#i do still like writing so nothing much is really stopping me

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough - part 2

Hi, I wrote the second part of this fanfiction while juggling my thesis, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to point them out in my DMs or asks—I'd really appreciate it. I couldn't bring myself to just write pure fluff without adding a bit of angst. As I mentioned in the story, rebuilding trust isn't a straightforward process. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: after deeply hurting his girlfriend, Franco learns how hard it is to rebuild their relationship, learning that trust, once broken, is a delicate and painstaking process to restore.

Tag: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3178

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco had always been a man of control. On the racetrack, precision wasn’t just a skill; it was survival. Every turn, every decision, required complete mastery over chaos. Off the track, he wasn’t much different, carrying that same calculated demeanor into his personal life. The way he managed his career, his relationships, even the smallest aspects of his daily routine, all reflected his need to remain unshakable. Control was his armor, his identity. But this—watching the woman he loved drift further away because of his carelessness—was a storm he couldn’t navigate.

He had made a mistake. A single moment of thoughtlessness, a few careless words, the laughter that followed, had been enough to tear open the foundation of trust they had spent years building. The memory replayed endlessly in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless tide. He could see it all too clearly: the way her face fell, how her voice quivered when she confronted him. She hadn’t screamed or shouted; she hadn’t even cried at first. She had just gone quiet, her silence heavier than any words could have been. It spoke of wounds too deep for words, a disappointment that no apology could touch.

At first, he had thought the tension might dissipate after a day or two. He had underestimated the depth of the wound he had inflicted. What followed was a purgatory of silence. She didn’t leave outright, but her presence was a ghost of what it had been. She avoided his touch, his gaze, even his attempts at conversation. The vibrant, warm woman he loved so fiercely had become a shadow, navigating their shared spaces like a stranger. Franco’s every attempt to bridge the gap between them fell flat—flowers went untouched, her favorite pastries remained uneaten, and the small notes he left for her disappeared without acknowledgment. It was as though she was erasing him piece by piece, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The silence was unbearable. He missed her laughter, the way she would light up when she spoke about her favorite books or dreams for the future. He missed the way she would reach for him instinctively, as though he was her safe harbor. Now, he felt like a trespasser in his own life, each moment with her a painful reminder of what he had broken. 

On the third night after the fight, Franco found himself sitting on their couch, his hands clasped tightly together. The room felt impossibly large, every corner of it carrying memories of better times. He could picture her curled up on the other side of the couch, her laughter filling the space as she recounted some silly anecdote or read him a passage from one of her favorite books. Now, the silence was deafening. He had spent hours going over what he might say to her, how he might begin to repair what he had broken, but words failed him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand this. Tell me what to do—tell me how to make this right.”

She didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. “What’s the point?” she said quietly. “You’ve already shown me what you think of me. You agreed with them, Franco. You laughed at me like I was a joke.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt the full weight of her hurt settle over him. “That’s not true,” he said desperately. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him, her eyes flashing with rare anger. “You weren’t thinking. But that doesn’t change what you said. Or what you did.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, Franco could see just how deeply he had hurt her. “Do you even understand how small that made me feel? Like I was some kind of joke? Like I’ll never be enough for you?” 

She paused, her face now showing the pain she had been harboring beneath the surface “What else do you want me to say, Franco? That I’m hurt? That I feel like I’ll never be enough for you now? You already know that”

Her words cut deeper than any insult, the quiet resignation in her voice tearing him apart. “You are enough,” he said fervently, reaching for her hand. “You’ve always been enough. I was stupid, careless—I didn’t mean what I said.”

“But you did,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “Maybe you didn’t mean for me to hear it, but you meant it. And I can’t unhear it, Franco. I can’t forget the way you agreed with them, the way you laughed about me like I was some… inconvenience.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt his chest tighten, guilt clawing at him like a relentless tide. “I love you,” he said desperately. “I love everything about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t lose you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find some trace of the man she had once trusted so completely. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And right now, being with you… it hurts.”

His throat tightened as he searched for words, but there was nothing he could say that would undo the damage. “You are everything to me,” he said finally, his voice raw. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

-----

But words weren’t enough, and he knew it. That night, she moved to the guest room, leaving their bed and a gaping void in his heart. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment he had failed her, every time he had taken her love for granted. He thought of her kindness, her patience, the way she had always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. And now, when she needed him most, he had failed to be the man she deserved.

The next morning, he woke to find her gone. A note on the counter said she was staying with a friend for a few days. He stared at the words until they blurred, his chest aching with the realization that she needed space from him—that being near him caused her pain. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.

He threw himself into trying to make amends, even if she wasn’t there to see it. He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, cooked her favorite meals, and set the table with candles and fresh flowers every day, hoping it might offer a small measure of comfort when she returned. The evening when she finally walked through the door, she paused, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him.

“What’s all this?” she asked, her voice wary.

“I thought we could have dinner together,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I thought… I just wanted to do something for you.”

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table. They ate in near silence, the tension between them almost unbearable. He tried to ask about her day, her friend, anything to fill the void, but her answers were curt, her gaze fixed on her plate. By the time they finished, Franco felt more defeated than ever.

As she stood to leave, he reached for her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Please. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “Just tell me how to make this better.”

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “I don’t know if you can,” she said softly. “But if you want to try, then stop looking for shortcuts. This isn’t about flowers or dinners. It’s about showing me that I matter to you—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. It’s about showing me—every day—that you love me for who I am, not despite it.”

-----

From that moment on, Franco dedicated himself to proving his love, not through grand gestures but in the quiet, unremarkable moments of daily life. He began paying attention to the things she cared about—remembering the books she mentioned wanting to read, making sure her favorite tea was always stocked in the pantry, and taking over chores she usually handled so she wouldn’t have to. He didn’t push her to talk or try to force her forgiveness; instead, he gave her the space she needed, even when it hurt to keep his distance.

The process was slow and often discouraging. There were days when she barely acknowledged his efforts, her walls still firmly in place. But there were also small victories—like the time she laughed, a soft, unguarded sound that felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Or the day she found a note he had left in her book that simply said, “I see you. And I love you.” She didn’t say anything about it, but later that evening, she made them tea and sat beside him on the couch, the silence between them no longer quite so heavy.

-----

Franco thought he was making progress. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to let him in again. The walls she’d built around herself were still there, but they had started to crack. She smiled a little more often, lingered at the dinner table to talk about her day, and once, when they were watching an old movie on the couch, she leaned into him without pulling away. Each small step felt monumental, and Franco held onto the hope that one day, she might fully trust him again.

But trust, he learned, was fragile.

It happened at a party—a glamorous event hosted by one of Franco’s sponsors. He had been reluctant to go, worried about the strain it might put on their delicate truce, but she had insisted. “You shouldn’t have to give up your life because of me,” she said. He had taken her words as a sign that things were improving between them, a sign that she was ready to be part of his world again.

The evening started well enough. She looked stunning in a sleek, dark dress, her hair framing her face. Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for a moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the room. They mingled with the crowd, exchanging polite pleasantries with sponsors and fellow racers. She held her own beautifully, her sharp wit and quiet confidence earning smiles and laughter from everyone she spoke to.

Then came the moment that undid everything.

Franco had stepped away to get them drinks, and when he returned, he overheard a group of men making crude jokes about her. The words were vile—reducing her to nothing more than a pretty accessory, a trophy to be paraded around. Franco’s blood boiled, but instead of stepping in to defend her, he froze. He laughed awkwardly, muttered something dismissive, and walked away.

What he didn’t realize was that she had overheard, her expression a mask of disbelief and hurt as she stood just out of view.

Later that night, as they drove home, the tension in the car was suffocating. She stared out the window, silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Franco tried to fill the void with small talk, but each word felt hollow.

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, though he already knew.

“I heard them, Franco. I heard what they said about me. And I heard you laugh. Again.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what? To defend me? To show them that I’m more than the joke they made me out to be?” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, shaking her head. “I thought you were different. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you,” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t know what to say—I panicked.”

“Panicked?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “I was standing there, Franco. Listening to them degrade me, waiting for you to have my back. And you panicked?”

The argument spilled into their apartment, growing louder and more painful with each passing moment. By the time it was over, she was packing a bag, tears streaming down her face as she threw clothes into a suitcase.

“Please don’t do this,” Franco said, his voice raw. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.”

She stopped, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the suitcase. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice shaking. “This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about every time you’ve made me feel small, every time you’ve chosen your pride or your reputation over me. I can’t do this anymore.”

And with that, she was gone.

-----

The months that followed were the darkest of Franco’s life. She didn’t answer his calls or texts, and when he went to her friend’s house to see her, he was turned away at the door. For the first time, he had to confront the possibility that he might have lost her for good.

Franco threw himself into therapy, desperate to understand why he kept sabotaging the one thing that mattered most to him. His sessions were grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he had long ignored—the insecurities he buried beneath his arrogance, the fear of vulnerability that drove him to push people away.

He also began writing her letters, pouring his heart onto the page in a way he had never been able to do in person. He didn’t know if she would ever read them, but it was the only way he could process his feelings.

Months passed. Slowly, Franco began to change—not for her, but for himself. He realized that he couldn’t ask her to come back if he wasn’t willing to become the man she deserved.

Then, one day, he received an unexpected text.

“Meet me at the park tomorrow at 2.”

His heart leapt, but he forced himself to temper his expectations. When he arrived, she was sitting on a bench, her posture stiff, her expression guarded.

“I got your letters,” she said, her voice quiet.

“And?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“They were… honest,” she admitted. “But honesty doesn’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—not yet, maybe not ever. But I want you to know that I’m trying. I’m working on myself, and not just because I want you back. I need to be better, for me. For whoever I become, with or without you.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” she said finally. “But I’m willing to try. Slowly. On my terms.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-----

True to her word, she made Franco work for her trust. There were no shortcuts, no grand declarations that could fix what was broken. If he wanted to be in her life again, he had to earn his place every single day.

Their relationship became a fragile thread, held together by small, cautious interactions. They started meeting once a week for coffee, their conversations polite but distant. She kept him at arm’s length, her walls firmly in place. Franco didn’t push; he simply showed up, week after week, ready to prove himself.

One day, as they walked through the park after coffee, she turned to him abruptly. “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The question caught him off guard, but he didn’t shy away from it. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of looking weak, afraid of being judged. But mostly… afraid that if I stood up for you and got it wrong, you’d see me as a failure.”

Her eyes softened, but her expression remained guarded. “And now?”

“Now I realize that failing you is worse than failing in front of anyone else,” he said. “If I ever get the chance again, I promise you, I won’t let you down.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “We’ll see.”

The weeks turned into months, and their connection began to deepen again. She started sharing more of herself, though cautiously, and Franco matched her vulnerability with his own. He told her about the therapy sessions, about the childhood insecurities that had shaped his need for control and approval. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and while it didn’t erase the past, it gave her hope that he was truly changing.

-----

It wasn’t a single moment that brought them back together, but a series of small ones—acts of kindness, vulnerability, and unwavering support. Franco became a man she could rely on, not just in words but in actions. He stood up for her, prioritized her needs, and made her feel seen and valued in every aspect of their lives.

There were moments when he doubted himself, wondering if he was fighting a losing battle. And there were nights when he lay awake, haunted by the memory of her tears, the sound of her voice breaking as she told him how much he had hurt her. Through it all, he held onto the hope that one day, she would see how much he loved her—that she would believe it, not because he said it, but because he showed it in every action, every choice he made.

One rainy afternoon, he decided to try something different. He pulled out a cookbook she had always loved but rarely used and flipped to a page with a recipe for her favorite cake. He was hopeless in the kitchen, but he wanted to try—to show her that he was willing to make an effort, no matter how small. When she came home and found him fumbling with ingredients, the sight stopped her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“Trying to make your cake,” he said, holding up a whisk like it was a weapon. “It’s probably going to be terrible, but I thought—”

She interrupted him with a soft laugh. “You’re going to burn the kitchen down.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “But I figured it was worth the risk.”

She stepped toward him, closing the distance that had felt insurmountable for so long. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her tone was warm, her eyes soft as she reached for the whisk. “Let me help you.”

As they cooked together, bumping elbows and laughing at his mistakes, Franco felt something shift. It wasn’t complete trust—not yet—but it was a beginning. And as he watched her smile, he realized that this was what love was: not grand gestures or perfect moments, but showing up, every day, and choosing each other even when it was hard.

[requiemforthepoets]

broadway darling 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando never met each other in person despite him being best friends with your brother, but when carlos had dragged him to your opening night, he hated to admit it but he was charmed by you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n in the narrations, photo do not belong to me and all photos are taken from pinterest, inconsistencies of photos, use of y/n on the smau, not proofread, magui, profanities, mean comments, and typos

WORD COUNT: 696

FACE CLAIMS: taken from pinterest

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i missed writing for lando 😭 i made this one shot/smau to appease my broadway x f1 racer agenda in my mind, and since i’m a big fan of les miz and hamilton. though let me know if you want part 2 lol i hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it! this one’s for all the theatre girlies out there (i hope i did you justice 🥹)

It was an unspoken rule that opening nights were sacred in your family. The excitement, nerves, and anticipation of the curtain rising for the first time in Melbourne—it was all part of the magic you had fallen in love with since your broadway debut at sixteen. Tonight was no different, the backstage bustle surrounded you, but you remained calm, dressed in your costume for Fantine, the tragic heroine of Les Misérables.

The makeup team finished their final touches, ensuring every detail conveyed the pain and hope of the character. You took a deep breath, whispering a quiet prayer as the stage manager gave the fifteen-minute warning.

In the plush velvet seats of the packed theater, your family had taken their places. Carlos was flanked by your parents on one side and, to your surprise, his best friend, Lando Norris, by his side. You had heard of Lando countless times through Carlos’ stories, seen him in the occasional instagram post or race weekend interview, but never met him in person. Lando was not exactly the type you imagined sitting through a three-hour musical, but there he was, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intrigued.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me with you.” Lando murmured to Carlos as they flipped through the program.

“Because you need culture in your life,” Carlos teased, his voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Besides, it’s my sister. I’m always there to support her.”

Lando just nodded, unsure what to really expect. He had heard of you, of course, Carlos never stopped talking about his little sister’s accomplishments, but he had never seen you perform. Lando wasn’t even sure how someone who belted out ballads for a living would compare to the thrill of racing, but as the curtains rose and you stepped onto the stage, he felt something shift.

When you sang I Dreamed a Dream, the theatre fell silent, and Lando forgot to breathe. He didn’t know much about broadways and musicals, but even he could tell this was something special. There was a rawness in your voice, an honesty that made him feel like you were baring your soul to every person in the audience, him included.

“You good?” Carlos asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Lando blinked and sat up straighter. “She's…really good.”

“Told you,” Carlos smirked, “she’s a broadway darling for a reason.”

Lando did not respond, his eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart into the performance, and by the time the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, he was on his feet, clapping so hard his palms stung. Carlos laughed as he nudged him.

“I think you liked it more than me, mate.” Carlos chuckled.

“She’s, uh, really talented.” Lando flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Backstage, you were surrounded by castmates and well-wishers when Carlos arrived, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“You killed it out there!” He said, pulling you into a bear hug. “Mamá and Papá are so proud, they couldn’t even stop crying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wiping a bit of makeup from your cheek. “It felt good tonight.” You admitted, though your eyes flicked curiously to the familiar figure a few steps behind Carlos.

Carlos caught your glance and stepped aside. “Oh, right, this is Lando. You know him, my best friend.”

“Hello.” You said warmly, extending a hand.

Lando stared at you for a second too long before quickly shaking your hand. “Hey, uh, you were amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at his slightly awkward demeanor. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I never pegged you for a theatre type.”

Carlos snorted. “Oh, he’s not. He didn’t even know who Fantine was before tonight.”

“Hey, I know now.” Lando muttered as he shot Carlos a look, which made you laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Lando,” you said. “Thank you for coming.”

As you turned your attention back to Carlos to discuss dinner plans, Lando just stood there, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, feeling like he had just been hit by a train.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, lesmizofficial, iamrebeccad, landonorris and 456,736 others

tagged: lesmizofficial

ynsainz do you hear the people sing? 🇫🇷❤️

opening night of les misérables in melbourne was nothing short of magical. i’m so grateful for the chance to bring fantine’s story to life again and share it with the people i love the most. a night that i’ll never forget! ❤️✨

view 78,837 comments below

carlossainz55 incredible, hermanita! Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it ❤️

ynsainz AAAAAHHH LOVE YOU 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad you.are.amazing! GIRL THOSE PIPES YOU HAVE!!

ynsainz rebeccaaa, thank you so much!! i’m glad that you were able to come 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!!! 🥰

landonorris amazing show last night! first theatre experience and definitely won’t be the last 👏🏻🙌🏻

ynsainz thank you lando! glad that les miz was your first theatre experience. well, hoping to see you again soon! 😆

lesmizofficial opening night couldn’t have been more better, it was unforgettable! you’ve brought fantine to life in a way that will resonate for years to come. the team couldn’t be prouder of you! ❤️

ynsainz thank you, les misérables! 🥺❤️

username1 PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

username2 carlos wasn’t lying when he said he’s sister a star 🥹 i came for the sainz connection and left absolutely blown away by your TALENT!!!!

username3 an icon, a legend, a queen!!!!!!

username4 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT I WATCHED YOU LIVE 😭😭😭😭

username4 I NEED TO SEE YOU ON LES MIZ TOUR I CANT LET THIS PASS BY 😭😭😭

username5 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

username6 THEATRE KIDS UNITE!!!

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f1gossip

liked by username1, username2, username3, username4 and 20,837 others

tagged: ynsainz, carlossainz55, landonorris

f1gossip is there something more than just racing between lando norris and the sainz family?

spotted: lando norris attending the opening night of les miserables in melbourne with none other than carlos sainz and his family just days before the aussie grand prix weekend.

the mclaren driver, who’s usually more focused on the track than the theatre, seemed to be all flirty and smiles as he mingled with carlos’ little sister, ynsainz—the broadway darling herself! rumors have been swirling around ever since lando was seen front and center at the opening night, and now, it’s got us wondering…is there something between the two off-track?

while lando’s always kept his private life under the wraps, this cozy night with the sainz fam is raising some eyebrows. could les miserables be just the beginning? are we seeing a new f1 power couple in the making?

drop your thoughts below! ❤️

view all 18,636 comments below

username7 okay, but if lando is really into her, can we talk about what an upgrade this is from his usual dating rumors? she’s a literal goddess. broadway, west end, and disney??? ma’am.

username8 so lando’s in attendance at les miz in melbourne? okay, that’s cool, but is it bad that i care more about her perfomance than this so-called gossip? priorities, people!

username9 not at all!! everyone here in the comsec acting like they personally know lando or y/n lmao what a bunch of losers

username10 this is a bit of stretch, don’t you guys think? maybe he’s genuinely wanted to be there for support. he’s literally best friends with carlos and close with the sainz, is it now bad to support a best friend’s family member? not every guy and girl showing support or hanging out equates to dating.

username9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH!!!

username1 finally, someone saying relevant here for once!!!

username11 can we please stop making everything a love story? maybe she’s just being nice and lando’s just being lando

username12 oh you are so sick for tagging the people involved in your nonsense gossip!!! leave them alone!!!!

username13 now why us, broadway fans, suddenly being dragged into an f1 drama? can we just stay away from this and focus on supporting her and appreciating her talent? we don’t need this kind of drama

username14 lol lando is just tagging along with carlos like they usually do! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SHIP NOR A DATING RUMOR!

username15 she’s just probably using him for clout lmfao

username16 i don’t ship it, but if carlos approves, i guess it’s fine

username2 ????? weirdo

username17 she’s been killing it on broadway since she was young. why do people always have to reduce talented women to ‘who they’re dating/involved’ with? do better people, you all are really embarrassing

username18 honestly, i don’t really care who she’s dating. just give me tickets to see her next performance 😭

username3 oh you’re so really for this

username4 why do broadway tickets have to be so expensive 😭😭😭

username5 bank heist plan meeting at my house at 8pm, pull up

username6 time to sell feet pics 😔💔

username19 she’s just gonna use lando for fame just like *coughs* magui *coughs* and besides, she wouldn’t be famous if it weren’t for carlos LMAO what a nepo baby

username7 DON’T YOU EVER COMPARED THAT VILE AND WRETCHED WOMAN TO Y/N! THE BLANTANT DISRESPECT. SHES BEEN SELLING OUT THEATRE BEFORE YOU COULD SPELL BROADWAY. CARLOS MAY BE HER BROTHER BUT HER TALENT GOT WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THAT COUGH OF YOURS.

username8 username7 SLAYED, ATE, DEVOURED, LEFT NO CRUMBS

username20 yeah, i don’t really trust her. she’s probs only interested in lando bc of the clout that comes with being an f1 wag

username9 you DISGUST me. clout? clout??? mary, she’s the one with standing ovations every night. meanwhile, you’re hating from your couch. maybe try again.

username21 LANDO IN SPECS 😭😭😭 HES SO DREAMY 🥺🥺🥺

username10 people out here are tearing each other apart and so close in inciting civil war, while you’re out here commenting lando looks good in specs is so REAL 😭😭😭

username11 the vibe i bring to the function:

username22 the whole comsec got me laughing my ass off 😭 y’all are really bursting your nerves over this gossip that is completely baseless 😭😭😭 it’s NORMAL for him to hang out with carlos’ family and show support to carlos’ family member. like what the other commenter said, not everything has to be a dating rumor 😭😭😭

username12 EXACTLY.

username22 these people need to unclench their asshole. like omfg relax, brenda!

username23 if this is true, i don’t like it. lando needs someone who understands his world, not some theatre diva who’s only there for the spotlight

username13 ???? theatre diva ???? she’s literally been called the voice of this generation, a generational talent. she DOESNT need lando or his world, she has her own. stay bitter, though

username24 why are people so mean? she’s insanely talented and gorgeous.

username14 some people are just really fucking opinionated, like they know lando personally and that their opinions would matter. well news flash, lando wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at you nor date you all. fucking weirdos

username25 welp, this isn’t the comment section that i was expecting at all 🧍🏻‍♀️

username26 is this a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans? 😭😭😭😭

username27 vroom vroom kids vs. theatre kids

username28 this post alone had incited a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans 😭

[revelboo]

Hello. Your stories are beautiful. Can I ask you write something with Optimus Prime IDW? Thank you very much in advance. ^^

Sure

Gravity Pt 7

IDW Optimus x Reader

• You’re dancing again and he watches from the corner of his optic as he works, one foot sliding sideways before you shift your weight and spin. Servos stilling on his keyboard, he rumbles softly. Likes to watch you move, the way you can twist and bend like you’re boneless. And you catch him watching, flashing your little teeth at him with a laugh. “When I was a kid, my mom was obsessed with living out her dumb ballerina dreams through me,” you say, arms above your head. “Bet she’s rolling in her grave that I ended up an exotic dancer.”

• “Exotic?” He asks and he’s so innocent, it’s sweet. Running through the moves helps you relax, gives your worry and tension an outlet. You wonder what the big guy would think of you if you actually explain it to him, your slide from rebellious teenager to desperate adult. Because working in that dump was only the latest in a string of bad decisions. Every attempt you make to claw your way out of the gutter only driving home that maybe that’s where you belong. You’d resigned yourself to it, gotten tougher and blunter out of necessity, but somehow you can’t make yourself tell him that. He’s just this pinnacle of good and right. And he might not touch you so kindly or at all if he knew how awful you really are. “You were alone?” He asks when you don’t respond. Worrying over you like he always does.

• Blowing out a breath, you rake your fingers through your hair to send it into disarray and stare up at him. Little teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you wave a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” you tell him, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I can take care of myself.” You can, but still. You’re his to care for and protect, but he won’t pry or push. Hopes you’ll open up to him eventually. Entrust your burdens to him.

• Reaching out slowly as if giving you the option to avoid his touch, he hovers a servo just in front of you and you lean into it, wrapping your arms around that big digit. “I know you can, but I’ll still here if you need me,” he says and the that deep, rumbling voice rolls through you. Makes you realize that you’ve stopped plotting escape or even looking for an opportunity. That you don’t want to go back to your old life. There’s no one left to care for you or even notice that you’ve disappeared except your creditors anyway. Sure, Optimus is only invested in you to keep his own people safe and out of a weird sense of honor, but you want to pretend he really cares. That you belong here and that this time home won’t be ripped out of your fingers.

• “Sure,” you say, little arms hugging his servo and the feel of your heart beating against him. So small, but you try so hard to be independent. Not asking him for anything, even though he’d try to find you whatever you need to be happy. Smiling all the time like you are now, even though it’s brittle. Pretending nothing touches you, when he can tell it does. And all he can do is wait for you to trust him. To really talk to him, because until then he’ll hoard those details of your past that you accidentally let slip.

Previous

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[aurossaga]

You Turn my Shield on Me

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: i don't know i just write. no more questions

Word count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: Mentions of a battle, weaponry

Summary:

He always asked if you'd protect him on your excursions. Turns out, he never needed to be protected after all.

The setting sun is doing little to warm you as you push yourself up from the cold, muddy ground. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, chasing that rush of adrenaline as the sound of battle stills. Your weapon, dropped a distance away from you in the fray, glimmers mockingly at you as the light catches it. You had stumbled and fallen, but… that hardly matters right now. No, there are much more pressing matters at hand.

You look up at the man standing in front of you. His back still turned your way, an arm reaching out ready to draw another arrow at a moment’s notice. His moves are careful and practiced, practically perfectly honed. You’ve only ever seen aristocrats fight with such elegance and precision before…

Which is why this makes no sense.

“You’ll promise to protect me, right?”

It’s what he always says when you two go out exploring together. Or, rather when you go exploring and he tags along out of boredom. And you had always assured him that you’d never let harm befall him, always promised that you’d be his shield. After all, he was a novice at archery, he claimed. A bow was a difficult weapon to defend oneself with in the heat of battle without exceptional mastery of it.

Arrows still surging with Anemo energy litter the now desolate grounds turned battlefields. Each and every one of them had hit its target. Clean, lethal blows. As you finally catch your breath, remembering to breathe properly amidst your confusion, you see him turn to cautiously check on you.

“Are you alright…?”

…

There are so many things you want to say. So many things you want to ask. Your jaw drops open a few times over, you sputter and stutter and mumble out half-baked words and jumbled sentences until you give up, closing your mouth, and give him a slow, cautious nod. You are unharmed. And it was no thanks to yourself.

Venti watches you for another long moment. His eyes, much more focused than usual, scan you for injuries regardless of your insisting that you are fine. He knows you well. Quickly, that look is replaced by the familiar one you are so accustomed to. One you now doubt the sincerity of, just  a little bit. His shoulders relax and he exhales in relief for a moment before his posture straightens back up, his bow lowering to his side.

“Well, that’s a relief… We sure were lucky these monsters were on the easier side!”

Those words sting a lot more than you expected, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s not quite true. Perhaps It’s because you know those enemies hit hard. Fast. Ruthlessly.

And they certainly don’t stall for long enough for an inexperienced archer to pluck them off one by one like that.

And yet…

“You were incredible back there.” The words slip out before you can think to stop them. You’re not quite sure if it’s words of praise or an accusation. His mastery of the bow, the precision in his strikes… You couldn’t wrap your head around it. He said he wasn’t capable of that. That he needed your protection.

He blinks, and for a moment, his eyes shy away from yours, his lips pressed together a bit firmer than usual. Maybe this is what guilt looks like on him. But then he smirks, the easygoing, almost careless expression you’ve grown so accustomed to returning as if it had never left in the first place.

“Really, now? Praise from my most dearest muse, is it? I must fetch my pen at once, lest I mistake it for a dream!”

You’re not sure what comes over you. His words were nothing out of the ordinary from him, he’d tease and poke fun all the time. But… For him to act so casually, so normal after a display like that…

It irritates you.

“You said you were a novice,” you practically snap. “That it was just a hobby.”

“And you don’t believe me?” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something guarded in his eyes. He steps closer, offering a hand to help you up. You hesitate for just a moment, but you take his hand, only now realizing that those delicate hands that pen the most beautiful prose you’ve ever read are firmer, sturdier than you could recall. Or perhaps you were only noticing now that you knew to look for it. He pulls you up to your feet with ease.

“I… No! Why should I?” you demand, brushing dirt from your roughed up clothes. “I’ve never seen you fight like that before..! Or, at all, for that matter! What was all that?” You gesture to the field littered with arrows and fallen enemies, your eyes never leaving his.

He tilts his head innocently to the side, his smirk fading slightly.

“Does it… matter that much?”

“Yes, it matters!!!” you exclaim, the words spilling out before you have the time or restraint to stop them. “It matters because I trusted you to rely on me! And now I find out you didn’t need me at all?”

There it is. The heart of your frustrations, the reason your chest aches as much as your bruised body. You’ve always been the protector, the shield, someone you wanted him to rely on. To feel safe with. And he’d let you believe he needed you, too. But now that picture in your mind breaks into a thousand pieces, and you both know very well you won’t be able to put it back together, no matter how much you try. You were too smart to believe his words, his deflections.

You hang your head, your gaze falling down to the muddy grounds beneath you. Though you can’t see his face, you can practically hear his emotions in the tone of his voice. It’s… raw. A bit more intimate than you think he intended.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” he whispers, his voice low and even as he takes a step closer. “I just don’t want to stand in the way of your talent…”

He seems almost unsatisfied with his own choice of words. Slowly, his hand reaches out, searching for yours, taking hold of and wrapping around your fingers so delicately as if he’s asking permission.

“...My warrior, you would have had this in the box, regardless if I stepped in or not. I just… didn’t want to see you hurt. You don’t need my protection, but… you have it.”

It’s not quite an answer, and it certainly doesn’t answer as many questions as you would have liked. But, there’s an honesty in his tender voice that makes your heart hammer again. Your lips part, intending by all means to press him further, to demand answers about his skills, his lies…but the words die on your lips as your shoulders sag to match the dejected feeling of reluctant acceptance. You knew better than anyone how avoidant Venti could be when faced with such a direct accusation. You knew better than to press further to achieve nothing.

“...Okay. Let’s go home.”

His grip on your hand tightens, bringing your attention back to the moment. And as you walk home, he doesn’t let go of you even once. His grip is gentle, apologetic, begging for understanding and time to explain what happened today. And, albeit reluctantly, you grant him that grace as your fingers interlace with his.

[nakylvr]

need to be watching comfort movies with manon and holding her like please let me take care of you my heart hurts

i stopped studying to write this up, it's probably trash but i needed to do something

— ANYTIME, ALWAYS 👑

warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, f!reader

you knew something was off the moment you stepped inside the dorm for the girls after getting a text from manon. it was quiet with the rest of the girls gone for the award show, an oddity for the home that was buzzing always. you were given an extra key from sophia who explicitly told you that you were the only one to have an extra and to not let the staff find out. to be fair, you didn't really care though if the staff found out right now.

when you got the text from manon that read; can you come by? :(, with nothing else, you had a feeling something was wrong. you showed up at the dorm within twenty minutes.

you step into the living room, seeing manon sitting on the couch with the hood of her hoodie over her head watching, or trying, to watch a movie on the tv. she doesn't even notice your presence until you step closer to her. "hey, baby," you say softly, making her finally realize you're there and look up at you.

"hey," she says quietly. "how did you get in?"

"sophia gave me a key a while ago," you answer, sitting down next to her on the couch. "is everything okay?" you ask hesitantly.

"mm," manon hums, not moving. "just...things," she mumbles.

"okay..." your voice trails off as your eyes glance around. "do you want to talk about it?"

manon shakes her head, her eyes finally meeting yours with tears in her eyes. she opens her mouth to speak but you're wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into your embrace before she can get anything out. she puts her face in your neck, her arms grabbing your shirt tightly as if you would disappear.

"it's okay," you whisper softly. "it's okay," you reiterate a few times, your hand rubbing her back reassuringly. you can feel a few wet droplets hitting your skin, and you pull her closer to you, her body practically pressing against yours as she quietly cries into your neck.

you can hear her mumbling into your skin, and you can only make out a few words every now and then, but you can decipher it and figure out what she's saying. "look at me, baby," you say quietly, moving your hands to her face.

manon slowly lifts her head from your neck to look at you, her eyes slightly red from crying with a few tears still trailing down her cheeks. "i-i don-don't understand-"

"hey, hey," you interrupt her quickly, knowing exactly where it would lead. "i'm going to stop you right there. just breathe, okay? everything will be okay, you will be okay. i don't know what you're seeing, but ignore it. it's hard, i know. it's been hard, i know. but you're the strongest person i've ever met," you wipe the tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "i love you so much, the girls love you so much, everyone loves you. forget the small percentage of people who are jealous because you're talented and they aren't. you are so important to so many people. you mean the world to so many, to me. i love you so much."

listening to your words has more tears welling in manon's eyes as she nods along to what you're saying. "i love you too," she mumbles quietly.

you lean in and softly press your lips against hers, feeling her reciprocate instantly as her hands rest on your waist. you pull away for a moment, leaning your forehead on hers while wiping away the remaining tears. "is there anything you want to do?" you ask.

manon shakes her head lightly. "not really. i was watching a movie, but it's kinda trash."

you nod while giving a short hum. "okay. how about we put a good movie on and i'll order us something to eat?" you suggest.

"i'm okay with that," she replies.

"okay," you peck her lips, smiling slightly. you grab the remote off the table and grab manon's arm, pulling her down on top of you as you lay on your back along the couch. she giggles softly at the action, resting her head on your chest as you look through the movies listed on the tv. putting on a random one, you put the remote down and look back at manon, wrapping your arms around her. "i love you so much," you quietly speak.

"i love you too," she responds in the same voice. "please don't leave," she whispers.

"i won't," you immediately reply. "i promise." you kiss the top of her head. "you don't have to worry about that. i'm staying for as long as you'll keep me around."

"forever?" she murmurs.

"forever."

[animalistic00]

Hey!!! Here’s another breakdown of my thoughts I told you it was coming!!!! I just needed time to process because OMG🤯

Cleo’s post of SpongeBobs brain on fire and the mini hims panicking is a MOOD. She didn’t have to call out reader like that though, lmao even though it’s true and definitely how everyone reading it myself included was feeling. The reader then commenting; “help me” only for Cleo to post a SpongeBob and Patrick reaction pic IS EVERYTHING. Pope’s comment makes it even ten times better and more hilarious. AND THE AUDACITY OF JJ TO COMMENT 😂 like you did this brother.

NOW THE TEXTS🤯😭 I needed a whole ass warning for these. Died and came back to life, like you were so wrong (BUT SO RIGHT) for this. I had to take another pause while writing this because BABES this is so phenomenally OUTSTANDING words can’t describe it but I’m going to try my absolute best.

JJ immediately coming to reader and being like “we should wait.” STAWP 😭✋I can’t that’s so unbelievably sweet and thoughtful. Like you can tell, YOU WRITE/SHOW him caring for the reader so freaking well. Him also being like, “this isn’t the best time” you can tell he’s not only so deeply in love with her, but he cares about her so much. Like don’t get me wrong; I definitely get the vibe he absolutely loves her and has loved her romantically for ages; but I also get and feel that he loves and cares for her platonically so hard too. Like yes he wants to date reader, but that’s his best friend first and foremost and it just shows; YOU SHOW IT SO AMAZINGLY.

Him reassuring her😭 he’s so perfect STOP I want him. I want them to end up together. (BUT THEN YOU COME OUT SWINGING WITH RAFE AND IT AINT FAIR)

Okay; this is also another thing and I know I’m gonna repeat myself (I do that a lot) but you actually write him so well. Him being like ; “good or bad; wait no don’t answer that.” Is SOOOOOO- I have so many thoughts. JJ is such a reckless individual but he’s also extremely selfless and loyal to those he cares for and you portray that perfectly. Like poor baby definitely wants to know what reader is thinking and feeling, but he understands that this isn’t a good time and she needs time. SO being the selfless individual he is he’s like we’ll wait until YOUR ready. LIKE PLEASE; this is amazing and perfect. Indescribable. Him being like; “you need to think and I need to prepare myself.” Is so sweet and sad; like I know poor baby is preparing himself for the worst and rejection and how he’ll be able to keep reader in his life. Because let’s be honest he won’t want to lose her😭

THE PLANS BE HAD TO ASK HER OUT 😭☠️ four years ago, then the summer, and then after the season. Mans was trying and that’s actually really cute too and it’s totally in character for him to have plans but then BE IMPULSIVE AND IGNORE THEM

The line; “I always have plans when it comes to you.” I NEED TO SAY NOTHING ELSE.

Him still offering to have the conversation after everything has calmed down and the reader is ready is just MWAH. No words needed, it explains itself. Before he tells her that until then, they’re best friends and he cares about her being happy. That, that’s all he cares about. He’s so perfect LIKE I CANT. CAN I HAVE HIM? PLEASE??!?

Also the ma’am✋😍

Then them immediately talking about pranking Pope is HILARIOUS and actually such a great detail and addition. It shows how close they are as best friends and even though with all the drama and feelings in the mix they will be BEST FRIENDS first.

P4L

The instagram POST🥰 Besties fr. Sarah calling them trouble makers or finders is so real; CUZ THEY BOTH. Also I love Cleo so much. Her comment is nothing short of amazing, and I stand our wife. AND THEN POOR POPE😭😂 I love and LIVE for their and this dynamic.

The gingerbread houses post from Cleo, are amazing and I can’t. Her house, as it should be💅, WAS STUNNING!!! I have no idea what JJ was doing but GOOD LORD, he um…tried? Bless his heart, let’s keep him out on the football field. NOW CLEO COMPLIMENTING RAFE?!? 👀 his house does look good, but I know wifey still mad on readers behalf so I was SURPRISED when I saw that. Not only that, Rafe hanging out with everyone. Like reader is one powerful woman 🗣️💅 she’s keeping EVERYONE in line. (Rafe’s house was good fr though) I don’t even have words for John B’s house. LIKE HOW DID JJ DO BETTER?!? Also Rafe legit admitting that he tried so hard so he’d be invited back is so cute and sad.

Readers Christmas post is adorable. AND POOR TOPPER, like please this man is struggling for his life. Someone please update this mans, he’s so lost and I love it. Rafe needs to talk to him for real. Like please. (At the same time I love him being so lost and it should definitely continue on for a bit hehe 😈) Cleo was definitely right about crazy crowd choice because whew, again talk about readers power.

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit confused on the letter one. Is Rafe posting a picture of a letter the reader wrote (that was my first guess) or is he posting a pic of one he wrote to her? AGAIN TOPPER in the comments confused😂 Rafe telling him to “shut up,” was wrong of him.

THE PIC OF RAFE AND JJ. The POWER reader holds should be feared by all. Also the photo is actually so funny, (and I wanna know the story in real life) but even better I wanna know the story behind the picture in this AU. Like what was JJ doing with all those glasses MUCH LESS ON HIS FACE? How did reader get these two to agree to go out to dinner with her, and much less them staying civil for HER 🥰🤭😩 and this time Pope in the comments being confused is hilarious.

Now the texts between reader and Rafe…I can’t 😭 gonna have to break it down just like the JJ ones.

Rafe starting off the text with thanking reader and saying how he’s missed her is so sad. Like he obviously is still head over heels for her and is so glad for ANY crumb he gets.

POLYAMOROUS?!?? Please. Please. I beg because I cannot choose for the life of me and I don’t want there to be a choice. But her being like; “JJ had fun.” Is such a big deal even if it was her, it’s the fact that it was also her and them. Like you know they secretly enjoyed each others company. That or I’d like to at least see reader remain close friends with whoever doesn’t “win” and actually for Rafe and JJ to become close. Just for everyone to eventually become close and besties 😭 (FEED MY DELULU PLEASE?🙏)

Rafe saying we should give JJ a chance FLABBERGASTED ME. Still leaves me flabbergasted when I read it. Was not expecting that from him, but it honestly shows how much he’s grown and matured from before. And how serious he is about being our friend first and foremost. As he says. Which leads me to the; “because I’m your friend. I told you I would be the best friend you've ever had. Your friend would want you to be happy. And I think you need to give him a chance.” Like I can’t with him. That’s- it’s indescribable. That’s so selfless and truly shows how much he cares for the reader. I’d honestly immediately fold if someone told me this 😂☠️ poor reader cuz I could never. Why do they both have to be so sickly sweet and selfless?

I canttttttttttt; YOUR PAYING FOR MY THERAPY. Rafe being like as your ex, I know what I want, what you mean to mean, who my true love is, and what not. Is UGHHHHH and then him being like you deserve to figure out what you want and who you love and I’m here for whatever you choose. ☠️ I both love and hate that. I hate making choices so I’m like “NOOO, AHHHHH” but it is so sweet.

I apologize (LIES) I actually don’t; no but this is so long. I just had so many thoughts and feelings that I wanted to get out and share with you especially since you seemed to enjoy my last post. In case you’re confused I’m posting/rebloging this on my reblog account. I’m animalistic0, anywho I love your work so much this story is the best. Absolutely OBSESSED. Thank you for sharing, and creating this artwork.

Kildare University- Sophomore Year: 9

Synopsis: A Social Media AU in which you find yourself at Kildare University along with your friends. Starting over at a new school shouldn't be difficult. Well, except for the fact that your ex-boyfriend is the quarterback, and you are the drum major. Add in a little bit of drama, a lot of friendship, an ex who can't seem to let you go, and a best friend who has been in love with you since you were kids and well? Welcome to KU!

Pairings: Past!Rafe x Reader, JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@akobx @onelonelybitch @the-universe-and-karma @beeskisses @frankoceanluvr11 @ivy-34 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @k-k0129 @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @xoxo-ada @aariahnaa @strawberryforks @urbrunettebombshell @whatisoutside @spenceatiny18 @animalistic0

[whumpsoda]

Oh please write a snippet of Florence being put on the drip, knowing that his mind is being wiped and there's nothing he can do about it

@oliversrarebooks

Masterlist

Man do I hate him <3

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, wru facility, drugging, impending doom

——————

This was the end.

He could now say that he had experienced how it felt to contemplate death, not that he could never really tell anyone, now could he? That was basically what it was, the death of his mind. The death of a person, the person he was, brain turned to the mush that was a pet’s.

He swallowed, shaking. He wasn’t supposed to be shaking, never before would he have ever been fucking shaking, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

There was a muzzle covering a majority of his face, padded and black to match the mitts tied around his hands, to keep him from biting. Or maybe from screaming. Maybe both.

He was restrained to a table, similar to one in a doctors office, but - and of course - fucking white. He’d never really thought that much about it as a handler, when his life didn’t revolve around it - the white walls, white lights, white shirts, white uniforms - but goddammit everything was white. It made him sick to his stomach, a burning throb that seeped into his head.

This whole room was the same - white tile, white walls, white furniture, white cabinets - save for the metal machinery that provided no solace.

An itch blossomed in his outgrown, frizzy curls, one he couldn’t move to reach, forcing him to rub his head to the surface of the table. Making him look like the animal they would turn him into.

A snap in his face, catching his attention. Like a dog. “You ready? Or are you gonna struggle like you always do, even to your last moments?” Handler - God no, Everett - chuckled, stood right beside him.

His last moments. How laughable was it that he was spending them tied down to a table about to be plugged into the same substance he’d put so many boxies’ through? How fucking funny would he have found that if it was someone else on the table instead of him?

He wanted to sock Everett right in the face. He would’ve, if not for the restraints. Still, he struggled - banging, kicking weakly, snarling wildly - face beating red as Everett began to laugh.

“Isn’t that just a sight?” Everett leaned over his trainee, grinning with that stupid look on his face. A growl rolled out from under the muzzle, muffled and nearly unheard. “Man, I’m so excited, you have no idea. I’m so done with your antics.”

Anger fired up a flame in his chest, binding over his lungs as his cheeks boiled. With a clunk his fists fell to the table, over and over again in the attempt to make as much of a ruckus as he could. Anything to irritate his captors more than he already had. Anything to bring him any semblance of satisfaction.

“Hrgh-!” His eyes practically burst from their sockets as electricity exploded around his kneck, a squeal crackling from his throat as the shock seemed to stretch on and on.

Before, Everett would have thought the sight was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Now he sat their straight faced, looking as bored as if he was any other trainee. “Don’t make me use the shock collar, ‘065, you know it’s already gotten old.”

The muzzle did it’s very best to constrict his hoarse, shallow breathing, the edge scratching over the skin of his throat. Everett patted his shoulder, comforting if not for the circumstances, calling his attention back.

“Don’t you worry one bit, ‘065. Everything’ll be a-okay once you’re off the drip. You’ll see.” Everett couldn’t even put in the effort to hide his smirk, one he so very much to wipe right off. “You want me to hold your hand?”

Everett was taunting him. Taunting him. Like they did to trainees together, except this time he was the trainee.

What would he even be after this? As a real trainee, head knocked empty?

A boxie. He’d be a braindead, obedient little boxie.

He’d have an owner, someone whose every word he would hang from, drooling to serve them.

His stomach churned, bile bubbling up with heat from his belly. He was going to puke just thinking about it.

What a joke.

The click of the door, steps parading the edge of the room. The doctor had arrived, the same one he’d worked with several times previously on other boxies. This time though, that doctor would be working on him.

“You guys ready to get this party started?” Everett asked - hands on his lap in an anticipatory stance - giddy almost, to no response.

The doctor was on the other side of his table then - he’d never cared to remember her name - audibly flicking switches, turning knobs.

“And we’re on.” Everett sneered, plopping himself into a white, plastic chair across the room. The perfect view, staring straight at him.

This was-

This was it.

He could feel his lungs growing and depleting, breath sucked in and out faster and faster every nearing second. The muzzle wasn’t doing him any good, only furthering his struggle for air.

He gripped to the walls of the table as best he could with mitts around his hands, wriggling weaker and weaker against the restraints with every passing moment. The drip was already getting to him, quicker and quicker.

He shrieked, quieter than expected but still a decent sound. The doctor was unmoved, Everett giggling from his seat.

How dare they.

How fucking dare they.

He was a person, not a boxie. He wasn’t like them. He was someone who had a family, friends, a real fucking future ahead of him, one they swiped away just like that. One that, this time, he couldn’t see any way to get back.

He couldn’t struggle. His limbs were numb, falling limp as something dead, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. What could he have?

The air was hot in his mouth, sweat dribbling over his top lip and onto his bottom. Already he felt himself drifting, like he was floating almost, unable to grab back on.

Maybe-

If he could just-

If he-

he…

His head filled up with a sensation of suffocatingly air, as if going in for surgery. He caught Everett flash him a small, glittering wave. “See ya soon, ——,”

Only white, hearing fading out to a buzz.

Only white, thoughts washing into the abyss.

Only white, vision clearing to a stinging brightness.

Only white, memories flushed to emptiness in the blink of his eye.

Wiped.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

@whump-till-ya-jump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[icarusredwings]

Letters.

Tw: General warning about phycosis and bad mental health.

Thinking about Wade becoming conscious sometimes out of his manic/phycosis episodes and scribbling down everything, he wants to tell who he's with before he's gone again.

It starts off as a letter, adressing them, telling them his feelings, explaining complex things that he cant comprehend in this state, how much he loves them, and then it goes down hill to apologizing for being a burden, the end of the page scribbles in more and more pressurized versions of "Im sorry Im sorry Im sorRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY

I'M SORRY

I'M SORRY

I'M SORRY

IM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRYIM SORRY with tear drops smudging some of the words. And then when you ask him about it, he doesn't remember even writing it.

People always ask Vanessa why she stays with Wade. Why or how she could put up with him for so long. And the truth is, his good days? He's a great person. He's a good man, Savanna. And an amazing lover.

One day, Logan finds one of the letters on the counter, a lot of words scribbled out but it, in short, says

"Logan,

I know I'm a pain in the ass a lot of work but I love you please don't give up on me

But its the bad days that pile up, become endless. That's what breaks her. She can only help so much. And it breaks her heart to think about ever truely giving him up.

I'm loosing my mind trying really hard. Wade."

She's explained this to Logan, bringing him to her dresser and pulling out a shoe box full of papers, notes, letters.

Every single one of them is from Wade. Ranging from love letters that are multiple pages long, sticky note with hearts and a doodle of stick figures banging doggy style with "Happy hump day!" on it, and uncoherent smuged and half scribbled out notes from his bad days telling her how badly he wants the voices to stop. To leave him alone. Telling her that she should leave him. "You can do better. You DESERVE better." The words say.

"Vanessa,

I know you need me here with you, but I'm losing myself, and I'm afraid you're gonna lose me too. These powers keep me alive, but they're making me crazy. And I need to save you, but who's going to save me?

Please forgive me for whatever I do

When I don't remember you.."

"Is that?... That show with the strenchy dog?"

She nods, taking it back and carefully putting it back into the box. ".. That was one of the first letters I ever gotten like this.. he thought the cancer would take his ability to remember me. So.. he wrote me that."

"So what do I do?"

"What do you mean? There's nothing much you can do.. but according to this? Don't give up. If you want too.. I used to write back but.. sometimes he didn't awnser again. Still though... He said he's trying.."

[violetasteracademic]

Rambling thoughts post. Won't delete.

I learned a long time ago to stop commenting on the state of the ship war/ SJM fandom as a whole and asking people to be kinder, and anyone who has followed me for a while (which sounds silly to say since I've only been here since March) has likely witnessed my slow disillusionment of the SJM fandom space. As my therapist said, if you keep trying to clean up debris in someone's house who refuses to fix their roof, you'll drain yourself for nothing. (That was about my ex husband but hey I think it applies here.) I've also realized that in the long run, individual creators don't matter, really. There are too many creators in this space who burn out and disappear and even if it upsets or disappoints people in the moment, there is always someone to replace them. I'm very replaceable. My thoughts really don't matter. But here they are anyway.

The SJM tumblr space is extremely hostile and negative. But it isn't all hostile and negative, and the more I filter out the shipwar content and anti content (seriously, I have filters on anti elriel, anti gwynriel, anti elucien, and shipwar buzzwords like delusional, reading comprehension, touch grass, ECT and thank you to my dear friend @yourstarsmyscars for showing me how much more the filters can do than I realized!) the more free I am to see how many kind and wonderful creators there are on here making cute art and amazing fanfics and nourishing a positive fandom ecosystem.

Again, I don't matter in the long run. I'm not sure how many people even still follow me really since I've stopped engaging in the shipwars beyond art, fics, and kind posts. But I do want to let anyone out there who, like me, has had their tolerance for the ship wars plummet to the core of the earth, break through the crust in the middle of the Pacific ocean, and then drift into space, know that there IS kindness in this fandom beyond the noise. There are people doing great work on all sides, who are welcoming to all, and just trying to create something people will enjoy.

I can't say I'll be here forever, or even much longer. But I feel moved to signal boost the positivity. I also know that, although I do believe I tried very hard to be positive and not insulting the majority of the time, I had days that I let the negativity get to me and I was snarkier than I wish I would have been. I'm truly sorry if I ever made a post that even remotely hurt anyone's feelings or added to the negativity. I'd go back and delete them, but frankly they are my most popular posts and still get reblogged so it feels sort of pointless since reblogs don't get deleted.

Although I am an Elriel in my heart of hearts, I want to continue to be a welcoming space for all. If that means my followers get cut in half or only a few people interact with my posts, that's okay with me. I can't try to patch the roof of the fandom, but I can keep my own space toasty and warm for anyone looking for reprieve, regardless of who you ship. I've stated multiple times here that I'm the only Elriel in my IRL friendships, and I love my friends dearly. I tried to speak to Tumblr as a whole the way I'd speak to them, and I didn't always do that. But the world is too abysmal and scary and a lot of SJM fans come online and struggle to find a space that isn't extremely hostile and negative.

Here's to all the goofy little spooks making art, fics, texts, and transcending the shipwars and just trying to connect over the things we love.

In the words of our Lord and Savior Taylor Swift, I want to be defined by the things I love, not the things I hate.

Also still committed to writing a banger Elain Lucien and Azriel throuple once I get through my laundry list of current fics. Maybe a quadruple with Gwyn. Maybe I'll just write a giant orgy, actually.

[tetsuooooooooooo]

ok im watching act 3 again to write down my questions and see if anything makes sense this time

edit im 2 eps in this got long as FUCK kjchgxhi come talk to me!!!!! im screeching into the void!!!!!!! americans wake up look at my post!!!!!!!! say everything to me!!!!!!!!!

why are we introducing time travel alternate universes into this story

where did the other ekko go, was he in Our ekkos universe/body or just out of commission, bc that makes no sense i think, if they didnt switch then wheres the ✨symmetry✨

do you think that skye had anything to do with them figuring out the cleaning flowers thing in the AU? and is viktor dead? and jayce in jail? banished? i wonder where skye went here i hope shes living her best not in love with a gay guy life

where the FUCK was the Original-AU heimerdonger when he got bodysnatched by the Our version? they do still call him professor but in Our version he just recently got kicked out of the council so would he still be just freeloadin around zaun at that point in the AU? was he ever councilor?

can everyone on my screen Please stop hurling their guts out from timetraveldisease

if theres no hextech and no anomaly in the AU reality then how did it throw them in it in the first place

ekko is smart but if he was smarter hed stay around to research what needed to happen to make zaun work in this version and save himself time figuring it out from the groundup back home, i think

but also what the fuck COULD have possibly happened to make it so different CUZ LIKE- ok the little flashback bit with vi dying in jayces house- the gang is wearing the same clothes as in Our version, so that would probably indicate that THAT zaun was also in the same state as Our ""original"" version too? right? no? i mean i would say they did put emphasis on clag n mylos clothes being different and more piltovian or whatever idk maybe im onto nothing WAIT NO BECAUSE CLAGGOR WAS MAKING THE DAMN FLOWER TO CLEAN THE POLLUTION SO IF THATS STILL THERE THEN IT COULDNT HAVE BEEN RESOLVED THAT MUCH EARLIER HERE RIGHT

also what the fuck had to be different exactly for enforcers to bust the kids after blowing up a building and not chuck them all in stillwater this time around? did they really care that much about vi dying? was that really the inciting incident for zauns inclusion? marcus? fucking MARCUS marcus? marcus "im gonna bury the lot of you" "deals with the devil to get a 14 yearold put in jail for life"* marcus sees a zaunite girl dead (after breaking into a piltover home and wrecking it) and just goes "aw :c" ? the council of rich businessfucks like salo whod do everything they can to maintain the status quo? is One Dead Kid (still the name of my nonexistent band) really all it takes this time? am i too tough on these people am i dumb if id like some elaboration on how that whole story went or

*to be honest i. dont really get what that Deal thing with silco was about in the first place

wheres Scar aaaat show me my guyy whERES VIKAAA

how did the shimmer story end up in the AU because IF the main change here is vis death then i could believe that silco WAS still already on track with beginning the production at that point if of course singed is also in the same position as Originally

is there a universe where that hammer lands on jayjays head and ends him right there

did silco forgive vanvan before or after zaun gets their "win" in the AU? because my bet is DEFINITELY after

ALSO how the fuck in a city like piltover did they not renovate jayces blown up flat after fuck knows how many years, at LEAST 3 (id wager at least 7 but thats just me so whatever) like city of progress who?? is it just there as like a cautionary tale??? did they put up a lil plaque for jayce after he kild himself?? they just boarded that shit up tho there was nobody there?? why did they leave it like that idk

WHY did heimerdeimer die???? DID he die?? why did he DIE?????? what happens to the AU-Original hongerdonger??? you couldnt have just waited 10 minutes and have powder do allat?? she trusted us right? maybe not

why WAS bonking viktor in the head with the zdrive the answer to our problems

powder knew what she was doing with that innovators cum petition sign right

WHAT the FUCK was that mylo claggor moment like am i inSANE OR WAS THIS SUS AS HELL also (man rapping) put some FUCKING RESPECT on stromaes name

how DID rizzard viktor stop being purple actually. god i still hate that reveal im not smart but i refuse to believe that was good writing

what happened to put that rock in jayces wrist? it wasnt a process it was viktor doing it in a split second why did that need to happen? so he wouldnt lose it? hunh?

no because WHAT IS AMBESSAS FUCKING GOAL HERE IN THE END

does she want kino back? whAT DO YOU WANT WOMANNNN

did that princess girl that got her head sliced off by bessa in the first season actually have anything to do with anything in the end or not cuz im just confuzzled

how does he know that

what does that mean

how does SHE know THAT

what does THAT mean

does loris have the same accent as vik??????

where the fuck did that ginger binch come from in the first place is she from piltover or noxus if shes from piltover what did ambessa give her and when

Neither of them would say ANY of this shit

wonder what vi would say if she saw this conversation before her and cait decided to pork

im just gonna choose to believe she was in there for like 5 hours so her labrador attention span just reset and she chilled out about jinx (actually ykw i guess im willing to believe at this point she doesnt really care that much if jinky offs herself or not)

what the FUCK ARE these goddamn doll puppet thingies viktor makes why are they LIKE that why is THIS the theme here (because orianna and Plot) (but like dyouknow what i mean)

what the fuck was the point of Skye Young as a character in this entire story other than a Gaydar Jammer. with all respect to skyvik stans but like. what is it.

lmao you abandoned them much before that guys

we stan a I Gave You Food And A Roof Why Are You Sad You Ungrateful Ingrate queen

it REALLY DOESNT DOES IT JGHCCGHIBC

why DID skye die again? they wouldnt have just? integrated? again? or smthn? why is this a one-passenger ride all of a sudden? we already got a hivemind thing goin? whatsup?

[jediwrites]

this won’t work

pairing: anakin skywalker x jedi knight fem!reader

theme: angst/comfort

summary: after a mission, you’re feeling like shit, anakin comes to comfort you.

warnings: a little angst, but we get the confort part too :) mentions of nightmares, toxic thinking (i guess? idk how to name it sorry), sad feelings, probably grammar mistakes

word count: 881

A/N: hello there, just a small work to start (idk if i can call this angst?). i'm really excited to share this with y’all, it’s far from the best but i liked how it turned out. this is the first time i post my writing, so i'm afraid, but really happy too, so i hope yall like it. if you want to make a request (or just want to talk) feel free to ask!

You felt the sweat getting down on your forehead and spine with every swing of your saber, your hands held the base with a strong grip, trying to stop the trembling. You had been in the training room for hours. It was probably late at night, but you didn’t care. You would be there until your body ran out of energy or ran out of those feelings that were consuming your very being. The meditation wasn’t working, so the saber fight had to.  

You shouldn’t be letting those feelings consume you. So much shame, regret, anger. You were a Jedi, for the Maker’s sake. It seems like you were incapable of controlling it, though. You had failed them, how it would be possible for you to not feel anything? 

Since the attack of Grievous and his droids, it has been impossible for you to have a good night. Every time you tried to close your eyes and let sleep take you, the sounds of screams and shots flood your dreams, with the creepy laugh of the cyborg being the melody of them. So you wake up more tired than before. Wanting to run away from those memories, your mind came to the idea that if you worked your body to exhaustion, you probably wouldn’t have dreams or nightmares. 

“This won’t work at all” a voice suddenly filled the room, startling you and making you come to a halt. Your distraction almost got you hit by a blaster, but you deflected it with a fast swing of your lightsaber. With a command, you turned off the droid.

“You scared me, you idiot!”

The man laughed. “Well, I can’t say that wasn’t my objective.”

Rolling your eyes, you retracted your lightsaber, putting it in your belt. Drying the sweat from your forehead with your robe’s sleeve, you turned in his direction.

Looking at Anakin made your heart skip a beat. That’s probably because of the intensive training you were doing seconds ago, nothing related to the man, of course. Crossing your arms over your chest, you spoke:

“I thought you were on a mission.” You weren’t expecting to see him so soon, but you felt the relief of seeing Anakin again getting through your body. 

“You thought right, but the council called me to get back to Coruscant.” Anakin had his arms crossed in his back, with every word he did say, he gave a step to your direction. You kept still, waiting. With only a small distance between you, Anakin put one of his hands on your shoulder, squeezing softly. “Are you alright?”

His caring tone made you break. Before you could prevent it, your eyes were burning and your face was buried in his chest, with his arms around you. You were crying like a baby, probably his robe would be wet after that, but you couldn't care less, neither could he. 

After some time of your crying being the only sound in the room, you calmed down, feeling Anakin’s hand soothing your back. You missed him so much.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.”

You moved your head from his chest, being able to see his face without getting away from his embrace. Anakin got a small smile on his lips, you could see the sadness in his eyes. He knew very well what you were feeling. Losing men to the battle wasn't an easy thing that you could just forget that happened, but going on after surviving and fighting for those who had fallen was the best to do. Dwelling in the possibilities of what could have happened if another decision or move had been taken, wouldn’t bring anything good.

Letting his mechanic hand on your back, he put the other in your face, getting rid of the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You thought about it. Maybe it would help, the last time you spoke about the fateful day was with the council, and if you would be honest you didn’t say everything. Right, you told them how you and the soldiers got to fight Grievous and the casualties, but besides the strategic thing — and the tragedy —, you didn't say anything more. In your mind, telling them about how this mission affected you would make them perceive you as weak, or worse, perceive you as someone incapable of returning to the battlefield. So to not give chances, you kept every feeling to yourself.

“No,” you said. “Not now, at least.” 

Having Anakin in your arms made you feel more at ease. It was ironic how this very man, who has a mixture of emotions flooding from himself, was the one capable of soothing your stormy feelings.

A thought passed through your mind, making you a bit embarrassed. Wanting to hide this from him, you got your head back in his chest, tightening even more your arms around him. 

“But I will be glad if you could stay with me, like this, for tonight,” you whispered, a comment only for his ears.

The sound of his laugh made a smile appear on your lips. “My beautiful girl, you don’t have to ask again.” Anakin kissed the top of your head, whispering back. “I won't let you go from my arms tonight” or ever.

[kaiyunsim]

abscence of you —

pairing : bf!jaehyun x gn!reader

summary : you and jaehyun are caught between love and personal needs. you both watch as your relationship slips away, knowing they could never give eachother what they needed the most.

genre / warnings : angst, swearing (1 f-word), reader is lwk a red flag, maybe more

a/n : I LOVE BOYNEXTDOOR AND GRENTPEREZ ! also i rewrote this like two times cuz i was unhappy and still kinda am but i hope u guys enjoy ! (lmk if u want more cuz i like writing angst)

currently playing : absence of you - grentperez

— not proof read — wc : 1.1k —

you are always busy with making music but jaehyun never minded it because it’s your passion and he found it cute that you put your efforts into something you both like. he hasn’t seen you in a while thought and he really started to miss you so be wanted to surprise you at your apartment.

jaehyun opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb you, knowing you are probably working on something. he made sure to get ramen that isn’t that spicy and has some mushrooms because it’s the way he likes it but also gets your favorite. he leaves the takeout on the table and sees you typing on the laptop.

“i got your favorite, let’s eat,” he says with happiness, finally getting to see you after a while. he approaches you and gives you a back hug.

“thanks, give me five minutes to finish this,” you say, not taking your eyes off the screen.

he only nods, moving to the table and unpacking the food and set up the table for the both of you. eventually, ten minutes pass and he just watches you work.

“are you going to eat before the food gets cold?” he asks gently, trying to remind you.

you glance at the clock, “oh, shoot. sorry, i lost track of time,” you reply, getting up and taking your seat at the table.

jaehyun begins to eat and you are about to start before your phone starts buzzing. you pick up the phone and start answering texts and he just watches.

“do you ever just stop?” he asks gently again. bothered, but not wanting to cause trouble.

you look up from your phone, which is now facedown on the table, and frowns slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?” you asks.

“forget it.” he pushes it off.

—

after that, you guys don’t see eachother for a while due to your conflicting schedules. whenever you could spare some time, he would be working on his songs. whenever he would be free, you would be busy with songs of your own.

the next time you would both see eachother is when you went on a hangout with your friends. they wanted to invite jaehyun so they asked if he wanted to join and he accepted.

you picked him up from his place and they all meet up at your place. it starts off as awkward before sungho, being the oldest hyung, wants to break the ice and asks a question to the couple.

“so what’s the next for you two? moving in together? engagement?” he asks lightheartedly, the last questions were in a more joking manner.

he replies half jokingly, rolling his eyes, “if i can ever get them to take a break from producing music on soundcloud.”

you laugh awkwardly, “what? i like where we are now. there’s no rush”

and the silence came back, as if nothing ever happened. but something did happen, tension increasing and sungho started to feel awkward.

his smile falters and he chugs the rest of his drink, not wanting to push the answer out of you.

later, you give jaehyun a ride home and the tension continues to seep into him but he decides to break it.

“you didn’t have to laugh it off like that…” jaehyun comments hesitantly.

“what are you talking about?” you ask, confused.

“the future, us. do you think about it?” he clarifies.

“of course, but i’m just… not ready for anything long term. there’s still so much i wanna do”

“yeah, and i guess i’m not a part of it” he murmurs to himself.

“hey thats not fair. im trying to build something for myself. that doesnt mean i don’t think about us” you answer. you sound somewhat annoyed at the constant comments from him.

“of course you think of us,” he says sarcastically.

“i don’t have time for this” you roll your eyes.

“you don’t have time for me, you mean” he says, raising his voice slightly.

“i didn’t ask you to come” you exclaim, matching his energy.

“jesus fucking christ y/n, i’m sorry i wanted to see my partner after a long day of promotions. i’ll just schedule an appointment next time.” he says sarcastically, throwing his arms up.

just as he says that, you stop the car as you guys are in front of his house. he undoes his buckle and gets out of your car, not wanting to deal with more of you for today.

days later, jaehyun hasn’t reached out, and neither has you. both being consumed by their own thoughts.

jaehyun replays their argument, torn between guilt and frustration. he wonders if he’s asking for too much or if you love him as much as he does you.

you try to focus on your work but feels a hollow ache whenever you check your phone and find no messages from jaehyun. you wonder if he’s tired of you completely.

jaehyun decides to stop by your place to talk. he just wants to communicate how he feels. when he arrives, he sees you on a video call with your team, all animated and smiling. he watches you through the party opened door, realizing how vibrant and alive you seem in your own world.

you spot him and quickly end the call knowing your team would understand. you open the door, your smile fading as you see the look on his face.

jaehyun looks at you with a weak smile, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“what?” you reply, confused with where he’s taking this.

“you’re incredible at what you do, i just…”

he pauses.

“don’t think there’s space for me in your life.”

you sit there. letting the words sink in.

you shake your head, “that’s not true jaehyun, i’ve always wanted you with me.” you say, gripping onto his hands, eyes starting to water.

“but not enough to make me feel like i belong.” he says. finally being able to confess his feelings.

they both sit in silence. neither knowing what to say. finally, jaehyun breaks it.

“i love you, y/n. but i need more than this…”

jaehyun walks away, not wanting to turn back, leaving you stunned with tears streaming down involentarily. it’s not like you were sobbing, but god damn did you wanna crawl up and just cry. but your breath hitched, refusing to cry further

in the quiet of your apartment, you whisper his name into the empty air, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him back.

[heavensoutofsight]

types of kisses with billie eilish ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

synopsis: as your very loving girlfriend, billie likes to give you all kinds of kisses...

tags/warnings: established relationship, fluff, it's a little suggestive toward the end but nothing outwardly explicit!!

word count: 1,106

author's note: i am entering finals week soon so i haven't had much time or energy to write much 💔 but i am working on longer fics! i wanted to just throw this out here bc the idea came to me randomly in the middle of the night and i just had to make this so here we are 😭 i really hope you guys enjoy!

taglist: @brat-at-the-disco, @hannahluvsbillie, @karaeilishh, @rhearipley-69, @bilssturns, @bla1rxoxo, @billiesrighthand, @weluvwbb, @belleishot, @floweiralie, @natbelovasblog

(if you would like to be removed, dm me! <3)

Hurried kisses

These types of kisses are usually given on the days where Billie has a busy schedule; the days where you cling to her in bed like a koala, refusing to let her leave your side, craving the warmth of her body. Billie often made herself late to her whatever interview or photoshoot she had scheduled for that day, kissing every inch of your face while standing in front of the door, her brother blowing up her phone and begging her to hurry up – but Billie could never leave the house without completely smothering you in quick, chaste kisses. On the days where she was really in a hurry, quickly grabbing any necessary belongings on her way and not even bothering to eat a quick breakfast, she could only afford to give you one little peck on the lips, but even that was enough for you.

Surprise kisses

Billie gave you surprise kisses all day, every day. One of her favorite things to do is sneak up behind you while you're doing the dishes, folding laundry, or doing any other task that keeps you distracted, and wrapping her arms around your waist, her lips quickly making contact with your cheek. Every time, it would startle you, and Billie would always run off, leaving you a flustered mess, her contagious giggles filling the room. Sometimes, her surprise kisses would catch you off guard in other ways – there have been countless moments where you'd be in the studio with her, sharing your opinion on what she should add or change about a particular song, and in the midst of you speaking, she'd briefly interrupt you to kiss you. If you asked why she felt like doing that all of a sudden, she'd always say, “Because you're so cute. And I love you. Sorry.”

(And if the cute little grin on her face was any indication– you knew she wasn't sorry. And that she'd do it again. But you couldn't even be annoyed. You loved her too much).

Sneaky kisses

These kisses tend to be the most fun. These are the ones that Billie will give you in her dressing room as she's about to go on stage, the door closed but unlocked, the both of you feeling the thrill of possibly being caught. Sometimes, she'd have to be on stage in just a few minutes, but even then she'd never pass up the opportunity to have you to herself even if just for a small moment. Even during rehearsals, when you're off to the side watching Billie warm up her beautiful voice, she'd always plant a kiss on your lips in between songs every now and then, the quick pecks acting as motivation for her to get through the rest of the practice. She also loved sneaking in kisses at the afterparties for award shows. As much as Billie loved the loud music and crowded rooms, sometimes she just needed to pull you outside or to the bathroom just to kiss you breathless, smudging whatever lipstick you chose to wear that night in the process. She wasn't afraid to show you this affection in front of others, either. Paparazzi was everywhere, but that didn't stop her from sharing a kiss with you under the strobe lights.

Long-distance kisses

Whenever Billie was away, she'd still find a way to smooch you. You spent many nights alone in her house (not completely alone with Shark keeping you company), facetiming Billie while she was in some other city miles and miles away, alone in her hotel room. Even if it was well past midnight, she'd never forget to call you and ask you how you've been doing, listening attentively to how your day went and everything you did. She'd always smile at you fondly while you were speaking, staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars. Often, the two of you fell asleep on the call; but on the nights where you actually remembered to end the call, Billie would always send you flying kisses, making the mwah sound extra dramatic and loud, making you chuckle. As cheesy as it was, you always pretended to catch them, sending her kisses back.

Long-distance kisses also came in the form of photos. If you were at work, bored out of your mind, you would conveniently receive a text message from Billie. Upon opening it, sometimes you'd be greeted with a slightly blurry photo of Billie making a kissy face to the camera, with an accompanying message saying something along the lines of: I miss you. Love you so much. Can't wait to come back home so I can kiss you for real ♡

Those messages always got you through even the busiest of work days.

Passionate kisses

These kisses were always reserved for when the both of you were in the privacy of Billie's home. These were the kisses that she'd give you if she was away on a tour for a while and you couldn't come with– perhaps because your schedule didn't align with hers or because you had some family emergency. When she'd come home, you were quick to run into her open arms, and Billie wasted no time in showing you how much she missed you through one long, slow, open-mouthed kiss, one that made strong feelings of desire pool within you and your breathing uneven. During these kisses, Billie's hands would never stay in one place, caressing every dip and curve of your body, gripping you tightly in certain places, and the possessiveness of her touch always made you swoon.

Sharing a passionate kiss with Billie was also a common occurrence after date nights, when the both of you had the time for those and it had been a while since you two spent quality time together. There had been many moments where you'd be sitting across from Billie at some high-end restaurant, and she'd be sitting across from you, eyeing you hungrily like a wolf stalking its prey. You loved wearing specific clothing items that would drive Billie crazy, like a distracting, low-cut top. She'd keep it together for the remainder of the date, of course, but the second the two of you got home, she was pouncing on you, kissing you with so much need and want that it was enough to make your knees weak. It was always straight to the bedroom those nights, where Billie's lips would trail further and further down, leaving no inch of skin unkissed.

In short, being in a relationship with Billie meant more kisses than you could handle. But you were certainly not complaining about that.

[rocknrolldecadence]

PLEASE DO MORE OF IZZY ITS SO GOOD😜😜

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

surprise

you uncover a secret of izzy’s.

warnings: none

a/n: AHHHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! tysm i hope you like this even tho it’s short 🙁🙁 also everyone don’t mind the spacing, my phone is still acting up (i need a new one so bad it’s insane).

it was a late summer’s evening and you and izzy were hanging out in the studio. downtown LA was busy as ever, and the cars provided a calming sort of ambience. it was just you two there. your boyfriend wanted to get some writing done without the other members of the band, and so he invited you to join him.

as izzy strummed his guitar, you stared out the window, just listening. the half-fleshed out melody provided a soundtrack to your daydream. until he messed up.

‟i keep fucking this up!” izzy complained, putting his guitar down and sighing.

you looked over at him. “babe, don’t worry about it. it’s fine. you aren’t even recording anything.”

he didn’t reply, but you could still feel the dissatisfaction. “what is this for?”

“a new song.”

“well… yeah. but do you know what it’s gonna be like? have you got lyrics yet?”

“i… dunno.” izzy coughed.

“what does that mean? you either do or don’t.” you laughed.

again, izzy didn’t reply. you eyed him up, trying to silently coax an answer out of him. it didn't work. but he seemed… embarrassed? that was unlike him. you pressed for information again.

“c’mon. are you hiding something from me?” you feigned sadness, clutching your hand to your chest.

“no. i just… wanted it to be a surprise.”

that caught your interest. the way he looked down at the floor was intriguing. was this a surprise for you?

“is this for me?” you giggled. it had to be. why else would he be acting so secretive?

“god, stop fucking pressing.” izzy huffed. he got up and left the room, reaching for his pocket as he did so, seemingly searching for his lighter.

you were taken aback. sure, you and izzy had both said much more awful things to eachother than that when you fought, but that was weird. you hadn’t meant anything by asking. the overreaction made you uneasy. what if it was for someone else? a secret girl?

you sat in the studio for a few minutes, staring at izzy’s guitar. you finally went to find him, and saw him leaning on the railing outside the building, smoking a cigarette. “hey,” you said, walking up beside him, “what’s wrong?”

izzy said nothing. he just took another drag of his cigarette. you looked up at the sky. it was sunset now. the tones of pink and yellow melted into eachother beautifully. minutes passed in silence, until izzy tapped you with his elbow and held out the nearly-done cigarette to you. you took it to your mouth and inhaled.

“look,” your boyfriend started, “i wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause i’m writing a song for you. well- songs. i wanted to perfect them and show you. y’know, with the rest of the guys.”

you looked over at him. songs? you hadn’t expected that. you and izzy hadn’t been going out for that long, only about four months. you didn’t think he could write multiple songs about you. that made you smile.

“am i really that important to you?” you laughed, stubbing out the cigarette on the railing the two of you were leaning on.

izzy pulled you in close to him, touching sides. “well, it would be kinda stupid if you weren’t. why would i be dating you then?”

“are any of these songs done? do they have a riff?”

“one does. if we go back in, i’ll show you.”

and so you dragged izzy back in eagerly.

[shaiprsly]

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she’d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You’re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...