#so why would you expect different from us?

[greenlikethesea]

i've been trying to put my finger on what exactly bothers me about this post and the reblogs of it, because i've seen it a lot over the past few days, and i've settled on this: once again, marginalized people are being asked to spare kindness for people who were absolutely fine throwing them under the bus for their own benefit. for people who, in some cases, would literally be happy if they were dead. that's why it's rubbing people the wrong way. they wanted to punish people of color, and queer/trans/intersex people, and disabled people, and undocumented people, for existing. they were fine with that risk. they were fine with that cruelty -- until it was them who suffered.

yes, you can absolutely change. yes, you can realize the wrong of your ways and strive to do better. i am here for this, because fundamentally, i want no one to suffer, even people who wish me harm. that is a core part of my identity. but part of that restorative journey is realizing that people are in no way required to forgive you, or to be kind when you were cruel. this website talks a big game about tone policing, yet are chastising people who dare to be angry at bigots who expect to be embraced with open arms for being sorry that they were duped. if one person being mean is enough to have you running back to your hatred, your convictions are not strong enough in the first place.

no one is immune to propaganda, this is true. but this pithy little catchphrase that gets thrown around fails to take into account that people who are not falling for it refuse to do so through hard work. many of us -- the majority of us on the website, and the majority of marginalized people -- do the hard, annoying, tedious work of checking sources, questioning statements, and not falling for it. this is not a "i'm soooo much more intellectual than you" situation. i don't fall for propaganda because i actively work at it. these people chose comfort and ease over being correct and it's costing ALL OF US, very quickly, at a catastrophic scale.

i am personally not interested in an "i told you so" reaction, because that does not serve me and the work that i'm doing. but i'm not going to take that away from people, and i recommend you look inward if your first instinct is to deny people a very real, very valid reaction to prolonged cruelty at the hands of people who made the choice to be willfully ignorant. people who initially feel this way are also allowed to change and feel differently, and suppressing this only makes resentment fester. neutrality is best.

the leopards are eating their faces, and even as i bandage the wounded, even as i build community with them and move beyond this and into what lies ahead, i don't tell them it's okay. i don't forgive them. because they will never learn if i do.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[shinningdance]

Continuation of this, go read every single fic of this lovely lovely writer ( ≧∀≦)

Summery: a young boy tries to steal things from your husband's room, you take him under your wing and get a personal knight in return.

Warnings: none!!!

Words: 1880

-----------------------------

It wasn't unusual for you to walk alone, especially in this household. While your husband is nice, he doesn't necessarily try to spend time with you. You've gotten used to the silence, being alone, the only sound being your heels meeting the floor.

But things are different now.

Trailing behind you is a young boy, no older than 12, he's admiring every single thing he sees and even takes a few things with him.

You caught him stealing from Johns office once, nothing important, just something he could sell for a bit of food. Since you didn't rat him out and instead helped him cover up his 'crime' he decided to stick close.

His walking speed picks up and he's dashing past you, towards a window. He looks out, mouth falling open at the sight. You fight the urge to smile, covering it up by looking away instead.

“It’s so big,” he murmurs, pressing his hands against the glass. His breath fogs up a small section, and he swipes at it with his sleeve. “Do you think they ever get tired of looking at it?”

You follow his gaze, even though you already know what he’s staring at. The city sprawls out before you, golden lights flickering like fireflies against the night. From up here, it all looks peaceful, untouchable. But you both know better.

“They don’t look at it,” you say simply. “Not like you do.”

He glances at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?”

You shrug. “When you have something your whole life, you stop seeing it. It just becomes… normal.”

He turns back to the window, mulling over your words. His fingers drum absently against the windowsill. You know that restless energy well—he’s already thinking about what else he could take, where else he could go.

“Hey,” you say, and he immediately straightens, wary. He still doesn’t trust you completely, not yet. “No stealing anything important.”

He grins, all teeth. “Define important.”

You sigh. “Nothing that will make John notice.”

"He won't notice this!" He calls out, rushing past you while showing something in his pocket. He passes by you and runs down the hallway, making a sharp turn to the left by the end of it. Hearing a small 'thump' makes you pick up your pace.

This was not what you expected to see.

The young boy was on the floor, rubbing his head slightly. While you would have checked on him your gaze was stuck on the person standing there.

Simon.

"Duchess." He mumbles, eyes moving from your face to the small boy starring up at him.

Like anyone would, the kid jumps to his feet, scrambling for cover. His safest option? You. He presses himself against your back, small hands clutching your dress, his head peeking out cautiously from behind you.

"Good evening..." You mumble, hand reaching behind you to pat the kids head.

...

Silence.

No words spoken, no sound besides soft breathing.

"What are you starring at?" The kid asks, glaring at the man in front of you. His words were definitely not a smart choice given the difference of their status but he still chose to say it. His glare could actually kill someone, if it wasn't for his shaky hands holding onto your dress.

"Excuse me?" Simon questions, raising a brow at the courage of this commoner.

"he didn't mean it like that!" You stutter out, pressing your hand over the childs mouth in case he wants to say something again. "Excuse us" You mumble and flash him a small forced smile.

Before Simon could speak again, you already turned around and hurried the kid away.

He just stares. Watching you disappear in the hall.

-----------

Two days later and you still have that memory in your head. You scolded the kid, Leo, for his bold cjoice of words.

His excuse?

He was protecting you.

You. From Simon.

With a sigh you place the book on the table, looking at the flowers in front of you instead. The flower garden is definitely your favorite place, people are rarely there. Leo is crouching by some flower, admiring them or something

You watch as Leo reaches out, running his fingers lightly over the petals. His expression is softer than usual, a rare moment where he isn’t scheming or watching his back. It almost makes you smile. Almost.

“You like flowers?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

Leo startles slightly, as if he forgot you were there. He hesitates, then shrugs. “They’re nice, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He frowns, shifting his weight. “They don’t talk. They don’t take things from you. They just… stay.”

You don’t respond right away. You know better than to push him when he lets something slip. Instead, you glance at the flower he’s fixated on—a small, stubborn thing, growing slightly apart from the others.

“Seems like this one’s a bit of a troublemaker,” you muse, tilting your head.

Leo snorts. “Guess that’s why I like it.”

For a moment, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet you’ve started to enjoy since Leo’s been around. But then, the moment shatters.

A voice cuts through the stillness.

“There you are.”

John

Leo tenses immediately, his fingers twitching like he’s deciding whether to grab something or run. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart toward you first.

Protecting you. Again.

You inhale slowly, turning to face John, already bracing yourself.

"Good morning." You sigh and stand up, looking at your husband. Normally his eyes would be on you, watching - almost studying - you but not today, his eyes drift to Leo, whos holding the flowers so tight they might break.

"We need to talk..." He sighs and meets your eyes, after a short moment he continuous speaking. "...alone."

Leos eyes widen and he immediately jumps up and rushes over, hands reaching up to hold your hand tightly to his chest.

"No way!" he calls out, shaking his head. "You're not hurting her."

John freezes, looking at the kid with a confused expression. "Hurt her? Why would i hurt her?"

"You all do!" Leo accuses, cheeks turning red as his eyes start to water. "You all hurt her."

John blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something unreadable. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at Leo like he's trying to make sense of the accusation.

You can feel Leo trembling beside you, his grip on your hand like a vice. You squeeze back, a silent reassurance, but your own heart is hammering against your ribs.

"Leo," you murmur, but he doesn’t back down.

“They whisper about it, the maids,” he continues, voice shaking. “They think I don’t hear, but I do. They say she’s a ghost in this house. That she doesn’t laugh, doesn’t speak unless spoken to. That she flinches when—”

"Enough." John's voice is sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade. Leo stiffens but doesn't let go of you.

John exhales, rubbing his temple before looking at you. “What the hell has he been hearing?”

You don’t answer. Not right away. Instead, you gently pull Leo closer, shielding him with your body. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed.

With a small sigh you pick up Leo, who immediately hides his face in your neck. "If you don't mind, i think it would be wise to continue this conversation some other time."

Not waiting for an answer you turn around and walk back inside, missing the way Leo stares down John with a tiny smile.

-----------------------------------

Leo needs to protect you, and apparently that also means when you're sleeping. It started of serious, him guarding your door while you read a book in your bead. Then he sat down on a neaby chair, eyes still on the door. And after about 15 minutes, he's in your arms asleep.

That's how you go to sleep and wake up.

The knock from outside and then the door opening made you groan slightly, Leo aswell. After you don't hear a voice or a sound, you force your eyes open.

Johnny and Kyle are in your room, both carrying a tray of what you think is breakfast.

"Good morning..?" You mumble and sit up, pulling the blanket slightly over your chest.

Kyle blinks and forces a small smile while stepping closer, putting the tray of fresh fruits on your bedside table.

Johnny sets his tray down on the other side, a plate of toast, eggs, and something that smells sweet—honey, maybe. His gaze flickers to Leo, still curled up beside you, his face buried against your arm.

Neither of them says anything about it, but the look they exchange speaks volumes.

“You don’t usually sleep in,” Johnny comments, crossing his arms.

You rub your eyes. “Didn’t exactly have much of a choice.”

At that, Leo stirs, letting out a small, disgruntled sound before blinking up at you sleepily. The moment he realizes you’re awake—and that you’re not alone—his drowsiness vanishes. He sits up fast, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his too-big shirt, before glaring at the two men like they were the ones who did something wrong.

“What do you want?” Leo mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

Kyle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t take the bait. “We brought breakfast,” he says instead.

Leo eyes the food suspiciously, like it might be poisoned. You roll your eyes. “It’s just breakfast, Leo.”

He doesn’t look convinced but leans into your side anyway, watching as you pick up a piece of fruit. Only then does he grab a slice of toast from the tray, biting into it cautiously.

Johnny exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “John wants to see you.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression neutral. “Now?”

Kyle shrugs. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Leo tenses beside you. “She’s not going.”

Johnny sighs. “Kid, it’s not up to you.”

“Yeah?” Leo challenges, sitting up straighter. “Well, it’s not up to you either.”

Kyle mutters something under his breath, clearly regretting being part of this conversation. Johnny just pinches the bridge of his nose.

You exhale slowly, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder before he gets himself in trouble. “It’s fine, Leo.”

He snaps his head toward you, disbelief written all over his face. “No, it’s not.”

And the worst part is—you don’t know how to argue with that.

"Leo," You start and bring your hands to cup his face, his eyes soft as they look at yours. "John is still my husband..If he wants to talk, we talk."

He shakes his head before throwing himself into your arms, cheek pressed against your collarbone. "Then I'm going with!"

"Leo..." You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm sorry but no..but you can help me get ready?"

For a moment there's no answer, then he gets up and speed walks to your vanity. After a short moment he comes back, offering you a beautiful yet simple necklace.

"Thank you." You smile and put it on.

"Mama, you look pretty with that..." Leo mumbles as he takes another bite of his toast.

------------------------

Johnny and Kyle burst into Johns office, not surprised to see Simon already there.

At the same time the men speak, out of breath from running.

"He called her mama."

-------------------------

a/n: we're not gonna talk about the missing post from this weekend. take this silly thing and enjoy!! ヾ(≧▽≦)ヾlike always, not proofread!!!

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Policy and Procedure | Part 1 | Congressman!Bucky x Reader| 2.4k

A visit from Sam leaves Bucky with a new assistant and a heap of new problems, mostly that Bucky's staring problem seems to have returned.

Warnings: 18+ for language, Bucky's horny fantasising and Joaquín's teasing.

This part is a fill for the @avengers-assemble-bingo Birthday Bingo "another year wiser, another year bolder.". I haven't used the words exactly, more the sentiment, mostly in the second section.

Masterlist | Policy & Procedure Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

"Mr Barnes?"

Bucky looked up from his desk and rubbed his forehead, "yes?"

The security guard gave him a pitying look before pushing the door open a little more. "Captain America here to see you, sir."

"Sam," Bucky smiled through his fatigue and stood from his desk. His shoulder was a little cramped from sitting for so long at his keyboard, but it didn't stop him from pulling Sam into a tight hug. "Great to see you, Cap, come in, take a seat."

Bucky brushed a hand through his hair, a little longer than he'd been accustomed to wearing it, but neatly combed back expect from one stray strand that refused to stay put.

"Good to see you too, Buck." Sam slapped Bucky on the back, "I hope you don't mind, I brought someone with me. Joaquín said you were -uh - " Sam surveyed the piles of papers, campaign leaflets and letters strewn about Bucky's desk.

"Drowning?" Bucky allowed himself a laugh.

"Yeah, drowning, exactly. He said you were drowning and I know a guy, who knows someone, who knows someone, and their daughter needed a job and ya know I'm a man of the people, helping out. Thought you could use an assistant."

"An assistant?"

Bucky sat back in his chair, Sam leaning forwards in his.

"She's very highly recommended, I promise, and I cleared it with Mrs Grumpy Pants out there."

"My campaign manager?"

"Yeah yeah. She agreed. So. Do you wanna meet her?"

"Sure, sure. I hope she knows what she's getting herself in to."

Sam waved through the still open door and Bucky took the two second opportunity to arrange his papers a little more. Whoever this friend of a friend was must be some sort of enemy to find herself in this mess. Eight weeks to go before polls opened and here he was without even an assistant. Who was he kidding.

The sound of heels reminded Bucky he'd need to actually be awake and alert to greet someone new, eyes training back towards the door just in time to see you enter.

He'd been expecting someone…older, definitely. One of Wilson's parent's friends, someone nice and motherly and just the right side of bossy to keep everything in line…but you were. God.

Bucky clenched his left fist trying to differ some of the rising flush he felt below his belt.

You were, of course, dressed professionally. A smart black skirt suit and baby blue shirt, but did the skirt have to cling to your hips like that, the fabric an oil slick down your thighs to your knees. The sheen on your calves told him you were wearing pantyhose, not the cheap nylon kind, nice ones, and he had the image of an old fashioned garter beneath that pencil skirt, the way your bare thighs would touch between where your stockings ended and your panties started.

He flicked his eyes up from what he hoped would look like the floor, and not your legs, but that was almost worse. Your jacket was unbuttoned , your shirt artfully open above your breasts, but when you swapped your folder from one arm to the other, he could see the peak of a white bra beneath.

Why the fuck had Sam brought him a wet fucking dream.

"Good afternoon, Mr Barnes, Sir. Pleasure to meet you." Without missing a beat you held your manicured hand out for him to shake, delicate fingers firm under his own. You introduced yourself and pulled a resume from your folder, handing it over with a flourish.

"Lovely to meet you too, please, take a seat." Bucky rushed back to his own, hoping you hadn't been looking at him quite as closely as he'd been looking at you.

Behind you, Sam grinned devilishly.

"I hope my resume is sufficient, but I have three references you can call and of course, Mr Wilson has agreed to be a fourth if necessary." You turned and smiled at Sam politely giving Bucky the opportunity to shoot him a murderous look.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, we need all the hands - help - we can get around here."

"Wonderful, I can start straight away, if you'd like?" Your dark lashes accentuating your wide, eager eyes.

"How about you take the afternoon to speak with my campaign manager, she's the very angry woman with the big button on her shirt just out there, and you start tomorrow at nine am sharp?"

"That sounds wonderful, thank you, Mr Barnes."

You stood to go, collecting your little bag and folder and Bucky was all prepared to rip into Sam before the other man could burst out laughing when you stopped at the door.

"What do you like for breakfast, Mr Barnes?"

"Excuse me?" Bucky choked, images of you laying in his bed, sheets tumbled around you as you both drank coffee and ate coissants leapt into his mind.

"I assume you must be so busy, you eat breakfast here? I saw take out in your bin and assumed - I'm sorry." You flustered for the first time and, if anything, it was even more endearing.

"A black coffee, no sugar. That would be lovely, thank you."

"Of course, sir, see you in the morning." You gave a last smile, shutting the door behind you.

Sir

Bucky was officially hard and officially screwed.

"She's cute, right?" Sam smirked.

"Fucking hell, Samuel."

"You're welcome!"

Bucky stared into the mirror above the little sink in his bathroom. That bit of hair still wasn't behaving, but at least it hid the new grey he'd found the night before. Speaking off, his beard was definitely lighter than it had been. More crows feet too.

Another year older. At least he got to age now, some days it felt like a gift to see e himself change day to day, year to year. Sam had pointed out the salt and pepper in his beard on his last birthday and he'd been oddly thrilled to experience the passage of time normally.

But it made him feel stunted too. He wasn't entirely sure he'd become any wiser for his supposed years. He'd aged so much and, yet, he felt so young. Steve had said the same, when they'd had time to talk, that in his first year out of the ice everyone had treated him like a man in his nineties, rather than a man in his twenties.

With a sigh he picked up his moisturiser and set to work, 110 swipes, one for every year of his ridiculously long life. The overly perfumed lady on the counter had said it would "turn back time", he wasn't sure that was exactly what he wanted, he'd come to terms with his new life quite nicely. But after years of experiments and therapy, he was finally feeling like himself again, that naive twenty something who'd shipped out, yet he looked like his dad.

His former self would've already asked you out on a date, snuggled up to you in some supply closet and kissed you silly. But then his former self wasn't running for congress. He didn't have the same public responsibilities.

Perhaps he could do that. He might not be a young buck anymore, chasing girls around Brooklyn. But he knew he looked a certain way to women, professional, accomplished, suited and booted in the same way all the dames liked back in the 40s as well. Was this this really what he was thinking about, sweeping his assistant off her feet on the first day.

"Jesus," he wiped his hands on the towel by the door and shrugged his shirt on. Light blue. Had he done that subconsciously? What would you be wearing today?

Hopefully something in the professionally inappropriate range like sweat pants or the worlds largest t-shirt so he wasn't tempted to peak at your body again. Rather than the inappropriate outfit he'd imagined you in last night when he came into his palm. Black lingerie, stockings with the line up the back, heels, bent over his desk and calling him sir in that floaty way that made he half hard again.

He looked into the mirror again in the hall before leaving, "get it together, Barnes."

"Good morning, Mr Barnes."

You would be here early, wouldn't you.

"Good morning -" he caught himself before he could say it, the doll, sweetheart, darlin' tickling the end of his tongue. Inappropriate workplace behaviour. Inappropriate behaviour full stop. How old were you anyway?

"I got you a coffee, sir." You handed the cup over with a smile, a napkin wrapped around the scalding paper cup. "If you have a mug you prefer, I'm happy to decant it for you tomorrow."

"This is great, don't worry about it." Bucky hurried to his desk, throwing his briefcase onto a spare chair and trying to look busy so you would leave him alone to catch himself.

"Is there anything I can help with this morning? I'm a great typist, if you have any letters, or I could file something, I'll stuff envelopes, I don't mind."

Bucky looked up. The same tight little skirt suit. A pink blouse this morning, silkier, and your heels were different too, little t-bars crossing your stocking feet.

"Uhmm…" He surveyed the mess of his office, "I hate to ask, but could you do something about all of, well, this-" he gestured vaugly to the abundance of papers and envelopes.

"Do you have a filing system you prefer?"

"Not really, ladies choice, whatever you think is best."

"Okay, sir. I'll get right on it."

And then you took your shoes off and knelt daintily on the ground in front of his desk and began organising. Skirt stretched over your thighs.

"Great, thank you, I'll just be…uh. Over here." He sat awkwardly in his chair and pretended to read an email on his blank laptop.

"Yes, sir."

He was doomed.

Somehow Bucky managed to get through the rest of the day, no thanks to the way you crawled about on the rug in front of his desk, neatly ordering papers, letters, constituent enquiries, a small pile of fan mail and, apparently, two hateful letters than you'd taken outside and given to a member of security. Bucky only knew about the last two because his campaign manager, Sharon, had told him off for not bringing them to her attention sooner.

Hands up in surrender he'd backed into his office, where you'd retrieved his lunch and set it out on a real plate with a napkin.

Sharon said I could take half an hour for lunch, will be back at 1.30 x

Bucky stared at your neat handwriting, had you meant to a leave a little kiss at the end? If he'd been here would you have placed that kiss on his cheek?

He settled into his chair, eyes closed, and imagined you placing the plate on his desk, bending down and setting your lip gloss shiny lips to his cheek, leaving a sticky imprint behind. Would his beard be rough against your soft skin? Would you like that?

"Mr Barnes?"

Bucky sat up with a start, "yes, Sharon?"

"Urgent call on line one, sir."

"So-" Sam set the beer in front of Bucky, condensation sweating down the sides. It was a hot evening in DC, even on the balcony of Sam's apartment the breeze wasn't strong enough to take away the cloying heat. "How's it going."

He had that knowing smirk plastered on his face that Bucky hated so much.

"On the campaign?"

"With your new assistant!"

"She's great, very efficient."

"Is that it?"

"That's it," Bucky shrugged, slugging back his beer.

She was a distraction, a menace to society, she was too attractive, too attentive, too everything. And she knew Sam, or she'd known his parents or her parents or something. How could he admit such despicable thoughts about anyone, let alone someone important enough to Sam that he helped her get a job.

"You're a closed book man, how's anyone ever suppose to be your friend?"

"I dunno," Bucky took another drink, closing his eyes and turning his face into the late evening sun, "but you manage it somehow. How're you, wanna share any Captain American exploits?"

"You know I'm not allowed." Sam looked at Bucky from the corner of his eye.

"Never stopped you before."

"I guess not-"

The bell rang obnoxiously for a few seconds, followed by the sound of Joaquín's voice, "hey, where are you guys!"

"Out here, kid." Bucky called lazily over his shoulder.

"Didn't I tell you that key was for emergencies only!" Sam lept up, bustling about in his kitchen taking the bags of snacks and beer Joaquín had brought with him. The man himself slipped past and out onto the balcony.

"Barnes."

"Torres."

The two men nodded at each other before Joaquín's face split into a wide grin, "good to see you old man, you look good, like the beard." He punched Bucky's cheek with his fist gently.

"Fuck off," Bucky laughed back, "just because you can't grow one." He cuffed Joaquín over the head before offering him a beer. "How's being the Falcon?"

"Awesome. How's having a hot secretary?" Joaquín smiled around his beer.

"Jesus christ."

"Ahh go on, humour me, is she cute? I saw a glimpse of her last week when you were at the thing-" Joaquín snapped his fingers trying to remember, "man it was boring, she looked good. Well done."

"Don't -" Bucky hissed.

"Is it a secret that she's hot?" Joaquín whispered back, "because man oh man I don't think that's a secret she's just walking around all day lookin' fine and -"

"Sam knows her, be quiet." Bucky's jaw ticked and Joaquín made a zipping gesture over his lips.

"Didn't deny it though, old man." He cocked an eyebrow. "Ya know you're allowed to find her hot, I won't tell anyone. You're also allowed to fuck still-"

Bucky coughed again, choking on his beer.

"The salt and pepper, the suits," Joaquín tipped his head from side to side, "daddy," he said empathically.

"Do you ever shut up?" Bucky groaned, hiding his blush behind his beer.

He had heard the phrase before and he hated to admit the zing of pleasure he felt at the thought of being able to take care of someone like that, to be in control, to be older and wiser and capable of being the sensible one.

"Look I'll shut up when you -"

Bucky cuffed him again playfully and Joaquín went quiet just in time for Sam to step back out, chips and dips in hand.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Bucky snapped too quickly, guilt already eating him up. Joaquín was right, everyone could see you, beautiful and radiant, and him. A brainwashed ex-soldier clawing a life back for himself; 40 at best, 110 at worst.

Part 2 ->

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Toji x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Snow White featuring Toji! You live in a snowy village and have a crush on your handsome neighbor Toji, unaware that he’s been hired by the queen to kill you.

Part 1 | Part 2

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty Here!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Reader as Snow White. Age gap (Reader is early 20’s, Toji is mid 30’s). Rough sex. Slight size difference kink. Death of side characters.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You awake the next morning to the sound of a fire crackling. For a moment, you wonder how your father managed to tend the fire without your help, then you remember you’re not at home.

Rising up from the rug on the floor, you first notice Toji’s coat falling from your shoulders. Then you notice that you’re naked beneath it. Oh. So that really happened. It wasn’t just another of your dreams. 

You find your dress a few feet away and begin pulling it over your head and tying the laces at the front. A sound comes from behind you, and you turn to see Toji in the kitchen area, standing over the small stove. There’s a kettle being heated. 

“Thought I’d make us some coffee,” he says.

You nod numbly, still processing the night before as you look around. The cabin looks different in the light of day spilling in through the two main windows. What seemed warm and cozy last night looks gray and dull today. 

Looking out a window, you see that the storm is over. There’s no snow, no wind, only the silence that follows a blizzard as the woods are buried under a blanket of heavy white. Trudging through that snow will be difficult, but you feel certain you and Toji can do it. 

You join him at the small table, taking a warm cup and letting it heat your hands for a moment before taking a sip. 

Toji takes a drink of his own, then sits his cup on the table. “We need to talk.”

You look up in alarm. His tone is serious enough to make you worry. Is this going to be the part where he ultimately rejects you? Tells you last night was fun but it can never happen again? 

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and say, “Okay. What do we need to talk about?”

The next words out of his mouth are the last ones you expected. 

“What’s your connection to the queen?”

You blink. “The queen? I’ve never met her.”

He leans slightly over the table, toward you. “Are you sure? Think really hard. Maybe you met her when you were a kid.”

You find yourself drawing back a little from the table, unsure of where he’s going with these questions. “If I ever met her, I don’t remember it,” you say. “Why would you think I have a connection to the queen?”

“Because she hired me to kill you.”

You freeze. What did he just say? Surely you heard him wrong. “Huh?”

His eyes are focused on yours, trapping you in his steely gaze. “The queen hired me to kill you. She told me to make it messy, so it seems personal.”

Your heart begins racing, a spike of fear shooting through you as the warm mug in your hand begins to tremble. You sit it down on the table, nearly spilling it, then look toward the door of the cabin. Could you make it out? 

“Relax,” he tells you. “If I was gonna go through with it, you never would’ve woken up this morning.”

Your eyes return to his face. In a small, shaky voice, you ask, “Why didn’t you?”

His serious expression relaxes a little. “I just decided I like you better alive than dead.”

Hearing him say that calms your nerves a bit. It’s true that it would have been incredibly easy to kill you while you slept, so if Toji was going to murder you, he would have done it then. 

“But why would she want me dead?” you ask. 

Toji leans back against his chair. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. At first I thought it was because you’re prettier than her, but-“

“I am?”

He almost smiles at you. “According to her weird magic mirror anyway.”

Now you’re even more confused. “She has a magic mirror?”

“Yeah. Every day she asks it to show the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. A couple days ago it showed you.”

You feel yourself blushing. Are you that beautiful? You’ve never seen yourself that way, and you don’t recall getting any extra attention in the village. You wonder if Toji agrees with the mirror, but you’re too shy to ask. 

Apparently he can take a hint. 

“I don’t know about the whole kingdom, but you’re definitely a lot more beautiful than the queen,” he says. 

The comment makes your heart skip a beat, but you don’t have time to focus on that. You look up as Toji continues what he was going to say. 

“It’s not just the mirror,” he tells you. “She called you a threat to her rule, then referred to you as a loose end. There’s some connection there.”

Your mind is racing. You’ve never met the queen, unless it was before you were old enough to remember. But why would you have ever met her? “I should ask my father,” you say. “He might know something.”

Toji shakes his head. “It’s a bad idea for you to go back to the village. The queen will have people watching.”

“But I can’t just hide here! My father is ill. He can’t make it on his own. Please, take me back to the village just for a little while, so I can check on him and ask someone to look after him while I’m gone.”

Toji looks at you, at your determined, worried expression, then sighs. “Fine. I’ll take you back, but you can’t stay long. If you wanna live, you’re gonna have to hide out for a while.”

You stand up from the table and move over to hug Toji, who doesn’t hug you back but doesn’t pull away. “Thank you.”

After pulling on your cloak, gloves, boots, and scarf, you join Toji outside the cabin, who is looking out over the forest. “I don’t think anyone followed us here,” he says. “The weather was probably too bad.”

You nod, taking his word for it. The snow is much thicker than the night before, all traces of your footprints long gone. Trudging through this to get back to the village won’t be easy, but you have to do it. You have to check on your father, and ask if he knows about some connection to the queen. 

The trek back is a quiet one. Toji doesn’t talk much, and you feel a bit awkward. Last night you felt so close to him, but today he seems so distant. Did he lure you to the cabin to kill you? If so, what made him change his mind? Was it your love confession? Or the sex? So many questions haunt your mind as you move through the woods. 

When you reach the village, it looks mundane compared to the wild revelations you’ve had this morning. Most villagers are inside, probably huddling around their fireplaces. A few of the men are working to make walking paths through the thick blanket of snow, a couple are hauling firewood into their homes, and a group of children are playing by tossing snowballs at each other. 

It’s all so very normal, you feel perfectly at ease as you open the door to your house and shake the snow from your cloak. You pull off your gloves as you walk through the living area, noting that the fire is going strong. The neighbor must have added more wood last night before leaving. You hear Toji step inside behind you and close the door, but he doesn’t follow you as you make your way to your father’s room. 

Until you scream. 

Because your father is lying in his bed, a sword standing straight up, impaled through his stomach and pinning him to the straw mattress. Blood has soaked the covers and now drips from the bed, making a small pool on the floor. 

Toji rushes into the room, then immediately pulls you into his arms. “Don’t look,” he says, one strong hand rubbing your back. 

After a few seconds, he pulls away and says, “Let me go see what happened.”

You nod, keeping your face turned away as he goes over to examine the scene. Tears are flooding your eyes, no matter how much you wipe them away with your hands. “Who could do this?!” you cry. “He was just a sick old man! He never hurt a soul!”

You hear Toji’s voice from across the room. “This is a standard issue sword for royal guards. The queen must have ordered-“

His voice cuts off, and before you can question it, you hear his footsteps approaching quickly. Then all at once he’s standing right in front of you, his hands firm on your shoulders. 

“Listen very carefully,” he says, looking at you intently. “Your father is still breathing. He looks like he wants to see you. But he is dying. There’s nothing we can do to stop that.”

Your eyes shift over to the grisly scent once again. You nod weakly to Toji, but you can’t stop the hope blooming in your heart. He’s not dead yet! Maybe… maybe you can do something to help him! 

Carefully, with Toji by your side, you step over to the bed. Your father is staring up at you, and his eyes tear up. “My darling…” he whispers, reaching one trembling hand toward your face. 

You grab his hand and hold it tightly, kneeling down to hear him better. “I’m here, father!”

“I have to tell you… who you are…”

“It’s okay! Don’t strain yourself, please!”

His eyes focus in on you, and he seems to gain a bit of strength in his determination to speak to you. “You were born… to the former king and queen… my closest friends…”

You freeze. “What?”

“Your mother died in childbirth… that was true. Your father… wanted a mother for you… so he married the current queen. He died… only two months later.”

Tears are overflowing from your eyes. “You’re my father!”

He smiles, but squeezes your hand and goes on. “The new queen ordered your death… but I begged her… to spare you. She agreed, if I would take you to a remote village… and never tell anyone the truth. You were barely taking your first steps… so I resigned as royal advisor… and raised you as my own.”

Your father pauses and coughs, blood speckling the collar of his shirt. “She broke the agreement,” he says desperately, his grip on your hand tightening. “She fears you will claim… your rightful place as queen! She will come for you!”

Suddenly he lifts his free hand and points toward the dresser on the other side of the bed. “There… in the bottom drawer!”

You press your lips to his forehead. “I understand! I heard you! I’ll be careful and I won’t let the queen kill me!”

A look of relief passes over his pained face. “I was… so proud… to be your father.”

You smile through your tears. “I and I have felt so fortunate to be your daughter!”

A second later, his grip goes slack, his hand sliding from yours and dropping at his side. His eyes are closed now, and you know they will never open again. 

You let out a sob, collapsing across his bed, just above the sword, not caring that blood is staining your dress. 

Minutes pass with no sound in the room but your cries, until you hear Toji’s voice again. You almost forgot he was here. 

“I’m sorry, but we have to go. If you want to keep your promise and not get killed, I need to get you back to the cabin.”

You rise up and look at your father’s face, then toward the dresser. “Wait,” you say, wiping your face again, “he said something about the bottom drawer.”

Toji steps over and yanks the drawer out, his hands rifling through the contents. He holds up an envelope with your name on it, scrawled in your father’s handwriting. “This must be it. You can open it later, but we need to go. The queen no doubt has someone watching your house, and once they report that you’re here, she’ll send a whole company of soldiers.”

“What? Why so many?!”

“Because by now she knows I didn’t do the job, and I’m with you,” Toji says. “She knows she’ll need a fuck ton of soldiers to deal with me.”

You wonder about that, about how Toji knows the queen so well. He was just a Huntsman, right? But you don’t have time for questions now. You rush to your room and shove some clothing into a bag, then meet Toji at the front door. You glance back a toward your father’s room. “What about his burial?”

Toji is opening the door and ushering you toward it. “A neighbor will find him and take care of it. He’d much rather you get away safely than make sure he gets a proper burial. Trust me.”

You wonder if that’s his opinion as a father, but remain silent as you step outside. Just as you do, you hear a strange sound, like something moving quickly through the air. You turn to your right, where you see a thin blade stabbing straight toward you. 

Toji sees the attacker before she even turns. He reaches forward and catches the blade between his thumb and fingers, then wrenches it free of the soldier’s grasp. Before the soldier can even react, Toji has slammed an elbow into his face, shattering his nose and knocking him to the ground. 

The soldier clasps one hand over his bloody face, staring up at Toji with wide eyes. 

Toji holds the blade up, quickly examining it. “Wonder why you’re using your side dagger and not your sword,” he says, meeting the soldier’s indignant gaze. “You’re the one who killed the old man, aren’t you?”

The soldier removes his hand and yells in a broken voice, “I did what my queen asked of me! Unlike you, you traitorous dog!”

Toji’s eyes slide over to his lovely neighbor, curious what sort of reaction she has to this conversation. Will she be horrified? Sad? No. When Toji sees her face, there’s only rage there. Hell, if she had a weapon she’d probably kill this guy herself. 

That’s surprising.

But they don’t have time to indulge her. Toji flips the dagger around to point the blade downward, then rams it into the soldier’s throat. Blood bubbles up from the man’s mouth, his body jerking as he dies. 

Toji grabs her hand and pulls her along with him, taking her back into the woods where they can disappear. The queen probably has at least one more agent in the area to keep watch, but there’s no way they’re half as familiar with these woods as Toji is. 

An hour later, the two of them are back in the cabin. It should be safe for now. Only local hunters know about the cabin, and it’s located deep in the woods. 

Toji isn’t sure what to say to the crying young woman who quickly went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. He’s never been great at consoling people. When his wife died, he didn’t want anyone to speak to him. Even hearing someone breathe nearby made him angry. But he moved on, eventually. He never stopped thinking of his wife, never stopped missing her, but it got easier as the years went by.

Over the next few days, Toji doesn’t see much of his “housemate”. She comes out of the bedroom occasionally to eat the food Toji hunts and cooks or to use the bathroom. She doesn’t talk much, except to thank Toji for his help and say she has a lot to think about. 

For his part, Toji is uncertain how he feels about her, how much time and energy he wants to put into protecting her. She’s the true heir to the throne, and he’d love nothing more than to see the queen lose her crown, but this heir is so sweet, so naive, he doubts she’ll decide to pursue it. 

And if she doesn’t… well, he likes her but he’s not going to risk his life for someone content to hide for the rest of her life. 

After five days have passed, she emerges from the bedroom and stands in front of Toji in the kitchen, the envelope he found in the drawer clutched in her hand. 

“It’s a letter from my father,” she says, “explaining what he told me in more detail. He thought the queen had the king - I mean my birth father - killed, but could never find proof.”

Toji sighs. “Sounds like something the queen would do.”

She holds out a silver necklace. “He also left me this. I think it’s supposed to be important.”

Toji takes the necklace and looks closely at the pendant. He recognizes it instantly. It’s in the shape of a cross that ends in an anchor, with golden vines wrapped around it. “This is the royal family’s crest,” he tells her. “Every kid born to the royal family is given one of these. It’s basically proof you’re the heir.””

He hands the necklace back to her and she stares at it numbly. All of this must seem surreal to her. A week ago she was just a normal young woman living in a small village. Today she’s the rightful queen of the land. 

She looks up at him, meeting his gaze. “Toji, can you please help me?”

Here it comes. She’s going to ask him to protect her, to help her hide or perhaps escape to a neighboring kingdom. She’s such a pure, sweet woman, but he’ll turn her down. 

“Help you do what?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“Kill the queen.”

Toji blinks. Did he hear her right? 

She goes on, unbothered by his confusion. “She killed both my fathers, and wants to kill me. I can’t forgive that, and I can’t just walk away. I don’t even know if I want to be a ruler, but I know I can’t tolerate her sitting on the throne.”

Toji can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face. “Tell you what, if you pay off my gambling debts once you get access to the royal treasury, I’ll kill anyone you want.”

She steps closer, putting one hand on his arm. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your help. You’ve saved me twice now. I knew I was right when I said you’re a good man.”

There’s a spark of something kinetic between them, and Toji thinks she’s much more attractive now than she was a few days ago. The fiery resolve in her eyes is intoxicating. But he laughs as he says, “A good man who just agreed to kill someone for money.”

“Someone who deserves it,” she says back, her body inching closer to his. 

Toji’s arms wrap around her, pulling her up against him. “I like this new side of you,” he says.

She looks away almost shyly, but seems to relax in his arms. “I don’t think it’s new. Something just had to drag this side of me out.”

He leans down and kisses her, lightly grinding his hips into her. “I can drag something out of you alright, but only if I can ram it back in.”

Her eyes flick up to his face again. In a small voice, she says, “You can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you.”

Toji suddenly pushes you against the nearest wall, your back scraping the wood of the cabin. His hands are tearing your dress open and jerking it down off your shoulders. His movements are hurried, as if he can’t wait to get you undressed. It’s so very different from the way he touched you before. There’s an urgency this time. 

Maybe last time he was just indulging a love struck young woman. Now it seems like his passion has truly been ignited. 

You pull at his shirt, eager to see that perfectly sculpted body again. He obliges you, ripping the fabric open so fast that the buttons are sent scattering across the floor. Your hands glide over his chest, feeling the muscles there, feeling his heartbeat. 

He pulls your dress the rest of the way down, letting it pool at your feet, then down go your panties. You step out of the pile of clothes and kick them out of the way, then wrap your arms around Toji’s neck as he pick you up. Your legs move around his waist as he settles you in the right position against him. 

When his throbbing cock plunges into your drenched pussy, you cry out, then bury your face in his shoulder. He fucks you against the wall, your body sandwiched tightly between it and Toji’s firm body. With each thrust, your back hits the wood again. You know you’ll have bruises tomorrow, but right now you don’t care. 

You just want to forget. In these moments of mindless pleasure, you want to forget your father dying before your eyes, your burdensome lineage, the fact that your life has been turned upside down. You only want to feel Toji inside you, filling the emptiness you’ve felt the past few days. 

His hands are on your thighs, his fingers leaving imprints in your skin, his mouth finding yours and devouring your lips. His thrusts become harder, rougher, leaving you whimpering his name and begging for more. You want him to claim your body, make it his, reduce you to a crying mess so that you won’t have to think about anything else. 

His skin is so hot against yours, his muscled abdomen rubbing exactly the right spots to send you over the edge. When you cum, he’s kissing you, eyes open and staring at your face, his grip on your thighs tightening almost painfully. He doesn’t stop fucking you, his hips continuing to buck into you as you go limp against his chest. 

Before he cums, Toji pulls out of you, splashing the wall with his seed before easing you back onto your feet. You fall into blissful oblivion as he places your exhausted body on the couch. 

It’s late in the morning the next day when Toji tells you he’s leaving the cabin for a few hours. “I know a few former guards who hate the queen as much as we do,” he says. “They might be willing to help us.”

You nod as you pour yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Any help at all would be very welcome. Even if it’s just someone to distract the guards while you and Toji sneak into the castle. 

Toji gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head before stepping out, and you settle into the couch to read a book you grabbed from home. The first couple of hours pass uneventfully, the only sounds in the cabin being the crackling of the fire and the pages of your book being turned.

But in the afternoon, there comes a knock at the cabin door. You freeze, wondering who it might be. Toji wouldn’t knock. Is it a hunter from the village? Or, the more frightening possibility, a royal guard or soldier who spotted Toji in town and knows you’re alone? 

You quietly get up from the couch and creep over to the door, hoping to hear some clue that could help you determine who is on the other side. There’s a knocking again, and it strikes you that it’s not a very hard knock. Then you hear a voice. 

“Hello? Is anyone here?” 

It sounds like an old woman. It’s a weak, frail voice. Still, you can’t be too careful in this situation, so you don’t answer. 

“Please, if anyone’s here, could you help me?” the voice pleads. “My legs gave out. I just need somewhere warm to sit and rest for a bit before walking back home. I saw the smoke from the chimney.”

You move to the nearest window and peek out, toward the door. You don’t see anyone. No soldiers, no hunters. You don’t have a direct line of sight to the woman, but if there was anyone with her, you’d probably see them. 

After a few more moments, you hear soft footsteps crunching snow, and a small old lady steps into view as she limps away from the door. She looks so pitiful, so weak, you find yourself running to the door and opening it. 

The woman turns around and looks at you, then smiles. “Oh, bless you, dear!”

You hurry over and take a basket from her hand, noting it’s unusual heft, as you help her inside. 

“What are you doing out in the woods alone?” you ask her as she eases herself onto the couch with a groan. 

“I was crossing through from town back to the village,” she says. 

You fix her a cup of warm tea and sit down beside her. “That’s an awfully heavy basket you’ve got.”

She laughs and pulls the basket into her lap. “I’m a fruit seller,” she says, opening the basket and revealing several red, shiny apples. “Would you like one?”

“Oh, that’s alright!” you tell her.

She pulls one apple out and reaches it to you. “Consider it a gift for letting me warm up in your cabin.”

You hesitantly take the apple and sit it on a small table beside the couch. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

The old woman smiles kindly. For the next half hour, she sits and chats with you, telling you about her husband who died two years ago and her no good son who refuses to help her sell fruit. Then, she slowly gets to her feet and bids you farewell. 

After watching her disappear into the forest, you close the door to the cabin and return to the couch, picking up the apple as you go. 

Toji is in town, waiting to meet up with a former guard he was friendly with, when a hunter he recognizes from the village approaches him. 

“Hey, Toji. Are you still using that old hunting cabin in the woods?” he asks. 

Toji’s eyes automatically narrow. “Not recently,” he lies. “Why?”

“There was an old fruit seller asking if anyone lived out in the woods. I told her about the cabin but stressed that no one’s usually there. I think she went anyway.”

“A fruit seller?” Toji asks, feeling a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

The Hunter nods. “An old woman. She had a basket full of apples.”

Toji frowns. “Apples in the dead of winter?”

The man shrugs. “I guess she had a late harvest.”

Toji leaves. He wastes no time with small talk or goodbyes. He simply runs as fast as he can back to the woods, because he remembers something the queen told him years ago. Something he’d dismissed as delusional fantasy at the time. 

She said that if she utters a specific incantation in front of the magic mirror, it can change her appearance to look like anyone she wants. 

If that was true, then the old woman could have been…

He stops thinking, only focusing on running. He tears through the woods at inhuman speed, and in record time he arrives at the cabin. He throws the door open and runs inside. 

There he finds her, his young lover, sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, a half eaten apple lying a few inches from her outstretched hand. 

[imagine-it-was-us]

where we land || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Ed Sheeran where we land

Author's note: These are getting out of hand. Started as the creative outlet and ended as sleepless nights where you can't go to bed until you let our mind bleed out on the keyboard. Ed Sheeran and his music will always have a special place in my heart. And this particular song makes me miss the relationship I never had. So enjoy, I am really proud of this one. Hopefully you will find it bearable.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: none, just angst.

Summary: do I love you? do I hate you? || I can't make up my mind || so let's free fall (and part ways for the year I guess??) and see where we land.

Word count: 6.8k+

“Lando, this isn’t working”, she sighed. It was obvious that this short sentence took every last bit of energy she had. After this, there was nothing left – no emotions, no desire to fight, just nothing. A blank expression followed.

He looked up from his computer, unphased. 

“What’s not working?” 

“Us.” 

The mood slightly shifted, yet nothing too shocking. It felt like this conversation was overdone way too many times. They have been here before. That's why he didn’t even take a second to think about what sparked this conversation. It felt like it was a casual chat between an old married couple. 

“Yeah,” Lando muttered, exhaling sharply. “Let’s take a break. We’ll make up anyway.”

That was it. No argument, no hesitation. Like it was routine. Like she had just told him she was stepping out for a moment, and he expected her to come back.

When you think about it, it was devastating. The level of indifference was what hurt the most.

They had known each other their whole lives – friends by proximity before choice. Their families lived in the same neighborhood, close enough that their bond felt inevitable. Even as kids, they were opposites. He was the reckless daredevil, climbing trees and riding his bike at full speed down the steepest roads, while she was the quiet dreamer, lying on the grass for hours, lost in her thoughts. But somehow, they worked. They always had.

As they grew up, their lives took different directions, but they never drifted too far. When Lando got into karting, and later, into the high-stakes world of racing, she wasn’t his biggest supporter in the traditional sense. She didn’t attend every event or cheer the loudest. But she cared. She always asked how he was feeling, if he was okay. She avoided getting too involved, not because she didn’t believe in him or was not interested, but because she couldn’t shake the fear of what could happen. The crashes, the risks, the reality of what came with high-speed racing. Maybe that fear had even shaped her, pushed her toward a career where she could save the ones who weren’t as lucky. And yet, no matter how different their paths became, they had always made time for each other.

Then came that one Christmas. The night everything changed. He was on the brink of signing with McLaren, and she had just over a year of school left, set on studying medicine, becoming a paramedic. They spent the whole evening talking – about dreams, about the future, about everything. And the one constant in all their scenarios? Each other. They didn’t officially get together until months later, when the butterflies finally settled in. What started as something gentle and fragile grew into something more. Something that should have been unbreakable.

But it wasn’t.

Between her relentless studying and his deep dive into the world of Formula 1, the distance between them grew. The small sacrifices they used to make for each other became harder. At first, they convinced themselves it was just a rough patch. They had fallen in love as teenagers, blindly, without knowing what love truly required. Clashes were inevitable, but they always told themselves it was just temporary. That love would always outweigh the tension.

Until it didn’t.

The fights became more than just stress-fueled bickering. Trust started to crack. The rumors, the online hate she received for simply existing in his world, the missed races, the missed plans, the days of unanswered calls. The moments of doubt that neither of them wanted to admit were growing stronger.

They had tried. God, they had tried.

The guilt would always swing between them like a pendulum – one of them messing up, the other one forgiving too easily, hoping that this time would be different. And when it wasn’t, they’d take a step back, hoping the distance would fix what being together couldn’t. Then, like clockwork, one of them would cave. One apology, one touch, one whispered „I miss you“ would pull them back in.

The boat had been rocking for years. But at least before, there had still been waves. Now, sitting in their Monaco home, she wasn’t sure if they had finally reached the calm, or if they had simply drifted so far apart that the water didn’t even touch them anymore.

And that was worse than all the fights combined.

“That’s it?”

He lifted a shoulder in an infuriating half-shrug. “What do you want me to say? We take a break, we come back. It’s what we do.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Lando. I don’t want to pause on this empty shell we still call the relationship. I just don’t think I can.” 

Deep down, words coming out of her hurt her. Yet she was just so tired of this game, then at the end there was no happy ending.

Lando exhaled, closing his laptop and putting it away, jaw clenched. Maybe he thought she was being dramatic. Maybe he was just waiting for the inevitable moment when she’d take it back.

But she wouldn’t, not this time. She just stood up from her end of the couch and exhaled. 

“It will take me a couple of days to gather everything I own from this apartment. I will do it once you leave for Las Vegas, so I won’t disturb your calm before the GP. I will just grab my essentials for now,” she said like she was reciting a groceries list. 

Lando didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the coffee table like it held all the answers he couldn’t find in her face. Maybe he was searching for something to say – some magic combination of words that would break the cycle, that would make this easier. But there was nothing left to say.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

She felt her stomach twist. Part of her had wanted him to fight – really fight – for this, for them. But wasn’t that the whole point? They were tired. Exhausted. Running on empty, pretending they had more to give when they didn’t.

She swallowed, shifting on her feet. “I think we should do it properly this time.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, guarded. “What do you mean?”

“No breaks. No texts, no calls, no checking in. Not even a happy birthday or Merry Christmas.” The words came out steady, even though her heart was hammering against her ribs. “We give it at least a year. If we’re happier – truly happier – then we’ll know. We’ll let it go for good.”

Lando stood up, facing her. “And if we’re not?”

She exhaled, forcing a small, tired smile. “Then we’ll see where we land.”

He let out a breath, running a hand down his face. For a moment, he just studied her, like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. Like maybe, deep down, some part of him was realizing that this was the last time he’d get to see her like this. Here. His.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Alright,” he murmured. “One year.”

One year to figure out if this was really love, or just a bad habit neither of them knew how to break. One year to see if they could be whole without each other. Or if, after everything, they still made sense together.

She was about to turn toward the bedroom, ready to start packing, but he moved first. His arms wound around her, and she didn’t hesitate before wrapping hers around him just as tightly.

And that was what made it hurt the most. Because after six years give or take, after all the fights and make-ups and everything in between, this was still the safest place each of them had ever known. His heartbeat against her ear. Her scent wrapping around him like home. The way neither of them wanted to be the first to let go.

But they had to. So, after one long, lingering moment, she forced herself to step back.

Lando’s arms fell away slowly, reluctantly, like he was holding onto the very last seconds of whatever this was.

And just like that, they let go. Not with a bang, not with a fight. Just a quiet understanding that, for the first time in years, it was time to stop holding on.

______

Remember the “No Merry Christmas” part? Well, that was their first slip up. 

At first, no one questioned it. 

When they said their goodbyes, when she packed up the last of her things, when they let go without a fight – no one questioned it. Not their friends. Not their families. Not the people who had known them as a unit for years.

Because this was just how they were. Messy. Cyclical. A little dramatic but never final. Everyone assumed that, in a few weeks, they’d find their way back – like they always did.

Yet red flags were being waved when she showed up on your parents doorstep and asked them to let you crash at theirs for the time being. 

And when the world around you was lighting up, getting ready for the most wonderful time of the year, she was really feeling dead inside. That was when the questions started.

As she had to find a new job outside Monaco, she landed in the local hospital, in her parents' area. Her new coworkers, who knew her family, would try the small talk, asking how he was doing as the season went to the end. Sometimes even her patients would recognize her and ask her about F1 and her used-to-be boyfriend. A friend, who you haven’t talked to for weeks, would bring an article and ask for you to comment on it. It was even from her own aunt – the one she only ever saw at Christmas– who asked, completely oblivious, “What size are Lando’s feet again? I want to knit him those socks I promised last year.”

And just like that, he was everywhere. Like an echo of a life she wasn’t living anymore. Like a mistake she wasn’t sure she had actually made.

Because wasn’t that what everyone kept implying? That they had been stupid for doing this? That this break – this “proper” break, this one-year promise – was just a long, drawn-out way of making them both miserable?

And if so—was Lando feeling it, too?

Was he being ambushed with casual mentions of her in conversations that had nothing to do with her? Did he hear her name in places he wasn’t expecting it? Did it catch him off guard, did it sting, did it make him wonder if they had just ruined something they were always meant to fix?

She stopped herself from wondering. After all, she could dwell in these thoughts forever and never move forward. She knew she had to. This break was not only about figuring them out. It was also about figuring who you are outside the relationship you grew up in. 

So for now, she did the thing she knew the best – threw herself into work. That’s why when Christmas Eve rolled around, she had her life line to escape hushed voices and petty looks, asking about her life. Also, Norris' family would always eventually roll around for a quick cup of tea – it was a tradition started by their parents even before the both of them were around so she for sure believed that them being on break would not stop their parents from interacting. Never did on any other break. 

She did what she always did when the walls started closing in. She grabbed her coat, threw a scarf over her scrubs, and braced herself for the short, freezing walk to her car. A twelve-hour shift awaited her, filled with last-minute holiday accidents and bad luck, and she was oddly grateful for it. A perfect excuse to be anywhere but here.

She said her goodbyes, wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and stepped outside.

And nearly crashed straight into Adam Norris. Her hand shot out to steady herself, boots skidding slightly against the icy porch. “Oh – I’m so sorry,” she blurted, barely catching her breath before –

Her stomach dropped.

Because it wasn’t just Adam. It was all of them.

His entire family stood there, wrapped in warm coats and holiday cheer. And Lando – of course, Lando – was in the middle of it all, hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze locked onto her like he hadn’t been expecting this either.

She barely let her eyes flick to his before looking away, heart hammering.

“You’re always in such a rush, aren’t you?” Cisca asked, her voice as warm as ever.

“Yes, I’m working tonight, unfortunately,” she added, making them hear what she wanted rather than expressing her feelings. 

“Oh, your mother told me about the shifts you’re taking and they still make you work during the day like this? That’s so sad,” she said, empathetically. His mother was always the angel and they had a great connection before this break. 

She gave a light shrug, desperate to keep the conversation surface-level. “What can I say? Gotta work if I ever want to give my parents a break.”

It was the lie she’d been telling everyone. That she was saving for a down payment. That the extra shifts were a means to an end. A practical excuse for why she spent more time at the hospital than at home, drowning herself in work instead of drowning in the what-ifs of a relationship that no longer existed.

But it didn’t matter. Not when she could feel Lando’s eyes on her. Not when it took every ounce of strength to keep her own from slipping back to his.

“Well,” Cisca sighed, stepping aside to give her space to pass. “Stay safe, darling.”

She hesitated. A half-second, barely noticeable. And then, before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“Merry Christmas, fam.”

The moment she said it, she regretted it. The slip. The weakness. The betrayal of her own rules.

And then there was Lando.

For the first time since she stepped outside, she met his gaze. A brief, fleeting glance. A quiet acknowledgment of everything that still lingered between them.

She barely made a sound when she whispered, “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

Then, before she could give herself time to second-guess it, she turned on her heel and walked away, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She couldn’t. Because she knew if she did – if she heard his voice, his words – her carefully built defenses would crumble.

But as she made it to her car, something soft, something broken, floated through the cold December air.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

And somehow this moment stung Lando more than anything else ever had.

______

Spring was warming up the air, shaking winter from the trees and stretching daylight just a little longer each evening. She had always hated this time of year – hated the way it pressed against her chest, thick with stress and expectations. First, it was the exams, the all-nighters, the anxious flipping of textbooks. Then, later, it became Lando’s schedule. The season kicking off, his world spinning faster while she tried to hold onto the edges.

This year, though, spring was something different. Unusually dull. Unnaturally calm. But it was for her to figure out if it was the kind of calm that comes before or after the storm.

By all accounts, she was doing well. She was thriving at work, getting used to the rhythm of long shifts and fast decisions. She had found herself a new apartment – small, but cozy, a space that was hers and hers alone. She even picked up jogging and pilates, things she used to roll her eyes at but now clung to as some kind of personal victory.

Some days were perfect. She would wake up, stretch in the morning light, sip her coffee in silence, and almost – almost – forget why her life looked the way it did now.

Emphasis on ‘almost.’

Because when you spend six years wrapped around someone else’s life, untangling yourself doesn’t happen overnight. Their friend groups overlapped too much, their histories bled into too many places, and avoiding him completely was impossible.

They had been careful, though. Calculated. She planned around GP weekends, making sure to show up to gatherings when he was halfway across the world, and skipping the ones when she knew he’d be visiting the home town. It worked. Until, inevitably, it didn’t.

That night, she hadn’t planned to see him. It was supposed to be a quiet evening. Just a handful of friends, drinks, some music humming in the background. Nothing major. Nothing painful. But then, sometime between her second glass of wine and the last lazy notes of an old song drifting through the air, she felt it.

That awareness. The way her skin prickled before she even turned her head. He was there.

Just across the room, laughing at something, his head thrown back, the sound of it familiar enough to sink straight into her bones. He looked... good. Relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. And for a second she let herself wonder if she looked that way too. If he saw her and thought, ‘She’s okay. She’s moved on. She doesn’t miss me the way I miss her��.

It was unbearable. The way it made her stomach twist, the way it pulled something raw inside of her. It wasn’t just the sight of him, it wasn't just the proof that he still existed outside of her world – it was the realization that she still felt it. That she still felt everything.

So she left. Quietly. Without goodbyes. Without looking back.

By the time she got home, she was already peeling off her jacket, kicking off her shoes, slipping beneath the covers in the dark. Sleep would fix it. Sleep would dull the sharp edges, smooth over the crack in her chest.

Morning light bled through the thin curtains, painting soft streaks across the room. She stretched, rubbing at her puffy eyes, the lingering ache of last night still pressing heavy against her ribs.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he got to be fine. That he got to laugh and exist so easily in a world without her while she sat here, caught in the ghost of something that refused to fade.

Yet there was a surprise waiting for her when she picked up the phone.

A missed call at 3:48 am. And a voice note from him on her Instagram DMs followed.

Then, for just a second, something fluttered in her chest. A spark of something she didn’t want to name. Because maybe he had seen her last night. Maybe he had felt it too.

But reality was quick to sink its claws in, dragging her back down. No. This wasn’t that. This was probably drunk Lando. This was ‘bad decisions wrapped in nostalgia and gin’ Lando.

She should ignore it. But her thumb was already moving before her brain could stop her.

Click. Play.

“Heeeeeeeyyyy pretty girl.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He was drunk. The kind of drunk where words ran together, loose and careless.

“I’m so sorry for the call, I realized that you are probably working or worse – asleep – and just canceled it. Like I know that you would stab anyone who would dare to wake you up if it’s not important, and since I guess I no longer am, I—”

A hiccup. A pause.

Her stomach twisted. She should stop listening. But she didn’t.

“I just don’t know… Whenever I see you, you seem so fine, so moved on… And then there’s me, stuck between fake and being down. And you know what I do when I feel down? I go to the bar, the club. You name it. I scan a crowd looking for you. I never find you, because duh, why should I? You only went to these places for me.”

Her chest tightened. She had hated clubs with all her heart. The noise, the people, the way she never really fit into that world. She only went because he loved it. Because Lando loved the music, the energy, the thrill of it. And yet… after all this time, he was still looking for her in places she never truly belonged.

“So, I get the random girl and imagine it is you. I imagine you still care, laugh at my pick-up lines, take me home with you. I even moaned your name one time and the lady was pissed off, I got smacked, lol. Could you imagine…”

A sharp exhale left her lips.

God, he was an idiot. Saying things he had no business saying. Telling her things she shouldn’t know. She wanted to be mad. To roll her eyes, to call him out for being reckless, for dragging her back into the mess they were supposed to be untangling.

But she wasn’t mad. She was something else entirely. Because there, tangled between the words and the drunken confessions, was something she wasn’t ready to face. Regret. And worse – feelings that she thought was lost during all this. The kind that made the edges of her world blur for a moment, tilting just enough to make her wonder…

What if?

And then – 

“I should have fought for you, you know? When you asked for this break. I was an idiot for letting you walk out the door so easily. Screw the ‘let’s see where we land’ thing. I already know where I’m landing. Now the ball is in your corner or whatever. So yeah, good chat. See you around.”

Silence.

Her heart was pounding.

She stared at the screen, her mind racing.

This wasn’t just some drunk butt dial. This wasn’t some half-hearted message he would brush off in the morning.

This was a line drawn in the sand. This was him saying, ‘I know what I want. Do you?’

She swallowed, her hands shaking as she locked her phone and pressed it to her chest.

She needed to breathe. She needed to think.

But later that day, when she opened the chat to replay the message and dissect every word it was gone.

Not even a trace of it ever existing.

And just like that, she was left with nothing but the weight of what could have been.

__________

She didn’t want to be here.

That much had been clear from the second she stepped onto Silverstone’s pavement, a familiar hum in the air, the smell of petrol and rubber hitting her in a way that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t just the track – it was everything it represented. The years spent here, the routines, the nerves. The way she used to pace behind the pit wall, hands shoved into the pockets of a McLaren hoodie that wasn’t even hers, chewing on her bottom lip as she watched Lando push the car to its limits.

It was muscle memory to be here, and yet, it had never felt more foreign.

She had almost backed out, too, with the kind of last-minute excuse that wouldn’t fool her mother but might have been enough to let her go on with her weekend and avoid the inevitable. But the tickets had been a Christmas gift – from the Norris family, as per usual – and her parents had been so excited.

“It’s been too long since we all did something like this together. You used to go with him all the time while we were watching from the sidelines. Now we can switch places, you will be fine” her dad had said. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Fun. Right.

So she had caved. And when it was time to leave for Sunday GP, she still wanted to blend in the crowd. She knew there would be plenty of McLaren fans, so if you can’t beat them – join them. She took out a random t-shirt that was probably used way too many times. It was only after pulling it over her head that she realized which one it was.

His.

One he had left in her drawer ages ago, one she had slept in more nights than she could count.

It smelled like fabric softener instead of him now. That should have been a relief. It wasn’t. For a split second, she had almost taken it off. Almost buried it back in the drawer like it was some kind of cursed relic. But then she exhaled. It’s just a shirt. No one will even notice.

And at first she was perfectly flying over the radar. Her parents visited the paddock, while she stayed behind, blending in the crowds. She had perfected the art of blending in – cheering when appropriate, clapping at the right moments, never once letting her gaze wander too long in the direction of the papaya garage. And it was working wonders. 

But then she ran into Emma. The fellow paramedic, who she had known both from the medical, and sports field, as she was a couple years older and worked with Papaya for a few years. One second, she was keeping her head down, avoiding anything orange, and the next, she was being pulled into McLaren hospitality because “It’s dead quiet before the race, and you have a paddock pass, so why not?”

She should have said no. Instead, she sat with Emma, catching up over bad coffee, pretending she wasn’t hyperaware of exactly where she was. Yet every time footsteps neared, her body tensed, anticipation coiling in her stomach like a reflex she hadn’t quite unlearned. It wasn’t that she couldn’t see him – it had happened before, and they had managed to be civil, distant in a way that felt almost rehearsed. But being here, surrounded by everything that made Lando Lando, made her feel too exposed.

Don’t get it wrong – she would always be a fan. Even if life took them further apart, even if one day they became nothing more than a distant memory, she would still admire him. The raw talent, the skill, the way he could take a car and make it his – that would never change. 

But it had been eight months, and for the first time, she was starting to find a rhythm outside of them. A clarity she hadn’t thought possible. And yet. Eight months, and still, his drunken voice note rattled in her head like an echo trapped between her ribs. Eight months, and the thought of seeing him in his element – seeing him – made her stomach twist in ways she couldn’t quite decipher. Would it set her back? Or would it confirm that she was finally past it?

Five minutes into chatting, laughing like she wasn’t standing in the center of everything she had left behind, Oscar Piastri appeared, cradling his arm like it was more of an annoyance than an injury. It was impossible for her not to know or like Oscar – they would always lightly catch up and laugh whenever she visited a paddock. And she sure as hell knew that he was aware what was the reason behind her being absent recently. 

“Hey, do me a favor,” he said, surprised to see her in the paddock, but not making a big deal out of it. “Tell me I’m being dramatic.”

She raised a brow. “You’re being dramatic.”

Oscar grinned. “That’s what I needed.”

They fell into easy conversation – nothing deep, just lighthearted jabs about how McLaren clearly needed her back on call, and how she had ditched them for something far less entertaining.

And then, as she was mid-sentence, Oscar’s eyes flicked to her shirt.

Her stomach dropped. She glanced down, realizing how obvious it was now, when she dropped her jacket off. The faded Lando Norris on the back. The small details only a real fan – or someone owning a similar t-shirt – would notice, proved this shirt wasn’t just merch, but his.

“That is not just any McLaren shirt.”

Her face went hot. “Oscar –”

“You’re both so full of shit,” he cut in, laughing.

Before she could protest, before she could even think, he was pulling out his phone.

“Oscar,” she warned.

“Relax,” he said, snapping the picture. “I’ll make it tasteful.”

So when later that day, after the GP was done and gone, her phone buzzed, she wasn’t surprised to see that Oscar had tagged her in a story, meant for a close friend's circle. At least he had decency not to post it publicly, sparing her from the speculation of people online.

A casual shot – Oscar grinning, arm still wrapped in tape, her beside him, mid-laugh. The caption?

“I’m here catching up with a friend, being all nice and all, and she’s still in his corner.”

She rolled her eyes and locked her phone, pretending she saw nothing. Lando rarely if ever checked other driver’s stories, so she thought that maybe she was safe. 

What she didn’t know, that Lando was also tagged in it. 

It was late by the time the high of his first home win finally started to wear off. It should have lasted longer. It should have been everything. And for a while, it was. The roar of the British crowd, the Union Jack wrapped around his shoulders, the feeling of standing on the top step at Silverstone – his Silverstone. It was a dream he’d had since he was a kid, a moment that was meant to feel like an ending and a beginning all at once.

But the thing about dreams is that you never picture them alone. And she wasn’t there. Not where she should have been, anyway.

He’d looked for her. Not consciously, not obviously, but when he turned toward the grandstands where his family sat – where she used to sit – his eyes found nothing but an empty space. And it was stupid to expect anything different. They weren’t that anymore. They weren’t anything, really.

But for the first time since she walked out, he let himself admit it. It still felt wrong doing this without her.

Later, exhausted but unwilling to sleep, he opened his phone, torn between drowning in nostalgia or holding onto the adrenaline of the win. He chose the latter. Scrolled through the tags, looking for a story to share. When he saw the notification from Oscar, he barely thought twice. Probably some congratulatory post, maybe something teasing him for taking so long to win here.

But when he clicked it, the world narrowed to a pinpoint.

Because there she was.

Not in the stands. Not in his family's section. But she had been there. And she was wearing his shirt. An old one, something he barely even remembered giving her, but she still had it. Still wore it.

His stomach tightened. She hadn’t wanted to see him. Hadn’t let him see her. But maybe he wasn’t the only one still looking for pieces of the past.

And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to let them go either.

______

There were still three days left until their one-year mark. Not that she was counting. 

362 days had passed. 362 days of learning how to be her own person again. And, honestly? She wasn’t half bad at it. 

She had figured out how to be alone without feeling lonely. She’d chased things she never made time for before, threw herself into work, into new routines, into a version of herself that wasn’t just an extension of him. And she liked who she was becoming – someone stronger, more driven, more sure of herself.

But did she still feel a pit in her stomach every time she thought about the fact that he wasn’t there to see it? Absolutely.

And maybe that was why she had convinced herself she just had to make it to a year. A clean number. One final milestone to tell her that they had really done it – walked away, stayed away and allowed them both to breath.

But then came the invitation. Max, persistently begging her to come. It’s his birthday, he’d want you there. And also, it was hard to lie to herself that three days would make her change her mind. 

Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of the chaos, clutching a drink she didn’t want, in a room that felt too damn small. The music was loud, the air thick with laughter and voices overlapping in that familiar, comfortable way. She had spent years in rooms like this, at parties just like this, orbiting the same people, the same circles. But tonight, she felt like a stranger.

And then she saw him. Across the room, back turned, laughing at something Max had said. Easy. Effortless. Like nothing had changed.

The last time she saw him, Lando was leaving Silverstone with his name echoing through the crowd. A winner. A hero. And she had watched from the screen of her phone, watching him have everything he ever wanted. 

That realization made her stop in her tracks.

Because here he was, months later, standing in the center of a world that kept spinning without her. With only three GPs left, he was still a contender for the whole damn championship. He had managed to dodge all major drama, kept his head down, thrived. And now, surrounded by friends, by people who cared for him, cherished him, celebrated him – he looked free.

Happy.

And just like that, the thought hit her like a punch to the ribs. Maybe this should be it. Maybe this night should be her closure. Because if this past year had proven anything, it was that he didn’t need her. And as much as it twisted something deep inside her, maybe she was okay with that.

Maybe she could give up the what if in exchange for the freedom she had convinced herself he deserved. Even if her heart didn’t waver. Even if she was still his in ways she wished she wasn’t.

She turned on her heel, ready to leave this place. She knew that he was aware that she was here. So the checkmark ticked for their friends – she was here, she had cheered for him. Now it was time to leave all this behind them. Just as she was about to put the empty glass on the table by the door, she heard a familiar voice:

“Leaving so soon?”

His voice cut through the noise like a blade. She could barely hear it, but somehow, it still sent a shiver down her spine.

She didn’t turn back, not right away. She let out a breath, eyes shutting for half a second, before finally facing him.

“I was just –” She cleared her throat, finding it suddenly dry. “I was just stepping out.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He didn’t call her bullshit. Didn’t need to. Instead, he simply gestured toward the door.

“Me too.”

As they stepped outside, the air outside was crisp, a quiet relief from the overwhelming heat of the party. She crossed her arms over her chest, less for warmth, more for something to do. Lando stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he exhaled, long and slow.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

And then–

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

She let out something between a laugh and a scoff. “I wasn’t going to.”

His lips twitched. “Max?”

“Max.”

Silence again. But this one wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t unfamiliar. It was them. The kind of quiet that only came after knowing someone for years. The kind that held more weight than words.

Lando rocked back on his heels. “You didn’t have to come.”

She let out a breath, steadying herself. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

She shifted on her feet, gaze flickering toward the door, toward the party she could easily slip back into. Away from this. But she didn’t move.

Instead, she sighed, voice softer now. “Because it’s your birthday.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, looking away for a moment. “I thought maybe you were done.”

“I thought so too,” she admitted. “I was trying to be.”

His gaze snapped back to her, something sharp behind his eyes. “Trying?”

Her stomach twisted. This was exactly what she had been afraid of – this conversation, the one she wasn’t sure she was ready to have. The one where she had to admit that all the time, all the space, all the growing hadn’t undone a damn thing.

“I didn’t want us to slip back,” she confessed. “Back into something that wasn’t healthy. Back into us, but wrong.”

Lando nodded, slow. “And do you think we would?”

She looked at him. At the way he was standing now, steadier, stronger, more him. At the way his face, older in ways that had nothing to do with time, still softened at the sight of her. At the way she still felt it. That pull. That certainty.

She swallowed hard. “No.”

He stepped forward. Not much. Just enough. And this time, he was the one to break the silence.

“You know what I realized?” His voice was quiet, careful. “That I could have the best day of my life, and it still wouldn’t be quite right.”

She stiffened.

“Because it’s not about someone seeing it,” he continued. “It’s about someone being there. It’s about looking over and knowing –” he broke off, shaking his head, then tried again. “I didn’t need you to see me win at Silverstone. Hell I didn't need you to witness any of this. I just –” his voice dropped even lower – “needed you. And then I saw you in that damn picture with my t-shirt on. It took everything in me not to drive to Bristol, looking for you.”

Her throat tightened. “Lando.”

“I know we did the right thing,” he said, brushing it off. “I know we needed time. I know we needed to fix things.” A pause. Then he looked dead into her eyes. “But tell me. Right now. That if we part ways now that you will be the happiest version of yourself.”

Now, she was standing in front of the person who had been both her greatest love and her hardest lesson. Now, she was staring at him, the weight of their history pressing in from all sides, and she still couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t look for him in every crowd. Now, she was tired of pretending.

“I don’t regret what we did,” she whispered. Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t pull back. “I think we needed it,” she admitted. “I think we needed the space. The time. I think we needed to figure out who we were without each other.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. “And I did. I figured it out.”

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “And?”

She hesitated, because saying it out loud made it real. Made it true. But after all the turmoil she owed him that much.

“I had good days,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Really good days. Days where I laughed so hard my ribs ached. Where I felt strong. Where I was proud of who I was becoming.”

Lando’s jaw tensed. She inhaled sharply. 

“And then there were the other days. The ones where something amazingly good or amazingly bad happened, something I wanted to share, but I’d reach for my phone and realize – ” Her voice cracked. “Realize you weren’t there.”

Lando shut his eyes for a second, like he needed a moment to steady himself. “Yeah.”

Her chest tightened. “And you?”

His lips parted, but for the first time all night, words didn’t come so easily. So he exhaled, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and met her gaze with the kind of raw honesty that left no room for doubt.

“I had the best day of my life, and it still felt wrong because you weren’t there to see it.”

She blinked, chest tightening, but he wasn’t done.

“I had the worst day of my life too. And every instinct told me to go to you. And I couldn’t.”

Her throat burned.

“I used to think what we had was everything,” he murmured. “And then we broke apart, and I thought – maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were just young and caught up in something that was never meant to last.”

She held her breath.

“But then I lived without you. I learned how to be on my own. I grew. And I still came to the same conclusion.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was holding himself back.

“You are the only thing in my life that I’ve ever been sure of.”

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she forced a watery laugh. “That’s funny,” she whispered. “Because I was just about to say the same thing.”

Lando’s shoulders fell, something breaking apart and putting itself back together all at once. And then he stepped forward. And so did she.

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t about picking up where they left off.

It was about choosing each other again. And they landed exactly where they needed to.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 the smell of snow : remus lupin

▰▰ pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader.

When she suddenly gets a familiar smell while sleeping, she wakes Remus to enjoy the first day of snow.

totally inspired by lorelai and luke from gilmore girls, this scene especifically.

mari talks! i want to make a lorelai!reader x remus series so bad help me.

She has become used to falling asleep on Remus' bed, the only moment of the day where her energy starts lacking is when the moon hangs high in the sky and her boyfriend's arms wrap around her. In contrast to her usually cheerful way to be, she's peaceful and quiet when she's sleeping.

Ninety nine percent of the time, anyways, because that one percent is about to make its first appearance of the year.

At first, she only takes a deep breath as she rolls around in the mattress. But then, realization hits her— the air smells different. Her eyes immediately open and she starts sniffing, wanting to be sure before she turns to Remus.

He's peacefully sleeping too, at least until she rolls on top of him and starts shaking his arm. "Rem." she calls him, at least somewhat softly through her sudden desperation. "Come on, wake up."

He grunts and tries to roll from under her, still deep in his slumber. "Rem, we're missing it." she tries again, this time shaking his shoulder with a little more strength

"Sleep? yes, i'm aware." he mumbles, his voice rough and tired.

He makes a big mistake by replying to her, because she only grows even more relentless, now she stands up and pulls her boyfriend's arm. Remus might be stronger than her usually, but right now she's on a mission.

One last tug, and he's almost falling out of the bed, his eyes finally opening because he's accepted his girlfriend is not going to stop until she gets whatever she wants right now. Accepting his fate, he finally stands from the bed, once again almost falling since the sheets were all tangled in his legs.

He barely manages to put on his shoes before she's dragging him out of the room, as they pass his fellow marauders, he's a little envious of the way they're still peacefully sleeping.

"Where are we going?" he mumbles, slurring his words, his feet stumbling over the stairs.

Her lack of answer would be concerning for Remus if he wasn't half-asleep and busy mumbling grumpily under his breath. Yet, he still follows her or more like allows her to drag him out of the gryffindor tower.

Thankfully, it's far too late for any professor to be patrolling around the halls so they walk through the castle without any problem except for the angry paintings complaining about being awaken. Remus can understand them completely.

"Almost there." she tells him, finally speaking as she runs out of the castle, pulling him with her into the quidditch field.

Remus must still be sleeping, or he's simply confused, because she suddenly stops and looks around in wonder but he can't see anything different about the quidditch field. He even blinks and rubs his eyes, but there’s nothing.

"I'm freezing" he says, wrapping his free arm around his body, how is she not feeling cold? she didn’t even took the time to put on a jumper. "why are we out here?"

"Smell the air." she tells him suddenly, taking a deep breath herself and smiling brightly.

Remus blinks at her, confused, but he still sniffs skeptically. "smells like... air?"

"No, silly!" She laughs, as if Remus just told her a really good joke. "Smells like snow is coming."

Yes, his girlfriend has gone mad. He expected he would have a long time before he had to get her admitted into St. Mungo's. Was it the ball Sirius threw at her head yesterday? Godric, Remus had told them both it wasn't safe to be playing like that, and did they listen to him? of course not.

"What? You can't possibly know that" he tells her, already making up his mind to go and wake Sirius up so he would see the damage he has done. "Forecast said there would not be snow this winter."

"I smell snow." she tells him again, looking up at the sky as if she's actually expecting snow to start falling. And then, the rambling starts. "I love snow, we can make a snow-man or even better a snow-woman! with painted lips and a cute scarf. I love snowy days in with a cup of hot cocoa, and I love winter outfits! oh, we can go sledding and ice skating!"

As grumpy as Remus is, she always finds a way to ease into him. Of course she does. "That sounds great, sweetheart." he replies, not daring to tell her that he hates snow. "But there’s no snow coming, in the Daily Prophet they said—"

Remus' sentence is cut short when snow actually starts falling, flakes falling from the sky slowly covering the quidditch field. "Fuck the Daily Prophet anyways." he says.

it's not like she's paying him any attention, because she's already smiling and giggling as the snow fall all around them. "Welcome, friends." She mumbles, tilting her head back so the snowflakes fall into her face.

Remus is freezing, like already trembling, but she doesn’t look bothered by the cold at all. And she looks beautiful, that one Remus has to admit. She looks so happy, her smile almost glowing under the dark of the night as she spins around the quidditch field.

"Let's make snow angels!" And that's what pulls Remus out of his trance, before she can drop to the ground, he takes her hand and pulls her in.

He raises his eyebrow at her. "Absolutely not. You're in your pyjamas, time to go inside." He tells her, matter of factly, his serious gaze not even wavering when she gives him a puppy eye look in return— yes, she's cute, but Remus cares more about her safety right now.

"You're no fun, Rem." She pouts at him when she knows he won't budge, but just like the way she brought him here, she allows him to pull her inside the castle.

Now she has started shivering, and Remus notices as he pulls her close to his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm, which is not very useful considering he's also cold.

He presses a kiss against her temple as they walk through the hallways, once again bothering the paintings around them. "We have a full snow day tomorrow, when we're properly dressed up for the cold, deal?"

She nods, and with the way the smile goes back to her face, Remus thinks that maybe he doesn’t hate the snow that much after all.

[roach-works]

-people get welding and riveting mixed up more than you would expect.

-the bronze age transitioned into the iron age more because the empires and hence trade networks necessary to cheaply transport copper and tin, than because iron is a 'better' metal than bronze. iron actually sucks really bad in almost every way compared to bronze and so much of the technological progress we see at the start of the iron age was specifically to cope with how much shittier iron tools were.

-you just plain can't have a pure iron sword. it would bend out of shape when you hit things with it. the process of folding and refolding iron in the forge mixes carbon in and creates steel, a much harder and more brittle metal. that's the deal with japanese katanas that were folded a zillion times. they're not made from a superior metal: they're made from really shitty metal, that was then put through a very labor intensive process to turn it into an actually functional steel alloy. this is also why the katana is curved, to add strength.

-cereal crops are difficult to plant, harvest, store, and transport. farming wheat is not easy and doesn't make you rich or even comfortable. you also straight up historically cannot do it in boggy places, tropical places, rocky highlands, or coastal lowlands.

-apples were mostly used for fermentation-- cider and vinegar-- as well as pectin for jams and extra fiber for stew, until grafting made table apples (sweet apples good enough to eat raw) possible a few centuries ago. medieval european peasants were eating quince and pears, not apples, AND they were cooking them: raw fruits and vegetables were considered unhealthy, especially for children. colonial americans were planting apple orchards for alcohol, not apple pies.

-stirrups weren't invented until way more recently than you might thing, but until they were, mounted combat looked REALLY different. without stirrups, your only options for horse combat is charioteers or horse archers, who use their horses to sweep in, launch projectiles from close, and run off again. it's just barely possible to use curved sabers from horseback and you see this in some desert campaigns with very skilled horsemen on VERY fast horses, because mechanically you use the saber to strike downwards as you ride past. but it needs to be a hit and run, because without stirrups to keep you in your saddle, the moment you start using a striking weapon horizontally you lever yourself off the damn horse.

-have you seen a map of italy. there's mountains there. horses are not useful combat animals in mountainous regions. they eat more than they can carry, the grazing sucks, and even if they don't go lame they grind their horseshoes off. if you charge with horses down a steep rocky slope you risk breaking all their legs. if you charge with horses UP a steep rocky slope you are already dead. stop using horses in the mountains. stop assuming the roman empire's use of horses looked anything like the british empire's use of horses. and especially stop writing fantasy novels where horses are a 1:1 substitute for motor vehicles.

-if you ride a horse wrong enough you die, or the horse dies, or you both die. i would like more fantasy novels to acknowledge this.

-with the single exception of sled dogs, large carnivores do not make much economic sense as transportation, and even less sense as motor power. even then, sled dogs are often fed on fish, a local protein source that can be harvested with nets and dried or frozen to store for a long time. if you have a fantasy carriage being pulled by bears or tigers, i hate you and immediately assume you haven't spent any time actually thinking about how animals, agriculture, economics, or technology works.

-on the same subject, wolves aren't better than dogs at any of the things humans use dogs for. that's why we use dogs. they are extremely high energy, reactive, and independent. wolves want to be wolves and do wolf things, and those things do not involve cooperating with a human friend to accomplish a human task. wolves can be trained to do things--zoos and sanctuaries have to train them, to get them to cooperate with medical care, and because it keeps them stimulated. and wolves can be friends with a human, or even several humans. but if a human needs a canine to help them hunt, or track, or be an emotional support friend, or pull a sled, or herd sheep, a dog is going to be better for that in every way.

-a wolf cannot be a registered service animal. in many american states, a wolfdog hybrid can't be either, because they're illegal to own in the first place.

On one hand, I am a firm believer in "just start writing a fictional story without hard research if that's what it takes to get the first draft down, mistakes can be fixed in future drafts". On the other hand, I am also a firm believer in cultivating the reflex of "hang on, I don't really know what that means, let me at least go skim the Wikipedia page right now to make sure I'm headed in the right direction here".

Sometimes, especially with original fiction that's presumably been professionally edited, obvious mistakes that are harmful can be infuriating, but I'm usually just amused whenever I encounter an author who clearly hasn't done research for the industry or skill that plays a central role in their story. If one of your main characters is an athlete, you should probably know the rules of that sport??? How its professional leagues work??? Maybe???

"Character A is a chef in a 5-star Michelin restaurant!" <- Michelin stars only go up to 3, bud. "Character B is a famous Michelin food critic!" <- Michelin reviewers are also famously anonymous, bud.

The easy fix for the above example is to just invent a fake food guide company for your story, with known reviewers and a system that goes up to 5 stars. Michelin Guides came out of a tire company and they're not infallible; they've received plenty of reasonable criticism over the years. If you know what Michelin stars actually are and where they came from, they can be modified and replaced in your fictional world's alternate universe to suit your purpose. Instead of you being very obviously misinformed about, uh, the basic facts of your setting in your own summary.

Does anyone have any memorable examples of "that's not how that works" experiences with fiction that have stuck with them?

[little-mari-on-a-roof]

Frenglish differences in Miraculous - Episode 4

Copycat/L'Imposteur

The French name for Copycat is “L’imposteur”, which means "The impostor". There’s no pun here, so it isn't as clever as the English name.

Marinette

En: What? What did you expect me to say? "Hey hot stuff, this is Marinette. I'd ask you on a date to a movie but I've got such a crazy crush on you that the only way to talk to you without foaming at the mouth is over this stupid phone." Pretty ridiculous, right?

Fr: Quoi? J'allais quand même pas lui laisser comme message "Salut beau gosse, c'est Marinette. J'aimerais bien t'inviter au ciné mais j'suis tellement amoureuse de toi que le seul moyen que j'ai pour te parler sans que ma bouche (boufse) se mette à pfoupfouter c'est à travers ce fichu téléphone".

What? I wasn't going to leave him as a voicemail "Hi handsome, it's Marinette. I'd love to ask you out to the cinema but I'm so in love with you that the only way for me to talk to you without my mouth (moupf) going pfftpft is through this stupid phone".

“Beau gosse” is a way to refer to someone you find attractive/a hunk. A more literal translation would be "pretty kid" (with an informal slang word for "kid"). "Pfoupfouter"/"pfftpft" is a verb used to imitate the sound she makes when she stutters. It's not a real word so someone other than me might transcribe and translate it differently. She also mispronounces "mouth" to illustrate her inability to talk to Adrien.

Chat Noir

En: Hey, I don't mean to burst your bubble, but you know, Ladybug and me, we're a thing, you know.

Fr: Désolé de briser tes rêves mais tu sais y'a un truc spécial entre Ladybug et moi, tu vois ce que je veux dire ?

Sorry to crush your dreams but you know, there's something special between Ladybug and I, you know what I mean?

The English dub makes it seem like Chat Noir is saying they're already dating, but in French he doesn't go as far and only claims they have "something special".

Tikki to Marinette after she imagines a dramatic scenario about ending up in prison

En: Marinette, you really need to get your priorities in order.

Fr: Marinette, tu sais qu'on est pas dans un film, là.

Marinette, you know we're not in a movie.

Chat Noir about Copycat

En: Not only is that person a fake, he's a terrible fake.

Fr: En plus d'être un imposteur, il fait des blagues atroces.

Not only is he an impostor, he makes atrocious jokes.

Presenter speaking on the radio

En: Thanks. Now for your weather...

Fr: Sans transition, bonne nouvelle pour les amateurs de batavia...

Without transition, good news for Batavia (type of salad) lovers...

No joke, this is one of my favourite lines in the whole show. It's so random and subtly hilarious. I can't believe they just deleted it in the English dub.

Ladybug after she learns about Chat Noir reportedly stealing from the Louvre

En: Cat Noir is a lot of things, but he's no thief.

Fr: Chat Noir a de nombreux défauts mais c'est pas un voleur.

Chat Noir has got plenty of faults, but he's not a thief.

French Ladybug being savage.

Ladybug

En: Stop playing around and calling me Bugaboo. This is really serious.

Fr: Arrête de faire l'imbécile et de m'appeler Buginette. C'est vraiment sérieux.

Stop acting like an imbecile and calling me "Buginette". This is really serious.

Once again French Ladybug being a savage. Also, in French -ette is a suffix added to words to mean something is small and/or cute, which is why Chat Noir calls her like that. Nothing to do with her real name, Marinette. (I've seen people say they were confused by this before, so that's why I'm pointing it out.)

Ladybug after Copycat says “if I can't have you then nobody can”

En: Let's wrap this up.

Fr: Je n'appartient à personne.

I don't belong to anyone.

Not sure why they would change that one ://.

Ladybug - Chat Noir

En: He's pretty good. - Don't need to rub it in.

Fr: Il est plutôt doué. - N'exagérons rien.

He's pretty talented. - Let's not exaggerate things.

French Chat Noir would never admit that his copycat is any good.

Chat Noir - Ladybug

En: I told you I was better than him. - But I'm better than both of you.

Fr: Je t'avais dit que j'étais le meilleur. - Mais moi je suis encore bien meilleure.

I told you I was the best. - But I'm even way better.

Ok, not a big difference, but I love that my girl thinks she's the absolute best.

Chat Noir to Ladybug after the deakumatisation

En: Better help the fellow out. His crush just got crushed... (Aside:) That makes two of us.

Fr: Tu ferais bien de l'aider, tu viens de lui briser le cœur après tout... (Apparté:) Oui, et pas qu'à lui d'ailleurs.

You better help him, you just broke/shattered his heart after all... (Aside:) And not only his, in fact.

French sounds way more tragic.

Adrien after he finds his phone in his bag

En: What in the- ?

Fr: Il était là !

It was there!

French Adrien would never swear haha.

[girlwhorizzed]

can you write something with babydaddy!jj where he like kind of abandoned r & the baby then came randomly like at 12 am at her doorstep and wins her back?

this is s1 jj!! the timeline where the pogues r really deep in the gold thing so yhat should explain why hes not there for his kid :p . p.s. sorry this is so short💔💔💔

babydaddy!jj always came back to you, or at least found his way back. in some special way that made you feel warm inside, he considered you his light— christ, you were the woman who carried and birthed his baby. you'd always be his light, through thick and thin you were the woman he'll retreat back to in the end.

so, it's no surprise when on a random friday night at one a.m. that he's at your doorstep. he's wearing his typical gray muscle shirt that's original color is beginning to fade— with a pair of cargo shorts to go along with it. of course you open it, he'd probably stopped by to do his annual three-week check-up on your shared baby that you'd started to think he forgot about. although your baby is long asleep now and you should blow him off, scold him for being absent in your babies life after during the creation of your sweet girl all he'd done was promise he'd be there, hell even hit him. he'd left you alone a quarter of your pregnancy, returning and playing 'dad' role all of a sudden once your baby was due.

you've rehearsed this exact scene in your head more times than you can count. while you were holding your babygirl for the first time and he hadn't been there, you'd lined up words that never even had been in your vocabulary to cuss him out once he came around, your anger and sadness balanced perfectly. instead of marching down to john b's where you knew he'd possibly be, you exchanged all those emotions for love and comfort for your daughter. she'd deserve that.

your face falls, as he stands on your doorstep. you’re tired, as you open the door— tired of his empty promises and tired of him coming back again and again to repeat the same cycle. but your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, a mix of anger, sadness and relief coursing through you. “come to pay us a visit?” you speak up with a quirk of your eyebrow, arms folded over your chest. he shrugs, his gaze flickering over you — taking in how your frame, now curvier, looks in those clothes, his eyes lingering a fraction longer than you would expect. “yeah. figured i’d pop by, say hello.”

he pushes his hands into his pockets, gaze drifting to the window he knows is you and your little girl’s room, before returning to your face. “she sleep?” you nod. “has been for hours.” he seems to soften at that, his eyes still looking weary yet he can’t help the warmness tugging at his heart to think of his daughter tucked up in her cosy room. he hums, nodding his head. a heavy silence falls, before he’s clearing his throat to speak. “can i come in?���you nod, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, taking in the sight of him. you step aside, the door slowly swinging open.

he gives you a smirk before stepping past, brushing against you, taking in your perfume that he can recognize from many months ago from a night he'll never forget, his hand grazing yours and sending a shiver up your spine — your body betraying you with its response. the shiver doesn’t go unnoticed by him. he feels proud of himself, at how he still affects you even after all the distance. he steps fully inside, his eyes scanning your living room as you close and lock the door behind him, watching him take a couple of lazy steps around it, running a hand over the back of the couch. “place looks different.” he speaks up, before stopping to look at you. “you get some new furniture or something?” he quirks a brow, eyeing you up.

you can’t help but roll your eyes at the small talk. you can feel his gaze roaming over your body, can see how his focus lingers in key places, causing your cheeks to flush with heat from how his blue eyes rake over your curves through your thin nightshirt. you clear your throat, forcing him to meet your gaze, though it doesn’t seem to stop him much — his gaze flickering down to your bare legs. “only difference is all our babies stuff.” you simply respond, your eyes boring into his.

he chuckles lightly, finally returning his gaze to your face and meeting his eyes with yours, holding your gaze intently. “mmm, so she gets the special treatment around here now, huh?” he murmurs, taking a small step towards you. you back up against the door without much thought, his smirk spreading on his face — clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. he takes another step. and another. he doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, now invading your space, his body so close to yours that the fabric of your nightshirt brushes against his chest.

your breath hitches, his proximity making you dizzy. his gaze softens, his eyes drinking you in. he reaches out a hand, his thumb skimming across your lower lip, the gesture so tender that you almost forget who you’re dealing with. "course she gets special treatment, she's m'baby."

he chuckles, his laugh is soft. he leans in closer, the hand on your chin now going to grip your waist, his fingers digging into your hip. “yeah, she is.” his eyes are locked onto your own, his touch igniting a wave of familiar sensations that you'd been trying to forget for months. “she gettin' everything she needs?" he murmurs, his other hand resting against the door. he has you trapped between his arms.

“she's healthy. despite the fact her daddy been missing for months on end.” your retort is sharp, a defensive shield that you’ve built up over the months, as his hands on you and close proximity throws you momentarily off guard.

he winces at that, shaking his head. he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but stops himself. he looks torn, and for a moment, it almost makes you feel guilty. he drops his gaze, before looking up at you again, a glint of something in his eye you only just catch. a quiet moment passes, before he takes a deep breath, stepping closer, your body squished against the door as his body now presses against yours. "i ain't mean to… be gone so long, okay?"

you want to scoff at him. you want to push him off of you and tell him to leave. but the truth is that you missed him. you missed his laugh, the way he would look at you. you missed having another hand around to help with the baby, the emotional support you’d always gotten from him. you sigh, your head tilting back against the door as you look at him, your eyes searching his face — hoping to find something, anything "can't go in-n-out her life.”

he knows you’re softening. he knows he just has to keep you talking to him. he knows he just has to keep himself pressed up against you like this, his touch making you feel things you’ve tried your best to forget for so long. he watches you closely, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. “then lemme stay, darlin’. lemme stay tonight.” he murmurs, moving to trace his nose along your jaw.

you can practically feel the tension leaving your body as his words wash over you, the fight leaving your eyes. your shoulders drop and you find yourself leaning into his touch, your mind screaming at you that this was a bad idea, but your body simply responding to the way he’re touching you. “stay.” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.he speaks softly, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he ducks his head, resting his forehead against yours.

you feel every breath he takes, the scent of him filling your senses and sending your head spinning. he's so close, closer than he's been in months, and you can feel his breath warm against your skin. he closes his eyes, his voice a low rumble as he speaks again. “missed ya. missed this, missed our baby.”

with your defenses lowered and your emotional barriers crumbling, you give in to the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be close to him, needing to feel the comfort of his presence again. you nod weakly, your voice soft and vulnerable. "i missed you too. missed you and her. missed being close to you like this." you swallow hard, tilting your body towards him — silently inviting him closer.

his gaze softens as he takes in your vulnerability, the way you’re just crumbling in front of him, the way you sound like you need him as much as he needs you. he can’t help the wave of possessiveness that washes over him. he growls softly, his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you more firmly against him. “m’here now, mama.” he murmurs, his lips skimming across your exposed shoulder, a small shiver running through your body as he begins to pepper you with light kisses up your neck.

the reassurance in his tone soothed you enough, at least enough to end up on your back with him in between your legs yet again.

[ghostofanebula]

Caleb x MC || Promises

Summary: Life between you and Caleb seemed to be going smoothly - until he stopped coming home and responding to your messages. You decide to leave his house, but your plans get messed up.

Trigger Warning: mention of suicide/murder, NSFW, usage of "gege" word (not in a kinky way, tho). Tags: +18 MDNI, smut, possessive sex, marking, sad and sweet lovemaking, love declaration, Caleb asks MC to kill him, adoptive brother/sister relationship, improper use of evol, english is not my native language. Songs: Renegade - Aaryan Shah (Slowed - reverb) + What comes around goes around - Justin Timberlake (Slowed - reverb) Words count: 2,923 AO3 link here. Divider by cafekitsune.

11:20 PM.

Caleb should have been home three hours ago. The incessant ticking of the clock, hung on the living room wall was starting to make you hysterical. None of your messages had been answered, but they had been seen.

You had begun to ask yourself many questions: why had you decided to move in with him? Why had you given in so easily to his request? Out of nostalgia?

The first few weeks had been great: when he came home from work he always had the energy to cook for both of you and watch a movie together on the couch or even at the theater. You spent hours talking about your childhood together, about Grandma, about the smell of pastries from your favorite baker. Time seemed to have turned back, with the only difference being that your feelings for Caleb had become considerably more intense than any person should have for a brother.

But he was not your brother.

And he knew it.

Because, during those evenings, his fingers had sought your hands or the skin of your shoulders, tracing silent circles on your bare back because of those summer tops you had bought just for him, hoping he would step forward.

However, the terror of losing decades of friendship, such a familiar figure in your life -- you had already lost Caleb once. You would not lose him a second. The feeling of his leather gloves caressing your face every morning before going to work, being able to see him every day, living together ... all that should have been enough for you.

But it had been more than a month since his promises had grown increasingly bland. He had stopped coming home for dinner… sometimes not returning for days at a time. Shared meals had turned into take-out dinners, eaten alone. Nights spent on the couch together, when it was thundering outside and nightmares were suffocating you, had turned into a head under the pillow, with headphones on and music on full blast. There was no more good morning and good night.

But in the end, what could you expect from him? You were not his girlfriend or his family, not really. The flavor of bile pervaded your mouth, as you realized that that brief happy interlude in your life had been nothing more than an illusion. Caleb was dead and buried, and he had already proven it to you in the first thirty seconds you had seen each other again.

You snapped up, dropping your phone and earning yourself a nice crack on the screen. In other contexts, you would have been furious, but the crack on Caleb's face in the background photo sent shivers down your spine. In no time at all, the suitcase was packed with the bare minimum to return to Linkon... And to stay there, this time.

As he had gone from your life, you would do the same: no farewell note to warn him, just the silence broken by that damned ticking sound and your necklace, worn by the years, resting on the glass table.

Clutching the metal handle like a life buoy, you looked one last time at the living room and the table where you used to eat together, at the sofa where you had fallen asleep in his embrace more than once. The lightning in the distance, for once, did not seem so threatening to you.

Unlike Caleb. For, having turned on your heels, you had found him in front of you: imposing as always, in his perfectly ironed uniform, his pitch-black boots firmly grounded to the floor. For a moment you doubted that you had been pinned down by his Evol, when in fact terror was what had frozen your muscles in place. 

“Shit.”

Despite the dim light coming from the hall wall lamps and the shadow of his hat partially concealing his violet eyes, the flurry of expressions that crossed his face after noticing the suitcase hit you in the stomach like a punch: astonishment, anger, disappointment.

Sadness.

A black glove, the one that was hiding his bionic arm, lowered the lacquered, pristine brim even further. His eyes disappeared from your sight.

“Is this your way to say goodbye?” he murmured, several octaves below his usual joking tone. A tone you had heard only once before, and had hoped never to hear again. He lifted his chin, approaching you, his pace with a military cadence. “By breaking my heart?”

“What goes around comes around, Caleb. You should know that.” The sentence came out of your lips in a tone so venomous it amazed even yourself, and, looking at his face - what you should have avoided most in the world right now - you were certain you had hit him so hard he was out of breath. His brows furrowed and his eyes glazed over, his jaw clenched, his fists clenched. He tried to open his mouth and say something, but the rage that was boiling in your insides got the better of him. A torrent of fury washed over him.

“You thought I was going to stick around and do what? The good little sister waiting for you at home, gege? I think I made it more than enough clear to you that I wanted to be anything but that. I will never stand behind you, Caleb. I wanted to be by your side, but that's obviously not what you want. I'm the one with the broken heart, not you. Bastard.”

Your finger pointed at his uniform, precisely at the necklace he was wearing around his neck, between his shirt and his black sweater. Raising the chain with your index finger, you snatched it from him, throwing it on the floor. “Fuck you. You, your secrets. Your job. Skyhav-”

A gloved hand stifled your screams, pushing you back against the wall and clouding your senses with the familiar smell of leather. Caleb's violet eyes badly disguised his feelings. His reaction had taken you so much by surprise that none of your muscles responded, like an animal cornered between life and death. His fingers slid along your mouth, slowly and gently, like a caress. Your eyes began to pinch, in a vain attempt to push back the tears, as he moved in closer to kiss you.

You had dreamed of this moment so many times: during a spring sunset, at the theater during a boring movie, on the bed and half-naked, in front of his jet before seeing him off, under a blossoming apple tree. But never against the hallway wall, with a thunderstorm on the horizon, after telling him off, and especially not with the salty taste of tears from both of you on our lips. It was so sweet that it surpassed any fantasy. Caleb's hands gently cupped your face, shaking as if he had just been caught in a blizzard, as every wall between the two of you crumbled. Each passing moment brought that kiss deeper and deeper, tearing moans and hanging gasps.

Then, Caleb interrupted that contact, slowly. Bringing his right hand to one of the two holsters, he freed one of his two pistols from the leather grip, observing it for a moment with shiny, sad eyes, before taking your hand, removing the safety, and putting it in that palm so small compared to his own, raising it just enough to point the barrel toward his heart.

It was loaded.

“Pip-squeak,” he whispered so softly, in a broken voice that he was barely audible. “There are things I will never be able to reveal. If someone tortured you...” he paused, looking straight into your eyes. A throwback to your first meeting in a long time. “...It wouldn't just be you and me, but other people would be involved. If you decide not to believe me, pull the trigger and let me meet again the death I danced with once before.

Allow me one last dance with her. I have already been without you for a long time, and I cannot handle the idea of repeating it.”

His violet eyes were so desperate they transfixed him, making his face contrast terribly with the stiff black uniform. He had just placed his life in your hand, and with one tiny movement, you could have torn it apart like an apple detached from a branch.

What person could lie and then ask you such a thing?

A rush of adrenaline ran through you, realizing that you really could have killed him. The light of a light bulb flickered after a particularly deep thunder, and a lightning flash lit up the body of the man you had loved for so long and who was finally giving you his heart.

“What am I to you, Caleb?”

“A singularity. The most beautiful one in my life. The one on which my whole existence depends.”

The realization of those words hurt so much that the gun almost slipped from your hand. Uncocking and resting it on the suitcase, your lips drew close to his. Amethyst-colored irises were cloaked by long lashes, shiny from tears.

“Please don't leave me. Don't leave me.”

Don't leave me.

And in a heartbeat, his mouth was on yours again.

Kiss after kiss, the breaths became faster and the touches more desperate. Holding you in his arms without the slightest effort, he carried you to the bedroom. Between the timid, flickering lights of the hallway and the increasingly frequent flashes of lightning, Caleb's face and body were barely lit.

With him on top of you, you could finally feel the weight of his body, of his muscles. His movements were desperate but slow: each kiss took your breath away, and the erection pushing between your legs made you roll your eyes. You wanted to ask him so many things: “Why didn't you do it sooner? What were you waiting for?” but you would have asked him another day. The heat that was permeating from his body was inhuman, despite the layers of fabric on you could feel it like flaming tongues on you. You freed him from his suit, tie and shirt, leaving him with only a tight black T-shirt on and trousers. His loafers, black and polished, were already lying on the floor and you kicked off your shoes too, getting a muffled sound from the carpet. Both of your hands started to explore each other's bodies: his face, his warm lips; his neck, with the pulsing carotid artery under your fingertips, his shoulders, broad and muscular.

His hands were clutching your clothes as if his life depended on it, yet without the courage to do anything else.

“Caleb... Cal, undress me.”

His nostrils imperceptibly flared and he clenched his jaw. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes focused on your neck.

“I'm afraid of...”

Curiosity took over. “Of what?”

Your gazes met; the right corner of his lip twitched in a nervous tic.

“Of not knowing how to stop myself. Of not even being able to.”

Your heart grew heavy and, slowly, you began to unbutton your blouse.

“Don't. Don't stop.”

Something in him snapped.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, as were his lips. He was as quick as a snake and, just like a snake, he bit you in the hollow between your neck and shoulder.

Sucking greedily, the bionic hand tore your clothes, making you moan his name in an adrenaline rush so strong it sent shivers everywhere and forced you to close your eyes in pleasure.

He broke the black lace bra with only the force of his bionic index finger, biting your left breast. Pain and pleasure mixed and you felt as if you were floating in the water, your body heavy and your head so light. Removing his last cotton shirt with effort, your nails sank into his back, earning a guttural moan you never would have expected from him.

Was this Caleb? Another version of him? Which was the real one? Maybe all of them were, or no one?

“Caleb...”

He raised his head sharply, looking at you with eyes dilated like two black holes. “My name is not a safeword... repeating it won't stop me,” he whispered, stroking your face, eyebrows bent downward, in a look full of love and almost pity.

He pushed his erection between your legs in a languid movement of his hips, licking your lips, before sinking his tongue into your throat.

He slid over your clitoris, playing with his thumb and penetrating you with two fingers.

“God...” he gasped with you and into you, rolling his eyes in pleasure at feeling you so wet. His fingers were huge, long, and hungry. It was all too fast. He spread them wide, mimicking a scissor, hitting the sweet spot hard and tearing you apart as you came with a sudden wave of pleasure that made you arch your back and scream his name until your lungs burned. He licked the liquid all down his arm, until he sucked his fingers, and inhaled the scent, trying to find a still point in his soul. Another flash lit up his face, making the scene exciting and disturbing at the same time: a hungry predator feeding on the ecstasy of its prey.

Kicking off his trousers and underwear, he allowed you barely enough time to recover: in an instant he lifted you off the bed, carrying you against the windows and pushing you against the cold glass. The contrast between it, the temperature of his bionic arm, holding you in his arms, firm to him, and the rest of his body made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the inhuman heat that soon began to ravage you from the inside. Caleb was hungry: years and years of longing had made him the desperate man before you. The unruly, dark brown locks were partly attached to his forehead, partly disheveled, giving him a wild look.

“I promise you, my love, that I will take care of you, every single day,” he said panting, as he penetrated you slowly, savoring every moment. “I will treat you like a queen - my queen - but I need to lose myself in you now. I need to feel you mine.

I feel like...”

You did not know whether it was his honey-sweet words or his love declaration, but all you were able to do was kiss him and envelop him with your body. Caleb went out of control: forehead to forehead, his thrusts became so deep that they brought you to the edge of pain; he was big, wide, and filled your belly so much that you lost your mind. Obscene sounds filled the room: your name, his name, moans, curses, tears. Lightning flashes occasionally brightened his face, thunder-which you had always been afraid of-was now only a plus to the incredible pleasure you were experiencing.

“Please let me go out of control,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse. “Let me. Order me.”

“Do it. Lose your control for me.”

You had no idea that this implied losing control over his Evol. His eyes turned bright lilac, and the hallway lights exploded, making you gasp. The ground missed from under your feet, and suddenly you were dancing in the void. Your bodies, tangled like two snakes, swirled around the room, swimming through invisible water. As one being, your souls were lost in each other. The objects around you were suspended in space and time: the flowers in a vase, a photo of the two of you on her graduation day, and your clothes.

His thrusts became relentlessly slow and deep, so much so that you were out of breath. He watched every single inch of your body, marked by his bites and bruises, your hair flowing like a torrent. “You are beautiful. And mine.”

The swollen, hot tip of his erection kissed your cervix languidly as his tongue drank from your pale neck. “Fuck... fuck, please stay with me forever. I want you every day of my life,” he confessed, as he pushed you against the soft bed, also suspended in the void. Swirling one last time in the air, you ended up on top of him, wrapped in his arms.

Caleb had never been selfish. He had never asked anything for himself, and he would have given the world for you. Your happiness was first; only his work had stood in the way of his desire to make you happy, but, in your heart, you knew those words were sincere. His eyes were so desperate, bordering on madness. “I love you... I love you so much it hurts.”

Those words took you to the edge. You came under his love-filled eyes, under his hands full of possessiveness, entangled with his body, your eternal shield. By promising eternal love to the man who had been with you for an entire existence, your mind and body entered two different planes of existence. Caleb continued to thrust desperately, riding the hot waves of your pleasure, drenched in sweat, spilling the most sincere love into your belly. The objects around you collapsed to the ground, as did the bed, as his Evol grew quiet, but that was not enough to stop him. He pushed, pushed harder and harder, planting his heels into the mattress, making sure that every drop of pleasure became part of you, and stroking your tongue with his, until he pulled you into one last orgasm, smothered by his lips.

He smiled, holding you in his arms, as your hearts synchronized into a single beat.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Firsts

Lee Seokmin x Reader

Word Count: 1,506

Genre: Pure fluff

Rating: PG, however I still ask that minors DNI with my blog.

Summary: Y/N and Seokmin celebrate their fifth anniversary with old memories and new surprises.

Content warnings: A tiny bit of anxiety over finding the perfect gift. If you think there's something else that needs a warning, let me know!

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for the absolutely wonderful @miniseokminnies. Happy birthday, Bennie!!! Your friendship means so much to me. I hope your day is as special as you are!!!!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo

Fic is under the cut.

You always sort of hated your anniversary. Not because you didn’t enjoy celebrating another year with Seokmin, of course. You loved every moment with him. But, if you were completely honest, you always struggled to pick the right gift for him. It didn’t exactly help that your boyfriend was so good at choosing gifts, either. Every anniversary, Christmas, and birthday left you amazed by how well he knew you, and every celebration ended with you wondering how the hell you got lucky enough to be loved by someone like him. That’s why you were determined to find the perfect gift for your five-year anniversary. After all, five years was a big deal to both of you, and you wanted Seokmin to know just how much you loved and appreciated him.

Of course, finding the perfect anniversary gift was easier said than done. You’d spent countless hours wandering through various stores in your city, looking for something that Seokmin would actually like. Every store that you looked in had the same boring stuffed animals and cheesy cards that both you and Seokmin hated. After leaving your fifth store, you were starting to lose hope that you’d figure something out.

When the idea for Seokmin’s gift finally came, you weren’t expecting it at all. You had a rare day off from work, and you were sitting on your couch scrolling through your photos, since there was nothing productive that you needed to do. You’d made it far enough back into your phone gallery to find photos like the one you’d taken of him on your first date, various pictures that you both had taken of each other on your first anniversary, and countless others that captured your favorite moments in your time with Seokmin. That was when you had the idea to print some of your favorite photos and put them in an album for him. It was different from the other gifts you’d bought or made for him in the past, but that was exactly why you were so sure that he would love it.

Since you had quite a bit of time before Seokmin would be back home from work, you went to your local craft store and bought a photo album. When you got home, you checked to see if your boyfriend was back at your shared apartment yet. When you couldn’t find him anywhere, you went to your home office and started printing the photos you’d selected. Once you had all of the photos printed, you started to arrange them in the album. After all of the photos were arranged the way you wanted, you wrote the following note on the inside of the album’s cover:

“My darling Seokmin,

Thank you for the best five years of my life. Every moment that I’ve had the pleasure of being loved by you has made every heartbreak before you worth it. I hope that you enjoy looking back at all the memories currently stored in this album as much as I have, and I hope that we get to continue to fill it with even more memories of us.

Happy anniversary, my love.”

Once you were done writing, you signed your name, and the gift was ready. As you admired the album, you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for choosing a gift that was both beautiful and sentimental, just like Seokmin’s always were.

About a week later, your anniversary finally arrived, and you woke up to Seokmin’s voice whispering, “Happy anniversary, baby. I love you so much.”

With a gentle smile on your face, you hugged your boyfriend tighter and said, “I love you too. Happy anniversary.”

Not wanting to let go of each other and start your morning routines, the two of you held each other close while a comfortable silence took over the room. One of the many things that you loved about Seokmin was that you didn’t feel pressured to fill the space with words when you were with him. His presence was all you needed.

You almost started to fall asleep before Seokmin asked, “Hey, what time do you have to be at work?”

That was when you sat up and grinned, answering, “I don’t. I took today off since you told me you had a day off too. We get to spend the whole day together.”

Seokmin almost knocked you over with the force of the hug that he gave you as he said, “God, you have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve missed lazy days with you.”

“I have too.”

For a long time after that, the two of you stayed in bed together, enjoying each other’s company while the world around you seemed to stand still. Every time you looked into Seokmin’s eyes, you couldn’t help but think about how grateful you were that his eyes were almost always the first thing you saw in the morning and how badly you wanted that to be the case forever.

As much as you loved just staying in bed with Seokmin, after a while, you started to get a little bit restless. You tried to just relax and enjoy the moment, but you were so excited about the album that you’d put together, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t get to give it to him soon.

Seokmin noticed that you were getting restless and asked, “How about we get up, baby?” You happily agreed, and you both got out of bed and went about your typical morning routines, minus getting ready for work.

Once you were both out of bed and felt like functioning humans again, the first thing you asked was, “Can I give you your gift now?”

With a soft laugh, Seokmin answered, “Sure, baby.”

That was when you ran back to your room to pull the album out of its hiding place in your purse. When you got back to where Seokmin sat in your living room, you grinned and handed it to him, asking, “What do you think?”

Seokmin opened the album and read your note, and with tears starting to form in his eyes, he said, “I love it. Thank you, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As Seokmin started to flip through the album, he noticed a specific picture and asked, “Hey, isn’t this one from the day you moved in with me?”

“Yeah, it is. We’d just gotten all of my stuff inside, and you insisted on taking a picture of me to celebrate that I was officially moved in.”

“I was so excited.”

“Wow. ‘Was?’ I’m hurt, Seokmin,” you said with a laugh.

“Oh, shush. You know that I love you.”

“Yes I do.”

You continued to watch Seokmin flip through the book, and when he stopped on a specific picture, he turned to you and asked, “When did you take this?”

“Our first date. You asked me to take the photo before we went into the restaurant because you were proud of yourself for actually putting together a nice outfit instead of panicking and throwing on whatever you found in your closet,” you answered with a laugh.

“Oh my god, I forgot about that! I can’t believe you kept that photo.”

“I was going to delete it after I sent it to you, but I forgot. Then, we started to get more serious, and I didn’t want to delete it anymore. It’s the only time I’ve ever been happy that I forgot to do something.”

You and Seokmin continued to flip through your album together and reminisce about your relationship. You remembered every moment, from your first kiss to his first time meeting your family and the first time you spent the night at his apartment prior to moving in together, and all you could think about was how happy you were that you got to have all of those precious moments with him. As you laughed with him about falling out of bed the night after you moved in, you couldn’t help but think that you wanted to spend every moment with him for the rest of your life.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you finished looking through the album and Seokmin asked, “Can I give you your gift now?” You nodded, and he stood in front of you before getting down on one knee, opening a small box that he’d tucked into his pocket when you weren’t looking, and saying, “(Y/N), the past five years have been the best of my life. Every moment I’ve had with you so far has made me happier than words could ever say, and all I’ve been able to think about today is how badly I want to spend every moment of my life by your side. Will you marry me?”

You nodded again, tears filling your eyes as you said, “Yes!”

Seokmin immediately stood up and placed the delicate ring on your finger before pulling you close and saying, “I can’t wait to celebrate more firsts with you.”

Thank you everyone for reading! I hope that you all liked the fic. If you did, please make sure to like and reblog! If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here!

Thank you again for reading, and happy birthday, Bennie!!!

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Kidnapping? No. Surprise Friend Acquisition? Yes. 👍

(Some more Yiga wind Au stuff. this was so much fun to write ngl.)

While exploring Wild’s Era Wind ends up getting kidnapped by the Yiga of that time. Being a Yiga himself this goes a little different than expected. 

————————————————————————

The attack had been swift and precise. Well less of an attack and more of a kidnapping. Specifically kidnapping WIND. Aka the youngest and probably assumed weak point of the group.

This wasn’t really the case. Though even Wind couldn’t really single out any one member of the chain as the weak point. It probably would be reasonable to assume the youngest would be it though. He was a bit surprised they hadn’t gone for Four but then again the smithy had been right next to Time who was the tallest and most heavily armored out of all of them. 

But whatever the thought process behind this Wind had ended up tied up and blindfolded. He could probably have easily escaped, this was the kind of situation he had been taught how to escape from since he could talk! But he refrained. Because of the glimpse he got of his kidnappers right before his sight had been compromised, and because of the familiar feeling of teleportation only a few moments later. The second the blindfold was removed his suspicions were proven true. Three figures stood around him and they were all wearing familiar Yiga masks.

 They did look a bit different than the Yiga Wind had grown up with, two of the suits looked mostly identical to one another with one exception. Probably a higher ranking member. Blademaster?

So these must be the Yiga from Wild’s era.

“Alright you're going to stay nice and calm while we set the trap for your little hero friends ok.” One of the members to his right with a fake sweetness. Obvious intimidation tactic. Might have worked on anyone else but it didn’t even phase Wind. 

“Ok.” He stated simply. 

The Yiga seemed a bit put off by his attitude. Not the usual you’d get from a hostage, especially a younger one. 

“You don’t seem… very worried…” The other smaller one said, Seeming a little disappointed. He turned to the others. “Did we mess up on the intimidation? I knew we should have used a knife- the knife trick ALWAYS works!” "I don't like using the knife trick with kids. makes me feel like i just kicked a puppy!" The first one snapped. "we're YIGA! That shouldn't matter!" "You shouldn't matter!" "What does that even mean??"

The whole situation was getting increasingly bizarre. Wind simply couldn’t contain his laughter. He cackled and toppled over where he was sitting still tied up. Unfortunately his hands were tired so he couldn’t push himself back up. The outburst only seemed to confuse his captors even more which only served to double his laughter. 

“You- You managed- to- to- kidnap-” Wind had to stop and let out another weezing guffaw. “The ONLY non-hero in the entire group-” well maybe excluding Wild. But that wasn’t exactly confirmed yet. “And you didn’t even realise-” Wind burst out into another fit of laughter. 

The One on his right Seemed to get defensive." Well of course YOUR not a hero. You're like what? 12?” 

That slightly offended Wind. He was 14! Not a measly 12. Though his gran always said he had a young face.

“14.” he huffed. “And that's not why I was laughing so hard.”

“Then what do you find so funny you little hyena?” The Blademaster (?) asked.

“This!” Wind suddenly revealed his now free hands and before they could properly register it he dispelled his disguise. This seemed to thoroughly break the minds of everyone present. 

“What is one of our own children doing with the band of heroes??” One of them seemed to almost shout but there was concern now.

“Undercover mission.” Wind puffed up a bit in pride. He’d managed to infiltrate a whole group of heroes and had even fooled members of his own clan with his disguise and act! Though he WAS from a different era…

“I thought you weren’t allowed on those types of missions till you're like 17?” The first Yiga asked. Confusion evident. 

“Kind of a long story…” Wind now realizing how wild this whole trip had been. “Maybe I could tell you over some food? And I want my legs untied. I cut your other rope and don’t want to ruin this one.” he gestured to the bindings.

The other Yiga looked at one another. Seeming to come to a unanimous conclusion and quickly obliged. They were a lot nicer to him now. No more fake sweetness or pointed words. To be honest it was nice to talk to someone without keeping up an act. It got a bit tiring after a while.

Wind shared his tale. How he was actually from a different era and had fallen through one of the portals that had been popping up, Found and decided to infiltrate the group of heroes. Encountered a Weird time hopping shadow Ganon WANNABE. How he figured it would be a win win if he could gather info on the heroes while being able to take down the copycat without interference from said heroes.

A spread of food (having a suitable portion of bananas of course) had come out at some point along the way and the small sandstone cave they had taken him to was looking more like a picnic. A very well armed picnic of assassins but a picnic nonetheless. 

He managed to get the names of the members with him. Gyddo, the blademaster and leader of this particular mission and very fond of assigning people animals. He had been calling Wind little Hyena this entire time. The first one that had spoken to him was Pome, she had been rather interested in the logistics of time travel and separate timelines, and Finally Pome’s twin brother Komi. He struck Wind as a bit of an anxious person, focussed a bit on the prospect of even more overpowered monsters who were in fact not loyal to Ganon. It seemed The ones supposed to be on their side were bad enough. 

They were all listening intently to Wind’s tale. Asking a few questions for clarification but otherwise very good listeners. Wind found he was rather enjoying himself. Well mostly… 

“And THEN- get this, He just STEPS ON ME!” Wind was ranting a bit now. “Like I'm Not even there!”  

“You know usually if something is fighting against the heroes or such I root for them.” Pome seemed just as miffed as Wind was. “But NOW I want to punch this shadow thing in the face.” 

“Believe me.” Wind smirked. “It’s VERY punchable looking.”

“Seriously. Some beings just can’t make a name for themselves and go try to rip off some other hard working Demon king.” Gyddo huffed. 

“Exactly!” Exclaimed Wind. “downright disrespectful.” 

“As much as I agree with this Shadow guy I do have a question.” Komi, who had removed his mask entirely to eat, was inspecting Wind closely. 

“Sure what is it?” Wind asked. Wondering what it was Komi was curious about. 

“What’s with the lobster on your uniform?”

“Oh!” Wind looked down to the embroidered sea creature that covered most of his chest area. “I guess in my era we have a little more customizable uniforms. Don’t need to look as uniformed since there’s no Hyrule kingdom to fight against So we have plenty of intimidation regardless. Plus outsiders need some way to recognize specific Yiga they want to hire as a mercenary. Some have made quite the name for themselves after all.” Wind contemplated for a moment “well fake name. We're not allowed to use our real ones.”

“Huh.” Pome seemed surprised. “Now I’m a little jealous.” 

“So if Wind  isn’t your real name then what is it?” Komi gestured to Wind with his chopsticks. 

“I have two I guess? Disguise identity name and real real one. Ya know my Yiga name.” Wind took a bite of his fish and rice bowl. (with bananas on the side) “my disguise “real“ name is link.” He held up a hand to stop any reactions to the name. “I didn’t know it was the hero’s name at the time, that knowledge must have been lost when everything flooded. Ok? ok. Moving on.”

 Wind hadn’t particularly wanted to be reminded of his poor choice in names despite how useful it was when he met the chain. 

“Anyways my real name’s Lukari.” 

“A good name that.” Gyddo humms. ”I can see how you ended up with Link as your disguise name though.” He grinned. 

“Yea yea.” Wind, we’ll he supposed it would be fine to be Lukari for a while actually, couldn’t help but smile a bit despite himself.”

“So…” Pome started. “In regards to the hero’s we kind of kidnapped you from. They’re probably going to be trying to get you back.” 

“Oh.. OH- crap you’re right!” Lukari stood and brushed off his uniform. “You should probably tie me back up now so they can “rescue” me and I can get back to my mission.”

 He didn’t particularly WANT to end his visit with the Yiga of this world. In fact he was just starting to really enjoy their company. But he had a mission. A very important one too.

“About that.” Pome continued. “I was thinking maybe we could bring you to our hideout and wait there?” 

Lukari frowned. “Wouldn’t that make it harder to make a convincing ”escape”.” 

“But Imagine-“ Pome seemed to be getting a bit exited. “They try to rescue you but bam! They get trapped in with you! Everything seems lost but then YOU are able to stage a whole escape operation! Simultaneously making a more convincing escape and gaining more trust from them!” 

Lukari blinked, unsure exactly how to respond to that. Komi it seemed was the one to do so. 

“Pome I think your inner writer is showing.” He almost deadpanned. 

“We could show him to master Koga.” Pome offered in return. ”And it’d be nice to have him around for a bit longer. He’s fun.” 

As this thought occurred to Komi he and his twin both turned to Gyddo with pleading expressions. Lukari had the sudden feeling of being a random stray two children where trying to convince their parent to bring home. Overall not exactly the WORST feeling. He could live with it. 

Gyddo contemplated for a moment before shrugging. “It seems fine too me. Besides, master Koga should definitely hear about something like this and it helps to have prof.” 

The cave erupted in cheers. Including a certain young sailor’s. 

————————————————————————

The main Yiga hideout of Wild’s era turned out to be quite different than Lukari’s home. For one it seemed to be in a cave and it was a bit smaller. 

it was also clearly more for housing soldiers and less for general living. They didn’t have as much time for that sort of thing as the Yiga in his Era did. 

The banana stash was definitely cool though. Pome, Komi and Gyddo were all impressed when Lukari mentioned the amount of banana trees growing on Outset. The plus sides of living on a tropical island he supposed. 

Master Koga was interesting too. Different than his own Master back in his world but seemed quite interested in the news of the back bloods and the portals. Lukari liked how theatrical he could make stuff. It was really entertaining. 

Gyddo had shown him their weapons and a some zonai machinery parts that had been brought up from the depths. Lukari unfortunately wasn’t able to go down there. The disappointment from that revelation subsided a bit when The blade master was able to show him some fragments of Ancient Sheikah tech.

Things from before the Yiga split. They weren't able to do much but STILL! It was so cool! 

After a while Wind was even able to to rope several Yiga (including Pome and Komi) into a game of hide a go seek teleport tag. In the guise of some sort of training exercise of course. 

So far Lukari still reigned champion of the hiding part, even if he wasn’t as skilled at teleporting as the others. They did say he seemed like he was better at it then most his age and would be.

Currently he was hiding under a walkway. Honestly he was surprised nobody had found him yet. This was one of his weaker hiding spots. A brightly colored something suddenly caught his attention. 

Was… was that Yiga wearing a bright yellow uniform? Suddenly less interested in winning a game and far more interested in whatever this was Lukari dropped down right in front of the member. Much to said Yiga’s surprise. 

“Why is your suit yellow?” He asked before the guy could even respond to his sudden presence. 

“Uh… wait- Wind??” 

“Wi- hold on- WILD?!” Lukari starred in open amazement. or well what would be open amazement if it wasn’t for the mask.“I KNEW IT! I suspected but I never was 100% sure but now- YOUR YIGA!” 

Wild who had not seemed to be expecting this seemed stumped for a few moments. “What are you- I mean how? I saw you get kidnapped?? Why aren’t you ya know?” 

Wait had he even managed to convince Wild he was a hero? Man Lukari was good at this!

“AHha! Got you Lukari!” Komi who had just appeared behind him had promptly slapped Lukari in the back in the universal signal for “get tagged idiot!” 

“Lukari??” Wild asked. 

Komi who had somehow only just noticed Wild brighted a bit more. “I see you‘ve stumbled upon our resident wild card little hyena, meet Lonk. Don’t ask why his suit’s yellow, everyone gave up a long time ago.” 

“I know him! He’s the guy I told you about! The one I thought might be a Yiga too!” Lukari exclaimed animatedly. Excitement bubbled through his every movement. 

Komi looked at Wild or well Lonk? Apparently ?? “No way- you managed to infiltrate the hero’s too?! This is fantastic! To be honest I probably shouldn’t be this surprised by now.”

“… yes.” Lonk gave a thumbs up. If he was being honest Lukari thought maybe he would be continuing to refer to him as Wild. Lonk sounded kind of stupid. Wild turned back to him  And spoke “But can we go back to the name Lukari? I thought you where named Link?” 

“Oh yea it’s my Yiga name.“ Lukari stated. “Cool right!” 

“Yea cool..” Wild paused. “Sorry still getting over the fact you’ve been Yiga this whole time. Kind of expected you to be tied up somewhere…” 

“Oh right. Yea they untied me once I told them who I was.” 

“Aren’t you from an entirely different Era?” 

Komi spoke up. “Time is temporary,Yiga is forever. Plus the little guy’s awesome.” 

“Huh.” Wild sounded a bit surprised. “We do kind of have to be getting back now though. We found another portal and are running out of time a bit.” 

Lukari sulked a bit at that. “But we had a whole rescue sequence planned… I got to blow stuff up.” 

Wild seemed to contemplate that. “We could still blow stuff up if you wanted. We’ll need to look like I rescued you after all.” 

“Yessss!” Lukari whooped. 

“Pome probably knows a spot, come on.” Komi gestured for them to follow him to wherever he knew Pome was by whatever sixth twin sense he had. 

Pome it turns out hadn’t been that upset about the cancled escape plan once the explosives were mentioned. There was a mostly empty courtyard with a big hole that they could set off a few. By the end both Wild and Lukari looked slightly singed. Which was perfect for their intended ruse. 

The sky was dark when they were finally heading out. Gyddo, Pome and Komi had seen them off. Gyddo had a word with Wild before they left. Lukari thought he heard something about protecting and child. He didn’t pay much attention though.

 Komi shouted after them As they set off. “Hey Lonk! Make sure to make some of your Banana bread for the little hyena! He deserves it!” 

Lukari, now Wind again he supposed, cackled as he jogged after Wild. knowing he would hold him to that. 

It seemed Pome also had one last thing to shout after them too. “Yea! And if I see that shadow guy you talked about I’ll make sure to punch him for you!” 

“Thanks Pome! I’ll try to visit next time we’re around.” Wind called back to them. Today had been good, he thought. 

The walk to where the rest of the chain was waiting wasn’t overly long. But Wind had been running around and teleporting all day. Evidently leading to him passing out exhausted while Wild gave him a piggyback ride. 

His excitement plastered a small smile across his face, unaware of Wild’s thinly veiled distress.

[tgirl-swagless]

Making a Perfect Date

Tags: big sister, little sister, sisters, incest, underage sex, OC, highschool, smut, porn, masturbation, trans female character

Summary: Astrid, a cisgender older sister, makes sure her transgender little sister Emily has a good first date.

Word count: 3858

Part 1

Emily finally got her first date, not that she was too interested in dating to begin with.  She is only really doing it to satisfy her highschool friends.  I mean, she's 17 and still hasn't went on a single date, so her friends felt the need to pressure her to get out there and find someone.  Deep down though, Emily has someone she wants, and it's none of her classmates.  She might not realize it's what she wants right now, but her big sister Astrid is all she thinks about.

Emily and Astrid are inseperable, or... at least they were.  Astrid graduated just last year, leaving Emily to fend for herself while at school.  They used to meet up every lunch period to hang out and joke around with each other.  As long as they weren't in any of their classes, they'd always be seen together.  But since Astrid graduated, Emily has gotten noticably distant and lonely when at school.  Her friends are only trying to help her.  They care about her.

Astrid hasn't bothered leaving home yet.  Nothing has really called to her.  She got a job at the corner store in order to give back to her parents at least a little, which they are very appreciative of.  She got today off work due to some schedule mix-up, but that is no bad thing to Astrid; she gets to see her baby sister come home from school!  To her dismay, Astrid doesn't get the chance to see Emily too often anymore.

Emily walks through the door, letting out a big sigh, her bookbag falling off her shoulder to the floor right by the front door.  Astrid is just sitting on the couch, half waiting for Emily, half just killing time watching TV.  As soon as Emily notices her though, her entire expression changes.

Her eyes light up and she lets out a high pitch, "Oh, Astrid!  Hi big sis!"

Without a care for her belongings left at the door, Emily rushes to the couch and bounces onto it right beside Astrid.  "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon today," Emily exclaims with a big smile across her face.

Astrid can't help but get a little giddy at the sight of her little sister being so excited to see her.  "Yeah, work had a mix-up and I dont work today.  How was school," Astrid asks.

Emily rests herself on the couch facing Astrid.  "It was ok, nothing special."  Astrid is about to reply, but Emily cuts her off saying, "but... my friends kinda pushed me to ask someone out, so I guess I have a date tomorrow."

A rush of gloom flows through Astrid.  Why would she feel so bad at the thought of her little sister seeing someone?  She should be happy for Emily.  She knows her little sister has been feeling down while at school for some time, she should be happy that Emily is finally getting out there some.  It's not like she would be able to be there with Emily forever.

The unenthused statement definitely reaches Astrid, though.  She teases Emily saying, "What's with that, not excited for your first ever date?"  Astrid has been on tons of dates, had a couple boyfriends and girlfriends at different points through highschool as well, but she too has been in a slump of sorts since graduating.

Emily sits facing forward now.  She can tell Astrid is still looking at her in her peripheral.  "Well... like I said, my friends kinda just pushed me to do it.  They have been for a while now, and I guess I just caved because I was getting annoyed with them.  So I asked out one of the first girls I saw.  She must have been into me because she was really excited when I asked."

Throughout Emily's reply, Astrid could tell she was not interested in this one bit.  She hates to see her little sister so unhappy though, she has to think of something to help cheer her up.  Astrid gives an acknowledging hum after Emily finishes, and looks off into the distance, thinking of anything she could do.  An idea comes to mind, she lets out an "Aha!"

Astrid turns towards Emily again, and Emily towards her.  Astrid takes her little sister's hand and says, "What if we go out and get you a brand new outfit for the date, something cool and you.  Maybe you'll feel more into it if you get something nice for it."

Emily thinks on it a moment.  She couldn't possibly deny going out shopping with her big sister, even if it wasn't for Astrid or for them.  "That's a great idea," Emily says with a big smile on her face, trying to hide the dread of a date with someone she honestly doesn't really care about.

The two sisters get in Astrids old, beat up Subaru and head to the mall.  Astrid prefers stores like Hot Topic and Zumie's, but Emily hasn't really had a preference.  She always was happy to follow her big sister through stores and seeing what she would pick out.  She usually just got Astrid's hand-me-downs anyway.

Once they arrive, as the sisters jump out of the car and start walking for the entrance, Astrid asks, "So... who is your date?"

Emily looks down at the ground as they walk to the entrance.  "Eh, it's just Jocelyn Danials." 

Astrid audibly gasps.  "Damn little sis, you scored a baddie," Astrid exclaims.  "I remember her pretty well still.  She always had killer style, and I was a little jealous she got her hair colored pastel before mom and dad would let me even cut mine this way."  Astrid lifts the hair on the side of her head, revealing a large part that is shaved down to the skin.  The way it was cut and styled made Astrid look a little wild, or feral.  Either way, when she initially styled it that way, Emily was in awe of how cool she looked.  She isn't nearly as brave to do something so crazy with her hair right now, but is envious of her big sister's raw style.

Now inside the mall, they gotta decide where to go.  Astrid asks, "Where is your date gonna be at, by the way?  Should help us decide what kinda clothes you want to get."

Astrid takes Emily's hand again and Emily can't help but blush a little and look around to see if anyone is staring.  It embarses her a little when her big sister is so physical like this.  She manages to get out, "I-it's actually the theater here, we were gonna go see [redacted] right after school."

Astrid ponders a moment, then replies saying, "Ok, ok... so something a little warm.  Although, the theaters here tend to run a little hot.  Made that mistake one too many times... uh, anyway, so maybe something light with a jacket?"

Emily looks up to her sister and says, "I like that idea!  Where should we go for that?" 

Astrid starts pulling her little sis by the hand off to the store she has in mind without bothering to say where.

They enter a Hot Topic, typical Astrid.  "Around the sides and back you can find most of the clothes.  They have a ton of cute dresses.  You go pick one out, on me."  Astrid pushes Emily in as she goes elsewhere in the store.  Just a little confused, Emily follows Astrid's direction and goes to look at the dresses.

There's frilly ones, long and short ones, a few really bland ones, and also some fandom ones that Emily has no context for.  Eventually, Emily spots a cute little thing that draws her in.  It's like a dress, but the top is connected to the skirt bottom by a couple straps on each side.  She rushes to the changing room to give it a whirl.  Once changed, she pops out to show her big sister what she found.  To Emily's surprise, Astrid was right there holding a very punk looking leather jacket, complete with sharp studs on the shoulders and a few metal loops at the elbows and down the sides.

But as soon as Emily notices her big sis standing there, she instinctively does a little twirl to show off all the angles of the dress she picked out.

Astrid blushes bright red at the sight.  Her little sister's curves are perfectly captured.  The top of the dress is basically a croptop, showing the world her soft belly, her cruvy sides, and her lower back.  Plus its just tight enough to make her perky little nipples poke through.  Astrid tries hard to hide her sudden arousal.  Emily notices the reddening face of her big sister and gets aroused thinking of what could be getting her big sis all red.  Did she really get turned on by her little sis?  It's not like she was trying to. Why did that thought make her little estrogenized dick leak a little?  She can't help but blush as well now, thinking of how the skirt of her dress would be tenting if it wasn't for her panties she has on.  Now tight around her hips with her bulging dick.

After a moment of silent staring at each other, Emily pipes up with, "S-so uhhm... what do you think, big sis...?"  Emily looks so innocent standing there, hands held together in front of her to try and hide any semblence of her being turned on.

Astrid stumbles over her words, feeling like she is in free fall as she tries to speak.  "I-it uh um y-you are p-pretty, yeah, uh y-you I mean the dress is i-its good.  Yeah." God , Astrid thinks to herself, how dare I have these thoughts of my little sister?!  She must be doing this on purpose.  Her eyes are clearly pleading for me.   This is so wrong, I need to distract myself.   Her mind is flooded with images of her little sister barely clothed, beckoning to her.  "H-here try on this jacket.  Maybe not quite your style, b-but it looks pretty cool in my opinion."  Astrid thrusts the jacket towards Emily, nearly smacking her face with a sleeve, making sure her face stays blocked from Emily's view.

Emily takes the jacket from her big sister and tries it on.  Astrid was right, definitely not her style, even though she looked very cool with it.  In the end, she decides to just get the dress.  She has a couple of jackets she could wear with it, anyway.  She thought it was alright, but the way her sister reacted to seeing her made her need to have the dress.  Does she actually want to make her big sister lust for her?  It sounds so wrong to think about, but she can't help herself.  The thought of her big sister going crazy at the sight of her little sister's body in turn drives Emily crazy.  She tries her best to brush all these thoughts aside as she changes back into her clothes, but her buldge is still so obvious through her shorts at this point.  She has to take a few extra minutes to calm herself so she can tuck her dick back in place.

The two sisters checkout the dress and head for the exit.  They start to pass by the theater when Emily slows.  She stares into the theater, thinking of her date tomorrow.

Astrid notices her lagging behind, so she asks, "Are you alright, sis?"  She walks back to Emily, radiating comfort for her little sister, cheeks still a little red.

Still staring into the theater area, Emily replies, "I'm just... nervous.  It's my first date, and I'm just... yeah, nervous."  Emily doesn't want to do this, but she already fell to the pressure.  No going back from that now.  She doesn't have it in her to turn Jocelyn down at this point.

"Well," Astrid says after a moment, "we could go see a movie.  You can pretend it is a date too, like, to practice for what you'd do tomorrow."  Emily's face lights up red again thinking about going on a date with her big sister.  It's not like they've never seen a movie together before, but the way her big sister worded it makes her feel so elated.

Emily's eyes twinkling with glee, barely hiding her enthusiasm, "yes, please.  I mean, uhm, I really like that idea." 

Astrid replies, "I'm full of those today," and shoots her little sis a wink, instantly making Emily blush and want to hide her face again.

It doesn't even matter to them what movie they see.  Emily is just excited to go on her first, albeit technically fake, date with her big sister.  Astrid is trying hard to hide it, but she is also ecstatic that Emily said yes.  Astrid just wants to cheer up her little sister.  A smile on her face is all she needs.  They get a couple tickets to see a random movie, grab a bag of popcorn, and find their seats.

A ways into the movie, as the sisters are intently watching the movie, Astrid goes to grab some popcorn from the bag sitting in Emily's lap.  She completly misses the bag and lands her hand on her little sister's bare leg, just above the knee.  She prodes for just a moment until she realizes what she's done.  Astrid whips her head to the side to see what she just did and whispers to Emily, "oh my god, I-I'm sorry, sis."

Astrid yanks her hand away, ashamed of having touched her little sister, even just on accident.  She has been so on edge today with everything going on.  Emily whispers back to her, "I-it's alright, sis.  Think nothing of it."  Although, Emily herself is unable to stop thinking about it.  She froze as soon as she felt her big sister's hand on her.  It felt good, even just a very momentary touch.  And now her dick is begging to be free again.  Luckily she has the bag of popcorn to hide her bulge, she thinks to herself.

"Here, uh, I'll hold the bag," whispers Astrid, as to not make the same mistake again.  Even in the dim light of the movie screen, she can see how turned on her little sister is.

Emily goes bright red and excuses herself saying, "I need to use the bathroom.  I'll be right back."  She then hurries down to the exit of the room and to the bathroom.

Alone in a stall, she pulls down her shorts and panties, freeing her rock hard cock.  "Ahh... Astrid... why...?"  Emily grabs her little dick and starts to slowly stroke it, her glands already soaked with precum.  She can't help but question why it turns her on so much, but her mind is too hazy to think straight right now.  She continues stroking herself off to the thought of her big sister.  She imagines Astrid pushing the bag of popcorn away and undoing her button and zipper, pulling out her little sister's cock right in the movie theater.  She imagines her big sister's hands stroking her dick, making her feel like the prettiest little sister anyone could have.  She imagines her big sister whispering in her ear, "I didn't realize how much my baby sis wanted me, wanted this.  You're so dirty, Emmy."  She lets out a whimper at the thoughts flooding her mind.  Luckily she's aline in the bathroom right now.  Emily continues to stroke her dick until she finally orgasms, leaking a few drops of cum into the toilet and down her shaft.

Just as Emily is cleaning herself up, Astrid enters the bathroom and calls out for her.  "Emily, you still in here?  The movie just ended."  She spots the familiar shoes of her little sis underneath one of the stall doors and waits near the entenace to the bathroom for her.  Astrid's entrance makes Emily scurry to finish cleaning up.  She exits the stall to see her big sister with a worried expression on her face.  "Are you feeling alright, sis," Astrid asks.  Emily's face is flushed after having just orgasmed.

Making her way to the sink, she replies, "Y-yeah.  I-I'm alright, sis."

The way she walks, the flushed face, the dazed words coming out of her mouth; Astrid knows exactly what her little sis was just doing.  And it makes her mind go wild.  She notices she's starting to get wet as she tries hard to push the thought away, but it lingers still.

Astrid waits for her little sis to finish up as she steps out of the bathroom.  They walk to the car in silence, keeping a gap between them.  The tension is so palpable.

In the car, as Astrid is starting it up, Emily's stomach growls.  It catches Astrid's attention.  "Sounds like you're hungry."  Not a moment later, Astrids stomach also grumbles.

Emily giggles.  "You're one to talk."

Astrid lets out a small laugh.  "We should go get some food on the way home.  That alright?"

Emily gives her big sis a smile and says, "You're right again.  Lets."

The sisters can feel the tension loosening as they drive towards home.  They stop at a local borito joint, a favorite of Emily's.  They order and sit down.  Emily stops a moment and notices her sister's face.  Nothing has changed, other than the little bit of guac on the side of her mouth.  She giggles at the sight of it.

Astrid stops, too.  With food still in her mouth, she teasingly says, "hey, what're you laughing at?" 

Emily can't help but smile.  She feels so warm, just her big sister and her at one of her favorite places.  "It's just... thank you for today.  It means a lot to me you want to help with my first date."

Astrid gulps down what was in her mouth, a little surprised to hear Emily so grateful.  She replies, "Oh, well, of course Em.  I know you haven't had a great time lately, and I wanted to be sure you were prepared for your first date.  It just eats at me to see you so unhappy."  Only now does she bring a napkin up to wipe her face clean.

Emily let's out another giggle.  Full of her little sister brattiness, she says, "yeah, and I can't believe you would steal my first date from me, too," while grinning the whole time.

Astrid scoffs at Emily's remark and her cheeks lightly glow red.  "What?!  I-it was just to test it out!  For you!  I mean, it was like, uh, I was just trying to make sure you would have a perfect first date.  I mean the real one!  Not the one we just did."

Emily can't help but laugh at how embarrassed her big sister got from her little teasing.  "Aww, come on now, sis.  You know I joke," Emily says and sticks out her tongue.

Astrid gives a little chuckle and continues eating her borito.

Once the sisters finish eating, they head home, listening to their favorite radio station the whole way.  It is pretty late by now, so they both retire to their rooms and ready themselves for bed.

Astrid lays on her bed, contemplating the weird day she just spent with her little sis.  She really enjoyed it, but her mind kept getting flooded by thoughts of her Emmy.  That dress she chose looked so perfect on her.  Her skin was so soft when she accidentally touched it.  Her flushed face right after having orgasmed.  God, her face.  There's no doubt she thought of me when she left to use the bathroom , she thought.

Astrid's hand starts to drift down her body, feeling the goosebumps on her skin as she goes lower.  I could clearly see her buldge in the theater.  God, I want to see her.  I want to see her little dick.  I want to feel her soft skin.  She continues down until she reaches her panties, slowly rubbing her clit over her underwear to the thought of her little sister.

Astrid lets out a small moan.  "Ahh, Emily..." she whispers to herself.  Again, and again she calls her baby sisters name as she picks up the pace, rubbing her clit until she can't take it any more.  Astrid pulls down her underwear revealing her wet lips to the open air.  She spreads her labia as she moans, a little louder this time.  Astrid penetrates her pussy with her middle and ring fingers as she moans and writhes for her sister.

Emily lays in her bed, about to drift off to sleep when she faintly hears her name be called.  It sounded kind of like Astrid calling to me , she thought.  She brushes it off and closes her eyes, but hears her name called again.  That's definitely Astrid's voice.   Emily decides to get up and drearily walk towards Astrid's room.  The house is otherwise quiet.  All the lights are off except for a dim light peeking out the bottom of Astrid's door.  Emily turns the door handle and opens the door just to the point she can see into her big sister's room.

But as soon as she does, Astrid lets out another moan, "ffffuck~ Emily, ahh, ahh."  Emily freezes with the door slightly ajar as she stares in astonishment at the sight of her big sister fingering herself while moaning her name.  "Mmm, Emmy, ahh, Emmy..." Astrid breathily cries out, completely oblivious to the fact her little sister is watching her now.  Emily can't help but turn bright red as the buldge in her silky-soft panties grows bigger.  She cant fight her urge.  Her hand drifts down to stimulate her little dick as she intently watches her big sister pleasure herself.  Emily's breathing starts to pick up as she feels herself up, her other hand groping her tender breast.

It only takes a few more moments for Astrid to climax, spraying her juice all over her hand as she falls limp.  Emily decides to scurry away before she can be noticed.  Astrid turns her head to her door and notices its open.  She could have sworn it was closed.  She shakily gets up and peeks out into the dark hallway.  Nothing.  She shrugs it off, closes her door, and gets herself ready for sleep.

Emily back in her room is now furiously stroking her cock.  Big sis, you really want me, Emily thinks to herself.  Sheets out a small whimper as her fingers go over her glands.  But, no, it's not right, this is so wrong, I cant do this.  Wrought with shame and anxiety, her hand slows and her little cock slowly goes limp.  Now she lay in the darkness of midnight on her bed, contemplating her emotions.  So much shame.  What if mom and dad found out, she thinks.  They would make Astrid move away, no doubt.  They may even disown her.  Or maybe they would blame me!  She holds one of her plushies tight.  Emily silently weeps as the anxiety spirals in her mind.  Until she has worn herself out so much she drifts off to sleep.

Part 2 coming soon :3

[xylianasblog]

Big big big ask 👉🏻👈🏻 teehee….. 🤭

So like, what if reader was a scientist that worked alongside Norm and Grace that grew to have a crush on human Jake, she watches as he is ecstatic to go to every lesson he’s getting from Neytiri and reader dies a little on the inside because she believes Jake to have grown feelings for Neytiri….

She doesn’t say anything to him or anyone for that matter, but Grace or Norm (or maybe even Trudy?) can tell that something is bugging reader? (If they have a one on one is up to you? But if not thats okay too!)

Fast forward to reader wearing her mask (since she doesn’t have an avatar) to watch as Jake’s consciousness gets transferred over to his Avatar body and she see’s Neytiri planting soft kisses on his eyelids- but to Neytiri all of this is a show of how close she grew to Jake as friends, nothing more.

Reader has to go have a cry and grows distant from Jake, only for him to come by (kind of in a rush because he didn’t expect to run into her during his Olo’eyktan duties) but ditches his duties to fix her attitude with his 🍆??

‼️Feel free to completely disregard this ask if you’re not up to it, but if you do end up writing it, I thank you and appreciate your hard work! 🤩

More than meets the eye.

Pairings: Jake x FemHuman Reader

Summary: You only saw surface level, never trying to see deeper than what you could.

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of sex, mentions of p in v, creampie, uhh uhh sex?? Like.. Fhsudhsj just.. lemme know if I missed anything 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

A/n: there are probably a lot of grammatical errors and mistakes, it’s not entirely beta read.. sooo i apologize. I worked so supper hard on this because I wanted it to be just right! I really hope you al enjoy this 💕

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦MDNI꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

There had been all kinds of different people who came into the avatar program but definitely not one like him.

Jake Sully.

A crippled man who seemed to have it all figured out, well at least a little bit. Seems like most times he was really just winging it, and while some would find that stupid you thought it to be admirable. Mostly due to the fact he seemed to be doing the impossible, plus it was pretty cool that he was able to get a chance to do something this cool.

What you hadn’t expected was to start to fall for the dim-witted marine.

He was simple yet you could see just how hard working and serious he was. The more you got to know him the more you fell for him, however you weren’t the only one to notice. Grace knew and she never pestered you about your feelings, never even pushed but she did seem to hover on occasion.

You were so happy for him, Jake enjoyed being in Pandora. He loved his avatar you knew that getting to use his legs again was a god sent gift for him. Each time he spoke it was of nothing but excitement and admiration for the world and life that Pandora held, however that also meant that his teacher held such a high value for him as well.

When Jake first began his lessons you listened intently to the knowledge that he shared, his experiences, and his time. You loved the radiant look in his eyes, the way they seemed to sparkle with happiness for his new found life. “Today she taught me how to track the animals, and to tell which animal is which by scent.” Jake said and your eyebrows raised, you couldn’t imagine how badly it would make you feel seeing how much he enjoyed his time with his teacher.

Each time was the same he’d show so much enthusiasm, he changed in more ways than one. While his human body was slowly deteriorating his avatar body was prospering. The changes were evident and even you could compete with that, with the life that Neytiri could possibly give him.

The distress you felt was palpable, easy to dismiss but the remnants lingered on your features. That also meant that Grace being the ever observant woman she is noticed the turmoil you seemed to face.

“You haven’t even fucked him and you’re moping around. If you like him why not say something?” Grace sauntered over her lab coat swaying with each step she takes closer to you.

Your eyes widened at the manner of her speaking to you and you couldn’t help but flush. “Grace it’s..” you stumbled over your words, face flushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Grace scoffed lightly as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Anyone could see how just how much you like that marine, everyone but him apparently.” Grace looked over your face intently and for a moment she was quiet. “Just speak to him. You won’t know unless you use your words. You’re smart you’ll figure it out.” With one last pat to your shoulder Grace walked away leaving you to your thoughts.

It had been a few weeks since your talk with Grace. Her words playing over in your head, her encouragement yet truth, and while you wanted to let Jake know how you felt you saw just how much he longed to be in his other body. His better body.

As his human body deteriorated you watched as his avatar body became his hold, the way he prospered in the world of Pandora. Instead of interfering you distanced yourself, putting Jake in the deepest depths of your mind. This should have been easy you couldn’t be hurt anymore or bothered by thoughts of him and Neytiri.

You were sure your suspicions were true the moment he transferred bodies for good. The kiss Neytiri bestowed upon his eyes seemed more intimate than anything, and the pain itself was deeper than you were prepared for.

The once dull aches that faded now felt like stabbing pains against your chest. Each time one faded a new one took its place, the cycle continued over and over and the distance grew greater. You were certain that you were depressed, all motivation for things you once loved gone, they no longer brought you the joy and comfort. It was easy to forget the pain but now it all seemed like a waste of time the ache never really seemed to fade anymore.

Once Jake really took part in his role as the clan chief the crippling feeling of sadness was never ending, it always seemed to linger larger the ache harder. Neytiri was by his side proudly whenever you’d visit the clan. Deep longing had now settled within your aching heart, you wanted him first, you had liked him first.. but you stayed silent on your own, never speaking your words of love.

You made sure to avoid Jake like the plague always turning and leaving or making up excuses so you both never crossed paths. You knew Neytiri wasn’t fond of humans and you wish to not get on her bad side. You always managed to get luckily in avoiding him until today.

The one time you weren’t quite aware of your surrounding you vaguely heard your named being called, your brows rose in surprise as you looked up to see Jake coming your way, his famous smirk settled nicely in his lips. Without much thought you dropped everything you had and turned to walk away. That meant you weren’t to focused in your surroundings while you tried to make your escape, you always didn’t think about the the fact that since he was taller than you he could easily catch up to your small frame.

You stiffened the moment you felt his large hands wrap around your waist, his hold firm yet gentle. He didn’t turn you around and you didn’t dare make any moves. It was silent, just the sound of your breathing and his, slow and steady.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you since after the war. Why have you been avoiding me?” You could tell by his tone that he was serious, he wanted to know, needed to know. You hesitated maybe a bit too long because without warning he picked your body up, hoisting you up over his shoulder as he began walking deeper into the forest.

You watched the way his tailed swayed idly with each steady step he took. “Jake..” you began only to be shut up by a slap to the ass, the resounding ‘CLAP’ had your yelping. “Shut up, Y/n” there it was again the firm tone you couldn’t help but sigh as you stayed quiet. Each step he took had your mind racing yet you still trusted this Navi male with your life.

After a moment he came to a stop, his free hand resting on your thigh before slowly gliding up until his hand covered your ass. “You’ve been avoiding me and don’t lie and say it’s because you’ve been busy, you haven’t.”

Jake set you down your feet sinking into the soft moss on the ground, your toes digging into the ground beneath you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers. Feet shuffling as you worked up the courage “Well.. you’re mated with Neytiri so I thought it was better to keep my distance.. especially..” you mumbled just loud enough for Jake to hear.

Jake’s ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in confusion, his head tilted slightly to the side. “Me and Neytiri aren’t mated. She’s with Tsu’tey.” You looked up at him just as he crouched down, though he wasn’t entirely at your level it was less strain on your neck. “Why did you think that instead of asking me?”

At this moment you didn’t answer instead you looked away to hide your embarrassment, the slight flush of your cheeks had Jake smiling. “It doesn’t matter, you two always looked so cozy.. umm.. besides you two seemed really..” your words were cut off by a soft gasp that left your lips just as Jake’s lips covered yours.

One of his hands moved to hold your face still as his other gently began to rub and caress your body. He deepened the kiss just a bit before trailing kisses from your lips to the side of your neck muttering a soft, “silly girl.” He continued to press kisses against your neck as his hand began to knead and rub at your thighs. “Fuck.. you smell so good.” You let out a small moan as his fingers brushed against your covered cunt. “It’s about time that I make up for all the lost time.” There was no way you’d refuse, especially now that you knew he never mated to Neytiri.

Without much else being said between the two of you, clothes went flying, being discarded left and right until you both were naked. Left exploring each other’s bodies. Gentle touches, open mouthed kisses, getting ost in the overwhelming pleasure.

Ignoring the the fact that he had duties to attend Jake focused on ravaging your body, each thrust of his member into your sopping went cunt sent his reeling. He couldn’t get enough, being able to walk was one thing but being able to take you over and over until his hearts content was another.

Once he was satisfied with the use of your body, you lay beneath him body full of and covered in his seed. Your dazed, fucked out expression had him hardening once again, his semi hard length resting against your stomach. “I hope this is a lesson.. ask questions next time, babygirl.”

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Taglist: @xstarsdiary @etherial-moon-blog @neteyamyawne @torukmaktoskxawng @quicktosimp @anemonelovesfiction @erenjaegerwifee @cardi-bre91 @maniisplxnet @pandoraslxna @rivatar @thepeonysbackup @tallulah477 @eywaite @luvv4j4ybe11

[tepid-tea]

So this is a snap shot of my Actor!au- modern for my JayVik brain rot idea lol.

It’s not beta’d or anything so please excuse the errors…. I am also posting this on my break at work on my phone…..

———-

“Jayce!! Oh my Jayce you’ll never believe!!!” Caitlyn’s voice startled him out of his doze. He’d been napping on the plane for the last hour, getting rest before the chaotic weekend. There were planned photo ops for later this evening since his flight was delayed, his schedule now a mess.

“Mmm, what?” He opened one of his eyes to peep at his friend. She seemed to be vibrating in her seat, eyes glued to her screen.

“Viktor Novak just crashed a panel” Caitlyn turned her tablet towards him, a live feed of said panel on the screen.

“What!” Jayce lurched forward and tugged the tablet away from her, eyes wide on the screen.

“Yeah fans are apparently having a complete meltdown over it” she added, “it’s his first appearance since his accident and it’s a ‘Round Table’ panel at that.”

The Round Table had been the film to cause the accident three years ago causing the brilliant actor to disappear from the limelight. Rumor was the accident was so bad there had been a chance he’d never walk again. Thankfully word had it he walked with some mobility aids but again everything was speculation until now.

Jayce ignored everything else Cait was saying as he turned up the volume to hear the panel. Viktor Novak was an actor he had admired even before he’d made his own break into acting. Despite only being a year age difference between the two of them Viktor had more films under his belt then Jayce and award nominations to boot. Also the sheer amount of volunteer work and charities he was the face for; the man seemed to be always on the go.

“I’d have to say I was mostly shocked at the outpouring support I received.” Viktor replied, scratching at the beauty mark under his eye. “From friends, colleagues and of course the fans.”

He seemed to pause as the crowd screamed and cheered in support. It was easy to see the wall of sound wasn’t something he was used to. However the man still gave a kind smile to the crowd as they quieted down for him to continue speaking.

“But I wasn’t expecting it really, so thank you for all of it from the bottom of my heart” he said, ringed hand touching his chest.

The sincerity in his eyes was so staggering that Jayce’s breath caught. The close up they camera was getting showed how different the man looked. His hair long with soft ashen blonde mixed in with his dark brown. He looked soft and heartbreakingly beautiful to Jayce; delicate but still strong despite how thin he looked.

“Gods, you’re practically drooling over there Jayce” Caitlyn teased, causing him to look up.

“I’m not!” Jayce exclaimed, feeling his face heat up brightly. So he had a slight crush on a fellow actor he had never met. They would have met if not for the accident; they’d finally been slotted to be in the same film then was quickly recasted. Salo had been painful to work with, the disappointment hard to stomach when doing scenes. He’d already pictured them all in his head beforehand, the only reason why he had auditioned for the role was because Viktor had already been named for one of the support roles.

“Are you finally going to talk to him? This is your big chance, he’s at this convention all weekend.” Caitlyn leaned back in her seat, presumably going through emails.

“I want to try” he sighed;thinking back to all the award shows he’d gone to and had choked on his nerves.

The other man was always surrounded by other brilliant actors; especially Silco Marino who seemed to be his shadow. There had always been rumours of them dating as Viktor was openly gay and Silco seemed fairly fluid in who his affections went too. However nothing had ever been confirmed other than the two being close friends and frequently in the same films.

“I’ll do my best to try and make it happen,” Caitlyn smiled, tapping away at her phone. “Plus watching you fumble will be a treat; a nice humbling moment for you.”

“Thanks sprout.” He grumbled, going back to the tablet screen. Seemed like they were at fan questions now and Mel was answering something that was making the two men laugh.

“— head to toe with mud, I could not believe it!” Mel laughed, eyes bright as she looked at the two others.

“I thought it was a lovely day,” Viktor seemed to preen, screwing the top off a water bottle. “We have two very different memories of that scene.” He stopped to take a long drink.

“You were all snug and warm you little shit” Silco grumbled, “while I was standing in the muck in full armour I could barely walk in!”

The crowd seemed to laugh at that and the person who had asked the question thanked them and disappeared back into the sea of fans. They were quickly replaced by a young girl dressed up like a tiny Merlin in pigtails. She walked up the microphone and seemed to nervously scan the crowd as if looking for someone. She started to move her hands in what seemed in meaningful movements.

“Uh, sorry sweet heart—“ the moderator started, looking nervous.

“Ah, I’ve got this” Viktor hauled himself up out of his chair and made his way to the edge of the stage. He seemed to wave a hand back at Silco, who arched an eyebrow and moved to help the young man sit on the edge of the stage.

He quickly signed back to the little girl, whose face seemed to light up brightly in awe. Viktor looked at her with soft eyes then looked up at Silco who was standing by him still, looking fond. The whole crowd awed loudly and tittered at the display.

“Reduced to your techy now Viky? Alright alright” the older man joked and held out a mic to Viktor.

“So everyone knows, she’s asked me what scared us the most on sets” Viktor translated as the girls hands moved quickly. “She says the dragons seemed scary.”

“Well I wasn’t a fan of all the bugs” Mel spoke up, her smile wide and fond as well as Viktor quickly signed for her. “But the dragons were quite scary after hours in the dark on set.”

“I’m not a fan of the swimming scenes,” Silco admitted, crouching down next to Viktor. “I had to get my stunt double Alec to do a lot of those scenes for me.”

“She says water can be scary and you were brave for trying” Viktor watched her hands move as she looked at Silco with a sweet smile.

“Why thank you sweetheart.” Silco smiled gently.

“As for me, well I now have a fear of heights and falling” Viktor chuckled sadly, referencing back to his accident. “But before that it was the horses, one tried to bite my fingers once and never again!” He seemed to joke to lighten back up the mood.

Viktor and the little girl seemed to sign a little more before her time for her question was up. The crowd clapped loudly as it was instructed that was going to be the last question for the panel. Silco quickly moved to help Viktor back up into his feet, the leg brace not making it easy. There was a subtle flash and you could almost miss it but judging by the set of Viktors jaw he was in pain. Seeming to hover, Silco helped the younger man back to his seat before being waved off.

[nalyra-dreaming]

i just started reading the books after the show and i think one of the biggest changes is how in the book, it's clear lestat didn't deserve to be killed, whereas in the show, he very much did. that sets up all their conflicts from the first book onward, how they're both mutually awful to each other and constantly misunderstanding each other. that's the core of their conflict and i feel like that changes completely makes their whole dynamic different in the show. what do you think of this change?

(You must be new here :) *waves*)

No, Lestat did not deserve to be killed.

But the show had to make it seem so. That is why they amped up the abuse, amped up the aggravation within the tale.

It comes with the basic change they did in setting and age, to an extent, because Lestat is a lot older when he meets Louis, a lot more jaded.

And... it comes with the arc they want to do, namely "get" Lestat to the "Prince Lestat" state, as Rolin has already hinted at several times.

The route they are taking to get there... is a very different one to the books, let's put it that way, and it is not one I like all aspects of.

And it changes the dynamic, yes! But... given how much of a caveat they gave themselves with "Armand's tinkering"... it still remains to be seen how changed the Loustat dynamic actually is.

Because we have not seen the "real" Loustat dynamic yet. We have seen glimpses.

Supposedly we have seen ONE scene with the "real Lestat" so far - namely this:

This.

This is supposedly the real Lestat, with the real Louis. In a scene with a supposedly objective camera lens.

And THAT is a whole different thing to the "tale" we were fed - Armand tried to feed "us" - over the last two seasons.

It will remain to be seen, just how much... of the tale will still stand by the end of the series.

The writers have said in November 2022 they would revisit murder night, and that has not happened yet, so I'm expecting that for s3.

Because Claudia's words in her diary do not match what we saw... and so a lot of THAT will change what we currently know, too.

We will only be able to... judge what to make of the changes after the series has run. Some of them frustrate me, because of the repercussions, fandom-wise. But I don't think we have had any final word on them, tbh.