#sharing of our own thoughts interpretations reactions

[mrsfancyferrari]

Wild Imagination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Part 2

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[dakogutin]

hiiii i just binge read all your fics and obsessed is an understatement!!!

idk if u take requests but i had an idea and it’s driving me crazy i just had to put it somewhere.

okay so i thought of it while reading the fic in which remus and sirius hear each other in bed at night.

well…. james and lily share quarters when tnehre head boy and girl, i know they don’t share a room exactly, but i was thinking: with all their tension building up throughout the years, especially that year, one of them hearing the other even if it was so so quiet would drive them crazy and i’d love to see your interpretation of how it goes.

i really hope you consider writing this but if you don’t thank you so much for all you’ve given the fandom!

ive never been thanked for giving to a fandom🥹🥹thankyousosomuch!

havent written exclusively jily smut yet but this one's for you anon<3

[cw for cute plot but with very filthy m/f smut below cut]

=-=-=-=-=-=

Head Boy and Head Girl. That was definitely one way to have her final year at Hogwarts, Lily thinks to herself. For one, she was forced to work with James Potter often. But the surprises didn't end there as she's progressively making sense of why James Potter became Head Boy.

In the first month she could still deny it, but with their rounds scheduled together, the endless meetings, and their regular check-in with Professor McGonagall, she can't avoid it anymore. James Potter was surprisingly and unfortunately... she shudders... responsible.

She tries-- very hard-- not to let anything show, especially knowing James Potter will run with any reaction he'll get from her. But the realisation hits her harder than a Hex sometimes. And it had been too much lately.

Like that time when they were deciding on which Prefect to assign on the fifth floor corridor. It's where their DADA professor had hidden a "secret special dark creature", and no one was permitted to use that floor for their own safety. The task of keeping that corridor empty fell on the Prefects. Lily had names ready, which included Lupin. She watched James' reaction and sure enough, he protested. He and his gang were always weirdly protective of that quiet Lupin.

"Davies can take Lupin's place."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "No one gets special treatment, Potter. I wouldn't have you use Lupin for whatever kind of mischief you otherwise reserved him for."

Potter held out his palms in the air and let out a small chuckle. "None planned, I'm afraid. Just that Davies is rather, how shall I call it..." He shrugs. "A bit of a pompous sod."

"And you'd rather have a pompous sod keep check of whatever dark creature is in there?"

"If the choice is either that or Peeves, Evans? Yep."

"What does Peeves have anything to do with this?"

As though he was waiting for that exact question, Potter leaned his head on the pillar as an arrogant grin on his face matched his tone. "Lupin is one of the few people who can go toe to toe with Peeves. There's Sirius, but he's out of the question. Not a Prefect and all that. Of course, I'm another option but I'll clearly be occupied, won't I?"

No words come to Lily. He was right. To think she was too caught up with the smaller picture of using Lupin to spite Potter.

"And," James adds, "Davies loves his authority. If anything, students passing by that floor wouldn't think twice in following what he says. While Lupin can help the first years get to their common rooms without being tormented by our resident poltergeist."

It's this point that Lily failed to contain the awe from her face.

"I know. I'm rather brilliant." James waggled his eyebrows.

She simply rolled her eyes in response then.

At present, she couldn't help but have all those other similar instances where James Potter surprised her of his maturity and dedication to his role fill her mind as she went searching for him. He just had to have Quidditch practice at the same time with their meeting, so now the task of passing him the minutes of meeting fell to her as Head Girl.

She could wait until tomorrow of course, but the thought of an unfinished business with James Potter didn't exactly sound appealing. She'd much rather be done with it as soon as possible.

The pitch was empty when she reached it. Practice must've been over. For a moment she dreaded the more complicated prospect of searching for James in the entire castle, but that was when she spotted Sirius Black.

"Where's your other half?" she demanded.

"Evans," he noted. "Good morning to you too." Then he proceeded his steps.

"Black, wait." Lily held out the paper. "Why don't you give him this."

He stared at it for a second, then glanced up to her. "I'm allergic to official documents. Sorry."

"Don't be an arse. I'm just asking you to pass it to him since you're attached at the hip anyways. And it would spare me the trouble of having to look for him."

"Do it yourself." Black grinned. "He's in the changing rooms, doodling the team's strategy like a proper swot."

Lily sighed. "Why can't you do it? Please," she added, begrudgingly.

Black shrugged, already walking off. "I'm not the Head Girl."

He was gone before she could even form a retort.

After dragging her feet to the changing rooms she found it as empty as the Quidditch pitch. Lily debated simply sending her owl, but in the end she decided against it since the Owlery is in yet another tower. She cursed Sirius Black in her head, dismissing this as some stupid prank. Honestly, why hadn't she expected that?

She then heard a distant noise. Someone was inside. Lily proceeded further and was about to call out Potter's name when she recognised the sound of water spraying down on tiled floors.

If this person really was Potter, he was in the middle of a shower.

Lily clamped her mouth shut and cursed Sirius Black again, retracting her steps as silently as possible.

As she turned for the exit she heard a noise from the shower. She thought it had been a hum-- that maybe James Potter was one of those people who sang while showering...

Except it was too faint and too guttural to be a hum.

When Lily heard the noise again, she was more than certain he wasn't singing. The noise shot right through her, leaving a shudder. She needed to leave. Now.

But as another soft moan echoed in the small room, Lily could distinctly tell it was indeed James Potter's raspy voice. And that just made everything worse.

Her face heated as it became harder to breathe. Suddenly all she could picture was James Potter-- just a few steps away-- completely naked, sopping wet... and touching himself. Her treacherous mind reminded her how he's always been showing off about his form and how he worked hard during the summer, plus with playing Quidditch all these years. The thought of that form he worked so hard on right now?

Lily swallowed, and that's when she realised her mouth was watering. She was mortified as much as she found herself frozen. Another moan slipped out from behind her, deeper and gruffer. And just like that her mouth wasn't the only thing that's wet.

She needed to go. She needed to go. She needed to go. "Fuck!" she hissed a whisper. This was wrong on so many levels.

One foot was out of the room when-- she dropped her wand.

Horrified, she didn't waste time picking it up and bolting out. She could only hope James Potter was... too busy... to have heard that.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lily stayed at a deserted hallway overlooking the Great Lake for Merlin knows how long just collecting herself, questioning her life choices, and wondering if she should Obliviate herself. The thing is, distraction was just about impossible. She'd find herself circling back to all those sinful thoughts, and those sounds.

A voice broke through her spiral. She jumped at the unexpectedness but failed to make out the words. Turning to face the person, her knees almost gave out to the sight of none other than James Potter. He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, which only sculpted his indeed very fit form. Why? Wasn't his practice over? Hadn't he already showered? Why did he have to wear that now?

She stared at him for a while and she saw how he was still expecting a response. "What did you say?" she asked dumbly.

Hands shoved in his pockets and grinning slightly, he stepped closer. "I said, are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" "Lily felt her breathing become unsteady once more and internally cursed herself. "And... why would you just come out of nowhere to ask me that? How did you even find me? What do you want?"

"Right," Potter chuckled. "You seem tense."

Lily took a deep breath. "I'm just tired. Look, I only meant to give you this." And finally, she was relieved from her task.

"Thanks, Evans." He said without sparing more than a second's glance at the paper.

"Sure." She then fixed her bag over her shoulder and walked past James Potter.

"Wa- where're you going?" He called behind her.

"Erm..." She hated that she didn't have an immediate reply. Anywhere was honestly better, with all those feelings she'd just shoved down already coming back to the surface as Potter looked at her with those round searching eyes. "My room."

"It's 4 in the afternoon on a Saturday."

"Your point being?"

Potter shut his mouth, whatever he wanted to say was left in his thoughts. "Nevermind."

"Okay... well, I'll see you around." Lily turned away once more.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"The answer is still no, Potter."

He laughed. "Not that." He stepped closer again, taking away the distance Lily just made.

"What is it..." She could smell his aftershave this close.

His glasses were skewed as his eyes scanned her. For the first time Lily felt an impulse to fix it on his nose. "Have you been looking for me?" he asked.

Lily had no idea how to deal with a James Potter like this. He was speaking in a softer voice and he was giving her a gentler gaze. It was far from his usual loud and uncaring tone along with his brazen grin. "I was," she replied. "Just to give you that."

"Right. And you were at the Quidditch pitch?"

She didn't like where this was headed. "Yeah. You had practice, of course that's where I'd look." At that, he simply nodded. "Why do you need to know?" she challenged.

James Potter's grin was back. "Guess I'm just curious."

Don't answer. Don't answer. Don't answer. "About what?"

He shrugged. "How long you can avoid what you know I'm talking about."

Lily decided to play his game. "What are you talking about?"

"Sirius told me he saw you," he said, stepping closer.

Lily held his gaze. "Oh? What else did he say?"

"That he told you where I was."

Nope. She couldn't do it. "Have you no shame?" Lily turned away, her cheeks heating up. "Whatever, okay. I didn't see anything."

Potter broke into a laugh. Of course he had no shame. "I didn't mean to make you... tense."

Still refusing to meet his face, Lily replied, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Evans," he called soflty, "I can tell your face is red."

"Maybe because this topic is largely inappropriate!"

"Alright, sorry," he said with another wave of chuckles. "I'm letting you go now."

Lily sighed in relief. "Thank you." She made one move to head off when Potter spoke once more.

"Just thought I'd let you know, I'd recognise your perfume anywhere."

There was just no way she was getting out of this unscathed. It became clear she should just stop resisting. Lily turned. "So, you knew I walked in."

Surprise was evident on Potter's face. Perhaps he expected Lily to walk away. "Not at first," he admitted.

"But you continued anyway." Lily took slow but consistent steps like a prowling cat, stopping right in front of Potter. He followed her every move with his gaze alone, half-lidded eyes trailed down to hers. "Would you do that if anyone else had walked in?" she added in a murmur.

Potter tilted his head. He had a dazed look, and his lips were parted. "You know I wouldn't."

Already this close, it didn't take much for their lips to meet in a kiss.

A shudder spread through Lily's skin in hearing a pleased but muffled sound from Potter. The thought of drawing more of those sounds from him filled her with dark anticipation. Big warm hands caressed her softly as she tugged on his hair. Too lost with the slick heat of James Potter's mouth, she gasped at the sudden solid brick of the wall against her back. James was crowding her there-- in the middle of the hallway where anyone could pass by and see.

"James..." she mumbled against his lips.

He responded with a groan, strong arms squeezing her. It was remarkably secure in his hold, and she could definitely feel his form. She took a self-indulgent moment to let her hands explore, never leaving his lips. From his sturdy chest to the narrowing of his waist. Merlin, she could do this for hours.

"Mmph..." James let out a deeper moan, and she felt it on her neck. "Lily..." His voice this close to her ear was nothing compared to hearing it in the shower. And for him to moan her name...

Lily's knees threatened to give out, and the certainty of being held firm by James almost convinced her. Instead, the palm on his chest pushed him until their lips were apart. "Not here," she whispered.

James stared at her for a while, still caught in a daze. She watched as her words settled in his mind, dilated pupils scanning her until they widened in realisation. Then, a smirk stretched his swollen lips. He looks as though the disbelief hasn't left him. That this really is happening. In all fairness, Lily couldn't believe it too.

"Wipe that stupid expression away and find us somewhere private, will you," she said with a chuckle.

His smirk stretched into a grin. "Yes, ma'am." He stole one last kiss before stepping back, pulling her with their linked hands.

James led them to an empty classroom. With a wave of his wand the lock clicked, and he was instantly back on her like a starved man, guiding her to the nearest desk. Lily welcomed every kiss before pulling his tight uniform over his head. "You found this room really quickly, huh." She couldn't help but notice.

"Hmm?" His shirt was now off, his hair was messier, and his glasses sat crookedly on his nose.

Finally, Lily fixed his glasses. "I just said, you seem to always know which places to look. You found me easily too, just earlier. I had to look for you for hours!"

Two blinks until he managed a response. "Oh." He shrugged. "Just... great sense of direction. May I?" he asked, glancing to the buttons of her shirt.

Lily gave him a look. "Since when were you a gentleman?" she said, then proceeded to unbutton herself. Much to her satisfaction, his eyes never left her hands.

"Since," he swallowed thickly, "since you bothered to find out."

"That doesn't make sense." Lily let her shirt fall from her shoulders and perched on the desk.

James' breaths were heavier. "No, it doesn't." His eyes stayed stuck on her breasts. He would lift his gaze to her eyes but they'd constantly fall back down. It was adorable.

With a fond smile straining her cheeks, Lily reached for James' hand and placed it on her left tit. "You can touch me, you know." She then pulled him closer, parting her legs to make space. "I want you to touch me."

A surprised laugh left James' throat. He bit his bottom lip, if only to contain his wide grin. "Fuck, Lily..." James surged forward into a desperate kiss, pressing down until Lily was lying back. Her skirt hitched up until it was now loosely around her waist. She could feel everything in this position, the most prominent being the erection against her own wetness, and the thrilling fact of being separated only by a few layers of clothing.

She bucked her hips impatiently, grinding against James. The groan she elicited from him went directly into her mouth. It's then she zeroed in on one goal. She needed to hear more.

While James' hands were otherwise engrossed with feeling up Lily's tits, she trailed hers downward, reaching for a buckle. James noticed with a gasp and pulled off to shoot her a look of pure want. Hooded eyes, heaving chest, and swollen lips curled into a grin. He was the image of a wet dream.

James watched as her deft fingers unbuttoned him, tugged his pants to pull out his hard cock. It fell right between her legs, sitting on top of the wet patch of her panties. Then, she stroked.

She was rewarded with a shaky moan from the man on top, his head dropped to rest on her neck as she found a rhythm. Right next to her ear, she could hear the shaky sighs and the small whimpers whenever she twisted her wrist just so. Then, an idea popped in her head.

"This was what you were doing in the shower?" she cooed.

"Oh, fuck..." he drawled before dissolving into a short laugh. He rocked his hips, aiding Lily's fist. It caused his cock to graze against her clit. She jolted in surprise just as a moan escaped her lips. "No," James continued, now gazing down at her. "This is infinitely better."

"James..." she whined, pleading. She didn't know what exactly, just that she wanted him to do something.

It's as though she flipped a switch in James' brain. He pulled up from lying on top of her, closed one hand around his cock and used his other to dip inside Lily's underwear, finally sliding his finger through her slick folds. Lily sobbed out a moan, her head falling back.

The finger stopped teasing and finally rubbed her clit. With Lily's mouth hanging open, she reconnected their lips until they swallowed each other's moans. Her hand that was still around his cock started jerking him off in time with his fingers. It prompted James to slip them inside her waiting hole and her other arm instantly flew around his shoulders, gripping tightly to ground herself from the whirlwind of pleasure.

They stayed in that perfect dance for a while as James' fingers tested different angles and eliciting different responses from Lily. When he found that delicious spot inside her, and she cried out from beneath him, he pulled out. Then, he got off her completely.

Before Lily could even form her protest, getting on her elbows to find exactly where he is, she was met with the sight of James getting on his knees between her legs. He delicately slid her knickers to one side-- then licked a stripe up her wet cunt.

Her head fell back down as she moaned hoarsely, a distant thought crossed her mind that hoped no one passed by this classroom, but it was quickly replaced by that same wave of arousal when she felt two fingers slip inside her again.

Just as she'd thought it couldn't get any better, James would moan-- and the vibrations went directly where his mouth kissed and sucked. It was too much.

"James!" She panted. "James, fuck, I'm... I think I'm go--" But James wasn't interested in helping her finish her sentence, speeding up his fingers, sucking harder, and moaning louder. She didn't stand a chance. Lily came in waves and waves, writhing in place as she was powerless to James' firm grip.

When the high subsided and she felt one with her body again, she didn't waste time pulling James up to his feet and smashing their lips to a heated kiss. Her hands crawled to his neglected cock, hot and leaking, and stroked him with all the intent to see him fall apart. His jaw fell slack and all he could do was turn into a mess of whimpers and groans.

A twitch in her hand told her he was close, and then he was coming a rope of hot white on her. It seemed forever that he recovered from his peak. "Fucking hell," he said after taking his first breath. "I don't think I came this hard in my life." He shook with laughter. The sight prompted a surge of emotion in Lily's chest that she couldn't help but drag him back into a long kiss.

The only coherent thought in her head was this couldn't be the last time this happened. "Ask me again, Potter," she said breathlessly, fixing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

It took him a long while to figure out what she wanted him to say, until finally, he grinned. "Lily Evans, will you go on a date with me to Hogsmeade?"

She mirrored his grin. "I'd go on a date with you wherever, James Potter."

The elation on his face could light up the entire castle on Christmas day. He let out one huff of laughter before collapsing on top of her and drowning her in kisses.

[vegaseatsass]

The Sol-tuation is a lot more nuanced than that!!

Who knew I, an absolutely feral Mingjoe shipper, would end up making so many posts about the secondary love interest who never stood a chance with our protagonist, but I truly think they're doing some fascinating things with this character and it hurts a little to see so so so many fandom reactions that take what's happening on the surface as the full story with no interest in peeling back those appearances.

I will say before I start: huge credit to @zhouxiangs for so many of these opinions, she shared a few insights about Sol with me today that completely reshaped my interpretation of the character, so thank you x 2389234, this post is not exclusively My thoughts. (Also SolYim as a ship is galaxy brain and the only thing I now want for Sol's future. Thank you for that TOO)

So I very much understand why what it appears Sol is doing - ignoring Joe's clear lack of interest in him to pursue him, taking every opportunity to touch him, and working overtime to prevent Joe from seeing the truth about Ming and his obvious devotion, so he can still "win" Joe instead - is rubbing a lot of people the wrong way. Straight up, situations where people I'm not romantically interested in have pursued me despite my clear and direct (and often hard-fought because I used to be a huge people pleaser) "no" are something I hope to avoid for the rest of my natural life. Relentless pursuit can be a sexy fantasy if you want someone back, as Joe does Ming, but for most of us, it's emotionally pressuring nightmare fuel if you don't.

But I would argue that's really not what's happening. An extremely essential missing piece of context to Sol's behavior is that Joe died because of his relationship with Ming, and Sol spent years grieving him. In episode 9 in particular, they're all face-to-face with the cold hard truth of that grief, and I don't think Sol is any exception, even if he knows Joe is back now. In episode 8, Sol confirmed Joe was back, and he was so euphorically happy, but he was not pushing and shoving Joe to hop into a relationship with him, was he? He was just delighted Joe was alive. But this episode, he's suddenly faced with the very real prospect that Ming and Joe still have feelings for each other. That Joe may return to the man who got him killed. Who Sol, in his own eyes, failed to protect Joe from in his first life, even though Sol so badly wanted to pay back Joe's sincerity to him. And I think the threat of losing Joe again is making Sol (who ran back to Korea instead of processing his grief and guilt over his death) a little insane.

I mean, let's talk about Sol in Joe's first life. After Joe told him he couldn't return his feelings, did we see any inkling of this frantic episode 9 pushiness? Sure, there was the moment where he tried to convince Joe that he and Ming were incompatible, after watching Ming need to hide Joe from his family in what I'm sure read as shame to Sol. I can give Sol some grace for this knowing he struggled with coming to terms with his own sexuality (see: the first time he ran away to Korea), and is now trying to overcompensate for who he was in the past, but you don't have to give him this grace if you don't want to. I can admit his desire to support Joe as a friend is compromised by the tumultuousness of his longing for Joe. Like there's also the fight with Ming on the staircase where Joe gets knocked down and Sol and Ming just keep fighting. Sol is not a saintly unselfish being who keeps his feelings and his desire to protect and support Joe perfectly separate, by any means. (To me this is part of why he's interesting and human, but I get that we all have different character preferences.)

But dinner with Ming's family aside, when first life Joe tells Sol he doesn't want to be with him, Sol lets it go and is happy living in the friend zone. When Joe tells him not to come over and intervene when he's trying to break up with Ming, Sol listens. Sol believes that Joe can handle himself and he respects the boundaries that Joe sets, regardless of what he wants or hopes in the privacy of his own heart.

And what happens without Sol's intervention? Without anyone's intervention? Joe dies. Joe is chained up in a basement - Joe was not safe with Ming, Joe was not able to clear the situation up using just his words - and blacklisted from the industry, driven to desperate financial straits and killed.

So my read of Sol is that he's scrambling to make himself a shield. He thought he was already in a role where he could support Joe, this time around, but this episode raised the threat of Joe going back to Ming and dying again, and now he's frantically trying to change himself into something that can actually keep Joe from doing that. If Joe suddenly decided he wanted to be with Sol and not Ming, would Sol be happy on his own behalf? Of course, I'm not denying that. But I really think so much of the desperation to offer himself as a romantic choice is to try to show Joe he has options that aren't Ming, to try to intervene in ways he didn't in Joe's first life, at any cost.

You can't force someone not to return to an abusive partner, the same way you can't force someone not to commit suicide, or make any other choice where they could get hurt or disappear from your life forever. It's a necessary journey for everyone, to realize you have to respect your loved ones' agency even when they're making choices that terrify you to your core. Sol has not learned that yet, and I'm not defending how pushy and out of pocket he was being this episode. But I'm really, really sympathetic to the absolutely frantic terror that I think was underlying it. If you've never had a suicidal loved one or a loved one trapped in a destructive cycle, it's easy enough to expect Sol to do the right things (the actually HELPFUL and supportive things), instead of the toxic, selfish things. For me he's a far richer and more human character for making the wrong choices, though. For being selfish, but not about wanting to possess Joe and force his feelings Sol's way. About wanting to keep Joe alive and unharmed by force, instead of trusting Joe to make his own choices. Again: you have to let people decide these things for themselves. You have to! If you don't support your loved ones' agency, any other support you think you're offering them is useless and suffocating and will genuinely compound whatever they're dealing with, make it much harder for them to heal, leave, etc - whatever the "healthy" choice is, they can't make it with you forcing them into it. They can't make it without you surrendering to the possibility of them making the "unhealthy" choice; without you accepting that it is their choice. But for a fictional character to go from "genuinely supportive friend" to "publicly announcing you're in a branded relationship a day after your own funeral" because he sees you slipping from his grasp - not emotionally, but potentially literally, metaphysically, permanently, AGAIN - well, to me, that's juicy and compelling.

I'm also more sympathetic to Sol than to Wut when it comes to telling Joe that Ming loves him, frankly. I think Joe needs an impartial friend (Yim!!!) that he can process all his Ming issues with openly, because it is never helpful to feel like because your friends know that your abuser/ex/etc harmed you, you can never go to them to process the moments of kindness and love. Joe needs to be able to look at the full picture of who Ming is and what Ming feels and decide for himself, he doesn't need Sol strongarming him out of accepting that Ming is capable of both great cruelty and great love. But Wut always takes the path of least resistance and it absolutely maddens me. To just say, with no qualification, "The man I and only I know knocked you out and kept you locked in a basement loves you, actually" is absolutely insane and irresponsible. I do not for a second believe Wut was ready to express nuance, to say, like, "I think Ming loves you in his own way, but that love is dangerous and possessive and I hope you stay away." If we see anything in the text that demonstrates otherwise I'm happy to be wrong about this, and then I would be in the "Let Wut speak!" camp. But for now, I do think he was going to play the role of an enabler, just because he finds it easier to let Ming handle Joe's estate and be in Joe's life than to fight it. Lol it still doesn't make Sol right to try to keep Joe from seeing the full picture, but I'm sympathetic to him going wtf, Wut? Do you really think Ming loves him? knowing what Wut knows.

Anyway this is sooooo long so I will try to wrap it up, but I wanted to also talk about Sol and Joe and physical touch. Like I said at the beginning, I totally understand seeing how often Sol hugs Joe or grabs him and feeling uncomfortable imagining yourself in Joe's shoes. But as uncomfortable as EYE would be with Sol's affections, I want to try to analyze how Joe the character feels about all this. Now one of the things I most love about this series is the opaqueness of all the characters' choices, how there is always ambiguity and room for more than one interpretation. So if you watch the scenes where Sol puts his hands on Joe and think Joe looks trapped or unhappy, that is your prerogative! I noticed that the two times he shook Sol's touch off in the episode were when he thought Sol was going to stop him from breaking into his loft, and when he thought Sol was going to cause a scandal with Ming at the press party. Otherwise, from where I sit (my interpretation only!), Joe does not appear to experience Sol's touch as something unwanted or unsafe. I would actually make the argument that having someone he's known for years sharing a bed with him, hugging him, holding his hand, etc, could be offering Joe essential tactile comfort he's not getting from anyone else while he's in the midst of grieving his past life. For all we know, the level of physical intimacy between them is something that completely predates Sol acknowledging his feelings. This could be a normal level of touchiness between them, and not an example of Sol "taking liberties" or trying to force his way into Joe's heart.

To me the upshot of everything is that Joe, to my eyes, seems to feel completely safe with Sol and his professed feelings. When Sol brings his feelings up again when they're getting their makeup done, Joe's response ("how did the conversation turn to this?") pinged me as playful, affectionate, not uncomfortable and pressured. Joe is absolutely terrified of Ming's feelings for him and, significantly, what they would do to Joe's feelings for Ming - he is keeping himself away from Ming by the power of "You don't love me and never did" and when that crumbles so will most of his ability to resist him, I think - but Sol's feelings can't do anything to Joe. They can't make him want things he doesn't want, and they can't make him want things he doesn't want to want. I would argue that Sol is a friend that Joe feels safe around, and his open crush on Joe causes a bit of awkwardness, to be sure, but it doesn't make Joe feel pressured to do anything but be himself. When he's with Sol, he's not afraid of Sol, Sol's feelings, or Joe's feelings. I think that's important to acknowledge! The same way that Sol needs to accept that Joe is allowed to make the choice to go back to Ming and it's never been in Sol's hands, imo fandom needs to accept that if Joe is comfortable with Sol and his affections, we can't argue that he is being pressured by them, or in danger, or anything else.

But that's just my interpretation! I am happy to be disagreed with, haha. I just think Sol is as rich and interesting a character as Ming, but many of us as viewers have more trouble with flawed and selfish kindness (Sol) than we do with complex cruelty (Ming). But I love flawed and selfish kindness. I love characters who are trying so hard to be good and to take care of people they love, and fucking it up and not seeing the ways their wants and fears are getting in the way. So I love Sol. And obviously have a lot to say about him lol.

[justanotherfanartist]

taps mic. ahem.

help a student write a dumb rvb research paper? pretty please?? for funsies???

This is exactly what it sounds like.

My current final of the year for my language composition class is a massive synthesis + argumentative research paper on any topic of our choosing, and Roosterteeth + RVB has too much messy junk going on that I’m knee-deep invested in mentally at this point to pass up the opportunity to write about it.

And yknow, I see a ton of media analysis posts coming out of the fandom all the time and I’ve always loved seeing it and reading into it and sharing ideas and whatnot and this feels like my way of doing that too.

Essentially what I’m reaching out for is for you guys to help me crowdsource resources and share your ideas with me to include in my term paper*.

things that would be wizard cool of you to send me are:

any interviews or behind the scenes with the cast and creators you happen to know of

your own analysis or hot takes of the characters or the show as a whole

what the show has meant to you

any clips of old Roosterteeth expos

for the older fans, a rough idea of what the release timeline looked like for the episodes and what the buildup and fan reaction was for each one

any commentary or hot takes on how the fandom has changed since you joined/that you know of

what Roosterteeth did wrong (writing wise and irl)

what Roosterteeth did right (writing wise and irl)

tropes within the show you noticed whether originated by the show or not

tropes within the fandom, things like similar portrayals or bad/good takes on characters or face canons that span artists

literally anything you can give me, media, commentary, or opinion wise

(not to say I can’t find things on my own, I already have, but this is also about varying opinions and the general outlook of the fandom as a whole and measuring the broader impact of a show like RvB and it would be incredibly cool of you to help me out even with just crumbs of character opinions)

The idea is to get evidence together from clips, personal anecdotes, and opinions so I can present an accurate read on the fandom, especially when it comes to fan interpretation of RVB vs Roosterteeth’s intentions for the show (and behavior as a company) and explore what the show was supposed to be, what it literally is, how people see it, what its impact has been, and a general overview of the it’s legacy and lifespan, that sort of thing.

My thesis is most likely going to end up something in the ballpark of “How Roosterteeth exemplifies the Franchisation of Indie Media” or “Why RvB is one of the most complicated/misunderstood/divisive shows in modern media” or “How Fandoms interpret and recontextualize media”

I’m going to guess that I likely won’t be able to post the finished paper up online without a solid buffer window to avoid the two mortifying scenarios that are (a) being accused of creative plagiarism and (b) having to tell my instructor that the tumblr account with a 100% match to my course final is, in fact, my tumblr account, are two things I desperately want to avoid.

However if I can, simply for the sake of contributing to the fandom and creating something for us to all contribute to and discuss and crediting various peoples’ help and input would be ideal and, if at all possible, that would be the end goal.

so yeah. if you’re up for it I’d love for you to dm me your thoughts or (more conveniently for the both of us) fill out this Google form down here!

*im not gonna, like, repost your detailed character analysis as my own or something. I’m just trying to find some good quotes, general opinions, and ideas from the fandom so that I can accurately represent them and do our little corner of the internet Justice. And also because the audience of a work is a massive factor in media analysis lmfao. and also to create a community sourced Fun Thing™️ we can all look at and bite the corners off of instead of watching Roosterteeth crash and burn in the backgroun

[hurpdurpburps]

Otherside Picnic Manga Yuri Club Special Story 8 English Translation

SPOILER WARNING: Takes place at the end of File 9 - Yamanoke Presence in Vol 3 of the novels.

Written by: Miyazawa Iori

Translated by: @hurpdurpburps

-

Chapter 8: Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back

Mum and Mama…

What did she mean by Mum and Mama?

As we rode the elevator in the skeletal building to return to the surface world, the question slowly returned to my mind.

Toriko said that she had a Mum and Mama.

Her dad didn’t remarry.

It was just her Mum and Mama.

Hah.

So, she was raised by two mothers.

I was a bit surprised since I’d never given it any thought, but I suppose that’s how things were.

Mama was a soldier in the Canadian military, and Mum wasn't.

What's “not in the military” supposed to mean? A full-time housewife? Do full-time housewives exist in Canada? Well, I guess they do...

I knew as a fact that marriage between women was possible. The topic came up regularly in the gender studies lectures that I took as part of my general education, and the existence of many different forms of family and kinship was one of the major themes in cultural anthropology. It was probably also mentioned in my high school civics classes, but I didn't have the luxury of paying attention to subjects that weren’t necessary for my university entrance exams. Due to what was going on at home, I’d fallen behind in my studies, so the best I could do was catch up on the scope covered in the tests.

I see…

Toriko had a Mum and a Mama.

While I knew of such things, it never crossed my mind that I would find a real-life example in such close proximity.

When I learnt that Toriko had lost both her parents during my conversation with Kozakura from before, I had assumed that we were in similar situations, but Toriko had her own unique set of circumstances.

I guess you never know about the story behind someone's family unless they tell you…

Based on what I knew, I’d assumed that Toriko was brought up lovingly by her mum and dad.

And judging from the way Toriko spoke, it seemed I was right about her being loved.

But why did she tell me about that, today, at this particular moment? Was that where things were headed? We’d been talking about survival techniques just before, when Toriko said that she’d learnt it from her parent who was in the military- who was erhhhh, Mama… That was about it. While what we were talking about was indeed relevant to Mama, the turn in conversation seemed abrupt.

Oh, right. I remember now.

I’d shared my life story with Toriko on the revolving observational platform. About my escape from the cult and all that jazz [1]. I was confused since Toriko seemed to be in shock despite my casual tone. I suppose that's why Toriko started talking about her family as well.

In the elevator next to me, Toriko stared at the floor indicator above the doors as she restlessly shifted from foot to foot.

Toriko’s instinctive reaction to my story had troubled me, but that was also surely her trying to be considerate in her own way. Thinking along these lines, I could understand the sudden change in topic, and why she seemed to be waiting for my reaction. While her cheerful appearance could be misleading, Toriko was rather clumsy when it came to communicating with others.

Though, she probably wouldn't want to hear that coming from me.

Sorry for worrying you, thank you…

Just as I was thinking that, Toriko seemed to sense my gaze and turned towards me, and our eyes met.

All of a sudden, Toriko smiled at me again. The way she laughed as her eyes roamed, as if she was slightly troubled. Toriko had a habit of doing so when she was feeling shy.

Was there anything for her to be shy about?

A new question arose in my mind as I looked back at her curiously,

A life story was reciprocated with another one. That seemed like a coherent way of connecting the dots. However.

Is this really a correct interpretation of what’s going on?

Could there be a reason that I haven't thought of?

Something important that I’m not seeing-

My mind turned fuzzy just as I reached the thought. Like the way it did whenever I thought of the terrifying depths of the Otherside, as if my brain was politely declining to think about the matter.

Ever since I met Toriko, I'd been constantly reminded of the fact that I was terrible at reading others. Although there'd been no need for me to do so before then.

The bell chimed as the elevator reached the first floor. The sound brought me back to my senses and I returned my gaze to the front.

The doors opened slowly, and there was no one on the other side.

I let out a sigh of relief, having half-expected Satsuki Uruma to appear. Thank God she didn't follow us to the surface world.

"I'm exhausted- what should we eat?" Toriko said as she stepped out of the elevator, completely oblivious.

As I trailed behind, my worries from earlier were already fading from my mind and disappearing into who-knows-where.

At least, for now.

TL Notes

General note: I adopted a more 'literary' prose style to match the tone of the novels. Hence, the translation in this series will be significantly more liberal than my usual analytical posts. Feel free to ask me anything. Feedback regarding translation accuracy is also welcome.

[1] Sorawo says うんたらかんたら here, which is the equivalent of 'blah blah blah' in English, but that didn't really flow well with the other sentences so I spiced it up a bit.

This is probably the most difficult chapter to translate so far, holy shit. I wanted to pass away. My brain cells died at all the inferencing. High context languages are terrible [insert Kozakura ough face here].

List of Yuri Club's Otherside Picnic Short Stories [my translations]:

1. Shinjuku, The First Meet-Up (新宿、初めての待ち合わせ)

2. Hasshaku-sama Epilogue (八尺様エピローグ)

3. Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty (お茶の水、初めての打ち上げ)

4. Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One (池袋、ひとりカフェ飯)

5. Naha, After The Big Job (那覇、大仕事の後)

6. Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation (石垣島、呆然のリゾート)

7. Mercedes AMG, The Backseat (メルセデスAMG、後部座席)

8. Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back (異世界エレベーター、帰路)

9. Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party (小桜屋敷、ピザパーティー)

10. Ikebukuro Bookstore, Meet Up (池袋の書店、待ち合わせ)

11. Hannou, In The Car From The Station (飯能、駅からの車中)

12. TBD

[stil-lindigo]

okay so, not entirely sure what the last anon was on about (and it very well could be a troll just trying to bait. they really should have at least brought up what they meant if they wanted to appear in good faith), but it may be in relation to "drink up" and how it attracted terf attention on twitter? (which I know you addressed btw, so I hope this doesn't come across as an attack or anything)

personally, I think the phrase "our only natural predator" might have appealed to terf rhetoric just a little (but that's my opinion - I very well could be 100% wrong). I have my own personal feelings on the use of "natural" in the phrase (men don't naturally prey on women like animal predators do their prey - if anything, it's unnatural, deliberately chosen behavior - and it reminds me of the excuse that "it's just naturally how men are," like "boys will be boys." HOWEVER, I see how that phrasing ties into the "lioness/women turning it around and preying on the predator" theme, so honestly it works well there), but aside from all that, I can also see why it might've attracted terfs: bc they very often view and frame trans women as male predators to cis women. I know that's definitely not how you intended it though!!

and this also isn't meant as a nitpick to your work, so my apologies if that's how it comes across. I really like your art and your writing (and "drink up" has a very cool theme)! it's just that I can see how terfs might've interpreted it a certain way. it's not your fault that they viewed it like that though, and you've made it very clear you're NOT down with trans exclusionary BS. so that's literally the only thing I could see anon complaining about tbh, assuming they're not just being a troll. also I'm sorry for the super long message (I have an issue w/ typing too much smh). I just thought I'd share my thoughts on it in case it's at all helpful, but also this might just be annoying to read instead, so honestly feel free to just discard it if you prefer!

It’s not annoying at all anon, and I appreciate you taking the time to send this in. The comic you’re talking about is one I think back on with a lot of regret. It was made in a furious haze after a big time female streamer revealed that she was being mentally abused for years by her husband, where he would waste her hard earned money, threaten her dogs and her livelihood and overall be a monster to the woman who was their primary breadwinner. The reaction online to this information by her largely male audience was so genuinely vile and violently misogynistic that I made the comic, without thinking broadly about the implications you’ve already pointed out. In reality, the comic was meant to talk about how all women (cis and trans) suffer under the patriarchy and how the label of womanhood can often be an open call for baseless derision, dehumanisation and entitlement at many levels.

TERFS quickly co-opted the comic, and I’ll always regret ever giving them an opportunity to feel empowered and validated by my art, but I’ve learned from the experience overall to do better by my trans siblings. Thank you for engaging in good faith - I hope my behaviour now and in the future can make up for past mis-steps.

[fushiglow]

Who the hell is Gojō Satoru?

Some thoughts on his character in 236

Seeing everyone arguing about Gojō’s characterisation in 236 over the last week makes me realise just how good the chapter is, no matter how dissatisfied I am with Gojō's death.

When you're upset about something, it's hard to judge accurately whether something is 'bad' or whether you simply don't like it — and they are different things. Interestingly, 236 presented me with a conflict I've never experienced when following a story before. I'm really disappointed with the way Gege Akutami chose to end Gojō's story, but I think 236 will go down as one of the most beautiful chapters of Jujutsu Kaisen. In that sense, my feelings about the chapter after a week of sitting with it aren't too unrecognisable from my initial feelings — just with all of the big emotions that were colouring my judgment stripped away.

I think there *is* value in immediate reactions, and I think much of the initial outrage about the chapter was simply people grieving what was an intentionally shocking end to a beloved character. I hate that people tried to police social media reactions to the chapter, because I think everyone should be allowed to process their feelings in their own online space (as long as they don't bring harm to others, of course).

Aside from the outpouring of emotion, there have been countless arguments about 'who' Gojō was as a person in the end, and that doesn't sit right with me either. I think many artists would be disappointed to hear fans of their work insist that there is one 'proper' interpretation — because the value of sharing your art with the world is in how different people receive it based on their own experiences.

To me, that's Gojō Satoru as a character.

I know lots of people have already shared some variation of the post below (and everyone has moved on to 237 now anyway) but this was sitting in my drafts so I thought I may as well hit post before 237 is officially released!

Gege Akutami keeps Gojō at a distance from both the readers and the characters around him, making it deliberately difficult to know who he is as a person. Despite that, everyone in-universe and out has something to say about Gojō's character, but we've never really known how Gojō views himself until this chapter.

For maybe the first time in Jujutsu Kaisen, we get to deep dive into Gojō's interior world and hear his innermost thoughts when he's at his lowest and most vulnerable. As a result, something fascinating happened across the fandom.

Even when Gojō literally tells Getō that the 'wretchedness of isolation' is something he shares with Sukuna, that he gave everything he had so that Sukuna might understand him and be understood in turn, and that he knows not everyone will get it, some people called Gojō 'out of character' in 236.

And isn't that just so damn meta?!

Akutami loves challenging readers' assumptions through his characters, so while the chapter is shocking, it isn't really surprising. I'd even go as far as suggesting that the journey of emotions the reader experiences while reading 236 is the exact same journey Gojō is going on in-story.

The thing is, I've seen tons of people arguing about whether Gojō was selfless or selfish, whether he fought for the love of his students or for the love of the fight, whether he took strong young sorcerers under his wing from a place of care or simply as a means to an ends — but I think the point is that it's always been all of those things at once.

Because he's human, and humans contain multitudes.

I think we were meant to have our view of Gojō shaken by 236 — the same way Gojō's view of himself is challenged in this chapter. However, just because we can find some truth in Nanami's criticism of Gojō, doesn't mean that his interpretation of Gojō's character is the correct one — especially when it's entirely possible that what happens in the airport isn't even real.

Getō listens with empathy as Gojō confesses his self-doubt and regrets, the solitude of his strength, and the dehumanisation he experienced as the 'Strongest'. He even expresses jealousy when Gojō admits he had fun fighting someone strong enough to understand him. Then, only two pages after Gojō says, 'You can cherish a flower and help it bloom, but you don't ask it to understand you', Nanami appears and calls him a pervert for his approach to sorcery.

It's actually really funny.

Importantly, Nanami isn't exactly wrong for saying the enjoyment Gojō gets from fighting is a little disturbing (and, to be clear, I *adore* this about him) — it's just not the whole picture of Gojō Satoru.

Akutami actually gives us some lovely imagery to visually represent the gulf between those who understand the solitude of strength and those who don't — Gojō and Getō sit on one side of the bench while Nanami and Haibara sit on the other, with each duo facing in opposite directions.

I don't think Akutami is implying that either side is wrong or right — it's just two different perspectives. Nevertheless, Gojō is pictured side by side with someone who understands him, and back to back with someone who doesn't understand him but who cares for him all the same.

Recognising this, he pivots to asking Nanami about something they can both relate to and receives an important lesson in return. What Nanami means and what Gojō takes from it is deliberately ambiguous, like everything that's discussed inside the airport:

Could Sukuna have won without the Ten Shadows?

Who does the 'flower' represent: Gojō, the people around him, or both?

Did Gojō reach Sukuna like he hoped?

Why exactly is Getō jealous?

Does Gojō feel satisfied?

Is Nanami's assessment of Gojō's character correct?

What is the relevance of north and south?

Which direction did Gojō choose?

Is it all in Gojō's imagination or is it real?

Whether we'll receive answers to those questions remains to be seen, but I highly suspect that most of them don't even have a definitive answer.

Once again, it's just a matter of perspective, and I think that's Gojō's character in a nutshell. Whichever side of the bench you're sitting on, whatever you see in Gojō says more about you than it does about him — and that's exactly why it's so fascinating to see the fandom erupt into arguments about who's interpreting the character correctly.

I can honestly say I think the chapter is really beautiful even though I hate what happened to Gojō, and that's an entirely new experience for me. For that alone, Akutami has my praise. Whatever happens in the rest of the story will determine whether 236 becomes my favourite chapter in the whole of Jujutsu Kaisen — isn't that bizarre?

By the way, I found a really thoughtful post about some of the word choices in 236. The poster shared some really interesting insights across a series of posts and they convey the tone of the chapter really well. Well worth checking out!

[sophieinwonderland]

I Can't Believe That Pearl's Plurality is Syscourse Now!!!

Steven Universe Spoilers Ahead

This is such an extremely over-the-top reaction to me saying someone with multiple selves in their head is plural.

I would highly recommend rewatching A Single Pale Rose if you don't think Pearl has dissociative barriers. She's not just wearing masks or keeping secrets.

To recap, the episode has Steven looking for Pearl's phone after getting a text message from her.

When Steven mentions getting a text from the phone that was put inside Pearl's head, Front Pearl denies that the text was sent and is legitimately shocked and horrified at first that this is going on.

She tries to find the phone but can't.

She had no memory of sending Steven the text because she didn't do it, and only realized what was going on when Steven got a second text while she was there without her knowing. She's not pretending to not know. She's not lying. We've seen her acting in other episodes and she's not that good at it.

This is a clear example of inter-identity amnesia.

When Steven goes inside Pearl's head and meets what we'll call Keeper Pearl, (as a reference to her keeping all of their things and as a gatekeeper to the rest of the system,) this Pearl references the other Pearls as different entities, showing she has a 1st person perspective that acknowledges the others as being separate from her...

Keeper Pearl: It should be right here! Unless... some other me took it.

Keeper Pearl also doesn't know who has the phone.

As she explains when Steven asks if there are more of her there, she gets to be surface because she's good at compartmentalizing.

Keeper Pearl: Oh no, not here. I made sure of that. I am very good at compartmentalizing everything. That's why I get to be surface, and they have to be put away.

Pearl has compartmentalized different selves. Aside from Keeper Pearl, the others are all based on time periods and are frozen in their respective states as a result of some sort of trauma.

90's Pearl is traumatized by Rose's death.

War Pearl is unable to cope with the aftermath of their fight against Homeworld.

War Pearl: We're the only ones left… Homeworld… They were all leaving… We thought we'd won…. There was a bright light and everyone was- …Why did I do it?

If you notice, that picture is in what would become known as the strawberry battlefield.

In Rose's Scabbard, we see Pearl talking wistfully of fighting beside Rose and "winning" while strolling through that same battlefield as Garnet is describing the horrors of the war.

Pearl: But we won! Your mother led us to glorious victory! The odds were against us, and our hearts were uncertain. But we chose to fight alongside Rose, and here we made our stand against our Homeworld!

She's proud, not showing any concern or sadness at the loss of their friends. Her interpretation of events, as being a victory against their enemies, is completely at odds with how War Pearl feels.

This is the "emotional amnesia" the anon claims isn't there. Besides the actual inter-identity amnesia we see between the inner Pearls, there's this emotional disconnect between the Pearl in that scene and what we see of War Pearl's own feelings after the battle.

After all of this, if you still Pearl think having multiple self-conscious entities with an awareness of each other in a shared inner world is just part of "everyone's normal human experience," I think that might say more about how you view plurality, and singlethood for that matter.

What we see in Pearl's head is not a normal singlet experience.

[indigoraysoflight]

Thoughts on the TBOC teaser + sneak peek

There is a ton of fandom discourse on this, and I appreciate you all for taking the time to share your thoughts and perspectives. I discussed a bit of this in episode #26 of our podcast, but I wanted to expand on my perspective here in a nuanced way. If you choose to read this, know that I will be very candid in this post. If your mental health needs a respite from heavy discourse, please take care of your mental health first.

It's absolutely wonderful to have Carol back. The sneak peek was exactly what I expected. It built intrigue from Daryl's POV, expanded on Carol's headspace, and set the stage. But I wish I could be excited about the teaser.

Carol's POV was beautifully nuanced and as angsty as I wanted it to be, but there was a disconnect with Daryl's POV. Although you hear the frustration in his voice, it doesn't sit well with me that a show called The Book of Carol starts with the voiceover + a shot of another character positioned with Daryl in soft lighting gazing at sunset with the juxtaposition of Carol's raw loneliness as she desperately tries to get to him.

Carol's desperation is explicit, clear, and heartbreaking, but there is an imbalance because Daryl's POV needs to convey the same level of need to "find home." Obviously, we don't have enough promo material to define that clearly yet, which is why I'm hoping that people speaking up about their true feelings will help the marketing team position future promo in a way that elicits more overwhelmingly positive reactions from their audience.

I want to make it explicitly clear that my issue here is not with Daryl's character. I'm noticing discourse around how harshly he is judged sometimes, and I agree. My issue is with the way the teaser was spliced together and marketed. My concern for the season is because his character has historically been used to incite fandom wars through shipbaiting in an attempt to please all audiences. Which never worked, festered misogyny and fandom infighting, produced mixed reactions and resulted in Daryl's character paying the price for it.

At the root of it is ambiguity. Their audience was unequivocally united when the first teaser featured the following tagline. There's a reason for it.

To find home is to find each other

It's at the core of Carol and Daryl's relationship. That is the foundation of this show, the connective tissue that the majority of their fans instantly resonated with. It's the key.

I understand that they're at the start of their promo campaign and will continue to map the viewer's journey. Promo content from now on should ideally build hype, give narrative cues/hooks, and build audience awareness and understanding to set expectations for The Book of Carol. So, we may not see this tagline written out on every teaser, but it should still reflect in the content seen on the screen so the viewers make the connection.

In the current teaser, it shows up very sharply for Carol, but with Daryl, that messaging is muddled. This is why it's not resonating with some fans — everyone is interpreting it through their own unique lens.

TWDCaryl

It's nice to see the official accounts use this tag and pro-Caryl copy to promote the show; it's a huge step forward. But again, the feelings need to be reflected in what we see on the screen. If it's generating mixed reactions — the promo content isn't hitting the mark, and in this case, it's too ambiguous.

Any marketing team worth its salt won't give you any inclination of canon, reunion, or interactions between Daryl and Carol during the promo campaign — at least not this early in the campaign. They would want to save your excitement for when those scenes show up on screen.

But I hope the promo that comes out after this gives me more snippets of Daryl's desperation to find his way back. People invest in your brand if they believe they can trust you. Trust is earned. Many people have valid trust issues after the last few years. And this is the way they can build trust with people who have felt betrayed in the past and left the fandom.

The Daryl I know, love and trust

I fell in love with Daryl first. He's one of the strongest characters on the show, not only because of what he endured but also because of his determination to nurture and protect the people he loves. Most of all, because I resonated with his unwavering loyalty to Carol and their family.

The Daryl I know struggles to understand his worth and retreats into the darkness when he is isolated. His demons find him there. Carol is the only one who can pull him out of the darkness, just like Daryl is the only one who can pull her out of hers. They're each other's guiding light. The Daryl I know and love doesn't need to choose. There is no choice. His loyalty to Carol and their family is his first priority. Always.

The articles published by big media outlets surrounding the spinoff often suggest that Daryl is "conflicted". These articles started sprouting after the showrunner's interview, which added more ambiguity to the mix. Every writer added their own understanding of the ambiguity and wrote the articles accordingly, which muddled the messaging even further.

Whether people like it or not, these articles build awareness and set the stage for the show. They're an essential form of digital marketing, offering content that audiences can consume to understand the show. So if they're missing the mark, people consuming these articles will rightfully feel confused about what the season will bring.

A showrunner who gets them

I trust Daryl completely. I know where his heart lies, what his motivations are, and how desperately he wants to get back to Carol and their family. But I don't trust the showrunner who is writing him, and I don't think his motivations align with Daryl's.

Clémence is a talented actress. Her character had the potential to be a strong ally to Daryl and Carol. But her character was twisted to suit the narrative, which included a heavy helping of unnecessary shipbaiting. I'm tired of that.

Melissa's EP status gives me hope for Carol's story, but she's not the showrunner. Norman and Melissa's acting, chemistry, and understanding of their characters and relationship can only do so much.

I really hope they pick a pro-Caryl showrunner who can do justice to Daryl and Carol's story going forward and fill it with the love, vulnerability, gentleness, and deep richness it deserves. I'd personally like to see a progressive female showrunner who isn't afraid to support Caryl and write nuanced female characters who can hold their own regardless of the circumstances.

My hopes and fears for Caryl's future

I love Daryl to pieces, but I'll be honest and say I love Carol more. If you've ever listened to the podcast, that is clear. I'm so happy to have Melissa back. I cannot wait to see Norman and Melissa act together. But, to me, this season is make-or-break. It's a chance for the network to show their audience they're listening and ready to deliver satisfying, undeniable canon for Caryl.

I don't know if your thoughts align with what I said, but I think most of us can agree that we're absolutely tired of shipbaiting, ambiguity, and seasons that promise but don't deliver explicit moments between Caryl.

I hope to god this season proves me wrong. I hope they hear the thoughts that Carylers are bravely sharing here and adjust course accordingly, not only in the promo circuit but beyond. Because whether the posts are more positively inclined or negatively inclined, the ones I read more or less hit this note — Daryl loves Carol deeply, and they will fight the world to find each other, because they are each other's home. Always.

Whether any of this resonates with you or not, I encourage you to share your own thoughts and remember to tag caryl. Share why they are important to you, why you want them to go canon and what this show and these characters mean to you. Speak from the heart and share whatever you're comfortable with because your voice has power, and you deserve to take up space.

2024 is the year of Caryl. So many have waited a long time for it. Let's hope they honour that.

To those who are genuinely excited, I'm glad you're able to find something to hold on to. I wish I could join in, but I have to be honest about my reservations to honour how I feel about this. If you took the time to read this, I thank you. Stay safe and be well. ❤️

[emmatgc]

Wonderful World FanFic (Chapter 6)

(This is only for Seon Yul and Soo Hyun shippers, nothing more. This is my own interpretation . This is a sequel to their story. New characters were added. This will be a mini novel for most probably 10 parts. Enjoy and thank you for the few who are supporting this! This is for you who made a request ❤️)

Chapter 6: The Moon is Beautiful 

“He likes you” is on a loop on Soo Hyun’s mind a lot after that fateful night talking to her sister. Seon Yul on the other hand is feeling good. He likes seeing Soo Hyun happy or at ease. He is worried about Yoo Ra but he has always been a very private person and for him she is just a friend, nothing more. She wonders why Soo Hyun brought her up during their time together and it made him smile. Was she jealous? nah , it is impossible, he thought. 

 A lot has happened in 3 months. Soo Hyun managed to get a loan for her staff and the physicians even if those were really volunteers but with her connections, even though she rarely uses it, the orphanage is thriving under her care. It is an exclusive one but one open for an opportunity of a foster home and care if a family fit to be one will adopt a child. Their daily routine was to start their day at 8am, have breakfast at 7am and lunch at 11am and end by 5pm. It is a whole day of work and “Wonderful Smiles” just like Soo Hyun, is a work in progress and like their owner, a very good one. Soo Hyun is not always present everyday at the orphanage for her other duties as an author. She is thinking of coming back to teach in a university should her schedule allow.Seon Yul on the other hand, is present and available to the kids everyday not missing a day or an hour. The children adore him and the staff loves him. From time to time he would do conference calls and talk to his Chief Resident at the hospital. 

One day, he got a call from his best friend , Soo Jin.  “Hey, how is our prodigy doing there?. He replied, “I am just doing fine, thank you for asking”. “Any news to share with me, bro? “Ummm, Nothing that would entertain you, Soo Jin. “You always entertain me, Seon Yul”. They both laughed and shared some hospital stories while Seon Yul was gone and stories from the orphanage. Before their phone conversation ended, Soo jin told Seon Yul that Yoo Ra has been asking about him and Soo Hyun and it is exhausting to constantly reply to her that it is none of her business. “Our pretty friend might have a little crush on you, Seon Yul, better be careful” “You sound like it is a bad thing, Soo Jin”. “Well, love can make pretty girls crazy”. “I'll talk to her when I get back”. “Oh good, are you finally getting back? I was thinking you might live there and give up everything here for your lady love? “ What are you talking about? Seon Yul was puzzled but also smiling. “Seon yul, my man, you are a smart man, don’t go stupid on me now. You are there for her. You liked her, always has been. Your revenge is done and what's left? Love”.  That is impossible Soo Jin, he replied. “Is it really? Impossible? For you, two? I don’t think so but anyways, it's your life and again, I am telling you to be careful always but I also want you to be happy and I hope you are”. “Seon yul nodded and smiled, Soo Jin’s words comforted him and before they finally hung up the phone, he said “I am happy, truly”. 

Soo Hyun and Seon Yul are two people who share the same silence and experiences over the last 10 years. People are baffled why they are almost “in sync” with each other. Even the staff are surprised at how smoothly they work together and it seems that both know each other too well. There was a week when Soo Hyun got sick. Seon Yul, as the Doctor notices Soo Hyun coughing. Typical Soo Hyun just brushed it off as a normal cough until she fainted one afternoon. She had an allergic reaction to a food she had eaten in one of her book tour signing events and it is a good thing they already had a pharmacy in place inside the orphanage. Seon Yul got so worried and acted as her nurse during her recovery stage. Seon Yul realizes he doesn't want Soo Hyun getting hurt or in pain. Soo Hyun was treated at the orphanage for the 1st 2 days and her medical care continued at her house. Seon Yul wanted first hand to take good care of her. He monitored her day and night. 

Soo Hyun woke up late one night and she saw Seon Yul sleeping near her bed, his arm in her bed and his head down on it. She didn't want to wake him up but as soon as she wanted to move or attempt to go down her bed , she was surprised to hear “Don’t you dare get off your bed, Dr. Soo Hyun”. Jumping and acting a little scared, it is actually kinda dark in her room, she replied “I thought you were asleep, you scared me!” “Well, i wasn't really asleep, I was just pretending to be, besides, I know you are stubborn , stubborn enough to get off this bed and go back to work!” Seon Yul was being funny she thought but he aint smiling at all, he was serious. Soo Hyun, being the joker at times said “You sound so serious, it was just a minor thing”. 

“I don't want you getting hurt, alright? I need you to be ok, Soo Hyun”. Soo Hyun was shocked to hear him call her first name for the 1st time ever. I’m sorry, I hope it's ok to call you by your 1st name? Seon Yul was shy and nervous. “I am too old to be called by you by just my 1st name”, she replied. “I don’t care,” he replied almost instantly. Soo Hyun’s chest tightened a little bit. She got butterflies seeing how nervous Seon Yul is and hearing her name that way, is a pleasant but awkward surprise. “I am sorry for making you worry, Seon Yul. I am sorry you had to look after me. I am alright though, no need to check up on me all the time”, she reiterated to him. “Please, let me take care of you, Soo Hyun”. Soo Hyun bursted out laughing and said “are you taking care of your guardian?” He seriously replied, “You are not my guardian anymore remember” Seriously, you’ve got to take good care of yourself. You are not only allergic to some food but you are clearly exhausted. You need to rest and sleep more. I did some laboratory tests on you and it seems you haven’t gone for a regular check up for a year! Soo Hyun is smiling, is he mad at me? She asks herself. He seems so mad at the thought of her neglecting her health and so on and she can’t help it but think, this might be the feeling when somebody is worried about someone, or maybe if her son is old enough to care, if he was alive, and he will tell her this? Soo hyun and her thoughts were shut down when Seon Yul stood up and walked away from her a bit. Why is he acting this way?

“You are not listening to me”, he said. Soo Hyun is grateful , but she is confused as to why Seon Yul is acting so worried and weird at the same time. Seon Yul, Thank you, she replied. “I am listening but I guess I am also still on a high from the painkillers you gave me”. They both smiled. I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well. The next day, when Soo Hyun woke up, there were flowers in a vase. Her staff said it was from Seon Yul, that he picked it outdoors while he was jogging early in the morning. Seon yul gave her “Mugunghwa” also known as the rose of Sharon. 

Soo Hyun’s ex husband came to visit her after knowing at her Mom’s house that Soo Hyun is recovering at the orphanage. He brought flowers, too. He brought white lilies. It’s Soo Hyun’s favorites. Both chatted a lot and discussed some “work” related stuff and he opened up about her wanting to teach again. Seon Yul was told by the staff Soo hyun got a visitor and he wanted to check who. He entered her room and saw the two of them laughing at each other. Seon Yul was again, so serious checking up her blood pressure and her IV. He looked at him earnestly and he just smiled and greeted him. He thanked Seon Yul for taking care of his ex wife. “Thank you for taking good care of my ex wife, Dr. Seon Yul”. It is good she listens to you and stays treated here. She can be stubborn, you know. Seon Yul got a bit irritated hearing the words “ex wife” and answered, “I know” and excused himself. 

“Well, somebody’s jealous. Haha” Soo Hyun smacked Su Ho’s hand in return. “You dont have to say that!” He replied, “That you were my ex wife? It's the truth! Haha still laughing at Seon Yul and her. He is so obvious, my goodness, it is so obvious, you two! What is? Soo Hyun asked. “Come on Soo Hyun, the boy gave you “rose of sharon” flowers and I gave you lilies! So? She was confused. Oh my, you don't know what “mungunghwa” means? It is deep affection. Like eternal adoration and devotion or something. That kid is smart. He doesn't do things without thinking about it. Oh, don’t tell me “he just picked it out outside “ hahaha he didnt’ .

The guy was obviously jealous of me and that is why I mentioned you as my “ex wife”. Please leave now So hu, Soo hyun shouted at him embarrassed by what she heard from him. They laughed out loud and just felt warm to be having this conversation with her ex husband. Before So hun left, he told Soo Hyun “I will always have your back, Soo Hyun, you know that right? If he makes you happy, go for it. It's not gonna be easy but hey, nothing is. At least, he is a million times better looking than me” hahaha. So Hun left and again, a lot of feelings are intertwining in Soo Hyun’s thoughts. 

Seon Yul was indeed jealous and he knows it. He shouldn’t be, they are exes, of course he will visit her. His thoughts are running wild. He seems irritated that he didn't know her favorite flowers. He also seemed bothered that they were laughing and they hugged each other, too. Seon Yul has always been an introvert and one thing’s for sure, he has never been in love. So, he doesn't know just yet. He was reading a Japanese book to kill time until he came back to Soo Hyun’s room. He wanted to ask Soo Hyun to eat outside since she is now almost healed and recovered. He had it all planned out with the staff. Together with the flowers in the table, her favorite and allowed foods to eat, Soo Hyun was happy to be asked out since she was dreading staying for a couple days in a room confined and strictly monitored. Under that same moonlight there they were, both sitting and eating casually. He handed her a plate and got her food even if she insisted it was hers to get but Seon Yul won’t let her. They were music sort of and the trees, and the leaves were swaying like in the movies. It was a great ambiance, a romantic one. 

Seon Yul started the after dinner conversation. “ How are you feeling?” I am great, thank you. I have the best Doctor”, she replied. I’m sorry, he said. For what?, she replied. “For not knowing your favorite flowers”. Soo Hyun laughed loudly “hahaha, Oh God, don’t be! I don't even remember anymore. It has been a long time since” He then seriously replied “ But Soo Hu didn’t”. Of course, he was my husband. I would be angry if that detail was left out or erased, she honestly replied. They talked about the orphanage and they talked about her plans to go back to teaching. 

Seon Yul doesn't know what took over him but when Soo Hyun started talking about her plans and the way she smiles, he noticed her eyes lit up, her face blooming and her lips, so soft and all in 1 slow motion. All this pent up emotions for the last 6 years. He doesn't know if he hears everything she is saying, and in that moment he knows. This is the moment he is waiting for. With his heart beating so fast, and another lifeform taking over his body, with a thousand times of confidence and desire,  he held her hand softly and he said the words “The Moon is Beautiful”. 

The feeling of being so close yet so far. Suddenly, there was silence but there was music in the air. They stared for a while, until Soo Hyun finally opened her mouth and said “Are you in love with me?”

(The Moon is Beautiful means “I love you or I am in love with you" in many cultures especially in the Japanese culture. This is an inspiration I got from the Kdrama “Romance is A Bonus Book" which is one of my personal favorites of all time. Chapter 6 is coming up soonest. I am sorry something came up today but I hope I made you smile with this chapter 😘) 

[fluffypotatey]

If wukong told (lied) to macaque that he never cared about him, do you think that would make macaque even more aggresive or like shut down/be the final straw that finally makes macaque let go of wukong

so, just like my answer for whether macky would willingly erase swk from his life, I think this answer also depends on when in the show swk told macky this, and what better way to explain this than by going through each outcome per season :)

UNO

looking at s1, we meet a Macaroni who is very hellbent on killing (or at the very least, heavily damaging) SWK because he feels like the guy never truly gave a shit about him (<- my interpretation). thus, it is safe to assume that if Wukong were to laugh off Marnolo's hurt and anger and tell the guy that he never cared, Mac&cheese will only feel that his current assumptions of SWK are correct and that the guy only cares about himself and his image.

would he feel hurt about it? oh absolutely. maybe punch a wall, destroy the "dojo" he allegedly lives in in an outburst of power and anger. maybe scream and cry but be mad at his own tears (begin to wipe them away but is too hash so he scars himself and then can't stop bc he's very self-destructive)

DOS

technically, Wukong is MIA so this would never happen. BUT! have you considered!!! Wukong telling MK that Macdonalds was just some guy from his past, nobody super important, basically a nobody he wronged in his long list of enemies. which MK might possibly parrot back to Macadoo in 2x07

heavens above Marconi would be pissed.

forget trying to be a dick to MK and "teaching" him that his path of emulating Wukong has already made him forget his friends (untrue, but this is what i assume was Macky's interpretation of MK's actions since the guy didn't actively search for his missing friends, who MK thought left him on purpose).

nah, Macky is hunting SWK down. he is out for blood because "did i serious mean so little to you? were our nights under that tree sharing secrets, dreams, peaches fucking nothing to you?" (and idk....maybe after the air clears out, possibly, macky would realize SWK's true reason for being MIA and....help out???? mayhaps???....yeah, yeah, i know only in my dreams T^T)

TRES

ok, so we could technically say this sort of happened in ep1 when Sun Wukong said, "i thought it was someone important," and, "so what, you're her puppet now? i mean, makes sense. you always did have a sidekick kind of vibe."

and that is basically Wukong implying that he viewed his relationship with Macaque as one where he didn't consider Macky to be important to him, or someone he saw as a close friend. however, this is also a tactic Wukong uses against nearly every villain he interacts with, simply to get a rise out of them. so, pin that down as Wukong being observant enough to know which words to use to hurt.

AND Macky's reaction to it is him jumping out of his cool-ass looking jet and body-slamming the monkey king to the floor. so, uh, it is safe to assume that Macky was pissed off at Wukong's comment.

THUS! with that in mind, we can say that in this context, Macackle will be upset enough to fight him; however, if we were to consider the end of s3 (like Samadhi Fire ritual to the end) i would go with the option of Mackarell shutting down and feeling like that comment is the nail in the coffin for their relationship.

CUATRO

in s4? absolutely not. he would be dragging Wukong by the ear, demanding that he repeat what he said, ordering Wukong to try and convince himself that their past meant nothing while Macky still lives and breathes. and especially after the s4 special.

you could argue that Macky could shut down in the beginning of s4, but i think he'd probably laugh it off because he knows now that Wukong is lying. he's being his old deflective self and probably doesn't know where to place Macanoli in his head now that they're technically on better terms with LBD done with.

but after all the drama of going through SWK's memories? nuh uh, Wukong can't get out of this, nope. you handed iMac a chocolate peach popsicle. it is too late for you turn back and lie about your feelings. you can dig your grave and lie about it, but he's just gonna hit you right back with your own medicine and make you understand that if y'all truly want to reconcile, you cannot continue lying to yourself that you don't care.

not anymore.

so, anyway, i hope this answers your question, anon! i had a lot of fun running this question around in me braincage :3

[shiguangism]

Link Click Fic Rec - by me!

It's time because I love this fandom, and I want to share all my appreciation for these stories and writers 🥰

I'm going through my AO3 bookmarks!

Between a Rock and an Idiot - by SmileOrGrimace

Lu Guang should have realized that he wouldn’t be greeted by normalcy when he returned home, but he didn’t. He's not nearly as affected by the stab wound as he is by Xiaoshi's reaction to it all. There's something acutely painful about watching someone self-destruct in front of you, and Lu Guang, frankly, doesn't know what he's supposed to do about it. It would help if the world could let him chill for long enough to figure it out. –- Two emotionally stunted young men navigate trauma, subtext, and the misery of trying to feed yourself like a competent adult, all while solving other people’s problems. In for a penny in for a pound, as they say.

姻緣紅線 ~Red String of Fate~ - by TRANScendtheBInary

(MWI) is an interpretation of quantum mechanics that asserts that the universal wave-function is objectively real, and that there is no wave function collapse. This implies that all possible outcomes of quantum measurements are physically realized in some "world" or universe. The many-worlds interpretation implies that there are most likely an uncountably infinite number of universes, time is merely a many-branched tree, wherein every possible quantum outcome is realized." ~Cheng Xiaoshi Possesses a young Lu Guang, Learns About Science, And Gets Tortured~ Lu Guang Backstory because we were lacking. Mind the tags, not explicit but still present.

resistance is futile anyway - by animegoil

To find a misplaced document, Cheng Xiaoshi dives into a photo Lu Guang took. It's easy - all he has to do is wait around for a while... and shower while in Lu Guang's body. He brushes the tip of his fingernail experimentally against Lu Guang’s nipple, only to feel that spark run through him again. “Fuck, you really are that sensitive.” You already know this, Lu Guang deadpans. Now can you move on with it? Cheng Xiaoshi smirks. “C’mon, Lu Guang. What’s a little shower fun going to do to the past, hmm?” The responding silence is all he needs as an answer.

Wouldn't Mind Being Yours - by UrsaMajorStories

The link between them was only supposed to be present during dives. But when Lu Guang goes quiet for a little too long, and Cheng Xiaoshi panics, they find that their powers are able to do more than they originally thought. (Or in other words, their powers literally telling them to just kiss already, at the very least, if not bang).

11th Hour - by miyasjacket

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart bursts at the seams like a dam, heavy and threatening to drown everyone in its wake. Lu Guang does not flinch. He continues to swim despite it. Three (3) different perspectives on two (2) idiots messing around together and learning the ups and downs of falling in love.

The Hardest Thing About Love (Is Noodles) - by NoomiShroomy

The first time Lu Guang slips up, he chalks it up to forgetfulness. The second time he does, it catches him off guard. The third time he does, he’s almost fully convinced that it’s become a bad habit. And its name is Cheng Xiaoshi.

The person who can't fall in love (And the gay couple that acompanny her) - by AlissZ

Qiao Ling lives in a world of Alphas, Betas and Omegas. Qiao Ling is an Omega. Qiao Ling is supposed to have someone for her. Someone unique and made for her. Someone she is made for. It's a terrifying thought rather than a comforting one. Or; Qiao Ling can't fall in love and a gay couple helps her to understand that that's not bad.

[meldingintheunderdark]

I've been reading your metas. While I do agree with some of your points there is one thing I can't help but strongly disagree on. I think Halsin enjoyers are aware of Halsin's faults, his trauma, his struggles. We don't all think he's "a healthy partner devoid of problems" but I believe in my opinion, that Halsin has the potential to heal, to do better, and maybe this commune can help him and help others, not fully per se but help heal in some way. It's not going to be smooth sailing, there will be bumps along the way, Halsin does need support, there's no denying that. I don't think Halsin enjoyers are naïve to that, we just want to see him happy as well. But reading these metas feels like... there is no hope for Halsin, the children in his care are doomed and I don't think that's the case. It won't be easy but not hopeless, it won't be perfect, there is still room to grow and learn (though I am following a more tav mindset than a dark urge mindset)

Thank you for reading my metas!

It's embarrassing but English isn't my first language, therefore I might not be as clear as I thought.

This said, I've mentioned many times my headcanons are my own. I don't believe Halsin's dream will explode in a great ball of fire but it'll most certainly not be as happy and lighthearted as it is in game. There will be consequences and not all of them will be positive.

Reading your comment, I fail to comprehend the issue.

Isn't it obvious there is no correct way to interpret Halsin's actions? Isn't it evident our perception and understanding are heavily influenced by our own life experiences, our knowledge, our fields of study, work, mental health, etc? Everything I write is inherently subjective.

From my point of view, when you read my metas, it's crystal clear I have a colossal obsession with fatherhood, unhealthy coping mechanisms or even avoidance regarding mental health, and the pain they cause to oneself and loved ones. I relate so intensely to Halsin, thus I'm extremely critical of his choices. You prefer to focus on him partly healing thanks to nine wagons of children. To each their own. I relate to him because his hurt hurts others unintentionally and I want to talk about this.

I also have every right to voice my thoughts, to be upset for dumb reasons and to share my questionable opinions. I haven't done any proper case study of the Halsin-centric fandom. Nevertheless, it's hypocritical to pretend the fandom isn't overwhelmingly focused on a positive analysis of Halsin and his ending, hence your reaction. It's just how fandoms work. Some opinions are overly represented, therefore an echo chamber is created and maintained. It's also very human to yearn for a comforting character who does good, tries his best and succeeds. I find comfort in a character who is hurting, hurts others and, paradoxically, is so very selfless, good-hearted and caring. I'm not saying Halsin is abusive or so foolish he'll doom the world. I've not claimed Halsin won't learn to live with his trauma, won't be happy or won't help people. The commune seems filled with traumatized adults and kids, Halsin is no therapist. Good intentions don't magically lead to solely good outcomes. Some may be fantastic. A few neutral. Others damaging. It's life.

Every content created is not made for you specifically either. If my posts are unpleasant, and I'm aware they can be, please spare yourself and block me.

Last but not least, I am a Halsin enjoyer. He's my favorite character. My tumblr is about Halsin and my Durge. They'll have their well deserved happily ever after. I simply imagine more heartache and pain than you do.

[waleofgaterdeep]

Because I literally can't keep my mouth shut I gotta comment on the Gale Fatherhood Discourse TM lmao. /(it's not really discourse at all).

This gets long, sorry not sorry 💕💕💕

First I gotta say it loud and clear for all y'all (because I know how tumblr works: its all or nothing for canon discourse)- if you don't jive with parenthood headcanons that's totally valid. If you find it icky, I get you. If you enjoy the headcanons, more power to you to create them and enjoy them. I love to see different perspectives in fandom content. It means the original material is inspiring. What follows is my interpretation of the content that may or may not align with your interpretation. And that's not a reflection on you or I if our interpretations don't align.

Okay with that out of the way--

I have a p different interpretation of the "I'm not father material " line from Gale. In the context of the scene, as most know, Tav is asking Gale to open up their relationship (for Halsin).

(Thanks naughty gaming on YouTube)

Gale is notoriously awkward around the concept of sex (ala his reaction to the foursome in the brothel), fiercely monogamous to the point of obsessive devotion, and known to make jokes in dark situations. I interpret this reaction not as naivete or a moment of honesty, but an intentional attempt to gain some control over the conversation. Gale is trying to defuse the situation because he feels uncomfortable and bad about it!! We already know he has problems with feeling inferior in romantic relationships. Tav walking up and just asking to have sex with another guy, to Gale, would call into question his own position in the relationship. I mean, just look at the very next line:

"I thought what we had meant something to you."

He's angry and afraid that he's going to lose someone he loves. He's not genuinely commenting on his opinion of parenthood, he's just going through it.

This conversation also mirrors his reaction in the conversation in which Tav is romancing someone else and Gale asks them to choose.

So no, in my opinion, I don't think it's really the smoking gun of the canon that some people are making it out to be. It's a very Gale response tho, it all makes sense in the meta of his issues with romance and self-esteem.

I also have some thoughts on his opinion of students (which some ppl have cited towards the Gale is a Bad Father side).

At some point, I can't find a screenshot, Gale mentions he once had apprentices but they really annoyed him. (Which is very funny tbh.) Then, during the Trial of Love, choosing the correct answer of "apple" for the "What food is Gale?" question, gets you this line:

(thank you Ashe on YouTube)

So in his incredibly vulnerable Trial of Love, typified by his own honesty, he admits that he dreams of being a professor and having devoted students.

Does this reflect his opinions on parenthood? Not really imo.

I think this aligns way more with Gale's desire to have someone devote love and attention to him. To be respected and lauded. Gale desperately wants to be acknowledged for his genius, his arcane skills, and to be appreciated for sharing his knowledge (read: sharing his true self, the little nerdy wizard guy Gale Dekarios). It connects back to the concept of ✨Gale of Warerdeep ✨, the fabricated man he wanted to be to impress Mystra, and gain a high level of respect and awe. Not so much a commentary on how he feels about students as people or children. The students are just the vessel through which he can gain respect.

But the tl;dr of it all is that I don't think there is a canon moment that makes a statement clearly on Gale's interest in starting a family or his thoughts on children. I think it's a really interesting thought experiment to dissect and contemplate what kind of father Gale might be like based on the canon examples we have to work with. So whichever camp you fall into, so long as you're engaged and having fun with it, you're doing it right.

[skz-sarang]

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LOVEY “Santa tell me” ( explicit version ) COVER ( ariana grande ) [ STRAY KIDS : SKZ-PLAYER ]

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&&… BACKGROUND !?! ✩࿐

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&&… CREATIVE PROCESS !?! ✩࿐

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©2023 , skz-sarang masterlist

[triflesandparsnips]

...I sometimes go feral for things in OFMD that maybe others don't (yet). So here's what I'm feral about right now:

These are two touch-starved people. And here they are, touching one another. Holding hands, yes, but also-- touching.

Here are some things to know about the human hand:

"The human hand contains about 100,000 nerves, of at least 20 different kinds. Twelve receive various touch sensations; eight are motor fibers, carrying commands from the spine; and all are specialists--"

The hand is an astonishing sensory tool. Our world is composed of nothing except that which we can translate through our own sensory inputs: What we "see" is what our photo receptors translate into little electrical impulses that our brain then turns into pictures; what we "smell" is the brain's interpretation of what molecules an olfactory neuron can detect...

...but what we "feel" is not only what our very very tiny, very specialized mechanosensory neurons register, but also how those registered sensations interact, how they are processed in concert and conversation with one another to clarify what is being sensed, how they are transformed based on the perceived importance to the situation and the object being touched to allow for a physical reaction to occur even before the brain can fully register what's happening and respond accordingly.

A touch, for the touch-averse, can be a full-body flinch before our brains even register that a sensor has been triggered. A touch can translate into danger because the body has learned that that is what is paired with this or that physical sensation, this or that emotional situation.

The experience of touch happens before-- outside-- human thought.

And the thing is, the thing I keep thinking about, is:

To experience touch-aversion, but to take a deep breath, and to believe in the soft intent of the other person-- to take the time and effort and concentration necessary to let the brain and body rewrite even a fraction of its trauma-- is an immense act of vulnerability. And, my god, so, so, so much trust.

"Each fingertip has more than 3,000 touch receptors, many of which respond primarily to pressure. These are packed in just under the surface of the skin, where each reports events in overlapping fields about one-tenth of an inch across."

Something else I think about, though, is that another phrase for touch-starved is "skin hunger."

To be "starved" is to not receive a necessary thing; to "hunger" is to ache for it.

Stede and Ed's kiss, just before the handhold-- I see hunger in Stede, absolutely.

In the handhold, though, I see him giving Ed the option of this necessary thing; and I see Ed accepting it, receiving it-- and in doing so, sharing that necessary thing back again with Stede, an act of reciprocity that could have been purely social, if they wanted.

But. The slow movements after. The hand overtop the other. And then the thumb war: fingertips walking across one another's skin, one over the other over the other.

Three thousand touch receptors, each activated, each sending signals that they're taking the slow and aching time needed to process and accept.

They're taking the time to stand in that moment, and let the sensations cascade. To not hide it away in some emotional experience other than "I am touching the man I loved, and may love still--

"--and it is safe, it is safe, it is safe."

"The tongue, lips, and fingertips are the most touch-sensitive parts of the body."

And here's where it really comes together, now that you know all that-- here's why I'm feeling feral about this new moonlight scene, here's the thing I need you to know:

To hold hands is as strong a feeling, in pure sensory experience, as it is to kiss. A hand held can be a kiss forestalled.

A hand held can be a kiss all in itself.

And there they were. In the moonlight. Holding hands.