you.

Were they prettier? Probably.

Were they normal? Most likely.

Did they make him happy?

Was he ever happy?

Was he even able to be happy? Did deranged people get a happy ending? Or even a happy middle? Maybe a very happy start?

There was something dead inside of him. You couldn’t tell if it was his heart, his soul or something else. But it was there. Just like there was something dead inside of you.

But sometimes you asked yourself if it was really dead or if maybe, just maybe, it had simply been asleep up until then.

You nodded slowly. You were always tired. That was part of being depressed and he caught on that, as well.

“I could run you a bath, sweet girl.” He murmured against your skin as he slowly rubbed his palms against your bare back under your shirt. It made you shiver and only ever press closer to him. “Or I could cook something for you.”

You shook your head.

“Are you still sad?” He whispered in your ear.

You swallowed again and nodded. Were you ever not sad?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Go get daddy your favorite book.”

The way your heart skipped a beat was almost audible. It always caught you off-guard when he did that. To refer to himself as daddy was bad enough in the bedroom, but when he did it like that, just out of nowhere, it made your skin flush in embarrassment. Yet at the same time, your heart raced. He wasn’t the only one deranged.

“My favorite book?” You whispered, sounding more breathless than anticipated.

He nodded. “Your favorite book from the shelf.”

With a slow, deliberate movement you climbed off of his lap and slowly moved towards the book shelf. You felt his gaze burn into your back. As much as it made you shiver and shudder, it also had something comforting about it. The way he sat leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over it and his ankle resting on his knee. God, he was perfect.

You swallowed and your eyes slowly raked over the rows of books until they stopped on Jane Eyre. It wasn’t your favorite book in the world, but it gave you comfort. All Bronte-sisters did. Getting a glimpse of their mind always made you feel like you weren’t the only sad and complicated person in the world. There had been others before and there’d be more long after you were gone.

You slowly picked it up and made your way back to him. He took the book from you and patted his lap.

“Lay your head here.”

Your eye brows rose, but you didn’t protest. Instead you curled up on the couch and carefully rested your head on his thigh. Before you even fully settled down, he buried his fingers in your hair and gently threaded them through the length of it. You suppressed a quiet, contented sigh. And when you heard his soft voice as he began to read, so gentle and composed, it made your eyes snap shut.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning, but since dinner the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so…”

You couldn’t even properly focus on his words. All you could think about were his hands in your hair, his soft voice and the warmth radiating off of him.

You lay like that, listening to the soft sounds of him reading Jane Eyre to you, until you felt like you might fall asleep any second. Which was exactly what you did.

It didn’t even take all too long.

There was a part of your mind that expected to wake up with a blade against your throat or Hell – not even wake up at all.

But you couldn’t help it. The trust came on its own. It was hard not to trust him when he was like that. Caring and gentle and concerned.

You had a dreamless sleep and by the time your eyes fluttered open, you felt better rested than you had in forever. You slowly blinked and tilted your head up to see where you were and what was going on. What you saw was him, the book tightly shut beside him and you found he was staring down at you. His expression was still soft and his hand still in your hair. You blinked slowly.

“How long did I sleep?” You murmured hoarsely.

He glanced down at his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Why?” He mused. “You needed it.”

“But wasn’t that uncomfortable?” You yawned softly and rubbed your eyes, something that made him smile.

“No, sweetness. You look endearing when you sleep. I could watch you all day.”

A soft flush crept up your cheeks and you averted your gaze. You felt as embarrassed as you felt in love.

You were sure by now. There was no point in lying to yourself. You were in love with him.

And you were certain, given enough time, he’d break your heart.

Or your bones.

Whatever came first.

The rest of the evening was just as peaceful. You sat at the kitchen table and watched as he cooked something you couldn’t even come close to pronouncing. When he still tried to teach you and you made a fool of yourself, he smiled in amusement and something akin to pride.

“You’ll learn it one day.”

He was so patient at times. And at other times…

You finished dinner and stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. It was such a normal thing. A normal Sunday. Brushing your teeth to go to bed, a silken nightgown kissing your skin while you did.

He spoiled you. You knew that. He brought home more and more and more clothes. One piece more beautiful than the other. And as much you always assumed you’d look like an idiot wearing them, because you just weren’t the kind of girl for silk and beautiful things, you ended up loving them all. It made you feel beautiful.

He made you feel beautiful.

You rinsed your mouth and washed your face, pat dried it with a fluffy towel and shot a last glance at yourself in the mirror. You looked nothing like the girl who had begged her mother to stop being so cruel. And at the same time, you looked just like her.

Like a girl playing dress-up, but her sad eyes stayed the same.

The faint mark on your cheek was still there, reminding you subtly of what he was capable of. Not even close to what he was supposedly capable of. You sighed and turned off the lights, before you quietly tiptoed through the dark hallway. You were already on your way to your bedroom, when you saw that his door stood slightly open. There was a faint light that illuminated through the hallway and you couldn’t help yourself. You stopped and stared at the door, unsure what to do. Should you go in? Or should you go to your own room and loose yourself in your thoughts?

But before you could think about it, the door opened and revealed his form in no more than his boxers. God, he was perfect.

You were certain you had never seen a more handsome man in your life. Even when he was angry and when you hated him. He was still so fucking perfect.

“Join me.” He purred. You knew what that meant. And even though he didn’t say it, you still knew. You had a choice. Even though he had made abundantly clear, he’d fuck you even when you didn’t feel like it (something that hadn’t happened so far), today you had the choice.

You could go to your own bed and sleep in peace. His soft voice revealed that.

Instead you slowly stepped forward until you stood in the middle of his bedroom. The red notebook on the bed caught your attention and immediately you felt a knot form in your stomach. The cruel reminder of the day he cut your hair and attempted to give you a new name. You swallowed and slowly looked up at him. He caught your gaze and his own landed on the book. Something in his eyes hardened briefly, but he quickly concealed it. He closed the door and went over to the bed, where he picked up the notebook and tossed it under the bed, where it landed with a soft thud.

He was still angry. You had snuck in his room and invaded his privacy.

You had disobeyed him.

He didn’t care that so many things had changed since then.

You had disobeyed him. And he hadn’t forgotten. He probably never would.

He forced a soft sigh over his lips, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Probably a stupid thing to do, but to you, it felt right.

He shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice was firm and measured, as he stepped closer. The lion walk.

He stopped when his chest nearly touched yours and you were forced to look up at him.

The memory of the gentle reading and your nap in the living room wavered in your head. You were sure he was going to make you forget about it real soon.

As if on cue, he wrapped a hand around your throat and made you gasp. With a low growl, he leaned in and captured your lips in a rough kiss, forcing your mouth open and his tongue inside.

An involuntary moan slipped out of your mouth and against his. And when his hand squeezed tighter, you moaned again. He pushed you back until you hit the wall.

“Get on your fucking knees and crawl over to the bed.” He gritted out.

Your chest heaved rapidly. You couldn’t tell if he was still angry about the notebook or if his outburst had another reason. A more carnal one. Whatever it was, you slowly slid to your hands and knees and began to crawl over to the bed. By the time you reached it, he appeared behind you and put a hand on the back of your neck, pushing your face down against the mattress.

You gasped again and rolled your head over, so he wouldn’t smother you. To your surprise, he let you.

He used his free hand to push two of his fingers in your mouth, making you gag by the sudden intrusion and the intensity of it. This time, he didn’t use them to bruise your throat. Instead he pulled them out and swiftly slid them between your legs from behind.

You whimpered softly as he forced your legs apart and ran his fingers along your already damp panties.

“What is this?” He growled. “Didn’t I tell you not to fucking wear these at night?”

You swallowed. Uh-oh.

“I-“

“No.” He hissed out and spun you around, so that the back of your head landed on the mattress and you sat down on the floor. “Take them off.”

You swallowed and moved quickly to slide the panties off of you. You held them in your hand awkwardly, unsure what the hell to do. He looked so furious, it made you nervous.

He yanked them away from you. Then he used one hand to roughly grasp your chin and force your mouth open and the other one he used to force the soaked panties into your mouth.

You inhaled sharply and stared up at him with wide eyes. Of course it was degrading. And yet you felt yourself grow more and more wet.

“On your stomach.” He gritted out. “Now.”

You took a shaky breath and quickly scurried around to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl. You’re finally listening.”

He went over to the wardrobe and rummaged through it, until he found what he was looking for. His belt. Oh, you had a bad feeling yet again.

“P-please.” You gasped out, but it was muffled against the fabric in your mouth.

“Shut up.” He said sharply.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God-

You had a strange and unpleasant Deja-vu, thinking about your mother and her creative ways of punishment.

But he didn’t use the belt to hit you. Instead he used it to tie up your wrists. You nearly sighed in relief, but you knew better than to do that. You knew what that might bring.

So you simply lay still and let him tie you up like that.

You felt incredibly helpless in this position, but the thrill of it was strong enough to make you drip. You closed your eyes.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He murmured. “Always sneaking around, doing things you shouldn’t, huh? Is that how you’re trying to please me? With disobedience?” He scoffed. “You just never learn, do you?”

He crouched down before you and regarded you with a long, scrutinizing look. You almost expected him to slap you. But instead you witnessed how he slowly sucked on his fingers, the ones he had pushed in your mouth just a minute ago. The sight stirred something deep within you and you shifted on the bed.

“Bad girl needs to learn her lesson.” He purred.

Before you even knew it, he was already rubbing his fingers over your wetness and circling your clit in a way that made you moan. Again, he knew just where to touch you. A thought that filled you with as much jealousy as it did pleasure. But somehow, the jealousy always won.

“Does that feel good?” He murmured. You nodded eagerly, squirming and arching against his hand, desperately seeking the friction that would bring you to oblivion.

He hummed softly and kept moving his fingers, only ever picking up the pace. “Like that, baby? Do you like that, hm?”

You moaned again and buried your face in the pillow, not even caring about the piece of clothing in your mouth, until he sharply removed his hand. You let out a whine and raised your head just enough to see the satisfied smirk on his lips.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, huh? Oh, you’re severely mistaken, princess.”

And just like that his hand was back, resuming the movement and having you writhe in a mixture of agony and pleasure.

“Please.” You muffled out again. You were more than ready to cum, your hips twitching treacherously. And he withdrew his hand again, a mock pout on his face.

“Sweet girl is so desperate for me to let her cum.” He hummed. “Be a good girl and beg daddy to let you cum.”

You swallowed thickly, which wasn’t too easy with your panties still in your mouth. “Please let me cum, daddy.”

The embarrassment was still there, your face still flushed, but you didn’t care one bit. You needed this, needed him.

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please”, you begged again, “please let me cum, daddy.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you deserve that yet. First you’ll be a good girl for me.”

Your hands strained against the leather of the belt against your own will, but it didn’t help anything. You were still tied and helpless. So you simply nodded.

You licked your lips which had dried out, when he finally freed your mouth.

“Who are you?”

You slowly looked up at him. “Your girl.” You whispered.

He hummed in agreement. “What else are you?”

Your face flushed deeply when you thought about what he wanted to hear. “I…”

“Say it.” He said in a more demanding tone and grasped your chin in a bruising grip again.

“Your cumslut.” You said quietly, but it was barely audible. It seemed good enough for him, because he didn’t insist you repeated it.

“Good girl.” He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your lips. “Spread your legs for me, my good girl. I want to fuck you. Make space for daddy.”

Your face flushed even more, but you obeyed. You slowly parted your thighs, making space for him. You took a shaky breath when you felt him settle behind you on the bed, one hand grasping at your wrists, the other one pressed into the mattress next to your face, so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight.

You hadn’t even realized when he’d stripped off his boxers, until you felt the tip of his cock rub along your entrance. A needy whine came over your lips and you closed your eyes.

“Beg me for it, baby.” He whispered in your ear from behind. A shiver ran down your spine and you held back a moan, when he began to rub his cock over your core in a torturously slow movement. You were so wet and ready and yet he held himself back.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You whispered, unable to open your eyes. You were so ashamed and embarrassed that it nearly choked the words silent on your tongue, but you still forced them out.

“Louder.”

You swallowed thickly. “Please.” You managed. “Please fuck me, daddy. Please, let me feel you.” You were surprised by how desperate you sounded.

Even more so by how desperate you felt.

“That’s my good girl.” In a swift movement, he thrusted forward and filled you to the brim, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size, before he began to fuck into you. You head fell forward and you released a breathless moan against the pillow.

It was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but the pain subsided quickly, when he began to hit the sweet spot inside of you as if he was desperate to make you cum as quickly as possible. He had never taken you from behind before and you had no idea how incredible it felt. Every thrust hit the right spot and it didn’t take you longer than a few seconds until you felt the need inside you build up intensely.

“Oh God.” You breathed out. “Oh God, please.”

He grunted in your ear, a sound that made you all the more aroused. The sound of his quick breaths and the way they hit your ear was almost too much. And when he bit down on your earlobe hard enough to make you cry out in pain, it was too much and you came.

You came with an intensity that made it impossible for you to stay quiet. You cried out in a way that sounded surprising to your own ears. You had never been much of a moaning girl, but that was too good. Too hard.

Too much.

The pleasure quickly shifted into over-stimulation when he didn’t stop thrusting into you, even after your walls clenched around him. He moaned again and you bit down on the pillow, your legs trembling furiously.

“Please.” You gasped out. “Please. Too much-“

“Good.” He growled and began to fuck into with even more intensity. You were close to crying, it felt almost painful, but at the same time you could tell you were almost getting there again.

“I beg you.” You cried out. “I’m begging you. Please.”

“Yes, beg me, my little cumslut.” He groaned in your ear as he kept moving furiously. “It won’t make me stop.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and your hips twitched again, desperate to get away. You strained against the binds again, but he just held your wrists tighter. Until he released them and instead pushed two fingers in your mouth.

“Spit.” He hissed.

You moaned against him and tried to obey, but it was hard with someone thrusting his fingers in your mouth as if trying to hit the back of your throat. You spat down on them and coated them in your saliva, until you felt him pull them out and instead rub your clit with his slick fingers again.

You nearly screamed when he did and you felt the excitement burn up again, until you were almost ready to cum. But you were afraid, afraid that he’d keep going until you couldn’t take any more, until you’d start crying and even bleeding maybe.

“Please.” You cried out again, your voice breaking with every thrust.

“Shut up.” He hissed as he rubbed your clit in a way that made it impossible for you to shut up.

“What are you?”

“Your cumslut.” You cried out.

“My cumslut.” He gritted out again. He was so furious. So angry. And he was keen on taking it out on you. Before you knew it, his hand wrapped around your throat tightly again. “I’ll punish if you cum before I tell you to.”

Your eyes shot open and you nearly choked. You gasped for air. He wasn’t kidding. You knew he would. You tried your best not to, but it was near impossible.

“Please-“

Your body betrayed you. And you came. With his hand around your throat and a loud, shuddery gasp, you came.

Your walls clenched around him again, something that made him moan out and the sound only intensified the feeling inside of you.

When your body stopped trembling, his movements stilled and he pulled his hand away.

“You disobeyed. Stupid girl.”

“Please, I didn’t want-“

He pulled back roughly and stood up, standing beside the bed and staring down at you with wide, crazed eyes.

“Gun or knife. Choose.”

Oh God.

You felt the way the blood seemed to leave your face and your brain. You opened your mouth and closed it several times. Was he going to kill you? Was this the end?

Did he make you cum, just to kill you?

Had he only read to you, because this was your last day on earth?

When he said you meant something to him, was that a lie?

Were you just his to torment, his to get rid of?

You felt tears sting your eyes. You wanted to cry and beg and plead. You immediately missed the man he had been three hours ago. The man you fell in love with. The husband type of guy. The silly man, who didn’t catch the grape.

“Please.” You whispered and your voice cracked.

“If you don’t choose”, he gritted out, “I will.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you rolled over just enough to face him fully. Suddenly you were more than thankful that he didn’t rip your pretty nightdress off when he began to fuck you. Dying naked sounded even more horrifying to you. Dying was bad enough. But naked?

“I-“

“Too late.” He bit out.

He rummaged through the wardrobe again and came back with a kitchen knife. He kept a fucking knife in his wardrobe?

You let out a horrified gasp and tried to back away against the wall, but it wasn’t easy. You struggled against the belt that kept your wrists tied up desperately, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

And suddenly you were sure.

This was the end of you.

The end of a miserable life with an even more miserable ending.

He slammed down the knife beside your head and rolled you onto your back.

You stared at him with wide eyes and wet lashes.

“Please.” You whispered again, against the sound of a choked sob. What could you say to convince him not to kill you? What could you do? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were done for.

This was it.

“Spread your legs.”

You swallowed thickly. He would really kill you, while he was inside you?

The thought brought even more tears to your eyes.

“Please. I-“

“Now.”

Against your better judgement, you obeyed. You slowly parted your legs again, letting him in. Your arms hurt terribly, with your weight on them and now his was added.

He picked up the knife and pressed the blade against your throat hard enough for you to feel it, but not enough to cut you. And you let out a sharp gasp, when he pushed forward and suddenly he was fucking you again.

“My good girl.” He murmured and let out a soft moan. “Oh, my good girl, you trust me, don’t you?”

He began to move faster and harder, causing you to moan, despite yourself. You were still crying. The feel of the cold blade against your skin was enough to make sure of it.

But the pleasure rolled over you in waves, despite your fear.

You released a sob and nodded.

“My good girl. My darling girl. My sweet girl.” He whispered and pressed the knife down slightly tighter, but still not enough to cut you.

His other hand wandered up and he pressed his fingers into your cheeks, enough to make you moan out again.

“Say it.” He growled.

“I’m your girl.” You whispered shakily.

“Again.”

He was growing closer, you could tell. His movements, once controlled, became more and more reckless and his moans grew louder.

“I- I’m your girl.” Your insides twitched.

“Fuck, yes, you are. My girl. My good girl.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust and you were sure. You would…

Oh, fuck.

You came in a way you never had before. You clenched around him yet again and moaned desperately, gasping for air and not caring a bit about the cold metal pressed against your throat.

Instead, you felt it seemed to intensify the feeling somehow.

You were so helpless.

The moment you came, you heard him moan louder than before and his body tensed. With a low groan, he came deep inside you, twitching and throbbing.

A moment later, he let the knife slip from his hand and it rolled off the bed with a loud click. His head dipped forward and he buried his face in your neck as he rode out his release. He opened his mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to your neck.

And suddenly you were sure.

He wouldn’t let you go and you were special.

But was that really a good thing?

“Oh God.” He breathed out when he slowly came down from his high. Your hips twitched in exhaustion and over-stimulation. You had never felt so worn-out and satisfied at the same time.

You didn’t even realize how you were still crying, until he pulled his head back to look at you. The fury was gone. He was much more calm now and the softness was back.

Just like that.

His brows furrowed and he gently cupped your face in his hands.

“Did I hurt you?” He whispered.

Your eyes fell shut and you nodded. You sniffled softly.

His head fell forward aagain nd he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. Then your nose, and then your cheek. Kissing away your tears. A moment later, you felt the salt on your lips when he brushed his over them, kissing you softly.

“I would never kill you. You know that, right?”

You swallowed thickly. Just a minute earlier you had been sure he would stab you to death.

But you forced yourself to nod.

“Good.” He whispered. “Because I would never kill you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He smiled and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“At least not unless you gave me a reason to.”

___________________________________________________

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If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

Author's note: Sorry guys, his insanity won over this one. But I'm positive he'll show us another side of him in the future!

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I am not EVERY autistic person so this probably won't be a total coverage approach, but here's what I have learned:

People like to feel that you pay attention to and remember little but important things about them. And when someone is "small-talking" with you, it is often because they either want to offer you some of that info about themselves, or they want to pearn it about you so they can "return the effort". I think of it a bit like call and response with my cats! They don't understand me, and I don't understand them, but when I walk into the kitchen each morning, Lup runs towards me excitedly making her tiny little squeaks and trills. That's kitty small-talk! Many words of all varieties just say "I love you! I missed you! I'm happy to be here with you today!"

So I answer her! Sometimes I mimic her little sounds, and other times I pretend we're gossiping like church ladies (*gasp* NO, you're KIDDING, he said THAT?? What a scandal!") But whichever I do Lup gets excited and continues her little "conversation" with me.

People are harder. I had to really take time and practice different ways of responding before I found appropriate "call and response" for small talk, but I found that there are genuinely more options than you'd think. And the same thing happened! As I learned how to "call and respond" to small talk, I found that people would excitedly approach me to have it, and gradually we got to know each other enough that the "calls" coming from both sides got less general, more tailored to our personal preferences and interests, and I didn't have to small talk as much (but when I did it wasn't as scary either)

This isn't just my personal theory either! A fair amount of research in interpersonal/social in-group dynamics suggests that "bids for attention" like small talk function in this way of call-and-response intimacy/connection building. I have found that a LOT of social etiquette gets less scary to navigate when I at least understand the function of it. It also gave me some understsnding of why people might be hurt when I visibly don't WANT to "respond" to a "call" they've made: I'm the same way about my "calls" I just use different ones! The way I feel when I ask someone "would you want to hang out with me in the kitchen while I make lunch?" (Sad, a little anxious or vulnerable, maybe hurt if they've said no to a LOT of recent calls, etc) is the same way others feel when I decline theirs! That doesn't change if it was MISSED rather than DECLINED, but it can be repaired! Ao another thing I've taken to doing is naming for people the calls I have learned I'm most likely to miss. I know I have a hard time understanding/recognizing small talk as a call to attention, so I let people know that! And generally the people I connect best with are the ones who notice I missed a call and offer me an explicit/direct opportunity to reject it before internalizing what I've done as a rejection. This isn't really an option for everyone! And while I'm always delighted when someone is compatible with me in that way, I don't get upset if they're not, and work to not take it personally as something I'm doing wrong either.

Anyway, this got rambly at the end there, but the point is, most social interactions have a FUNCTION and while being autistic frequently means that we struggle to learn and interact in these systems as they currently exist, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we don't also depend on those functions. I think it can be easy to forget that part of the "disabling" effects of social/communication symptoms in autism is how it cuts us off from systems of support, care, and human interconectedness (things we still NEED) and it can matter to our quality of life to be able to find compatible alternatives to fulfilling those functions even if the original mechanism (small talk in this case) doesn't suit us.

Being bad at small talk doesn't mean you don't need friends, but it will probably make it very hard to MAKE friends. And we each and all deserve to decide for ourselves what to do about that.

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

fashion photographer!gojo part 1

paris fashion week was as exhausting as it was exhilarating for you.

trying to make it to three shows in a day, squeezing in castings in between, attending countless parties, and meeting new people made you feel like you were truly living life to the fullest.

especially that arrogant and handsome photographer… he never missed an opportunity to invade your packed schedule and fill it with himself.

after the shoot with fashion photographer!gojo in paris, you had ended up in his massive hotel suite and lost count of how many times you fucked. not a single corner of that hotel room was left untouched.

of course, that wasn’t enough for him. whether you had free time or not didn’t matter—there wasn’t a single moment he wasn’t stuffing his cock into your pussy, either before a show, in the car rushing to the next one, or even at the after-parties.

“models for the runway, please gather near the photographers’ area backstage,” the backstage coordinator’s shout made your fingers tighten even more in gojo’s hair.

“gojo… i need to go, ple-nghhh please stop,” you whimpered as gojo harshly sucked on your clit, pulling yet another moan from your lips.

right now, you were in a spot a little away from the backstage area, somewhere you didn’t know how gojo had found, and where no one else was around. he was among the guests invited to the show and would be watching from the front row. the moment he arrived backstage, people flocked to him, showering him with attention and making him the center of it all. but gojo wasn’t there to mingle or admire the new collection.

you knew exactly what he wanted.

gojo lifted his head from between your legs, his lips glistening and his face slick with your juices, looked up at you. “how many times do i have to tell you to call me satoru?”

“fuck off, satoru, i need to go.”

“and i don’t want you to go,” he replied, sliding his fingers along your drenched folds, making you gasp. “besides, i think you don’t want to leave right now either. please, baby, let me help relieve your stress, hm?”

the show you were about to walk in was the most anticipated event of fashion week. your legs were trembling with nervous excitement, and you were terrified you might stumble and fall on the runway. gojo, however, had promised to help you turn that around, and now here you were, pressed against a wall in some hidden room, letting one of the most prominent figures in the fashion world eat your pussy.

your grip on his snowy white hair loosened slightly. “i don’t want to embarrass myself.”

gojo pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking back up at you. “you won’t. remember, if you’ve proven to me how amazing a model you can be, everyone else already knows how good you are.”

arrogant bastard. even in a sentence meant to reassure you, he managed to stroke his own ego.

“instead of using your mouth to praise yourself, use it to make me cum. wasn’t that what you wanted, to help me relieve my stress?” you smirked.

gojo seemed to enjoy your bold words because he wasted no time responding. “whatever my favorite model wants.” and with that, he got right back to work.

as his two fingers pumped into you, his tongue kept pace, swirling over your clit. his tongue was relentless, flicking and drawing circles on that sensitive little spot, making your eyes flutter shut.

“so good, keep going,” you tilted your head back, moaning and craving more.

gojo curled his fingers, finding your g-spot, while his tongue drew intricate shapes on your swollen bud. as if that wasn’t enough, he sucked your clit into his mouth, his lips relentless.

“fuck, fuck…” your legs shook, and your hands gripped his hair with a strength you didn’t know you had.

gojo briefly pulled his lips away from your dripping clit with a lewd pop, his fingers still working inside you. “you’re so fucking beautiful. this pussy was made for me. god, it’s trembling around my fingers just like your legs.” he growled before diving back in, sucking harder.

“i love—i love when you touch me. you make me feel so fucking good.” it was true. every touch of his made you feel like a goddess. people weren’t wrong when they said satoru gojo had a talent for elevating others.

whether it was through his photos, his mouth, or his cock.

gojo released your clit again, though his fingers never faltered. he whispered into your dripping pussy, “because you are perfect, my muse.” then he sped up his fingers and brought his mouth back to your clit, sucking with a fervor that had you seeing stars.

his nose brushed against you as he worked, and the sensation sent a deep moan ripping from your throat. you didn’t care if anyone outside heard the mix of moans and cries spilling from your mouth. right now, all you cared about was finding relief before the big show.

“goj-satoru shit, my legs are t-trembling,” you stammered, pressing his face closer, signaling how close you were. the only thing shaking more than your legs was your voice as his relentless mouth and fingers drove you to the edge.

“cum, baby. soak my face, cover me in your sweetness. fuck, you taste so good.”

as he growled those words into your pussy, your trembling turned into spasms, and you shut your eyes. the orgasm spread through your body, yet gojo’s fingers didn’t stop. as you grew more sensitive, you begged him to stop. at first, he didn’t listen and kept going, but eventually, the movements of his fingers slowed down. finally, he stopped and slowly withdrew his fingers, now coated in your sticky juices.

“let me clean you up,” he murmured, licking the juices that had trickled down your thighs. “can’t have you going on the runway like this, right?” his tongue lapped at your thighs as he peppered soft kisses along your skin.

“you’re insane, satoru gojo,” you muttered, your hand brushing against the nape of his neck—his favorite spot to be touched.

he pressed one last kiss to your sensitive pussy before standing up. he fixed the designer skirt that had ridden up your waist, then leaned down to capture your lips with his still-wet ones. “you look relaxed now. when you walk the runway, remember this—I’ll only be watching you.” he pulled back, smoothing his hair before heading for the door. just as he reached it, he turned around. “oh, and after the show, come to the back entrance. my car will be waiting. sorry you’ll miss the after-party, but trust me, i’ll make up for it in the car and the room later.”

once he left, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. with all the stress drained from your body, you were finally ready for the show. a few minutes later, you emerged from the room, ignoring the frantic chatter of people saying they’d been looking for you everywhere. “i just needed to relax,” you said, brushing past their confused faces and taking your place in the lineup.

after the show ended, you quickly changed, bid everyone goodbye with a rushed excuse about missing the after-party, and headed to the back entrance. opening the door of the sleek black car, you found that cocky, talented photographer sitting there in his cream-colored suit and vintage sunglasses. without saying a word, you climbed into the car and sat beside him.

you said nothing, just looked straight ahead. but you knew he had that smug grin on his face.

just before the car started moving, gojo pressed a button, and the black partition separating the front and back began to rise. you turned to look at him, and before he could say anything, you climbed into his lap, tossing his sunglasses aside and crashing your lips against his.

fashion photographer!gojo may have made you miss the after-party, but he made sure to give you the best one in the car and the hotel room. again. and again.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[moonstruckme]

Please Mr. Postman

summary: it's your first day at a new job, and the postman who comes by your office is especially friendly

cw: just fluff honestly, passed on opportunities to talk about post worker uniform shorts (sorry, won't happen again)

postman!James x fem!reader ♡ 732 words

A friendly tap on the glass startles you out of your stolen moment of meditation. You tear your face away from its hiding place in your hands to find a mail carrier peering at the large, darkened window of your office, shading his eyes to see in. You hasten and hit the button to unlock the door before he can. 

Your office setup sort of makes you feel like a fish in a tank, or a zoo animal in a glassed-in enclosure. You’ve been itchy with the discomfort of being seen all day. You take a moment to straighten the row of pens on your empty desk as the postman’s voice booms in the entryway around the corner. 

“Margaret, I never thought I’d see the day! Slipping on the job, tsk, tsk—” He fits his dolly through the doorway of your office with a practiced maneuver, stopping short when he sees you. “Oh. You’re not Margaret.” 

You shoot him a small, sheepish, please-don’t-be-mad-at-me smile (you’ve had lots of practice with it already this morning). “I’m new.” 

“You are!” he says, like this is the discovery of his day. “What’s your name, lovely? I’m James.” 

You tell him yours, itching for a pen to write his name down with. You’ve had to learn so many, but James strikes you already as someone who remembers names and you’d hate to forget his. He has a bright smile that pokes dimples into sun-kissed cheeks and the sort of warm voice which threatens more smiles to come. He’s handsome, muscular limbs making his uniform fit tightly around his biceps and quads and brown eyes made large behind thick glasses. 

“Margaret’s moved into accounting,” you tell him. “I’m replacing her, today’s my first day.” 

James nods sagely. “Well, you look well prepared for it. Got all your pens in order” —your cheeks warm at his notice— “and you look very smart.” The warmth worsens. Your toes ache inside your stiff new shoes. “I’m sure you’re making a great impression.” 

“Thanks,” you say, voice softening self-consciously. “I hope so.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” He waves you off, leaning his hip against your desk. “Everyone here seems very nice. I mean, I’ve mostly spoken to Margaret, but still. How are you finding it?” 

“Um.” You glance towards the door that leads to the rest of the office as though your boss is standing with her ear pressed to it. “It’s nice, so far, yeah. The coffee in the break room is good, so.” 

James’ laugh is loud and lively, echoing in the small space. It makes you smile; you don’t think you’ve said anything so funny as to earn such a sound. 

“Well, that’s the best you can hope for, isn’t it?” he asks. “Good coffee to keep trudging through. And it is only your first day, you can’t likely make an estimate of the whole place just yet.” 

“Exactly,” you say, relieved. 

“Is this the sort of thing you want to do? Work here, I mean?” 

“Oh.” The question catches you off guard. It’s more than the weak small talk you’ve made with the other delivery people who’ve come by today, but there’s an earnestness in James’ face that says he really wants to know. “Yeah, it is. I mean, maybe not here” —you gesture to your unadorned fishbowl of an office— “but in this field, yeah. I’d like to stay here if I can.” 

He grins. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have you, lovely. Well,” he heads for the stack of boxes against the wall, “I don’t want to keep you. This might take me two trips, but don’t mind me coming in and out, alright?” 

“Oh.” You watch him load six boxes expertly onto the dolly, biceps flexing slightly as he tilts it back onto the wheels. “Do you want any help?” 

The grin James flashes you sends a funny tingle down your spine. “You’re sweet. Thanks, I’ve got it. Just unlock the door for me on my way back in, yeah?” You do keep an eye on the door this time. You offer again to help when he comes back, but James only makes a comment about your work clothes being too nice to get dirt on and waves you away with an easy smile. You find yourself watching his truck rumble out of the parking lot with a light, fluttery feeling in your stomach.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Class-D

"Umm....?"

You stare at the affini sitting across from you, who is sipping casually from a large mug of tea.  She had grown close to you over the last year, but the last few weeks in particular had been...more?  She suddenly seemed intent on pushing you towards florethood, and more specifically towards one of the more...simple lifestyles.

'There are as many ways to be a floret as there are florets', as the saying goes.  You considered yourself an outgoing and independent type, one who had (with effort and support) gone far, despite any neurodivergencies that often ground progress to a slow crawl.  But the way Ea would look at you...the things she said...well, like what she JUST said, for example.

"I'm merely suggesting that you give it a try, dear.  No contracts, no implants...unless you want those.  I'm referring to something a bit simpler."

You frown, crossing your arms.  "And what exactly do you have in mind, Ea?"

A brilliantly red flower blossoms before your lips, the needles tip glistening green.  "I give you a Class-D, of course.  One that prevents those pesky inhibitions and falsehoods from getting in the way.  And then you and I can chat a little, and I may ask you to do a few things, to see if they make you feel good.  Is that really so dangerous, sweetie?"

"I..." Yes, of course it was...was what you wanted to say.  But if it really was just a Class-D, then it wouldnt change your mind.  They were there to reveal the truth, and the truth of the matter was that you were capable and competent, and it's about time she figured that out.  Sighing, you roll up your sleeve and extend your arm, wincing as the injection slips into your skin.  The verdant drug travels up your arm and to your brain, and an....interesting feeling seems to settle on you.  Not the fresh-out-of-a-dryer blanket of a Class-A, but a slightly warm sheet, perhaps.  You blink a few times, then look at Ea expectantly.

She gently snaps her fingers at you, then points at the floor next to her seat.  "No no, darling.  We aren't going to one-half ass it here.  I intend to show you what I mean, through actions as much as words."

You gawk at her, blushing furiously.  "But...but I don't want to do that!"

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing!"

Ea tilts her head, a coy look passing through violet eyes.  "The only one who thinks it is embarrassing is you, petal.  No one else in this case will care in the least, and you already know what I think you need." She smiles. "If it helps, just think of it as me...coercing you into it.  If anyone asks, you can explain that you didn't have a choice here."

You squint your eyes at her, but your gaze soon follows her arm down to her pointed finger.  Crumbs, she really was serious.  You look around the cafe again, noting how the others weren't even looking your way.

Blushing, you let yourself go limp, flowing off the lip of the seat and into a kneel as you shuffle towards her spot.  When you arrive, you keep your gaze firmly fixed to the left, your hands grasping themselves out of a need to hold onto something.

You wait for her to speak...but she stays silent.  She waits until you give in, until you sneak a glance at her, and only then does she cup your cheek in one large hand as she whispers, "Good Pet."

"I...y-you...it-" she slides her hand over your mouth, preventing the words from haphazardly tumbling out.

"Sweetheart, I said we would chat.  I never said you would get to use people words~"

The hand returns to your cheek, a thumb gently brushing across your lips as she smiles triumphantly.  "Now then, pet.  You are a wonderfully skilled sophont, make no mistake.  But a trained pet is still a pet, honey.  And not everything trained into you is Good."

You open your mouth to protest...only to let the words die in your throat at the warning in her eyes.  Instead, the softest little slip of a whimper manages to drip from your tongue.

Ea smiles wider, her other hand joining the first on your head as she begins to pet you, long firm pulls of her fingers through your hair.  "You know that you push yourself too hard, don't you?  That you keep moving, because the inertia is part of how you stay upright.  You need the constant motion, because you're worried that as soon as you slow down, you'll topple over and shatter."

You try to deny it.  You try to disprove it.  But in the end, you are forced to admit it to yourself:

She's right.

She gently brushed a tear from the corner of your eye, softer than the petals of her flowers.  "But that needn't happen, honey.  Not if you have an Owner to care for you, and hold you close, and keep you safe.  You know this too, don't you?"

You did.  You do.  And it hurts.  And it heals.

Your eyes make a desperate plea towards her, though for what, you aren't sure.  She seemed to be waiting for it, though, because her eyes glow golden ichor.  "And so, since you are being honest with me, I shall be in turn with you.  I will not wait a single second longer to give you what you want, need, crave.  You are my pet, honey.  I will Own you, I will train you, I will condition away any independence and wrestle your thoughts into simple submission.  And, in the end, you will thank me for it."

Her hand brushes one last time over your head as it makes its way to the back of your neck, tracing a line where you know the implant will soon reside.  You shudder as she presses down, down, Down, pushing your face into her vines as you finally are honest with yourself and admit what you realize you always wanted, always needed.

You surrender.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ we should just kiss like real people do

NOT using cherry wine because the song has been through too many bastardizations already, and i'm a hozier fan before i'm anything else. to use cherry wine would be a disgrace, even if it has the 'perfect' line for a fic like this)

type: viktor x vampire reader

summary: headcanons and then a drabble of an instance where you feed

warning(s): blood, vampirism

word count: 921

a/n: been thinking about vampirism a whole lot lately as well as feeling down, so now i cope through tumblr fics. i love viktor, i wish i felt as strongly about real life people like i do for him

For a creature that's considered parasitic, the relationship you have with your eccentric scientist proved quite mutualistic

When you first stalked him on his walk home that late, late night, he had seemed like ordinary prey, easy to sink your teeth into and forget about

Something stopped you

Maybe it was that look in his eyes, flickering like a flame in the dark of that alleyway, refusing to die

They were so determined, so full of life

How could you ever drain them of that spark? It wasn't right

You could sense his fear, so palpable in the air, but he stood firm. His grip on his cane steady, his posture straight as he stared right at you with those lovely eyes, a million stories flitting through them

The eyes of someone who fought to survive since the moment he was born

You felt yourself slowing down, and then dropping to your knees completely

What were you doing? Were those tears in your eyes? You've become so jaded

Immortality had made you nothing

This mortal, so brief in the fabric of time, and his life already so weak and waning, had more... what was it? vigor to him

Lust was something you knew very well. Bloodlust. You embodied it. That urge that could never be satisified, the driving force that keeps your miserable legs moving, your body agile and agitated

His lust was one for life. For pursuit too, as you came to find out

A deal was struck that night; knowledge in exchanged for food

You allowed him to observe you and ask his questions, to witness your hunts (on animals now. less thrilling, but you digress)

In return, he became a sustainable food source. You didn't have to go out and about in the night now and get paid in stupid drunks or those rotten enforcers for your efforts

How lovely, to have something consistent for once

You could get used to this

Get used to him

divider below from @/dollywons !!!

The quiet comfort of the bedroom reminded you of your old crypt, in a way. It was dark. The sheets were soft and meticulously kept. It smelled of leather and old books and dried ink on fresh paper. The new addition was Viktor.

You'd started lounging about in his home, and his room became your favorite corner of the house. It became ritual for him to joke about having a coffin fixed there so you won't have to hog the blankets. Not his blankets. They were to be shared now, and he was fine with that. The coffin idea was still appealing though.

Tonight interrupted the quiet. You lingered before him, eyeing the pale curve of his neck. It was taking all your self control to not pounce on him immediately.

"Are you comfortable?" you asked.

He shifted around a bit, and then nodded.

"I'll try to keep accurate time. See if you're more greedy than last time," he joked.

Tsk. It wasn't that funny. (It is). You weren't as hungry as before.

Now you hovered above him, having laid him down. There was less hesitation this time, and you wonder if he'd note that down in his journal. You both did this song and dance enough by now to be comfortable with one another.

Still, the act of feeding was one of savagery. That can't change. When mixed with romance? It clashed, horribly. Your inherent nature versus what had been nurtured.

The taste of his blood filled your mouth, and you could sing to the heavens. If such a creature like yourself were allowed to. You weren't sure on the terms and conditions of that. Regardless, he was so sweet. A heady vermillion ambrosia on your tongue.

You were taking such care to be gentle with him.

You didn’t want to hurt him, but your love was violence, the draining of life, and the dark urges that lurk beneath every man, and he was already going limp.

Shit.

You pulled back immediately, the red still dripping from your teeth and down your throat. It mirrored the punctures on his. Viktor, the stubborn bastard, gripped the edge of your sleeve. He tugged insistently.

"I'm fine. I'm not as fragile as you think," he said, miffed.

“Too bad. I’m full,” you slowly pry yourself from his grip.

While he lazed back, you grabbed the first-aid kit. So used to it by now. He didn’t even flinch when you applied the antiseptic. After securing the gauze, you leaned down to brush another kiss against his lips, and he sighed at the slight feel of your fangs against the skin there.

“Was your vampire research quota met?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbow to observe him.

“Very much,” he replied. “I look forward to comparing it with next week’s results.”

As he drifted off in your arms, you felt affection swell in your heart, and a fierce protectiveness over him.

He was strong.

You knew that more than anyone. He walked such a thin line between life and death. You could hear the beat of his heart, the flowing in his veins, and fragility of his tissues and arteries and bones. He pushed on, despite it. Taking his body to limits that had you balking, and you were near invincible.

In your hold, he was so delicate. His body was already thin and frail. So easily breakable. The very thought made you uncomfortable, and you tightened your hold on his sleeping form.

He was strong. You’ll protect him anyways.

[quarterlifekitty]

The Gaz secret baby post was sooo delicious. He totally would go "oh fuck yeah a baby it’s baby time". You've infected my brain with this trope and the doctors are saying it's incurable 🤒 I keep thinking of Nikolai in this trope!

He's not made his attraction to you any secret – you dismiss any reciprocated feelings because it's just not realistic with both of your jobs. The task force finishes a gruelling but successful op with him, and everybody decides to let loose for a night. After a few many rounds of drinks… you inevitably fall into his bed.

Cut to 5 weeks later, you're staring at a positive test and wondering how long you can keep this a secret. You resolve to never let Nik know he's the dad. Someone who loves his job, disappearing for months… you decide it's best for your child to have at least one present parent and maybe you're scared of the rejection.

I’m so ashamed I haven’t done this trope for Nikolai!!! I love the idea of you trying actively to hide it— it’s not just a one night stand thing, you really know each other and you’re still trying to get away with it.

At first, when he sees the baby— he just assumes it can’t be his, because you would’ve told him, wouldn’t you? Surely you wouldn’t think he didn’t want anything to do with a perfect, chubby baby made from both you and him. So when he’s questioning, it’s about the timelines. He knows there wasn’t anything labeled between you— it was one night, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but the beast inside him still bares its teeth at the idea that you fucked someone right after he fucked you.

Price, for all that Nik is his best mate, promised to be your confidant as your captain, and he wouldn’t betray that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a messy bitch who will start making a whole load of implications. Some of them are pretty crude, too, because he’s trying to goad Nik into confronting you. Saying things like “You should dick ‘er down again soon, last time it settled her down like you wouldn’t believe.”

It makes Nik more and more sure that there wasn’t anyone else. You were never really the type. Which means the baby must be his, and for some reason, you don’t want him to know.

That makes his blood hot. The idea that you don’t want him to father his own baby. You’ve always been a bit bristly to him, and he’s never known exactly why— he was hoping to find out the morning after you fell into bed together, but you ran out first thing, and he was contracted in a job soon after.

So he hangs over you more than before, watching from a distance, the gears turning as he considers what the fuck to say to get you to fess up. He wants to hear you say it. He doesn’t want to just ask and have you confirm or deny.

It hurts that you don’t want to tell him. That you don’t feel it’s safe for him to know. That you’re trying to protect yourself and the cub from him knowing. And despite the support from your own squad— it can’t have been easy for you.

But he also doesn’t want to miss out on another second of fatherhood. There’s an impatient roiling in his gut about it. Seeing your fat little baby, his fat little baby, and not being able to wordlessly lift it from your arms and hold it close to his chest and kiss its head.

So he’s conflicted, to say the least.

[cloudwisp]

Caleb and the constant yearning for you to need him and to hear the words coming from your lips. He’s already given you everything he could think of, protection and safety that makes you feel so insulated from the world. But when you need him for something else entirely that goes beyond the boundaries of your close relationship, it feeds into his appetite that he won’t be able to control if you continue to keep this up.

What started as a playful wrestle for the remote turned into you pinning him on the ground, your faces impossibly close so that you could feel the warmth of his breath blending with yours. You have the upper hand yet you’re right where he wants you as tension crackles between you and him. The shared glances clouded with lust make the intentions known when they slowly flit and linger for a sweet taste. He doesn’t have time to process before softness embraces his lips and he surrenders all senses to you.

Caleb has dreamt about this for a long time. How it would feel to squeeze the flesh of your hips and pull you closer to him, how he would respond to swallowing your moans against tongueful kisses as you lose yourself humping his warm and growing arousal in his pants. He feels so dangerously good under you, making you crave more when his hand travels beneath your shirt and teases you by tracing the underside of your breast with his thumb.

You both eventually come up for a desperate inhale to return air back into your lungs. Your cheeks flushed and parted lips swollen as you gaze down only to receive an amorous stare back at you. He chuckles softly, a smile making way and his palm cups the side of your face. “You know, I didn’t think you had that in you. Not that I didn’t enjoy the kiss... it was nice.”

His hand lowers and brushes the pad of his finger along your bottom lip. And new thoughts emerge like how your mouth would feel wrapped around his thumb as he gently presses down on your tongue. “You’re beautiful, have I ever told you that?”

“Caleb… I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.” You glance away amidst the heat of your embarrassment, and you still feel lightheaded from the remnants of the intense exchange. Some things can’t be easily undone once you start them, and yet you feel an overwhelming urgency to kiss him again. His shirt crumples around your clenched fist while your mind tries to make sense of your suppressed feelings for your childhood friend.

“Hey, hey. You didn’t do anything wrong, princess.” He carefully shifts you onto your back, tilting your chin to make you face him again. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll take care of it, hm?” He tests your reaction by hooking one of your legs over his hip and his knee slowly parts your thigh causing your breath to hitch when he makes contact with your clothed clit. He leans down to plant light kisses on your forehead, his fingers curling around the waistband of your skirt tugging at it playfully. “Can you do that for me?”

It’s adorable to him, truly. How precious and vulnerable you look with those eyes full of longing because you also share the same burning desire for something more with him. When you grant him consent with a small nod of your head, he promises that he won’t hold back pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into you that he has withheld for too many years.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

fun fact: experienced witches who practice it know that any form of divination is more or less just self-reflection. no matter how much you believe in supernatural stuff or don’t, if you identify yourself as a witch and youre skilled at the practice of divination, you know not to ask foolish questions like “will i get this job” or “who will i marry,” regardless of your preferred form of divination. you ask questions like “what should i do to get this job” to ur tarot deck, or “should i pursue this person i like romantically” to your pendulum. the idea is that you already know the answer, even if you don’t know that you know.

so, with a pendulum (which isn’t my preferred method personally but plenty of witches love it), you know already if that person is bad for you, and your subconscious moves the pendulum to swing to tell you no, you shouldn’t pursue them, bc you already know you’re gonna get hurt. with tarot (which IS my preferred method), the cards all have many meanings but your immediate feeling when you look at them is more important than any pre-assigned meaning (bc it reflects what you already intuitively know).

that’s why a good fortune-teller reads for themselves, and if they do it as a job, skilled readers don’t take questions for concrete answers about the future and they seek to learn about the problem at hand before a reading. but tbh it’s always better to practice divination for yourself rather than paying someone else, bc divination is a tool to seek advice from the universe but also from yourself, bc the answers are already within you.

so basically, a skilled diviner who uses pendulums, actually uses the ideomotor effect to seek clarity on things they know subconsciously, but not on a conscious level. an unskilled witch using a pendulum, uses the ideomotor effect to get the answer they want to hear to the question, “will this work out?”

in short, yes, a pendulum is just the ideomotor effect in action, ‘specially if you don’t believe in all the hippie dippie crap that i believe in, but even i can admit that there is a lot of psychological components to it that some witches don’t acknowledge bc it doesn’t fit in with their belief system. however, believing in magic isn’t a requirement to be a skilled fortune-teller. you can use a pendulum with the full knowledge of the ideomotor effect and you can believe that nothing other than your subconscious is guiding your pendulum, and still get something out of it—as long as you know the right kinds of questions to ask yourself. of course you don’t know if you’ll marry the person you’re pining for right now, but you might know if you should actually avoid them like the plague because despite how attracted you are to them, you know that they’re actually kind of cruel with a veneer of charm covering that up.

tbh this is exactly what i love about divination, bc i’m very intuitive but don’t always trust myself when i’m not using my cards, or tea leaves, or a mirror to throw my own thoughts back at me. it allows you to interpret that which you already know as information from the universe or a deity or whatever you need to believe is saying this stuff to you, so that you’ll trust yourself. it’s a great way, for me at least, to train myself to listen to my intuition, and to learn the difference between my intuition and my anxiety (bc it’s hard to explain to people who don’t practice divination, but the voice of my intuition is distinct from the voice of my anxiety—they sound very similar bc they’re both a part of me, but after a lot of practice i can mostly tell which is which)

When I was a kid I had a book of like, "fun physics experiments for kids". And one of them was an "experiment" where you hold an object by a string and just by focusing on the direction you wanted it to swing, it would start to move in that direction even without your input. The book of course explained that this was the ideomotor effect, a phenomenon where your thoughts can create minute, unconscious movements in your body.

Then a couple years later I got a fortune-telling kit that included a pendulum. You hold the pendulum over a piece of paper that says "yes" and "no" and ask a question, and whichever way the pendulum moves is the answer.

At which point I was like "hey WAIT a minute", and in hindsight I think that experience explains most things about who I am as a person

[genderqueerdykes]

I still feel really iffy about transandrophobia (a bit less so after your explanation) but the main thing confusing me is why is it considered the intersection of being a man + being trans when it stems from transphobia and misogyny? It can’t really stem from misandry because misandry is systematically not a thing. I’m starting to understand it a bit but i’m still SUPER confused. I also feel really bad that So Many ppl who believe in transandrophobia are really rude to transfems.

hello there. i hope i can explain things that help make sense of it a bit better. i appreciate you coming back to ask more. please note that i'm saying this to be productive and not to hurt your feelings or anything. i just need to point out some key things that i see repeated often in these conversations

it's not "believing" that transandrophobia exists, it is acknowledging that it exists. this is not a religion. this is much like gravity in that this form of oppression doesn't cease to exist just because someone doesn't believe in it. it's not like god, belief is not necessary. it will happen regardless of whether or not you believe it's happening

i really need you to understand that transmascs and trans men are PEOPLE above all else and talking over them and telling them they don't actually know what they're going through and need someone else to explain it for them is so fucking horrible. please don't do that to an entire group of people. transmascs and trans men ARE reliable narrators on their own lived experiences. why is it okay to freak the fuck out when trans men speak for trans women, but trans women are the only ones we can listen to when it comes to trans manhood? please consider how screwed up this double standard is. if you refuse to listen to trans men talk about trans womanhood, do the same when trans women talk like they know everything about trans manhood.

why is it considered the intersection of being a man + being trans when it stems from transphobia and misogyny?

because that's not what it refers to! trans men and transmascs experience misogyny but they're not using "transandrophobia" to mean "misogyny 2". it's specifically because they are trans MEN and nothing else. we did not reinvent misogyny, this is a specific experience that we face that people can learn about if they just listen to us talk about it!

transandrophobia is a specific type of transphobia that is directed towards trans men and mascs that is specifically directed at them because they are trans MEN and trans MASCS. it's NOT stock standard transphobia, transmascs & trans men are specifically being targeted because they are trans MEN. being told that you're "not a real man" because you're trans isn't misogyny. being told you're "not really a gay guy" because you're trans isn't misogyny. mocking trans men for not having deep enough voices or enough facial hair to pass isn't misogyny. telling trans men they're not real men because they don't have penises isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they like women's clothing isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they work in a female dominated field isn't misogyny.

mocking trans men who can't grow body hair for not "being real men" isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they have feminine interests isn't misogyny. telling them they're too short to be a man isn't misogyny. telling them their face or body isn't masculine enough to be a man isn't misogyny. trans men getting misgendered for their voices isn't misogyny. getting called a "tranny dyke" or a "cunt boy" when someone finds out a trans man is trans isn't misogyny... all of these things are transandrophobia. these no longer have anything to do with being perceived as a woman, these have to do with being perceived/attempting to be perceived as a man/masc.

trans men are affected by misogyny too, but it's not the same as transandrophobia. as a matter of fact, telling a trans man that they're experiencing misogyny when they aren't IS transandrophobia..

I also feel really bad that So Many ppl who believe in transandrophobia are really rude to transfems.

i'm going to lay it down painfully easily for you, but when you say things like that, it really comes across as virtue signalling. i'm going to be blatantly honest with you here. it really sounds like you're trying to suck up to transfems for brownie points by saying trans men don't suffer any forms of oppression at all and that people who acknowledge that transandrophobia exist are mostly rude transmisogynistic assholes. you're participating in silencing trans men & transmascs for the sake of trying to look more Trans Friendly to transfems and trans women and we can see it for what it is. please stop. this isn't flattering. it scares transfems and trans women when you do this because we don't know when you'll turn that hatred, malice and ignorance toward us whenever the narrative shifts again. this does not make us feel safe around you.

acknowledging that transandrophobia exists doesn't mean someone is attacking trans women and trans fems. like i'm sick and tired of the "people who believe in transandrophobia are really mean to transfems" shit. it's not true! this is way over exaggerated for the sake of making trans men and mascs look bad. i cannot stress how much this is NOT true for every single person who acknowledges that transandrophobia exists. i have a lot of friends who acknowledge that transandrophobia exists, trans men, transmascs, and all other kinds of genders, including trans women and transfems! you know how many of them are ACTUALLY rude to or attack trans women?

0. none. i'm not saying those people don't exist but they are NOT the norm. hell, there are literally trans women who acknowledge transandrophobia exist. the world is not as tiny as you've been made to feel it seems. there ARE shitty people out there who acknowledge that transandrophobia exists, but it's not the norm. it's not the vast majority of us. we have to stop having this knee jerk reaction of "trans woman = defenseless pure cant ever hurt anyone constant victim always hurt by men no matter what the context is" and "trans man = evil because man subhuman deserves to die literally an attack to every and all trans women around them"

i would suggest actually reading the anons i get about transandrophobia if you want to learn more about it! please stop listening to people who AREN'T trans men and transmascs when it comes to what kinds of oppression they face. nobody else actually knows what they go through. please actually listen to THEM. it's not helping trans women by refusing to listen to literally every other kind of trans person. it's not alleviating trans women of the oppression we face to deny that other people can be oppressed, too.

also whether or not ppl wanna accept it, transmascs and trans men are human and you really, really do need to care about that. like genuinely. please just open your heart and care about transmascs and trans men in a way that doesn't involve throwing them under the bus to attempt to look better to transfems. it's not helping anyone. put your ego down for a good few hours and actually listen to other people- and yes, i really do mean more than just trans women. listening to trans women is great. we appreciate it. but stop silencing other people in order to do that. it's not necessary.