#and i'm sorry i wish i had better things to say about it all

[flawssy-227]

synopsis: Joel finds you corn. yup.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: Jackson!Joel, unspecified age gap, afab!reader, pinv, oral f!receiving, cream pie (not sorry), gratuitous use of the word baby.... think that's it

A/N: been working on this one for a minute... sorry if the smut feels rushed, I'm trying to get better at it. as always -- I am a woman of color, so I write with women of color in mind, but reader is not described physically beyond having breasts. pls enjoy!

Like everyone in Jackson, you had your own way of contributing to the community. The garden was here before you had arrived years before, but everyone in Jackson knew it was under your tutelage that it really thrived. It was because of you The Tipsy Bison added fresh herbs to the weekly dinners that fed the town. It was because of you Jackson had fresh fruits and vegetables, things many of the residents went years without. And it was because of you they had enough grain to feed the animals. You were, in short, an absolute godsend, and Joel couldn’t believe he was yours.

He wasn’t much of a cook before the world went to shit, but he never knew how much he would miss the little things. Like lettuce. Or blueberries. Fruits and veggies. Dammit his mama would probably laugh at him now for how often he craved something fresh and healthy and not prepackaged. And it was all because of you.

Your contributions to Jackson were well known. You were a bit of a celebrity in town. A sweet, nurturing angel that Joel somehow wooed when he arrived a year ago.

It was a few months ago, you and Joel were getting ready at the crack of dawn for your respective shifts. His 8 hour patrol across the gates, and yours in the community garden. He kept stealing kisses after your morning quickie, which honestly, wasn’t that quick, he distracted you endlessly and made you both late for work.

“Joel,” you sighed, attempting to remove his wandering hand from inside your shirt. “Maria’s gonna kick your ass if you’re late for patrol—again.”

“Mm, not worried about that,” he offered smugly while reluctantly releasing his grip from your chest. You shivered a bit at the loss of warmth.

“I thought about what you asked me last night.”

Joel looked at you while you continued to button your shirt. “Yeah?”

Last night, in your post orgasm glow, you and Joel piggy backed random questions to each other. With a sheet wrapped around your chest you turned to face him.

“Maraschino cherries? Yuck.”

Joel laughed, “I love ‘em. Tommy does too. It’s perfect on a sundae, trust me, darlin’.”

“Don’t tell me you love Shirley Temple’s too.”

Joel’s eyes bulged open just a bit, and he didn’t have to say a thing before you started laughing, body pressing further into his. “Joel Miller, you are full of surprises.” 

He smiled at you, lines around his eyes deepening just enough so you knew it was sincere. “Alright,” he started, “I got another one for you.”

You nodded eagerly, trying to suppress a yawn in the late hour.

“If you could have one addition to your garden, something you can’t grow currently, what would it be?”

You leaned across his chest now, head propped on your folded arms as you furrowed your brows. It was a good question, what would you want? You had gotten out of the habit of wanting more in this life. You were incredibly lucky here in Jackson. You were safe behind the walls, you had a home and friends and a boyfriend, and you were never worried about where your next meal came from. Sure, you could definitely have more… Second helpings at the food hall would be nice. Something other than grain liquor when you wanted to kick back sounded good. And well, if you were being really greedy you guess you would ask for a cure for the hellish epidemic that ravaged the world. But you had plenty, and asking for more just seemed wrong.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” It was meant to be lighthearted, but the question sat heavy on your heart. “We have so much. Feels wrong to wish for more, you know?”

Joel took a sharp inhale and nodded his head. Eyes glassy just a touch, such a small amount that only you would notice this close up. He ran a hand through your hair, softly easing you. “I know, darlin’. I guess I was asking in case I come across something on patrol. Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded back, and peppered a small kiss against his lips as you settled further into his chest, effectively ending all questions for the night.

“Yeah… if you could find it,” you eyed your boyfriend, trying to feign nonchalance at your impending request. “I would really like some corn.”

“Corn?” Joel questioned. “If there’s one thing I can find you out on patrol for you, it’s corn? Darlin’ that is not what I expected you to say.”

You chuckled at that. “Ugh, Joel, I miss it so much. Sweet corn on the grill during summer,” you smiled. “I think it would do well in the garden. But can I tell you what I really want?”

Joel smiled at you, reaching for your hips from his place on the bed. “Of course you can.”

You reached over and rubbed his shoulders over his worn flannel. “I have this insane craving for popcorn,” you chuckled. “I never knew how much I would miss that. Buttery, salty movie theater popcorn on Friday nights with my mom.” You teared up a bit at the memory while Joel gave your hand a gentle kiss. “It’s a long shot, I know. But just keep an eye out for me.”

“Of course I will, baby.”

As the winter chill started to wane and the early tells of spring arrived, you gathered a small group of pupils to shadow you while you tended to the garden. Most of the group were young, around Ellie’s age, using a few hours a week to work in the garden as a professional skills building internship of sorts. 

“Here are the herbs,” you spoke to the small group, grabbing your shears out of the apron you wore daily. “Herbs need to be trimmed to encourage growth, and in a place like this, we need as much growth as possible,” you offered with a smile. 

“Every plant has different needs,” you took a second to smell the basil in front of you. “Here, Ellie, let’s try this one.”

Ellie giddily grabbed hold of your shears, earning chuckles from the other students and an eye roll from you. 

“Basil loves to be cut, but you have to do it in a very specific way if you want it to flourish. Where do you think you should cut it?” you asked Ellie.

“Um, maybe right here?” Ellie asked, gesturing to a spot where two basil leaves had grown out together.

“Yes! That’s perfect, go ahead.” Watching Ellie gently cut the leaves off you kept instructing. “Basically, anywhere where there are two or three leaves growing is a good place to cut because then two more sets of leaves will grow in its place. Kinda like a hydra in Greek mythology,” you offered. “This way the plant will keep producing.”

You made your way down the herbs, allowing all the students to take turns trimming plants and offering explanations why things were done a certain way before you excused everyone for the day. You were grateful that you found a place at the end of the world where you were able to carve out little moments of peace. If it weren’t for the fact that your boyfriend and so many of your friends left early every morning for patrol, you would think you were in heaven. But regardless of what lay beyond the gates of Jackson, you were happy and content.

You were taking inventory, checking to see what crops were matured and available for this week's rotation of meals for The Bison when you noticed Joel opening the small gate that blocked off the garden from the stables.

“Hey! What are you doing here? It’s early—”

You weren’t able to finish your thought before Joel was on you, lifting you up and spinning you around with a smile that was only meant for you.

“Missed ya, darlin’.”

You hummed softly to yourself, the feeling of your man surrounding you and the feel of the sun on your skin were absolutely making your day. 

“I got you something,” Joel muttered, pulling away from you softly.

You met his warm brown eyes, wondering what he possibly could have grabbed for you while he was out today.

Turning away from you and reaching into his pack, the sight made your breath hitch. It couldn’t be, could it? 

The familiar green of the husks was so familiar, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“There were only these three,” Joel started. “I almost thought I was seeing things, but it’s—”

“Corn,” you finished for him. “You found me corn.”

Tears started to well in your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact you were crying over corn of all things. A younger version of yourself would roll her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help but get emotional at the possibilities of being able to grow it. You thought about a summer barbecue at The Bison and how grilling corn would pair so well with whatever barbecue concoction they made for the 4th of July. You thought about all the kids who had never had popcorn during the weekly movie nights and how much you knew Elllie would enjoy it.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Joel urged as he wrapped you into a tighter hug.

You choked back a sob and leaned into his warmth. “You’re amazing. Thank you, Joel.”

The gentle kiss he laid on your lips caused you to let out a satisfied moan. You could feel him twitch below his waist at the sound and you tried not to laugh at his eagerness.

“You’re so easy,” you whispered against his lips.

“Darlin’, you know how your little noises affect me.”

You kissed him again, letting your tongues intertwine as you softly ran your fingers through his curls. You were pretty much alone at the entrance of the garden but the distant laughter you heard caused you to ease your lips apart, despite the obvious bulge in Joel’s pants and the heady pulse you felt in your stomach. You definitely didn’t need to get caught getting hot and heavy with Joel—not again. Took weeks for the entirety of Jackson to stop snickering at the two of you.

“Help me finish up?” you asked with a smile, knowing your man could never say no to you. “Then I can thank you, properly.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, hands still roaming absent-mindedly on your low back. “Whatever y’need, baby.”

As you made your way back to your shared home, you couldn’t stop yourself from holding Joel’s hand. You were blissfully happy and although the fact that he found three ears of corn for you to plant should’ve been shocking, it honestly wasn’t. In the past year, Joel Miller had done everything you asked of him. He went out of his way to make you happy. He treated you with respect and opened up to you, even when it felt unnatural for him. He was a good man, he was your good man. And as he unlocked the door to your home, the only thought in your head was that you wanted to show him how much you loved him.

Joel grabbed your pack from your shoulder and placed it on the bench by the front door, a small thing he did daily to make sure you were prepared for the next day. Always taking care of you. You took a deep exhale and without words, held your hand out for him to take. Joel followed you without question. 

Once you were inside your bedroom you reached your hands around Joel’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He sighed into your mouth, shoulders relaxing at the feel of your lips. 

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured into him and you felt the small smile grace his lips before he deepened the kiss. His hands moved under your shirt, lightly grazing your nipples causing your breath to hitch. He pulled off your t-shirt and immediately placed his hands back on your breasts, causing your nipples to harden as you let out a little gasp.

He smirked at your reaction and moved down to kiss in between the valley of your breasts. You scratched his head, softly encouraging him to keep going.

“Darlin’,” he sighed, “do you know how perfect you are?”

You scoffed, you were supposed to be thanking him, worshipping him, not the other way around.

His hands were moving further south, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping a finger into the slick wetness in between your thighs. “Joel,” you whined, “I’m supposed to be thanking you.”

His eyes snapped up to yours but he didn’t stop his movements. “Thankin’ me? For what?”

You moaned at the addition of an extra finger. “For being so good to me.”

He kissed you again, slowly growing intensity matching the pace of his fingers. “Mm, darlin’, you never have to thank me. I love you, sweet girl.”

Another soft moan escaped your lips, from his words or his actions, you weren’t sure. You reached your hand into his jeans, finger thumbing over his leaky tip. Joel couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you like this, at the end of the world.

“Baby, can I taste you?”

You whimpered, lips parting at his husky voice. “Yes, Joel, please,” you practically begged.

After shedding the rest of your clothes, Joel laid down next to you on your bed, caressing your body and gazing at your form appreciatively. Kissing his way down your body, he shamelessly spread your wet folds, staring a beat too long for your comfort. You whine his name and make a move to close your legs before he makes a tsk sound. “Don’t do that. Just admirin’ the view.”

You would’ve scoffed at him, but he quickly buried his mouth in your pussy, effectively knocking every other thought out of your head. Joel knew what he was doing, and even before the world went to shit, you never had a man who loved to eat it the way Joel did. You were basically doing him a favor by letting him be down there.

“Taste so good, baby,” he groaned, the sound vibrating against your folds. Each thrust from his fingers accompanied by the expert swirl of his tongue on your clit made your nipples impossibly harder and your back arch on the bed.

You were moaning obscenely, the wet squelch from his fingers creating a filthy symphony in your bedroom. “Joel, please,” you moaned, holding his head tight to your center. Taking that as you urging him to keep going, he continued his devouring of you until you released a shudder and a whiny squeal of his name. Gently licking into you he gathered your release and let out a filthy moan before he pressed a final, soft kiss to your lower lips as you caught your breath. 

“So fucking good,” you pant, pulling him up to your lips for an appreciative kiss. Joel got lost in you, mindlessly thrusting into the crevice of your thigh. Poor guy, you thought. “Baby, you’re so good at that.”

He hummed into your mouth, hips continuing his soft grind. “You taste so good, makes it easy.”

“Mm, but I wanted to thank you, and you’re doing all the work.”

He mouths at your jaw, cock now sliding against the slit on your folds, drenching him in your wetness. “Being inside you baby,” he starts, inching his girthy cock into your heat, “is thanks enough.”

Your head cocks back in a wild moan as Joel forces the last few inches of himself inside you. He sets a punishing pace, hitting a spot inside you that no one else ever would. “Feel so damn good,” he grunts.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, unable to think straight or say a word, only strangled gasps coming from you at his thrusts. Feeling you tighten around his cock, he moves his thumb down to your clit, eyes dark and wild at the erratic bounce of your tits. “So close,” you manage to gasp out.

Joel keeps going, his pace brutal and perfect. He looks so serious, focused solely on you and your pleasure. You know he’s close, doing everything he can to make you finish first. The thought of how he does everything to make you feel satisfied does you in, and with a loud moan you cum hard, triggering Joel’s orgasm, ropes of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “didn’t mean to…”

Your hands went back to his head, gently stroking at his sweaty curls. You sighed at the wet spill of his cum leaking out of you. Definitely not ideal at the end of the world. But then again, Joel as a dad wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had. You were pretty sure you weren't ovulating anyway. “It’s fine, Joel. Felt too good to stop,” you offer.

He kissed your lips gently, wrapping you up in his warmth. You knew whatever happened next didn’t matter, as long as Joel was by your side.

if you made it this far, leave me a comment! ty for reading

[drtyelvisfantasy]

SAVE YOUR LOVE

LINEMAN!RAFE X STRIPPER!READER AU

warnings: emotional abuse, abandonment, mentions of bullying, parental neglect, let me know if I'm missing anything!!

note: sorry if this is rlly short lol also there's no mention of Rafe in this post, it's just more of a background story for the reader

I look back at my old life in OBX, the resurfacing memories of growing up in a small beach town. The brief memories of my former friends and family, snippets of moments that sometimes bring a smile to my face. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and change things.

I was never the golden child. Even though my sister is five years older than me, my mother always made sure to make it known that she was the favorite. I see the moments of my childhood—the constant feeling of being overshadowed and undervalued by my mother. My father wasn’t around when I was growing up. I would always ask my mom what happened to him or where he was, but she would always respond, saying, “He’s a horrible man, that’s what he is.” It never really helped when my mom responded that way. It left me asking myself what went wrong or if it was me who made him run away.

Starting high school was hard. My sister, being known as the smart, successful sibling, created immense pressure to match her reputation. I felt the constant weight of disappointment from my mother, her expectations hanging over me like a heavy burden. The friends I had came and went—none of them stayed around for long, and I never really understood why. I still ask myself why no one wanted to be around me. Those “friends” I had never stood up for me when people would tease me about my appearance and spread nasty rumours about me. I felt like an outcast—unwanted and alone. The pain and hurt of those experiences stayed with me, leaving scars that never fully healed.

—

By the time senior year came around, applying for colleges and universities became a full-time job, where the pressure of getting into a good school consumed my life. The constant barrage of applications and studying was overwhelming, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard I tried, it would never be enough to impress my mother. I eventually got fed up and applied to a small college on the mainland—my only way out of this hellhole of an island.

I only lasted one semester in college. I dropped out and never looked back. I didn’t even tell my mom. I felt like it would be better for me to cut off all contact with her; it was clear as day she didn’t love me the way she said she did. I’m better off without her, right?

I used the rest of my savings to catch a Greyhound straight to Las Vegas. I needed a sense of change in my life, where nobody knew who I was or anything about my past. My job as a stripper was unexpected, but the money was undeniably attractive, offering a way out of my previous struggles. It was only supposed to be a temporary job until I could find a new one, but I became so addicted to the fast money that I never wanted to quit. The money I earned allowed me to get a decent apartment, gaining independence and a sense of freedom I had never had before. It was better than living in a house with people who resented you for no reason.

[wolfertinger]

Hey can we like, actually focus on the harm Salem has caused instead of going "he supports people with attractions and doesn't support bookburning, we are allowed to call him a predator now!"

holding your hands when I say this; paraphiles aren't evil, it's an attraction, it's thoughts in someone's head, if they know it'd be harmful to act on it then they wouldn't.

And believe it or not! Fiction isn't real, things that aren't real are... Not real.

Have a good day, I'm about 99% sure this is what that one "you are actually using transphobic rhetoric here" anon was talking about. People aren't evil for having attractions they can't control and using fiction as an outlet, people are evil for harassing others and sending death threats, etc. Do better, it's hard to call someone ableist when you're ableist yourself. (Paraphilias are commonly disorders aswell, you wouldn't want someone dead for a disorder they can't control, yeah? All of us or none of us)

"all of us or none of us"

yeah. sorry. i do not support, paraphilias. so none of you. paraphiles, are not, and will never be lgbt. so, not "transphobic", to hate pedos, either.

i support people who may SUFFER, from paraphilias, and wish to get better. sorry. but i do not think it is good, for someone attracted to IRL CHILDREN, to have a "fictional outlet". if i found out, someone had zoophilic attractions, and drew realistic porn of dogs, I WOULD NOT TRUST THEM AROUND DOGS. if i found out, someone i knew worked with children, privately got off to loli/shota, I WOULD NOT TRUST THEM AROUND CHILDREN. end of. i understand, people cannot control their attractions. but they CAN control, how they handle these attractions.

the "fictions =/= reality" excuse worked, until it was proven to me, it will NEVER BE, just fiction. how do your kind explain, people like glitchedpuppet? who used your exact arguments for years, only to found out, to have groomed SEVERAL IRL CHILDREN, and fucked MULTIPLE IRL DOGS.

or wild-life, who used the EXACT argument you do, that they were a recovering paraphile, using artwork of animal abuse and sex toys shaped like animal genitals to cope, only to be exposed, TO HAVE STILL BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSING HER ANIMALS. she still has these animals, to this day. meaning, she is not sorry. she is only sorry, she got caught. and she is likely, still abusing them.

or kerothewolf. who was found, in MULTIPLE zoosadist circles, "just talking" about animals AS YOUNG AS PUPPIES. and he ended up, sexually abusing his dog to DEATH.

it will never be, "just fiction" to me. maybe, because i have had to deal with the irl aftermaths, of zoophiles abuse, i have seen the ways CSA, can destroy a person. none of this, is "just fiction". this, is reality. you must face it, that you are attracted to, and getting off to, the abuse, of real things. i do not understand, how people like you have the cognitive dissonance, of being unable to accept, what you get off to does not oppress you.

disliking pedophiles, and zoophiles, for the pain i have seen them inflict, is not "ableism", as much as it is, "hating abusers who act".

maybe, you simply have not seen enough dogs, being euthanized, because their genitals had been destroyed. maybe, you have not seen enough adults, who can no longer hold relationships with others, because as a kid who couldnt barely talk, they were abused sexually.

maybe, people fetishizing this level of abuse, is just disgusting. i will not be convinced, otherwise.

[malk1ns]

march 18 v islanders, 4-2 loss

why does it feel like we play this team 200 times every season??? my god. and we ALWAYSSSSS lose in some embarrassing fashion. i'm sick of them!!!!!!!!!

this fic exists in the same world as this one, and thus is omegaverse and free use. you will need to have read this to get an idea of this world and sid and geno's dynamic. i just felt like sid looked extra fidgety in his postgame and my mind wandered...after all, doesn't he deserve a reward for breaking a gretzky record?

Sid can’t sit still during his media after the game.

He tries. He breathes deep through his nose and tries to focus, tries to look appropriately serious and thoughtful as the reporters pepper him with questions about what happened in the third, how they managed to go from up 2-0 to losing 4-2 in the span of 20 minutes.

The questions are warranted. Sid wishes he knew what happened. But even if he had all the answers, he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate a decent soundbite right now.

He can feel Geno’s eyes on him from across the room. Geno rarely dawdles when the media’s around and he’s not up to talk to them, but tonight he’s leaning back in his stall, watching Sid with a half-smile as he plays with his dick.

Sid swallows down the flood of spit in his mouth and shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says to the scrum at large, “can you repeat that?” He has no idea who even asked the question, let alone what it was.

Normally the reporters all smell anxious after bad losses like this one—not as bad as the players, obviously, but they would prefer to write about wins, about the Penguins being the team to claw themselves back to victory instead of letting yet another game slip out of their grasp. Sid’s spent 20 seasons sitting in locker rooms across the continent and doing his best to ignore the acrid mix of disappointment, frustration, and irritation from the mixed group of alphas and omegas all clamoring to know what his team did wrong and how they’ll fix it moving forward.

Today, though, the mood is light despite the loss. Everybody can tell that Sid’s got his mind on other things, and they all know exactly why.

Cutting over everything else, filling his nose and sending Sid practically scent-drunk in front of the entire Pittsburgh media ecosystem, Geno smells smugly pleased and proud, with a possessive curl that makes Sid want to go belly-up and whine.

Media started late today. Sully’s postgame had been short, as incredulous about what happened as all of them, and Sid had considered taking the guys to task too when Geno stood up and cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Bad third period,” he started, narrowing his eyes. “We know we need to do better, like, can’t decide to stop play, leave goalie out to dry. But, okay, we talk about in video. Now, it’s something else—Sid gets big milestone tonight, think he gets reward, yes?”

Sid’s memory of the next few minutes is hazy—Geno’s scent had spiked as he stalked across the room to Sid’s stall, and Sid vaguely remembers Geno running his hands all over Sid’s chest and stomach as he pulled Sid into his lap, facing the room with his legs sprawled across Geno’s thighs. Geno’s voice had been a low rumble in his ear as he played with Sid’s hole, and the attention from the team had been like a drug.

When Geno slipped the plug into him, Sid moaned and arched his back showily, hoping to goad Geno into touching his dick, but Geno didn’t let him come—he brought Sid back up with gentle touches, sat him upright in his stall, and slipped across the room to his own just as the media was let in while Sid squirmed on the plug and tried to blink his focus back.

And now he’s torturing Sid, running his fingers over his own dick and spreading his legs so Sid can see his balls, the loose skin where his knot would be swelling if it were Sid touching him instead.

“Alright,” Emma says, interrupting some national guy mid-question. “That’s all from Sid tonight, thanks everyone.”

The reporters hesitate, but Emma’s never fucking around when she says a player’s done, and eventually they scatter, letting themselves to be herded over to kid who got called up to pepper him with questions instead.

A vague, distant part of Sid feels bad for him. The majority of his attention is laser-focused on Geno, making his way back across the room to box Sid in.

“G,” Sid begs, letting his head drop to one side and baring his neck. “Please.”

“What you want?” Geno says, crouching in front of Sid and reaching between his legs, twisting the plug and making Sid gasp. “Want me put you down here, let everyone see you get prize?”

Sid thinks about it, mouth dropping open in a silent whine as Geno pulls the plug out, then puts it back in. He pictures Geno putting him on his stomach right here in the locker room and mounting him, holding Sid’s hips and giving it to him just the way he likes, showing everyone in the room that he knows what Sid likes, he gives it to him good enough that Sid doesn’t need anyone else anymore.

It’s appealing. Sid’s always been a show-off, and now that he and Geno are monogamous he rarely gets to indulge the thrill of getting fucked with other peoples’ eyes on him. 

But…

Geno’s dick is hard in his leggings, and his pupils are huge, practically taking over his entire iris. His nostrils are flaring every few seconds as he takes in as much of Sid’s scent as possible, and the muscles in his arms are tensing and bulging as he works Sid over with the plug, his other hand spread hot and huge over Sid’s inner thigh, keeping him spread open.

He’s hot. He’s lean and strong and virile-looking, and he knows exactly what to do to make omegas wild, to get them on their knees begging for more.

Suddenly, Sid understands how Geno’s felt all these years, his compulsive need to hide Sid away in their home, out of sight from anyone who might see him and want.

“Take me home,” he begs instead, leaning forward and grasping weakly at Geno’s shoulders. “Please, not here, take me home.”

Geno’s growl is all alpha, loud enough that the guys leave them alone as they hastily make their way out of the locker room.

Sid’s in such a daze he practically needs to be carried to their car. Best reward ever.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Could I ask for Dallas on the ask character thingy? :333

hiya hon!! certainly!!

oh dallas tucker winston. God at least whatever is wrong with you is funny. dally was actually the character that really got me into into the outsiders. there's somethin about him that makes me a little rabid gnawin at the bars of my enclosure insane. he's a rabid dog. he doesn't know why he bites. he seems so much older when Pony talks about him but not in the same sense as Darry, bogged down with responsibility, Dallas has seen more than any kid his age should have. n it shows. but he is still so distinctly. a kid. he gets up to stupid mischief. he fucks around in diners. he wrestles with Johnny. he sees what he mightve been in Johnny. He wants to protect the innocence he sees in Pony. he's an outsider to the outsiders. he'll die young n desperate n foolishly preventably. no one will remember dallas winston. they'll remember a hood.

dallas ships!! again I'm so sorry I'm real borin when it comes to the shippin scene!! the only one I can go for is tally (tim n dallas) n that's mostly cause I think they'd be god-fuckin-awful together. n I think that's silly. (I COULD break down the serious reasons why I like tally but that's another post🙂‍↕️)

non romantic otp/ friendships- dear God. do not get me goin on Steve n Dallas. they're the same brand of anger. they're the same snarlin fist n narrowed eyes. they are the only sons of fathers that should've never had children. they don't know where to put all this hate. Steve n Dallas were never real good friends. but when Steve stands in the street n watches Dallas go down he thinks. for a moment. maybe they really weren't so different. n he deserved better. maybe they both did.

unpopular opinion!! Dallas did. not. only love johnny!! oh pony!! my sweet summer child!! maybe Dallas outwardly expressed his care for Johnny different but Dallas cared for every last one of the gang. the problem is Dallas' love is violence. n if you don't look careful you'll miss it.

one thing I wish had happened in canon!! God the things I would do to see more of Dallas n Darrys relationship. I think, despite what Pony says, Darry cared for Dallas like a younger brother. Not in the same ways as he did Two or Soda or even Steve but he cared about him. When Dallas holds up the corner store n calls the Curtis' n gets Steve. he asks. for darry. god. it's a detail I ain't ever gonna shut up about. he wanted darry. he wanted his older brother.

[lokisprettygirl]

Step Out Of Line (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Alternate Universe) (18+)

Read chapter 2 here

Chapter 3

Summary : You learn how badly your mother treats Eric behind the walls of her bedroom and how he has accustomed himself to her true nature.

Warning: 18+, smut, mention of drug addiction, grooming, mommy kink, age gap relationship, emotional cheating, marital abuse, sexual abuse

You groaned as you sat down on the kitchen table. It seemed fun to drink so much last night but now you were regretting it. Your head was pounding and you felt nauseous.

Eric looked at you so you gave him a small smile. You remembered everything that had happened, the way you had been so inappropriate with him at the club, the hug on your bed, how he seemed so sad when he told you that you had left him for years.

Everything.

“Good morning baby” your mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she leaned down to kiss his neck. Disgusting.

He looked down as he felt flushed by the pda, she usually wasn't this chirpy in the mornings and she hardly ever made breakfast so he was surprised too.

“Good morning” he said to her as he turned his head so she kissed him passionately, tongue and all.

As if you already didn't feel pukish. As she went into the kitchen you crossed your arms and stared at him..

“Had sex last night?” You asked him, he instantly turned red at the blatancy.

“What?”

“She's like that when she's dicked down properly” you answered him.

“Y/n that's your mother for lord's sake” you rolled your eyes as he said that. You didn't even feel like eating anymore so you got up and went back to your room, your head was still spinning from the alcohol.

Half an hour later Eric entered your bedroom with the pancakes your mom had made and placed it down on the nightstand, you were laying on your front so you turned on your back as you felt his presence.

“Eat something..you'll feel better” he said before he turned to leave.

“Eric?” You called out to him so he looked at you. How did he look so good first thing in the morning? Maybe it was his freshly showered hair, or maybe it was his pretty face or that lean muscular body or those lips that just begged to be kissed all the time, no wonder she was all over him. God your mom was a lucky bitch.

“I'm seeing my lawyer today for my dad's will. Would you accompany me?” He scratched the back of his neck as you asked him.

“Are you positive you don't want to take your mother? It seems important” You chuckled condescendingly as he asked that.

“You should know my mother ..it's been five years. She'd rather spend her day lunching with her friends than spend 5 minutes at the lawyer's office” He nodded as you said that, you weren't wrong about that.

“Maybe if you ask her just once she'll go with you?”

You sighed as he said that. After breakfast you got ready and knocked on your mother's bedroom.

“Come in” you heard her voice so you entered, only to find her kissing Eric with all her might.

“I'm going to see Mr. Johnson..do you want to come?” You asked her so she finally focused her attention on you “Oh i wish i could..i made plans with Bethany, you should have told me sooner sweetie”

You smiled as you looked at Eric with I told you so written on your face.

“Okay I'm taking Eric then..he can drop me off, his office is miles away”

“Ahh well he's coming with me, aren't you honey pie?” she said as she turned to him so you crossed your arms and waited for him to say something, anything but he stood there like a mannequin and just nodded.

“Sorry honey just call a cab, I'll pay if you don't have money” you rolled your eyes as she said that.

“No thanks I'll manage” you turned around to walk out of their bedroom, eyes tearing up as you stepped out of the house, he could have just told her that he wanted to go with you but he didn't. Was he scared of her? You remembered the noise you had heard last night, she hit him right? It wasn't just limited to their bedroom shenanigans, she was hurting him whenever he didn't do things she wanted him to do.

*********

Eric wanted to go with you, he really did, he wanted to be there with you because this was important to you but he failed, as a friend he failed because he didn't want to upset your mother and go against her wishes. He fidgeted with his fingers as he watched Dolly get ready for the lunch, feeling guilty.

“Baby?” He spoke softly so she hummed in response.

“I uhh you know you two should spend more time together..she just lost her father and -” he stopped talking as she turned around immediately to glare at him.

“She's living here ..how much more time does she need with me? I have a life too” she scoffed.

“Of Course it's just-”

“Besides she's a 23 year old woman..she needs to get out of our house and build her own life, how long is she planning to stay here?” she asked him.

“It's her home too” he answered even though her question was rhetorical.

“No it's not..she needs to make one for herself, she's a grown woman, she lived in NYC on her own right? But here she is free loading again..i already did my part..i can't do more” She dismissed that conversation quickly after that.

“What should I wear?” He asked as she finished getting ready so she chuckled.

“Why would you get ready?”

“For lunch?”

“Oh I can't take you, it's going to be just us girls..” she laughed as she walked towards him and eyed him from head to toe “Besides i don't like it how my friends stare at you..you stay at home babyboy and wait for me alright? And you better be here when I'm back” She tapped on his cheek like a pet before she left. Why didn't she let him go with you then?

In evening when you returned your mother wasn't at home, Eric opened the door and you walked past him without saying anything so he called out out for you.

“How was it?” You heard his soft voice so you sighed and turned to look at him.

“Great. Fantastic, my father's will being read to me was fantastic, the last thing I'd ever hear from him, such a pleasing experience” you said to him, your voice cracking with how overwhelmed you felt.

“I'm sorry i didn't come”

“Yeah.. whatever” you turned around to go up the stairs but he caught up to you and grabbed your arm to turn you towards him before he wrapped you in his arms. How could you stay mad at him when he was so warm with you,so comforting? As you broke down in tears his hold on you only tightened, he didn't say a word because he knew that's not what you needed at the moment.

As you finally pulled away you looked up at him.

“I guess you didn't go to lunch then huh?” he nodded as you questioned him but before he could say anything else the doorbell rang again.

You quickly ran upstairs, you had a feeling she'd get upset with him if she saw you like this.

About an hour later you came back downstairs to watch a movie but as soon as you sat down on the couch your mom approached you.

“So honey, I was thinking, are you looking for a place of your own, a young girl like you must feel so awkward living with her parents again?” She said in that sweet fake voice that always made your ears bleed.

Parent. You had one parent now.

“Ummm no ..I Just wanted to find a job first”

“Yeah well you see..don't get me wrong baby..we love you being here with us but you should move out, you won't focus on your life if you are living here carelessly not worrying about rent and bills because we do it all for you”

Your eyes teared up in anger as she said that, your father has been gone for one week. You had been here barely for a week and she was already planning to throw you out as if you were just some relative and not her own daughter.

“You're so right” you smiled as you stood up from the couch. Eric gave you a look that was a cross between Pity and perhaps fear? He didn't want you to leave again, he had made it clear last night.

“Absolutely right. I should move out, find my own place, my own house– ” you placed your fingers on your forehead in a dramatic gesture “Ohhh but wait a second I just remembered something.. I think i found one already” you chuckled as you turned to face her.

“You did?” Her eyes twinkled as she questioned you, she just wanted you to leave as soon as possible.

“Yeah this afternoon, at Mr Johnson's office..he read daddy's will to me and turns out ..this house is mine now..all mine”

The exaggerated smile on your face wiped out the smirk from her face, suddenly she looked like a washed up carcass.

“It's all yours?” she gulped, ground beneath her feet shifting in a second.

“Every inch of it” you said to her as you crossed your arms.

“Well..I guess..uhh”

“Awn don't worry mommy you know we are family..all of us, me, you, Eric” you turned to look at him, he suddenly seemed so proud of you “We can live together.. although like you said we should find our own place, have responsibilities blah blah but it's such a big house you know.. i wouldn't want to live alone here so you can stay?”

You said to her so she glared at you before she got up from the couch and walked past you to head towards her bedroom, Eric then walked towards you.

“That's not the way to talk to your mother y/n” he said to you, his voice sharp but there was a smile on his face which luckily your mother couldn't see because he had his back facing her.

She came back and grabbed his arm before she took him to her bedroom, that's when you went upstairs, feeling a little smug about the whole situation.

*********

“Can you believe this, for decades it was me who had taken care of this house, it was me and he left it to some child?” Dolly yelled as she paced back and forth, Eric watched her fuming and bubbling with anger, just this afternoon she was calling you a grown up woman.

He didn't care though, he was happy you won't leave him again.

“God I would kill him again if he was alive” She gritted her teeth. Eric was taken aback by her attitude, it's not as if the house went to some stranger, it was her only daughter.

He snapped out of his thoughts as she grabbed his hair suddenly and made him look up at him.

“I'm so angry baby, so angry right now, what are you going to do for me huh? What will you do for mommy to make her calm down?” She asked him as she slapped his cheek, he winced as his eyes teared up.

“Anything..I'll do anything for you, whatever you want..I'll be a good boy”

*******

Later that night you went downstairs to make something as you felt hungry and you saw Eric in the kitchen, he didn't have a shirt on, his back seemed riddled with scratch marks and fresh bruises, when he turned around you almost gasped. His face was bruised too, there was a cut on his right cheekbone, lips bleeding as he held the ice pack over it.

“Eric?” You mumbled his name so he looked at you. His eyes were moist.

“What happened?” You asked him as you grabbed the ice pack from him, dragging him out of the kitchen you made him sit down on the chair before you pressed the cold compress over the bruise on his cheekbone.

“You won't believe me” he chuckled a little, trying to hide his pain.

“Why not?”

“It's a funny story, I was going to make ramen and wanted to ask if you'd want some but as I went upstairs I realised it's so late and you must be asleep. And then I tripped and fell all the way down” he laughed as he finished, doing the oscar winning acting of his lifetime..

“You're right, I don't believe you” his smile faded as you said that “Did she do it?” You asked him so he snatched the ice pack from you.

“Of Course not..y/n..why do you think the worst of her?” he said to you as he stood up, towering over you now.

“She's my mother. I have known her longer than you do..I was ten but I was old enough to realise how physical my parents got with each other whenever they fought. And it wasn't just him, in fact I'm sure it was never him that started it, he was the most patient and gentle man I knew and she destroyed him. I know what she's capable of Eric”

Your eyes welled up as you spoke so he sighed before he leaned against the kitchen table, finally accepting a semblance of defeat. You were not seventeen anymore and he couldn't keep lying to you.

“It's not like that, we didn't fight..it's just she gets a bit intense in bed” you looked away as he said that as you couldn't bear to look at his hurt, beaten up face anymore.

He confused her anger, her abuse with love and care. How badly he must have been treated as a child to believe that this was her care, and this is how she showed him love, how starved he must have been to believe that your mother was even capable of feeling something as pure as love.

“And you like this? You like being hurt this way?” You asked him so he looked down, his silence said it all.

“Come with me” you grabbed his arm as you led him to your room and made him sit down on the bed, you then cleaned the blood from the corner of his mouth and bandaged his cut.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you as you nursed him like that, so tender, so soft, he had never felt this before, Dolly did take care of him whenever he got hurt at the rehab but she didn't look at him like that, she didn't make him feel as if he was someone worthy of being taken care of like this.

“Consent is important in bed” you mumbled out of nowhere so he smiled.

“I know that, I'm older than you”

“Barely”

At your words he let out the kind of smile that you could hear with your eyes closed. That sweet smile made you all warm and gooey. Good lord if this precious boy was yours you'd never hurt him like this, you'd treat him so delicately, you'd never let anyone hurt him. What kind of monster does that to a sweet soul like him? He never hurt anyone or even thought of it.

“All these years you lied to me” you said to him, remembering how he used to make excuses for the abuse.

“It's not…lie..i just.. didn't want this to change how you see your mother y/n”

“You can't change my views of her Eric..it's too late”

“Don't hate her, she's lonely too, she needs me”

Your eyes welled up as he said that so sincerely, he truly believed your mother loved him in her sick twisted way.

“None of you work ..where's the money coming from?” you asked him the important question that has been bothering you and you wanted to change the subject. The extravagant trips and lunches at fancy five star restaurants made you worry, even if he had money now because of his father it would run out sooner or later the way she was spending it.

“Trust fund”

Okay maybe he had plenty of it.

“And you don't get bored all day?”

“I do..but i didn't finish high school or went to a business school like you. Who'll hire me without a degree?”

“Then use your trust fund to get one..there must be something you're passionate about” he shook his head as you said that. There must be something he wanted to do or something he was good at, you were going to help him find it if you had to, you just refused to watch this beautiful boy waste away his youth like this.

“I ..a year ago I was at the mall.. with Dolly, a woman approached us, she was from an agency or something, she asked me to send my portfolio to her as she wanted to make an offer” he said to you nervously, piquing your curiosity.

“Like a modelling agency?” You asked him so he nodded. Oh you could totally see him doing that and being good at it. Girls in your college, every time they saw a picture of him on your phone they just gushed about him, he was so pretty, so photogenic, not to forget how tall he was.

“Why didn't you do it?”

“I didn't need it” he looked down as he said that which meant that Dolly didn't allow him to do it.

“You didn't..or she didn't?” You asked him so he got up, he was frustrated you could tell.

“Enough y/n” he walked past you to go back to the bedroom before she'd get up and get on his case for it. He was conflicted, a part of him wanted to share everything with you but he was afraid, he felt guilty.

Next morning your mother avoided you, she was still pissed about the attitude you had given her about your father's will.

“Why is your husband looking like that?” You asked her as you passed her a cup of coffee before sitting next to her, Eric was gardening outside so it was just you two.

“Like what? Like handsome? Like the prettiest boy ever? Have you ever had a guy that looks like him?” She answered you in that infuriating smug manner that made you want to punch her face.

“No like..he fell down the stairs or got beaten up last night” you answered nonchalantly, she hurt him because she was pissed at you, you didn't want to piss her off further because you knew she'd take it out on him again and like always he won't stick up for himself.

“He slipped and hurt himself, clumsy little shit he is at times” she scoffed “What else did he leave for you?” She asked before you both sipped on your coffee at the same time.

“Daddy? Well this house, his car, some investments he had made, his money, his other house and umm a letter, and uhh yeah more money” you answered her, you could see her jaw clenching as she heard that. He left her nothing, absolutely nothing, not a single penny, their divorce was nasty, he had caught her with someone else in bed and lost himself for a while, he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of you like a mother could so she got your custody. But how wrong was he?

You didn't grow up in a rich house but he always put the food on the table. Surprisingly as soon as he got over your mother he only succeeded in life while your mother went back to being a nurse and seducing vulnerable eighteen year old boys.

She didn't love Eric, she wasn't capable of it, she just wanted his money and his body, she just wanted a punching bag she could exploit and abuse. You didn't need more evidence to say that with absolute certainty.

She had a salon appointment so she left in the afternoon, leaving you alone with Eric so you knocked on his door. He had just showered after mowing the lawn, his pale skin was slightly tanned from the sun, he shined like a beautiful diamond and you wanted to wear him on you.

God you really wanted to have him all over you.

Give him all the tender love he never had.

“Ramen?” You asked him so he gave you the sweetest smile.

You were enjoying the time with him, really enjoying being alone with him, listening to him talk, laughing at his jokes, but then you got a phone call from an unknown number so you picked it up. You wished the call could have come a little later because the news did dampen the fun you were having with him. Especially because he freaked out and cried all the way.

You however? You couldn't shed a tear. Not one single drop and that made you feel like a monster. She was your mother and always will be at the end of it all.

The call had came from the hospital, informing you of Dolly's sudden heart attack.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer

[pynkhues]

https://www.tumblr.com/noirettea/774056835969941504/on-the-new-episode-of-the-emsolation-podcast-the?source=share

I've been excited for this podcast but this is actually so terrifying for me, especially combined with some of the fans' behaviour on sdcc. I wonder if amc is prepared to secure their actors' safety, they didn't seem to be doing very good job last year. I feel like they at least should instruct actors on how to interact with fans. Because Sam and Assad talking about fans giving them their underwear...yeah no. I love that they're so eager and naive but these things can get ugly very fast. There was a fandom where two main actors had to stop sitting next to each other and doing interviews together because of the aggressive rpf shippers who kept analyzing their every single interaction and shamelessly asking them about it. I'd hate if something like that happened in iwtv.

There's a group of Lestat haters that are absolutely psychosexually obsessed with him and I don't get it. The man is nothing like Lestat, he's a shy nerd who loves the books and farming, why anyone would get so viciously fixated on someone like that?

Sorry for venting into your askbox and I understand if you don't wanna talk about it, I feel very dejected about all of this :(

I mean, I wish I could say that I was surprised, anon, but this fandom has pretty clearly got serious boundary issues and a desire to stamp on the social contract that used to make fandoms real communities. I don't know how much of that is a result of the escalation of fan entitlement over the last decade (of which I think personally social media has played an enormous role in), that sense of parasocial attachment, or that certain toxic behaviours (and in fact, behaviours indicative of personality disorders i.e. stalking and harrassment) are not only enabled, but encouraged by groups of fans in a flurry of mob mentality, and that the effect of that enablement and encouragement emboldening some people to actual dangerous or criminal behaviour (the case of the Nicki Minaj stan showing up outside the Dua Lipa stan's house recently springs to mind).

It does seem to be endemic in a lot of fandoms right now, which is kind of nuts, because it's never become an issue like this in fandoms that I've been in before (although it has always been a part of fandom - the stories of peak Beatlemania fandom are genuinely insane), but I think the world's feeling like an increasingly hostile place in general right now, and the internet really has its roots rotting in the soil of it. (I've genuinely been thinking lately that I'll see the death of the internet in my lifetime, if not in the next few years).

But yeah, I don't know. I'm sorry, it's awful, and I'm glad the podcast has made a statement, and seem like they will be deeply filtering the questions Sam sees. Like you, I hope that AMC gets better at protecting the cast too, but for now, all I can say is that I'm really glad he's not on social media.

[a-compass-without-a-needle]

This is what happened after 3.1 isn't it?

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

Had Silna's father already cut his tongue out by the time she was born? By the time he met her mother? Was he ever able to speak to his daughter, even once?

And is the shaman's role always hereditary like this? It's certainly implied to be in the show. Did he know from the moment of her birth that he would be forcing this sacrifice onto her one day? Had he grown up his whole life under that terrifying shadow as well? Did he watch her mother patiently teach Silna her first words, knowing it all the while? How old was Silna, when she was told that it was her duty and obligation to cut out her own tongue?

We talk about the parallels between Silna and other characters like Crozier who have a burden of responsibility thrust upon them that they do not want and cannot handle. But all the British men did, in some way, choose the life that led them here (yes, even the marines, in that they chose to join the military). Silna is the only one who was born into the role she is forced to play, with no way out. The tragedy of the men's fates is that they doom themselves with their own choices, but the horror of Silna's is that she has no choice.

[sinnettini]

are you catholic? i wouldn't have said so

anon 😭😭 i'm not trying to make fun of you and i'm taking this as a compliment actually but i don't know how to tell you this... i'm literally italian 😭

but seriously, i've grown up catholic yeah, but i don't believe in god and haven't taken part in anything religious in many years. i would say i'm like culturally catholic tho. and technically still catholic to the eyes of the church bc baptism and all that

[neonwizardheehee]

Little work rant:

I asked my coworker today if they could fill in tmr evening bc we had to switch things up bc some delivery didn't came and now we have to switch up the whole event (like we need to do smth at our place but the og thing is not possible) and they (we're friends actually) had the audacity to come to me with a "oh but couldn't you have planned that back in november when u knew smth was happening at yours?" .... girliepop the whole thing changed last week, my boss who usually does this is on sick leave and i have had a christmas market to run in between - girl what do u mean I could've done better, i am fucvking trying and crying over here to have our place even running next year

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[tetsumie]

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[lnfours]

peace | l.n

summary: being in love with an audience is exhausting and worrisome, especially when you feel like they deserve better.

warnings: mentions of relationship anxiety and online hate, fluff (!!!!), and obviously inspired by 'peace' by taylor swift.

message from jordan: hi hi hi!!! so sorry for being inactive, but i wrote this in a rush when creativity was striking me and ik it's pretty short, but i wanted to get something out for you guys 😞 trust me, there's more stuff sitting in the drafts. but in the meantime, i hope you like this one! sending you all my love! <3

masterlist | listen

"hey, handsome,"

your voice carried through the room shortly after the sound of the door to your shared apartment closing. he tilted his head back, neck resting on the back of the couch as he watched you hang your coat and keys on the hook at the door. the same hook you always used to hang your things before kicking your shoes off.

he smiled softly, locking the phone in his hand as he fixed his attention to you, trying to drown out what he had read on his screen moments prior. he wished he had never read it, wished he had just put the phone down and forgotten all about it, because now it was all he was going to think about. it had taken over his mind.

you approached the couch, his hand reaching out to your hip to guide you into his lap. the same routine you two had fallen into during winter break. the routine was the same every day after you'd both come home. you'd talk about your days, cook dinner, put on a movie and then climb into bed once it was late enough.

a routine that filled your souls with love and comfort. a sense of normalcy in his otherwise chaotic life. not that he was necessarily unhappy

"how was your day?"

you hummed, reaching out to fix the stray curls on his head. it was clear that he had worn a beanie during his travels today, "it was boring in all honesty. susan wouldn't shut up at all today."

he chuckled softly, "she still can't take a hint?"

"guess not," you sighed dramatically, causing him to laugh again, "how about you? how was training?"

"it was okay," he shrugged. you squinted your eyes slightly, searching his water colored ones for the subtle signs. you knew him like the back of your hand, so the slight change from his normal behavior was enough to raise flags in your head.

you cocked your head to the side, "what's up? you okay?"

he nodded, but you knew better than that, "just tired, training kicked my ass today."

he knew nothing got passed you, he didn't even know why he bothered trying to hide the fact that he was upset. he could tell by the silent look on your face that you hadn't bought his deception.

he let out a soft sigh before asking the question that plagued his mind since he read the words on his screen, "are you happy?"

your eyebrows furrowed, "of course i'm happy, lan. what makes you think differently?"

his eyes found sudden interest in any area that wasn't looking you in the eyes. you gently reached out, raising his chin to make his eyes look into yours. it broke your heart to know he had doubts, not only about himself, but that you were unhappy with him.

"'s just stupid," he shook his head, "'m sorry,"

you shook your head, "nothing's stupid if it upsets you this much, there's nothing to be sorry for. talk to me,"

he took a deep breath, "just read what people have been saying, 's all," his words trailed off as you brushed the curls back from his forehead, "i don't normally read what people say, but they brought up the fact that you basically abandoned your old life to be with me and... i don't know, it makes me feel guilty."

"lando, listen to me," you said his name softly, making it known you were serious as he looked back up at you, "sure, i 'abandoned' my old life because i fell in love with you. yes, i packed up everything i had to move here, yes i had to get a new job, but you know what? i'd do it all over again. for you, i'd do it over and over and over again."

"but i just feel like i'm not giving you what you deserve," he said softly, "like i'm never going to be able to give you peace."

"i do deserve you," you smiled softly, "every bit and ounce of the chaos, it's all worth it because of you. i just wish you could see yourself the way i do."

he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your palm, "i know, 'm trying,"

"it's okay, we'll get there eventually," you softly smiled, "we're in this together, yeah?"

he nodded, pulling you closer, as if it was even possible, "i love you."

you smiled, leaning towards his lips, "i love you most."

[postracehair]

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.