#like honestly someone be truthful to me and tell me that love is not the root of so much evil
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2amriize · 23 hours ago
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when you go to sleep with them but you don't hug them - RIIZE
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ᡣ𐭩 masterlist // genre fluff // pairing bf!riize x reader ᡣ𐭩 req by: my beloved @ladylilith
ᯓ★ shotaro Normally, you and Shotaro would fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms—even on the hottest nights, since it just felt comforting to you both. But that day, you were exhausted. You’d had such a long day that the moment you lay down, you felt too tired to even turn over and hug Shotaro. In truth, it hadn’t even crossed your mind. Shotaro noticed, and he decided that this night, he’d be the one to hold you. He moved closer, cuddling up to your back and leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek.
ᯓ★ eunseok ��Not forgetting something, princess?” Eunseok had gone for a shower before bed, and you’d tried to stay awake, but exhaustion finally got the best of you. Just as you were drifting off, Eunseok returned, whispering close to your ear as your eyes were nearly shut. You turned towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and nestling into his chest, feeling him leave a kiss on your forehead. “That’s better.”
ᯓ★ sungchan Not a chance. Sleeping without holding you close? That was simply impossible for Sungchan. He loved feeling your arms around his chest while he held you with one of his arms, his head resting on yours. He always said it made him sleep better. That night, though, you’d had a minor argument, and when you got into bed, you decided to turn your back to him. He tried to fall asleep but quickly realized something was missing. Checking to see if you were still awake, he got you to look at him. “I know you’re still a bit upset with me, but honestly, I can’t sleep if you don’t hold me. So… please?”
ᯓ★ wonbin You knew how expressive Wonbin could be and how easy it was to tell when something was bothering him or if he was feeling down. While you were lying in bed about to sleep, you could feel Wonbin looking at you several times as you scrolled through your phone. After a few minutes, you decided to look back and found him with a little pout on his lips. “What’s wrong, honey? Why are you looking at me like that?” “I want to sleep…” “So? You don’t have to wait for me.” “I do because I need you to hold me, and you’re not doing it.” You couldn’t help but smile when you heard him say that. You loved seeing this tender side of Wonbin, so you set your phone down and hugged him, and the two of you fell asleep within minutes.
ᯓ★ seunghan Seunghan was speechless seeing you in bed without holding him. Could he even handle it? Not at all. He grabbed you and pulled you closer, making you open your eyes, laughing at his expression as if someone had taken his favorite toy. “What are you doing, Seunghan? I just want to sleep…” Without saying a word, he turned you towards him and held you tightly. “Now you can sleep.”
ᯓ★ sohee Though it might not seem like it, Sohee loved to hold you while lying in bed—he loved it even more when you held onto him, letting him run his fingers through your hair until you both fell asleep. That night, just as you were about to sleep, one of your friends video-called, and you spent several minutes talking to her. Sohee lay next to you, waiting patiently for you to finish so you could sleep in each other��s arms. When the call kept going on and on, he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I need you to hold me so I can fall asleep, y/n…” You looked at Sohee, surprised. You couldn’t believe he’d just asked for something so sweet. Without a second thought, you said goodbye to your friend and wrapped your arms around Sohee’s chest.
ᯓ★ anton It was normal for you and Anton to fall asleep holding each other, your arms around his chest and your head resting on his torso. But that night, you lay down and simply turned your back to him, which struck Anton as strange. When he noticed you weren’t holding him like you usually did, he touched your shoulder to get your attention. “Is something wrong? We don’t usually sleep like this…” After a few seconds, you understood what he meant. With a small laugh, you turned over and hugged his torso, and he wrapped his arms around you in return.
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ᡣ𐭩 masterlist
taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori
@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123
@sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies
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omgthatdress · 1 day ago
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I share your anger and fear and grief. Been crying on and off all day, and I think I’ve ended a very long friendship with someone that refuses to vote and gave people like me grief for trying to change their mind. The future has never seemed so bleak. Everyone tells me there’s still hope and we’ll get through it, I just honestly don’t see how.
if there's any hope, it's in each other. We can only get through this if we take care of each other.
There's still new things to experience. I have a good friend Alex who is a journalist from Russia who had to leave the country that he loves because journalists can no longer tell the truth there. It's about as horrible a situation as it can be, but he's using the opportunity to travel all over Europe and see some amazing stuff.
Living in Florida is hard because Republicans have this state so ratfucked that two voter initiatives that has an OVERWHELMING majority vote still failed because Republican lawmakers passed a law saying voter initiatives have to have a 60% majority, which is something deliberately impossible to achieve. But I'm staying here because I love my home and I want it to be a better place.
It's worth fighting for.
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bisnes-socks · 2 days ago
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i love kot kot. i've always loved kot kot. and i'm gonna tell you why.
i think it's a beautiful song, i think it's a banger, i think it's a nostalgic sound, and i think it's an incredibly sad song.
musically, i think kot kot sounds like a summer night in finland. the contrast between the melodic, soaring chorus and the darker, harder verses sounds like walking back and forth between the bright light midnight and the dark clubs or bars or restaurants or something. going from the first verse into the chorus again feels like stepping out from a dark venue and it's 2 am but the light outside is the same as it was when you went in hours ago. it's actually super eerie the way time doesn't seem to move at all during the height of summer in finland. it's a sort of a liminal space that can feel either like never ending horror or an addictive state of true living, depening on how you deal with endless light. 
this is a summer song to me.
i love love love the free flying chorus.
i love love love the old school sound of the verses.
the chorus is beautiful with it's long soaring vowels and lines. the verses are mega bangers that remind of early 2000's music. the echoes of like old school drum and bass, breakbeat etc. are super nostalgic to me and have sent me down the rabbit hole of music from my childhood multiple times since the song came out. and i personally love the contrasts and different sections in the song. i think they go together well, i don't think they clash.
i think jurek and allu have composed a clever song. and honestly allu deserves more recognition across the board i am sorry i've been slipping in that department.
now. to the sad part.
i always felt like the chorus was sort of... wistful and melancholic. but the album puts all of that in a different context. he's not just mr. lonely. he's fucking terrified of being alone. 
"pelottaa, ettei jatkopläänit ehkä osukkaa, kuumottaa tosissaan, osote ois saatava, poket tos jo hoputta siis vastatkaa nyt saatana" meaning "i'm scared that after party plans will fall through, seriously getting jittery about it, i need an address, bouncers are on my case, somebody pick up the phone" like with the context of the full album now, it's really painting a picture of someone who does not want to go home and face being alone with his thoughts.
i remember when the song came out and people had all sorts of headcanons and ideas as to why the second time round the voice on the phone is in english - things like maybe he's making an international call or something. well, the truth is that in finland, that message is always played in three languages: finnish, swedish and english. so why is it in english the second time? honestly in all seriousness i think it's just a little nod to his international fans or something, like i don't think there is a real story reason for it. but if there was.. well, if anything, to me it suggests that he must have stayed on the phone, listening through the whole litany: valitsemaanne numeroon ei juuri nyt saada yhteyttä, kontakt med numret ni har valt fås ej, the number you have dialed cannot be reached. to get to the english part he has already been told twice in two languages that there is no one there, nobody is picking up, but he's still there.
honestly this song more than anything feels like the true pair of autiomaa, because to me, this song is someone trying to avoid feeling exactly the way autiomaa describes. feeling empty, feeling nothing, feeling alone. he says as much: "tää klubi on yht tyhjä ku sen katsoja" meaning this club is as empty as he who is looking at it. he's empty and finding other people to party and hang out with is the only way out of feeling empty, the only way to distract himself from the fact that he is lost.
and so for skit and autiomaa to come right after this? he has reached a breaking point and realised he has to face the nothingness inside.
and again, like with takavoltti, i think this song represents that long standing finnish tradition of writing funny lyrics about difficult subjects. it's also very very typical in finnish culture to make songs that seem to be about drinking on the surface level but are actually not about that. this song builds a lot of very comedic images: him vibing to celine dion alone in a club and refusing to leave, fighting with bouncers etc. and then of course there is the whole chicken thing with kot kot kot. it's funny - except it's not funny at all.
but the thing is, it's okay to find things funny in the song. they both are and are not funny at the same time, because isn't that what life is. i don't think the intention of these songs is to make you feel one specific way, it's just a matter of perspective. and that can change from day to day. so i think it's okay if one day the song breaks your heart on behalf of the käärijä in the story of the song, and on another day you just want to belt out the chorus and dance through the verses. it's all okay, it's all good.
and that's pretty skilled song writing.
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catgrandpa · 1 day ago
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Batman Forever (1995)
(Finally got to the one with my incredibly distant cousin several times removed, Val buddy, why weren’t you at the last Kilmer family reunion, what the heck?)
So I don’t think I’m cut out for actually reviewing/rating movies. I just really like watching movies and if I had a good time, then I consider it a great movie! This movie probably wasn’t as good as the other two, but I had a better time watching it, it was an absolute gas!
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Yall may not understand me but I must live my truth.
Once again, thoughts while watching below:
“I’ll get drive through.” Hands down best opening scene so far.
No complaints for Eddie oh dear I love him. What a little freak 🥰 Harvey is fine, I could take him or leave him, but also? He and Eddie are definitely holding hands, right??
Okay changing the way the Grayson’s died is fine I understand you have a story to tell and introducing a whole new bad guy would be rough BUT WHO IS THIS FOURTH GRAYSON????? Does Dick just have a random brother?? Who is this ?????
Alfie and Bruce with the tag team manipulation, we love to see it. ‘Oh, if only we had someone who could stay here and help us eat all this food and enjoy this great life of luxury and be so hot and rich and awesome all the time:(‘
I’m sorry y’all I love this Dick Grayson😭 I’ve heard people hate Chris O’Donnell as Dick but I think he’s fun:) He’s not as Little Guy as I usually like Dick, but he does bring a certain ‘I’ll kill a guy and I won’t regret it’ energy that I feel like is missing from a lot of representations.
Good god, bestie does not like keeping secrets!! B, you don’t have to tell everyone you meet that you’re Batman, some things we keep to ourselves!
Overall, so much fun. These movies are so camp, the MCU could never. I could honestly see this becoming a comfort movie it’s so silly. Genuinely almost peed my pants when Batman said “Huh?” to holy rusted metal, Batman. 8/10.
I do not want talk about Dr. Chase Meridian.
So, I’ve never actually watched a Batman movie outside of the single greatest film ever made, The Lego Batman Movie.
I’ve decided I’m going to watch all of the live action (barring 1966 because I cant find it streaming) in order from time of release, and I’m going to compare them directly to The Lego Batman Movie.
I have no rubric, it’s all vibes based but the movies will land somewhere on this chart:
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magnusmodig · 2 months ago
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||. finally going to bed thinking about lore - keeper asgardians . thinking about how intelligence and wisdom are one of their favored traits. thinking about how thor is the best of every asgardian ideal . thinking about how he is wise . thinking about his street - smarts . thinking about how he is also knowledgeable in legends , lore , and folktale. he is adaptable . he takes this knowledge , adapts to it , and crafts himself into something stronger. he is ever growing , and one of those ways is how he seeks out knowledge , and knows well to keep a sharp mind on the tales told by word of mouth or written on a page.
#(ik loki is book - smart and all that and good for him)#(i think it's clear that thor absolutely relies on loki to have increasingly /niche/ knowledge about things esp where magic is concerned)#(but i don't think he relies solely on loki to obtain and retain that knowledge. because thor also seeks it out.)#(in the first film /he/ is the one to educate jane - an astrophysicist - on the truth of the nine realms. he's able to TEACH HER-)#(-about the alien world she truly lives in. that was all him.)#(in TDW it's shown that heimdall taught thor about the convergence himself and that thor was very knowledgeable about how it works)#(in that same film he's shown to have a deep understanding of asgardian history - taught by odin himself in some respects.)#(he's ALSO very familiar with the hall of knowledge where the tree is and commends jane for picking it up so fast.)#(he's /also/ able to instantly deduce that what is hurting jane is foreign to earth. aka alien. aka something cosmic like HIM)#(i can't remember off the top of my head how they narrow it down to the aether but he was clearly already on its trail)#(and that's just /his movies/.)#(in avengers 1 he's instantly able to tell that there's a bigger foe at play behind loki's attempted siege of earth.)#(he's also the one to have extensive personal knowledge of the infinity stones in avengers 2)#(anyways all of this to say is that thor is INCREDIBLY intelligent and nobody gives him credit for that and it makes me mad.)#(just because he doesn't talk about it the way someone like tony stark or bruce banner do doesn't mean he's not right up there with them-)#(-and honestly probably /surpasses/ them bc he's so friggin old and literally alien.)#(but he lets them do their thing and only corrects them when they actually need it bc he LIKES to see them learn and be smart and cool)#(that's their thing!! good on them. he loves to see his human friends thriving. eveniftoasgarditsrudimentaryasallhell)#(anyways thor is smart and yes this includes book smarts and i WILL throw hands about this.)#( ooc . ) — stories that leap from the page .#( headcanon . ) — glory to the man who toils for his land . may it ever prosper .#(not even hc tbh it's just fact)
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rhysnolastname · 1 year ago
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Solas says I know a place and takes you to the middle of a swamp where he insults your culture, religious beliefs, and then dumps you.
#yeah im still thinking about this and its the next day#he might be telling the truth about the Vallaslin but my inquisitor did not let him remove it#I’ve played her as very proud to be dalish and believes in elven gods so it would be out of character even if solas says something else#maybe that’s what it represented then but it is not what it is now and she chooses to move forward#about the breakup … this is not the first time a man takes me on a date and dumps me 😭😭 but hey um wtf#honestly my lavellan does love him and is hurt but she has to be so many things to so many different people#there’s bigger things at stake and bigger problem to deal with at this time than whatever he's hiding or lying about#im pretty sure he was going to say something else not about the vallaslin#but his fear is dying alone becasue i saw it in the fade and yet !!!! he pushes everyone away he picks fights with everyone no matter whos#in the party he didnt come to the wicked grace game he never opens up beyond what he has seen in the fade. he is a fixed point#i wanna shake him by the shoulders and YELL WHATA RE YOU DOING you could have it all someone who loves you and a wonderf#a wonderful found family. he is kind and gentle but he is also so full of ANGER and he is so set on things being as he sees them.#Cole cant change because to Solas cole is always a spirit. the dalish are misguided and YOU Lavellan are just different YOURE special#the meaning of the vallaslin cant change because to him it represents slavery and it is in stone to him. things dont change with time they#are fixed. like things in the fade it what it was preserved. he is trying to hold on to a past that doesnt exist that has moved forward.#Solas says you cant change yourself by wishing. but i would say wishing for change is THE required prerequisite for change. a little though#a little idea a little wish that something was different better. but to#why cant you move forward Solas what the fuck are you holding onto so intesely#OKAY WHATEVER IM DONE WITH THIS ESSAY IM OVER IT ITS FINE ITS SO FINE
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tamagotchikgs · 7 months ago
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last post ended up deleting my tags so im continuing them here
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#but.#even after all the time i had aparti still went back at 16#i traveled across the country just to see her again#and it fucking sucked#she ripped that wound right back open#which . felt so weird because she WANTED me to come#she made all the plans#honestly the train trip there was nice#i got to experience a lot of cool things#but the second i got there. it was . one of the worst times of my life#just nonstop#and now ive finally been away for awhile again#but i still miss her#& i dont know why#but it also doesnt help the only gf i have ever had did the same type of thing LMAO//.... i .. i just cannot win#maybe it's just my roll#say all these nice things n then immediately flip#she would make me hang out w her friends n talk me up n then. cheat on me with them with me there#& then get upset when i cried or tried to break up w her LMAO...#like. she wasnt poly or anything she was actually against it#but the worst part is how openly & loudly she'd love me right before it. so now i never know who is telling the truth. i never feel safe#but anyway. again. i stayed#over n over again id try to break up w her but then i loved her & so when she got upset n threaten to kms id flip n stay#n she'd do it again#until eventually she broke up w me n left me so fuckd up im not gonna lie JHVAJH#she still tried to stay friends after that n i tried#but then i started sobbing mid card game & it was very embarrassing top 10 worst things i have done#but i just. all i want is to be a good person. i want to be someone good & loving but i feel like im such a jealous monster#even if i dont let myself show it n try to ignore it bc i dont want to hurt anyone or be this awful it;s still here. just. permeating.#what if i feel too much what if ill never know when someone is genuine what if im just an evil obsessive freak n everyone i love hates me
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kavehater · 23 days ago
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If I had a genie and could make one wish I’d wish that romantic relationships and anything to do with falling in love would be completely eradicated from existence. Not only is it gross and weird, but it’s also fundamentally an issue, like you can’t tell me it’s anything feasible to yearn for or believe in when so many crimes hardships and negativity stems as a by product of love. I wish everyone was aroace and we sprout from the soil via mitosis but somehow we still have genetic variation bc it’s a unique sub section of mitosis where it’s a hybrid of mitosis and meiosis.
#dora daily#idk ppl might think I’m being silly and I kinda am not that srs but in truth I’m also so srs rn#I remember when I was a little younger I would get so distressed about the fact relationships simply EXIST in this world and I’m just so#horribly disgusted by it and can’t accept it to be true that I just felt like sobbing so much whenever I remembered it existed#like the sheer panic 😭#I told dahlia this and how sometimes when I’m doing my own personal therapy with myself where I’m trying to ease my way into accepting that#as a reality (I’ve actually come such a long way in lowkey proud of myself) I still sometimes#in the midst of trying to normalise that concept I end up genuinely feeling so sick and having a headache then just completely throwing up#dahlia says that’s not normal to actually throw up at the thought of that stuff#she says that while I can be aroace my very visceral reaction to it seems unhealthy and like it ought to be addressed by a professional#I think so too because at one point I genuinely couldn’t live with the prospect of people genuinely having bfs and gfs and getting married#it was all too much for me to grasp and internalise 😭 like literally at some points it’d send me into internalised hysterics 😭#anyways … I’m a little better now idk if I’m fully better but I think I still have an issue#it’s so messy ndiskaakm#like honestly someone be truthful to me and tell me that love is not the root of so much evil#divorces abuse break ups manipulation etc are much more common in relationships than it being a healthy relationship#you’re more likely to have a healthy friendship than a romantic relationship#then there’s the issue of stupid hookups and situationships made for cowards …#anyways my point stands that that would be my ultimate wish#I wish aroace was the norm like straight is the norm
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fardf150 · 4 months ago
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fuck
#like idk i never realized just how bad she hurt me. i didnt even rly realize she hurt me at all#bc there are so so so many ways she sldve reacted so much worse. but like i never thought someone cld just straight up ignore it.#like i get the way i told her was dumb and confusing. ok. i can understand that. whatever#but idk. she said she wished my sister had told her years earlier so that she cldve helped her back then#but then suddenly it's different when it's me. suddenly it's 'but youve always been my little girl' and 'oh i dont know that sounds dangerou#s' and 'are you sure?' and 'how long have you felt like this'#well it's been almost 5 fucking years now and it hasnt changed. i havent changed. fuck#i trusted her. i trusted her to be there for me and to support me and to accept me and she threw it back in my face and never even blinked#i can never ever trust her again and she doesnt care. she doesnt even know bc shes so wrapped up in all the fucking lies she tells herself#fuck. she did everything wrong. fuck. i can never fully trust anyone with this part of me again bc of her#and it's awful bc it's such an important part of me. it brings me so much joy and i think on it often and i love myself for it#but it's just simmering in my chest and every time i think of letting it hit air again i freeze bc i thought it was safe once and it WASNT.#i wanted to get my name changed before high school. i wanted to start the medical process. i wanted all the thing i thought shed do for me.#my wants and my understanding of my identity has changed now but it still hurts.#it hurts so bad to see other ppl my age get all of that and to have the support of their family and to not be afraid to put a name to it all#im happy for them. but it's so awful hearing her point those ppl out w no self awareness like oh thats so good for them isnt that sweet#I AM RIGHT HERE! YOU COULD BE DOING ALL OF THAT! I NEEDED YOU TO BE THAT FOR ME!#and every time she does acknowledge it she gets it completely wrong or it's just to bemoan how little she understands#'oh everyones changing their name now its so confusing' 'im really trying i dont know what else you want from me' NO YOURE NOT! YOURE NOT!#YOUVE NEVER BEEN WILLING TO TRY. NOT FOR ME.#you never fucking loved me you loved the idea of what you thought i would be and you cant fucking let it go even when the truth is staring#you dead in the face. fuck. you complain about how i 'hate you' or 'think youre stupid' well maybw treat me with an ounce of respect and act#like you understand the things youve EXPLICITLY BEEN TOLD. even a little.#but honestly it's too late. if she were to suddenly have a change of heart now i wouldnt give a damn.#the damage is done you dont get to have this part of me and act like youre such a good and supportive mother.#i cant even say i hate her. i love her but shes hurt me more than anyone else ever has and i can never trust her to actually love me or even#fucking see me or support anything about me that actually matters to me#i dont know. i dont know. thinking about it again.#ive thought abt telling my dad. not bc it wld do any good but bc ik he values honesty and maybe hed throw me a 'damn that sucks'#my sister said this is something i have to fight on but she doesnt get it. i have no ground to stand on as far as shes concerned
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jvzebel-x · 5 months ago
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🦋
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pucksandpower · 3 months ago
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Lovefest
Lando Norris x Reader
Summary: Oscar thought that adjusting to Formula 1 would be the biggest challenge of his rookie season … no one warned him that being around you and Lando would somehow both traumatize and make him believe in true love at the same time
Based on this request
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Oscar steps into the bustling McLaren garage, his eyes darting around as he takes in the flurry of activity. It’s his first day in the paddock wearing papaya and he’s eager to make a good impression.
As he weaves through the mechanics and engineers, he spots Lando chatting animatedly with a woman he assumes must be Lando’s girlfriend.
Approaching the pair, Oscar puts on his friendliest smile. “Hey, Lando! Great to see you, mate.”
Lando turns, his face lighting up. “Oscar! Welcome to the team.” He gestures to the woman beside him. “This is my girlfriend. Babe, this is Oscar, my new teammate.”
You extend your hand, smiling warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you. Lando’s been talking about you non-stop.”
Oscar shakes your hand, chuckling. “All good things, I hope?”
“Oh, absolutely,” you assure him. “He’s really excited to work with you this season.”
Lando nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, mate. It’s gonna be epic. We’re gonna crush it together.”
Oscar grins, already feeling at ease. “That’s the plan. So, how long have you two been together?”
The moment the words leave his mouth, he notices a few nearby mechanics exchange knowing glances and stifle laughter. Lando and you, however, seem oblivious to this as your eyes lock onto each other.
“Well,” Lando begins, his voice softening, “it’s been about two years now, but honestly, it feels like I’ve known her my whole life.”
You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you. But really, Oscar, from the moment we met, it was like everything just clicked into place.”
Oscar nods politely, not quite understanding the sudden shift in atmosphere. “That’s great. You two seem really happy together.”
“Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lando says, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s my soulmate, my best friend, my everything.”
You giggle, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “You’re such a charmer. But he’s right, Oscar. We just ... we get each other, you know?”
Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but Lando cuts in, “Remember our first date? I was so nervous I spilled my drink all over myself.”
“Oh my god, yes!” You exclaim, laughing. “But it was adorable. And then you tried to clean it up and knocked over the candle ...”
“Nearly set the whole restaurant on fire,” Lando finishes, grinning. “But you didn’t run away screaming, so I knew you were a keeper.”
Oscar shifts uncomfortably, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment. He glances around, hoping to catch someone’s eye for help, but the other team members seem to be purposefully avoiding their corner of the garage.
You turn back to Oscar, your eyes shining. “Sorry, we got a bit carried away. It’s just, when you find that person who completes you, it’s hard not to gush sometimes.”
Lando nods sagely. “Absolutely. Like, did I tell you about the time she surprised me after a race in Monaco?”
Before Oscar can answer, you jump in, “Oh, Lando, I’m sure Oscar doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Oscar says weakly, trapped by politeness.
Lando grins, oblivious to Oscar’s discomfort. “So there I was, exhausted after the race, and I walk into my hotel room to find it covered in rose petals and candles ...”
As Lando launches into the story, Oscar notices a mechanic nearby making frantic ‘cut it out’ gestures. Confused, he tries to catch the man’s eye, but the mechanic quickly busies himself with a nearby toolbox.
“... and then she steps out of the bathroom in this gorgeous dress,” Lando continues, his voice filled with awe. “I swear, Oscar, my heart stopped for a second. She was like an angel.”
You blush furiously. “Lando, stop it. You’re embarrassing me in front of your new teammate.”
“I’m just telling the truth,” Lando insists. “Oscar, mate, when you find someone who makes your heart race every time you see them, even after years together, you know it’s real.”
Oscar nods, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. “That’s ... that’s really sweet, guys. So, uh, Lando, how’s the car feeling this season?”
But Lando seems to be in his own world now, gazing adoringly at you. “You know, speaking of the car, it reminds me of how supportive she’s been throughout my career. Remember that time you stayed up all night with me before a big race, just talking and calming my nerves?”
You smile softly. “Of course I do. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“And that’s why I love you so much,” Lando says, pulling you close. “You’re always there for me, through the highs and the lows.”
Oscar watches, bewildered, as the two of you seem to forget his presence entirely. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and sees Daniel Ricciardo approaching, a look of amused resignation on his face.
“Hey, Oscar,” Daniel says quietly, coming to stand beside him. “I see you’ve made the rookie mistake of getting these two started.”
Oscar turns to him, relief evident in his voice. “Daniel, thank god. What’s going on? They’ve been like this for ages.”
Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah, mate. You’ve stumbled into the Lando and Y/N lovefest. There’s a rule around here: never get them talking about how much they love each other, or you’ll be stuck listening to them being lovesick for at least an hour.”
Oscar’s eyes widen in horror. “An hour? But ... but we have the first testing session soon!”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Daniel says, patting Oscar on the shoulder. “Once they get going, there’s no stopping them. It’s like a force of nature.”
As if to prove Daniel’s point, Lando’s voice rises slightly as he recounts another story. “... and then, on our anniversary, she organized this incredible scavenger hunt all around London ...”
You chime in, your voice equally enthusiastic. “Oh, but Lando, what about the time you learned to cook my favorite meal just to surprise me?”
Daniel leans in close to Oscar, whispering, “See what I mean? They’re in their own little world now. Best to just let it run its course.”
Oscar watches, fascinated and horrified, as Lando and you continue to trade stories and loving glances, seemingly oblivious to the world around you. The garage bustles with activity, mechanics and engineers working around the loved-up couple as if this were a regular occurrence.
“So, uh, how long does this usually last?” Oscar asks Daniel, his voice tinged with desperation.
Daniel checks his watch. “Well, you’re about fifteen minutes in now. I’d say you’ve got at least another forty-five to go, minimum.”
Oscar groans. “But what about testing? Shouldn’t someone ... I don’t know, snap them out of it?”
Daniel laughs, clapping Oscar on the back. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Many have tried, all have failed. It’s best to just let nature take its course. Think of it as your initiation into the team.”
As if on cue, Lando’s voice rises again. “... and that’s when I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”
You gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Lando, do you really mean that?”
“With all my heart,” Lando says solemnly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, on or off the track.”
Oscar turns to Daniel, a pleading look in his eyes. “There has to be something we can do. Anything!”
Daniel shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, there is one thing that sometimes works ...”
Before Oscar can ask what he means, Daniel cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey, lovebirds! Last one to the track buys dinner for the whole team!”
As if snapping out of a trance, Lando and you both turn, suddenly aware of your surroundings again.
“Oh, shoot!” Lando exclaims. “Testing! Come on, we can’t be late!”
As Lando rushes off to get ready, you give Oscar an apologetic smile. “It was lovely meeting you. Sorry if we got a bit carried away there.”
Oscar watches, dumbfounded, as you hurry after Lando. He turns to Daniel, who’s wearing a self-satisfied grin.
“And that, my friend,” Daniel says, “is how you break the spell. Welcome to McLaren. I’m just happy they’re your problem now.”
As they head towards the track, Oscar can’t help but shake his head, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face. It’s going to be an interesting season, that’s for sure.
***
Several months into the season, the McLaren garage buzzes with anticipation. It’s race weekend, and the team has invited a popular podcaster to get an inside look at their operations. Oscar, now comfortably settled into his role as Lando’s teammate, watches with mild interest as the podcaster, Mike, bounces around the garage, microphone in hand, eyes wide with excitement.
“This is incredible!” Mike exclaims, his voice carrying over the din of mechanics at work. “The energy here is just electric!”
Oscar chuckles to himself, remembering his own first days with the team. He catches Daniel’s eye across the pit lane, and they share a knowing smirk.
Mike continues his tour, interviewing various team members, his enthusiasm never waning. Oscar keeps one ear on the conversations while focusing on his pre-race preparations. Everything seems to be going smoothly until he hears the fateful words that make his blood run cold.
“So, Lando,” Mike says, his voice dripping with curiosity, “I couldn’t help but notice your lovely girlfriend here. You two make such a cute couple. How about you tell us a bit about your relationship?”
The entire McLaren garage falls silent. Tools clatter to the ground. A collective groan rises from the team members. Someone in the back yells, “No!”
Oscar feels his chest tighten, his eyes already beginning to water. He looks around desperately, seeking an escape route, but he’s trapped between his car and a wall of mechanics who have frozen in horror.
Lando’s face lights up, oblivious to the panic around him. “Oh, mate, where do I even begin? She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you charmer.”
“No, really,” Lando insists, turning to face you fully. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about her.”
Oscar watches in mounting dread as the familiar scene begins to unfold. He catches Daniel’s eye again, silently pleading for help, but Daniel just shakes his head, a look of resigned amusement on his face.
Mike, unaware of the can of worms he’s just opened, leans in eagerly. “That’s so sweet! How did you two meet?”
“Well,” you begin, your eyes never leaving Lando’s, “it was at a charity event. I was volunteering, and Lando was there as a guest ...”
“And I saw her from across the room,” Lando interjects, his voice soft and reverent. “She was helping an elderly gentleman to his seat, and the way she smiled at him ... I swear, it was like time stopped.”
But Lando and you are lost in your own world now, the podcaster forgotten as you gaze into each other’s eyes.
“I remember thinking,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “who is this adorable guy in the McLaren jacket?”
Lando grins. “And I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you all night. I must have walked past your station a dozen times.”
“Thirteen,” you correct him with a giggle. “I was counting.”
Mike looks around, confused by the reactions of the team. He catches Oscar’s eye and mouths, “What’s happening?”
Oscar, his eyes already glistening with unshed tears, just shakes his head frantically. He tries to sidle away, but his movement seems to draw Lando’s attention.
“Oh, Oscar!” Lando exclaims. “You should have seen her that night. She was wearing this beautiful flowy dress that matched her eyes perfectly.”
You laugh, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me. But Lando looked so handsome in his suit. I couldn’t take my eyes off him all night.”
Oscar feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Daniel standing beside him, a sympathetic look on his face. “Breathe, mate,” Daniel whispers. “It’ll be over ... eventually.”
Mike, still oblivious to the situation, presses on. “So, what was your first date like?”
The entire garage seems to groan in unison. Oscar feels a tear escape and roll down his cheek.
“Our first date,” Lando says dreamily, “was at this little Italian restaurant. I was so nervous I could barely eat.”
You nod, your eyes sparkling with the memory. “He was adorable. He kept knocking things over and apologizing.”
“But you were so patient,” Lando adds. “Even when I spilled wine all over the tablecloth.”
“Because I could see how genuine you were,” you reply. “How kind and funny and passionate.”
Oscar, unable to take it anymore, turns to Daniel. “Please,” he whispers desperately, “make it stop.”
Daniel pats his back comfortingly. “I know, buddy. I know. But you know the rules. Once they start, there’s no stopping them.”
Mike, finally sensing that something is amiss, tries to steer the conversation back to racing. “So, uh, Lando, how do you balance your relationship with your career?”
But Lando is too far gone now. “Oh, she’s the most supportive partner I could ask for. She’s there for every race, every triumph, every setback.”
“Because I believe in you,” you say softly. “In us. In what we have together.”
Oscar feels another tear roll down his cheek. He looks around the garage, seeing the mix of resignation and amusement on his teammates’ faces. Some have plugged their ears, others have found suddenly urgent tasks to attend to far away from the love-struck couple.
Mike, now looking slightly panicked, turns to Oscar. “Uh, Oscar? Any thoughts on ... on teamwork?”
Oscar opens his mouth to respond, grateful for the lifeline, but Lando beats him to it.
“Teamwork!” Lando exclaims. “That reminds me of the time we decided to cook dinner together for our six-month anniversary.”
You laugh, the sound light and musical. “Oh god, what a disaster that was!”
“But it was perfect,” Lando insists. “Because we were together.”
Oscar feels his knees go weak. He leans heavily against his car, Daniel’s steadying hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him upright.
“How ... how long?” Oscar manages to croak out.
Daniel checks his watch. “Only twenty minutes in, mate. We’ve got a long way to go.”
Mike, now fully aware that he’s lost control of the interview, looks around helplessly. His eyes land on a senior mechanic, silently pleading for assistance.
The mechanic just shakes his head. “You brought this on yourself, kid. Rule number one around here: never ask about their relationship.”
“I didn’t know!” Mike protests weakly.
“None of us did, the first time,” the mechanic replies sagely. “Consider this your initiation.”
Meanwhile, Lando and you continue your love-fueled reminiscence, oblivious to the chaos around you.
“Remember our first vacation together?” Lando asks, his eyes shining.
You nod enthusiastically. “That little cottage in the countryside. It was so peaceful.”
“Except for when we tried to go hiking and got completely lost,” Lando adds with a chuckle.
“But it led to that beautiful hidden waterfall,” you remind him. “Where you told me you loved me for the first time.”
Oscar lets out a quiet sob. Daniel, still by his side, pats his back sympathetically. “There, there, mate. Let it out. It’s healthier that way.”
Mike, looking increasingly desperate, tries one last time to salvage the situation. “So, uh, about the upcoming race ...”
But Lando and you are in full swing now, trading stories and loving gazes, completely lost in your own world.
“And then there was the time we went to that cooking class together,” you say, giggling at the memory.
Lando groans good-naturedly. “Oh god, I nearly burned down the kitchen!”
“But you made the most amazing chocolate soufflé,” you remind him.
“Only because you were there to guide me,” Lando says softly. “You always bring out the best in me.”
Oscar, his face now streaked with tears, turns to Daniel. “How ... how did you deal with this?” He asks, his voice hoarse.
Daniel shrugs. “You have to learn to find the humor in it, mate. And maybe invest in some good noise-canceling headphones.”
Mike, realizing he’s fighting a losing battle, slumps against a nearby workbench. “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?”
The senior mechanic nods sagely. “Yep. But don’t worry, kid. We’ve all been there. Give it another ... oh, forty minutes or so, and they’ll run out of steam. Maybe.”
As if to prove him wrong, Lando’s voice rises again. “Oh, and remember that time we went stargazing in the desert?”
You nod enthusiastically. “How could I forget? The way the stars reflected in your eyes ...”
“It was nothing compared to the way you light up my world,” Lando replies, his voice thick with emotion.
Oscar, unable to take it anymore, slides down to sit on the floor, his back against his car. He draws his knees up to his chest, rocking slightly as he mutters, “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.”
Daniel crouches down beside him, patting his shoulder. “There, there, rookie. It’s all part of the McLaren experience. You’re doing great.”
Mike, looking shell-shocked, turns to the senior mechanic. “Does this happen often?”
The mechanic chuckles. “Often enough that we’ve developed a whole system to deal with it. See those guys over there?” He points to a group of team members huddled in a corner, passing around a packet of earplugs. “They’re the smart ones. Always come prepared.”
As Lando and you continue your lovefest, the rest of the garage settles into a strange sort of routine. Some team members go about their work, seemingly immune to the ongoing spectacle. Others gather in small groups, sharing knowing looks and suppressed laughter.
Oscar, still on the floor, has progressed from quiet sobs to a sort of resigned hiccupping. Daniel sits beside him, offering silent support and the occasional reassuring pat.
Mike, having given up all pretense of conducting an interview, slumps further against the workbench. “I just wanted to talk about racing,” he mumbles dejectedly.
The senior mechanic laughs. “Lesson learned, kid. Next time, stick to lap times and tire strategies.”
As the love-fest enters its second hour, Oscar finally looks up, his eyes red and puffy. “Does it ever get easier?” He asks Daniel plaintively.
Daniel grins, helping Oscar to his feet. “Nah, mate. But you do develop a certain appreciation for true love. And maybe a slight tendency towards nausea.”
Oscar manages a weak chuckle. “I guess there are worse things than witnessing too much love.”
“That’s the spirit!” Daniel says, clapping him on the back. “Now, how about we sneak off for a coffee while these two finish up their romance novel?”
As they make their way towards the exit, carefully skirting around Lando and you (who are now recreating your first dance together, much to Mike’s bewildered amusement), Oscar can’t help but shake his head.
“You know,” he says to Daniel, “when I joined McLaren, I thought the hardest part would be the racing.”
Daniel laughs. “Oh, Oscar. The racing’s the easy part. It’s surviving the Lando and Y/N love story that’s the real challenge. But hey, look on the bright side.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “There’s a bright side?”
“Sure,” Daniel says with a grin. “At least now you know what true love looks like. Even if it does make you want to cry and vomit at the same time.”
As they exit the garage, leaving behind the sound of Lando and you laughing and reminiscing, Oscar can’t help but smile. It’s been a strange journey, but he wouldn’t trade his place on this team for anything in the world.
Well, maybe for a good pair of noise-canceling headphones.
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adreamfromnevermore · 7 months ago
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Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.
No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.
Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.
They're the most infuriating bitches around.
They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.
They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.
You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.
In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.
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hoshigray · 4 months ago
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based on this post by @stnexus; the truth is so good I had to cook.
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sitting + missionary position - breast fondling + nipple play - oral (f! receiving) - [un]protected sex - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - overstimulation - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, cutie, [my] love, sweetpea) - shit bout to get active (nasty) - implied multiple orgasms - creampie - mention of drug/alcohol abuse.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k
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“Sigh, poor Yu.”
“Mm? I’ll be fine, sweetpea.”
“Pfft, not you, silly. I meant Haibara, he’s so shit-faced that he’s practically glued to the bucket.”
“Ahh, that’s true.” Nanami chuckles.
“And you, I thought you knew how to control your alcohol; what happened?”
Honestly, your blonde husband is too under the influence to tell you. All he knows is that what was supposed to be a pleasant and chill outing with his coworkers, Ino and Ijichi, at a Korean barbeque place somehow turned into a wild yet fun night of drinks and stories. But that’s to be expected when Yu Haibara comes out to join the crew—yet who is Nanami to diminish the entertainment of his best friend?
Needless to say, all three of them–minus Ijichi because someone’s gotta drive everybody home–got quite drunk from the ordeal, surprising you the moment you opened the door and saw the blonde and brunette stumble into the shared apartment. You shook your head with a smile, taking the men in and preparing the couch for Haibara to sleep on, along with a bucket he’ll eventually hurl in. Then, you lead your husband to the armchair after taking off his blazer, placing a cup of water on the end table for him to sip.
Nanami grumbles, putting his hand on his forehead. “I don’t know…I know I was drinking light until Yu started buying cognac and scotch.” Fuck, my head is pounding like crazy… “I think I tried that Brown n’ Orange cocktail like—hic—four times. Heh, it was delicious.”
“Cocktails and scotch?” You inquire while helping him take off his dress shoes off his manspread legs. “How many drinks did you have all together?”
“Mmm, more than five?” He chuckles lightly at the sight of you peering with concerned eyes. “More than ten.”
“Jesus, Kento, no wonder you’re all flushed.” He leans into your palms as you’re stroking his light rosen cheeks and ears. “Drink that water; I’ll try and find something for you to snack on.” You stand and head to the foyer to drop his shoes off, and he slumps onto the armchair with a sigh.
It’s been a long while since Nanami had been in more than a tipsy state. The buzz has his head ringing, the rose of his cheeks getting hotter, and the tiny grunts of his best friend on the couch humor him; at least I’m not that wasted. God, albeit the night’s fun entertained him, he most certainly didn’t miss the aches of his head—and he knows it’ll get worse in the morning. So, to distract him, he watches you coming back into the scene and entering the kitchen. 
It was late into the night, the hour hand touching midnight, so you were walking around the place in your usual sleep attire: an oversized shirt and some shorts. You looked too cute, waltzing around, scrummaging through the fridge and pantry. Smelled good, too; definitely finished putting on your lotion and skin care after a shower. Holy hell, you looked so beautiful; the glow of the ceiling lights made your skin too luscious to resist. He swallowed thickly at the sight of your hips swaying as you moved and his breath at a halt once you stride back.
Your fingers touch his forehead, checking his temperature. “My my, Ken, you really outdid yourself.” Your giggle was music to his ears. “Totally unlike you to go past your drinking number.”
“Hmm, I know,” he grabs for your wrist and places gentle kisses on your fingertips to lick. “Might as well take advantage of me; who knows the next time I’ll be like this.”
You notice the teeny glint of his mocha brown eyes, scoffing faintly with a grin. “So you’re drunk and bold tonight, huh.” He brings his face in to kiss your cheek, following down to your chin. “What about poor Yu?”
His “poor” friend in question is currently snoring his drunkness away, cuddled up on the couch with the blanket you placed over him. “I wouldn’t worry about him.” He whispers to your ear before a kiss. “But you should worry about me.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because, all I’m thinkin’ about,” his hands sneak into your shirt. “How soft you feel in my hands and how crazy the smell of that lotion is making me.” 
You can’t lie; with how hot he was looking, there was no way you could decline. His sandy bangs draped down to his forehead, chocolate eyes gleaming with wanton, and his warm touch squeezing the flesh of your breasts. Pulling him up and leading him to the bedroom was all you could do.
“Ahhh, ahhh, yess, yeessss!!”
“Hnngh!! Ughh, shiit, y’ feel so good, love!”
Once the bedroom door is closed, Nanami plans on having you glued to him the entire night. It might be the bubbly feeling still in his bloodstream; however, right now, nothing beats the feeling of having your cunt clenching on his cock. 
You sat on his lap, both his pants and your shorts on the bedroom floor—makes it easier for the flesh of your ass to meet his pelvis as you bounced on him. Your knees trapped atop his thighs, your lower regions free range for his length to burrow inside your warmth. Meanwhile, his hands roam either inside your shirt to play with your breast or swipe on your clit to make more cute sounds to escape your puffy lips.
You jolt, his chest and abs exposed from his shirt, now touch your back. “Fuuuck, yesss!” Nanami kisses your neck as he tweaks your nipple and clit concurrently. “Like thaaat, keep going…!”Your words do things to him, bucking into your hips to release more moans suppressed within you. “Ohhh, Kentooo!”
“Shhhh, not so loud, angel,” he whispers to your ear, hissing at the twitch of your vagina. “Don’t want Yu to wake up…Mmmph!”
So he says, yet the grip of you is driving him insane. Maybe it was the alcohol–it had to be–but you felt sooo fucking good. His head gets dizzier as your chasm constantly contracts around him with every graze of your upper wall, his senses more enhanced than ever as the cold bedroom air juxtaposes with the shared heat of your bodies.
“OhoooGod, ahaaa!” Shaky shrieks erupt from light pinches to your clit. “OhhhKennn, I’m gonna cummm…!”
“Shit, me too, baby,” Nanami burrows his face into the pit of your shoulder as he ruts upward with no resistance. More silent screams derive from your mouth as your climax crashes on you like a wave, clamping onto Nanami’s cock until your body stops trembling. And he keeps going until he’s at his limit as well, pumping his load into the condom. 
As you two pant heavily and sink into the feeling, Kento’s hand comes up from the south, and you take his fingers to meet your tongue. The sight of you tasting yourself only furthers the thirst your husband has quenched.
…So he has his fill of you.
“—Ghhh, Kentooo, yer tongue…! Go slooow!”
But he can’t, not when you taste so good.
He has his face stuffed so deep between your legs, his mouth and tongue latching onto your labia to drink every last bit of your fluids. An action that’s futile as all that does is persuade more to seep your folds and his tongue. But that’s even better, the taste of you refusing to leave his tastebuds.
You throw your head back to the pillow when Nanami pushes your knees further, and more slurping noises venture down as he laps relentlessly on your cunt. You’re wailing, “Ahhhh, slow doownnn! I’m gonna b-break..!!
His tongue comes to your clit to dance around. “Sorry, love; you just taste so good to stop.” He sucks on your bud to make your toes curl immediately. He chortles, “Cutie…”
You grab tuffs of his golden hair as he pushes his tongue inside your vagina, whining at the feeling of the wet muscle dredging into your sensitive insides. Violating you with pleasant rubs and licks within your inner channel, it’s tough to think straight for the both of you. You smelt way too fucking good to stop, and your adorable mewls let him know that he’s doing his job in pleasing you. He wanted more—a greedy desire, of course, but it was a need.
“Kennn, d-don’t! I came already,” you plead, but the hands pushing and pulling his head further down tell a different story.
“One more, sweetpea,” he coos with a kiss to your slit. “One more time for me, okay?” 
However, if you find it hard now, imagine how it is the next time he plunges his cock inside you once more. Because–trust–he becomes way needier than before. Pajamas completely stripped off your nude frame, along with the dress shirt stinking of alcohol, your husband has finally let loose and has his way with you for the final moments of the night.
He has you now under his bow, watching how your figure recoils from every push of his hip work. Sweat glistens across your skin, your legs coming around his waist, and more alluring sounds flying out your lips that prompt the man to pound into you lovingly. Your beautiful folds, mixed with saliva and your essence, now are stuffed with his shaft and his come he expelled into you the moment he inserted himself the round before. Having you bare on his dick is unreal, the booze taking its effect and making the sensation way more titillating than the last. If he hasn’t already, Nanami is about to lose himself.
“Hahhh, ahhh, holy shit,” his eyes look to the union of the sexes; the white ring that shows on the base sends shivers. 
“Ohhhh, Jesus, fuuck,” you whimper aloud, eyes sewn shut as the pleasure improves the haze in your head. “’O good, f’eel sho gooood…”
Slow ruts to your chasm dial to a faster pace. “One more, let me go for one more…Hnnnmm.” He brings your hips up a bit to pull up a bit; the angle is better for his length to plow deeper into you. You scream abruptly at the jab of your cervix, and he instantly bends to your ear for comfort.
“Ahhh! Hoooh, Kent—Ohhh!” Your arms come around his neck, bringing him intimately for guidance. “T’oo muuch, it’s too muuch!”
“I know, angel, I know,” he utters hoarsely, placing more kisses on your neck to leave hickeys for later. “Almost there, okay?”
You can only take his words for what they are as he continues to thrust into you mercilessly; more pokes to your cervix bring even more choked gasps of air. With your walls clutching around him, Nanami will come again within seconds—inevitably so, as he’s way too deep to call quits now. 
But before that, he wants to feel you one last time. He drops one leg to have a hand come to your clitoris to swipe on again, motivating your excessively engaged body to undergo more onslaughts of satisfying pinches. With a howl, you release yourself and submit to another orgasm, the flutter of your walls pulling Nanami into a crescendo of his own.
Heaving bodies, pant desperately for air, the blonde man trembling with the shocks that travel up his spine. He gives way and rests his sweaty frame on yours, syncing his breathing with your pattern.
“What has gotten into you?” You titter breathlessly. “I haven’t seen this side of you since our honeymoon.” Your jest does its job, making your husband chuckle in jagged breaths.
“Guess I should have whiskey cocktails more often.”
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© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
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shitpostingkats · 1 year ago
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An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2
There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.
I disagree.
The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me. 
I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.
For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it. 
Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.
We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic. 
We were just quiet and gentle.
And that wasn’t love.
Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.
Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.
Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.
Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just. 
It's just that. 
Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps. 
That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.
Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be
Quiet.
And gentle.
And still romantic.
Still real.
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nereidprinc3ss · 21 days ago
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do you believe me now? | 9
in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.
series masterlist
this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!
Friday morning
The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 
But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 
Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 
Was it even real?
Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 
The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?
Mostly you’re confused. 
As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 
It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 
From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 
It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 
People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 
All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 
Wonderful. 
Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.
But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—
“What’chya got there?”
The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 
“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 
“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”
Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 
You shrug. “Yeah.”
He scratches his bald head. 
“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”
Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 
When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 
“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”
When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 
“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 
Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 
Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.
I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 
No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 
So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 
Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  
That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 
You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 
But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 
Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 
Fuck. 
No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 
Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 
Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 
The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—
You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 
Friday evening—present
After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 
He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 
Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 
The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 
“Hey. Water’s warm.”
You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 
A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 
Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 
“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 
And you still feel terrible. 
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 
“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 
Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 
“My neighbor said he c—” 
You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 
“He said he could hear us. Last night.”
Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 
“He’s in the unit next to you?”
You nod. “We share a wall.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 
“What did he say?”
“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”
You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 
A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  
His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”
“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”
It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 
Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.
Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 
As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 
You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 
When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 
“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.
“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”
His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Tell me his name.” 
It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.
“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”
You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 
“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”
You scoff. 
“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”
“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”
“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”
To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 
“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”
Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 
“It’s your fault?”
“Yes. It���s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”
His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”
“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”
He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 
“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”
“It’s the result of my actions, so—”
“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”
“He—”
“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”
“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”
You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”
The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 
“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”
He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 
“What?”
He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”
“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”
You frown. “What did he say?”
Spencer hesitates. 
“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”
“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”
Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”
“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”
You have to seriously think about it. 
“I’ve heard them yelling…”
“Nothing else?”
Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 
“No.”
“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”
You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”
His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”
Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 
“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 
“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 
“I think you should say it.”
You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 
“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”
By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 
He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.
And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 
“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 
Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”
Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 
“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 
“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”
“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 
“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 
“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”
“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 
“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 
“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”
His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”
Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 
And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 
When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 
“You can come in,” you call. 
“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”
“No, no. It’s fine.”
The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 
“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 
“Hello.”
His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 
Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 
“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”
It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 
“No, they don’t hurt.”
“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”
“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”
“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 
“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”
That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 
“Worse? 1-10, how—”
“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”
“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”
You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”
Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 
He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 
“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”
“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 
“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“It’s a process.”
“I understand.”
“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”
“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”
You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 
He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 
He just washes your hair. 
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kavehater · 24 days ago
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OHMYGOSH I cant believe my eyes …
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