#i have so many more pictures i could post

[imaginespazzi]

All Fell Down ~ Part 3 ~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

* masterlist in collaboration with @azzibuckets *

summary: paige and azzi have never really been just best friends

a/n: Hello, hello my lovies <3 I'm so sorry; I literally just fully forgot to post this part yesterday because life has been so very hectic. But I think having an Azzi Fudd masterclass before this chapter is probably ideal. As always let me know your thoughts my loves!

Azzi should have expected the deafening silence that follows Paige’s name leaving her lips. If it wasn’t for the sound of the other girl’s breathing -staggered and heavy- she’d have thought perhaps it was a phantom call with no one on the other end of the line. And really Azzi doesn’t know what she was expecting; doesn’t know why she’d expected anything but exactly this when she’d picked up her phone. But when Paige’s CallerID had flashed on the screen, the buzzing of the ringtone cutting into Azzi’s pity party, there hadn’t been much else in her brain other than this sudden burst of hope. It had taken barely two rings before she was scrambling across her bed, grabbing her phone and hitting the green answer button with far too much vigor. It was one syllable but she’d wrapped Paige’s name in a desperate mixture of i just miss talking to you and please can can we fix this. And she’d gotten nothing in return.

“Paige?” she tries again, fighting the fresh new set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes; she’s lost count of how many times she’s cried tonight. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end but still no response and whatever thin string had been holding the remnants of Azzi’s heart together seems to fray even more.

“Okay,” she breathes out, closing her eyes as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “okay Paige,” she repeats, her tone resigned and ready to accept something that feels a little too much like defeat, “I get it. I guess this was um- this was an accident or something so I’ll uh- I’ll hang-”

“Canyoucomepickmeup?” Paige’s words come out hoarse and slurred together as she cuts Azzi off.

“What?” the brunette’s eyes widen, unsure if she’s heard wrong. 

Azzi hears Paige gulp; can almost picture the blonde chewing at her lips like she usually does when she’s nervous, “I asked if- if you could um- can you come pick me up?”

“I-”

Paige begins to ramble before she can say anything, “it’s just uh- it’s just that the rest of team seems to be having a lotta fun and I- I think maybe I drank too much and my head’s throbbing and Evina says I should go home but-”

“Okay.”

“I can’t drive myself and I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin anybody else’s night-” Paige cuts herself mid sentence, taking a second to process what Azzi had just said, “wait- okay?”

The brunette has already slipped off her bed, rummaging around her bedside table for her car keys. She thinks she’s probably giving in a little too easily, thinks she should probably be more pissed at Paige’s audacity to not speak to her for two weeks and then call her out of nowhere to ask for a mundane favor. But it’s Paige. Her Paige. And Azzi knows that if the blonde asked her to show her the stars, she’d find a way to steal the whole night sky for her.

“Okay,” Azzi confirms as she slips into her sneakers, “I should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re actually coming,” Paige’s voice is slightly dazed. 

There’s a pang in Azzi’s chest at the slight surprise in her best friend’s tone. It’s a testament to how much has changed between them. Those unspoken promises of we’ll always be there for each other that had been the solid foundation of their relationship seem to be clouded by fears of are we still the same us? It hits her then the depth of the abyss between them. They’re stranded on opposite sides of it and Azzi just hopes they still have enough strength to build a bridge over it and get to each other again. 

“Do you still want me to come?” she asks timidly as she steps out into the wintry Storrs air. It’s freezing cold but Azzi thinks it’s nothing compared to the way she knows her heart will ice over if Paige says no. 

That familiar silence lingers between them as Azzi waits for Paige to say something. It feels like that’s all she’s done for the past two weeks. Waited. She’d waited for the answers to her list of ever-growing questions as Paige had pulled further and further away from her. She’d waited to catch her best friend’s avoidant eyes so she could try and decipher the storm brewing in them. She’d waited, arms outstretched, for her Paige to come back to her. But she thinks that if Paige says no now, if Paige decides to keep building this wretched wall between them instead of helping Azzi tear it down, then she won’t wait again. Because the weight of waiting is just too much and there’s only so much longer that Azzi can hold on. 

“Evina said to go home,” Paige’s voice trembles when she finally speaks, “she said to go home and all I could think of- was you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers. 

“Azzi,” and that same desperation from before echoes in Paige’s tone, “please come take me home.”

[overadores]

･ ⟢ ⋮ without warning ゛༝. ✦ sophia laforteza

“We had the stars, you and I.

pairing.ᐟ sophia laforteza x sick!reader

about.ᐟ Sophia and Y/N’s college friendship blossomed through a shared love for adventure and literature, leading to countless spontaneous road trips. Unbeknownst to Sophia, Y/N carried a heartbreaking secret. As they created unforgettable memories, time quietly slipped away, leaving behind a final gift and a love that would last forever.

genre.ᐟ heavy angst, hurt no comfort.

cw.ᐟ major character death, friends - supposed to be lovers, language, sickness (leukemia).

wc.ᐟ 1353 words

a/n.ᐟ and another one :P i forgot to post today FUCKKK, i was too busy playing im so sorry TT and manon story for the fluff. pls i need more friends on airbuds.

And this is given once only.”

Sophia Laforteza met Y/N in college, an instant bond forming between them over their shared love for literature, adventure, and their equally extroverted nature. Their first encounter was playful—Sophia, being the new girl, had wandered into the wrong classroom.

"Hi, is this Literature 101?" she had asked as she carefully took her things out.

Y/N glanced around before smirking mischievously. "I don’t think so. This is Biology."

Sophia’s face paled, and she immediately stuffed her things back into her bag, ready to bolt, but before she could reach the door, Y/N called out, barely containing her laughter. "I’m kidding, new girl! This is Lit 101."

Sophia turned back, eyes dead serious, as she returned to her seat. "Ha ha, so funny," she muttered sarcastically.

Y/N grinned, offering a hand. "Oh, come on, let me have a little fun with you. I'm Y/N."

Sophia shook her hand, side-eyeing her. "Sophia."

"You're a feisty one, Sophia. Enjoy college, pretty."

That was the start of something beautiful. Y/N’s teasing and pestering became a constant in Sophia’s life, and strangely enough, Sophia never complained. She loved it. When Y/N invited her on a spontaneous road trip, Sophia—being the people pleaser she was—agreed without hesitation. One trip turned into many, and soon, Sophia bought a digital camera to capture their adventures. A sunset on a hiking trip, Y/N’s excitement at Six Flags, the quiet serenity of an empty beach at dawn—each moment immortalized in photographs.

At first, Sophia didn’t question why Y/N was always so eager to travel, but curiosity got the best of her one night. "Why do you always go on these trips?" she asked as they lay on a motel bed, scrolling through pictures on her camera.

Y/N hesitated before answering, "Fulfilling my bucket list, Forteza."

Sophia thought it was just Y/N’s way of romanticizing life. She didn't press further.

But in reality, Y/N was sick—dying, even. The spontaneous trips weren’t just for fun; they were a race against time. She knew she wouldn’t make it until forty, but if she had to go, she wanted to go with beautiful memories. And with Sophia.

There were only three things left on her list:

Try to fall in love again, give love another chance.

Watch the stars and have deep emotional talks.

Maybe, just maybe, try to make it until 40.

As days passed, Y/N grew more tired. She noticed her body weakening, but she pushed through. She had to. One evening, while strolling through the park, Y/N watched as Sophia played with a golden retriever, laughing at the way its tail wagged excitedly. Y/N smiled, storing the image in her heart.

Another memory to cherish.

"Soph, can we go now? I'm starving, darling," Y/N said, waiting for her to finish petting a golden retriever.

Sophia looked up, grinning, and linked arms with her. “Alright, alright.”

They walked side by side, chatting aimlessly. Sophia, unable to hold back her concern, finally pointed out, "You’ve been looking paler lately. And thinner. Are you okay?"

Y/N brushed it off with a laugh. "I’m always like this when I’m stressed. No big deal."

Sophia frowned but nodded. "Just… take a break sometimes, okay?"

"Yeah," Y/N murmured, guilt pooling in her stomach.

Later that night, they lay under the stars on the rooftop of Y/N’s loft. Pillows, a picnic cloth, and food were all prepared by Y/N. Sophia was surprised by the effort. "You really went all out," Sophia chuckled, settling beside her.

"Of course. I promised myself I’d watch the stars with someone special."

Y/N broke the comfortable silence. "Do you like the idea of soulmates?"

Sophia turned her head, furrowing her brows. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shrugged. "Do you get excited by the idea of finding someone that completes you?"

Sophia pondered before admitting, "I do get butterflies at the thought."

"What about you?" Sophia asked, turning toward Y/N.

Y/N inhaled deeply. "I like to believe that there's someone out there who will love me no matter what, even if I die." Sophia stiffened. "Why would you say that?"

Y/N just shrugged. "It’s comforting to think love doesn’t end, even when life does.

Sophia sat up slightly, watching Y/N’s face intently. "What would you do for the love of your life?"

Y/N smirked. "Maybe the usual romantic clichés—kissing in the rain, writing her letters, learning all her favorites and surprising her with them, 3 AM car rides. Maybe have a little fun."

Sophia giggled, pinching her side. "Hey, don't be dirty now."

Y/N laughed with her, closing her eyes as Sophia’s warmth surrounded her. This was enough. Even if it all ended too soon. 

Then, on the last day of exams, Y/N was nowhere to be found. Sophia looked around campus but gave up when their professor excused Y/N from the session. Concern gnawed at her.

She rushed to Y/N’s loft after the exam, only to find it eerily quiet. No music, no humming, no laughter. Sophia pushed open the bedroom door and saw Y/N lying there, breathing heavily, shivering, and burning up with fever.

Panic surged in Sophia’s chest. She shook Y/N desperately. "Hey, wake up! What’s wrong?!" Sophia shook her, panic flooding her veins. "Please, wake up." No response. Her forehead burned under Sophia’s touch.

She called an ambulance, hands trembling as she cradled Y/N. "You’re gonna be fine," she whispered, voice cracking. "Just hold on."

The hospital smelled sterile.

Cold.

Empty.

Sophia sat outside the emergency room, fingers digging into her palms, praying that it’s just a worsen flu, but the doctor’s words hit her like a train.

"The leukemia is progressing. She needs to stay hospitalized."

Sophia’s world shattered.

Sophia’s world tilted. "Leukemia?" Her voice came out broken. "She… she never told me."

The nurse handed her Y/N’s phone. "She’s awake. You can see her now."

When she was finally allowed to see Y/N, she walked into the room, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Y/N smiled softly and patted the space beside her.

"I'm sorry I didn’t tell you," Y/N murmured,

Sophia sniffled. "You should’ve never kept this from me."

Y/N sighed. "I just needed to be ready." leaning her head on Sophia’s shoulder. Sophia sat down, holding Y/N’s frail hand. "You should’ve told me. I would’ve… I don’t know. Done something."

Y/N chuckled weakly. "You did enough. You made my life beautiful."

Tears slipped down Sophia’s cheeks. "Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay."

They sat in silence before Y/N whispered, "I have a surprise for you, but you’ll only get it next week."

Days passed, and Y/N grew weaker. Then, one morning, Sophia entered the room and saw the monitors still. The beeping had stopped.

Y/N was gone.

Sophia broke down, her cries echoing through the hospital room. The person who had filled her life with adventure and love was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories.

A week later, Sophia received a call to pick up a package. When she arrived, a golden retriever puppy was waiting for her, a polaroid of their first road trip, and a tiny collar, along with a letter in Y/N’s handwriting.

Dear Soph,

I wanted to give you something to remember me by. Someone to love, the way you loved me. I hope you look at him and see the best parts of us—the laughter, the adventures, the love.

I never told you, but I did fall in love again.

With you.

Thank you for giving me the happiest moments of my life. Don’t cry too much, okay? You still have so much living to do. I’ll always be with you, in every picture, in every adventure, in every sunset.

Thank you for being my greatest love story, even if it was shorter than I wanted it to be. Take lots of pictures for me.

With love, always, Y/N.

Sophia clutched the letter, tears streaming down her face. She looked down at the golden retriever, who wagged its tail at her, and she couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

Y/N was gone, but her love remained—in the dog, in the photographs, in every adventure they had shared. And in Sophia’s heart, forever.

[sunsetchicane]

Postcards - Part 3 [LN4]

lando norris x [travel] journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 5.2k

summary: The one where you're in Paris and you can't stop thinking about him and you find yourself giving him a call.

warnings: angsts again (sorry! I swear it's turning around), swearing, innuendo, unedited!

author's note: hey...sorry this took so long??? college is crazy guys. but anyways, I'm a little rusty so be gentle lmao. please enjoy and I'll see you guys SOON!! feedback, comments, likes whatever you feel like is so much appreciated. Lots of love [xoxo elle]

Lando

Nov. 2022

The lights of Abu Dhabi blind Lando as he stands next to his car and removes his helmet from his head. Ending P6 was respectable, a good end to a mediocre at best season. His head swims with the noise that swallows the track and the flashing lights that light up the night race. Another season was officially in the books. There’s always a bittersweet feeling that hits all the drivers as they jump out of their cars for the last race of the season, letting the months past become another chapter of history. An excitement for the break ahead and the promise of a new season buoys their spirits, but it’s a hard goodbye nonetheless. 

Lando absentmindedly walks around to congratulate everyone, shaking hands and sharing smiles. Though, his heart isn’t in it. His focus splintered the second he left the car. Thoughts drift towards you. They always do. There’s never a day that passes that you aren’t on his mind, on his heart.

Flashing cameras surround him, capturing this moment. He thinks of you.

Journalists with microphones tucked into their hands yell words into a camera lens. He thinks of you.

Faces flashing in and out of sight, bodies swarming around him as his eyes search the crowd. He’s looking for you.

But you aren’t there. There was no reason for you to be there. The last time you spoke, the London night surrounded you and held you together. To this day, when he closes his eyes, he can still feel your lips on his. Somedays, he makes it through with just this memory alone spurring him on. He promised to see you in Monaco, but every time he called your office, you were gone. Every time he showed up at your cubicle, it was deserted. A layer of dust collected over everything. 

A thin layer of dust covering a framed picture of Big Ben lit from behind by the setting sun.

After so many futile attempts of trying to find you, to connect again, he slowly stopped trying. There was an obvious truth behind the estrangement of your paths: you were avoiding him. 

At first, he rejected the idea, claiming to only himself that you wouldn’t do that. He was convinced that you felt the same way that he did. There was something between the two of you that was beyond anything he had ever felt. Your passion inspired him. Your humor warmed him. Your presence set him at ease in such a way that the whole world could be burning and he would be perfectly content to just hold you in his arms. 

He’d never felt that way about anyone. Not even close.

So for a long time, longer than he would ever admit, he clutched onto hope. 

But with each passing week with not a single word from you, faith began to slip. With every message that went unanswered and phone call that went straight to the voicemail of your office phone, his grip on you loosened. 

He’d be the first to admit his lack of maturity. He wasn’t ashamed of still being a kid. Instead, he wore it like a badge of honor, making it part of his personal brand. If it wasn’t for you, he would never have thought twice about growing up to be the man that you deserved. But now that you’re gone, slipping into memory, he’s found himself back in his comfortable corner of immaturity. 

So, after hurrying through all of his post-race interviews and duties with the team, he finds himself taking solace in the night life of Abu Dhabi.

Alcohol had never really been his thing, but recently the appeal has been becoming more and more obvious to him. Round after round is poured down his throat, burning every memory of you away for the night. Intoxication holds you at bay, at least for a while. 

“Slow down, mate.” Max laughs into his ear while Lando tosses back yet another shot of something. He’s had enough that everything tastes the same now.

“I’m celebrating!” Lando slurs, shoving Max square in the chest. They stumble together, laughing as they nearly fall over. The world is a haze of flickering neon lights. Music and voices blend into a loud hum, everything becoming one to drunk ears.

Lando collapses haphazardly onto the couch in the club, quickly followed by Max. With hooded eyes, they watch the dance floor in front of them. The mass of the crowd seems to move as one, enchanting Lando’s drunk mind. The night coalesces and crests like a wave, ebbing and flowing as one singular, living thing. Everything seems interconnected and endless. If he could, Lando would stay in this feeling forever. Nothing hurts, nothing is joyful, everything is completely numb.

“I miss her.” He says, but the usual pain that accompanies those words is nowhere to be found.

“I know,” Max says, his head falling back while he closes his eyes.

“I hate her.” Lando says emotionlessly. Max doesn’t respond. It isn’t true. They both know that it isn’t. But for tonight, they can pretend. 

Lando can pretend that it doesn’t matter that he pushes himself off the couch when he catches the eye of a girl that looks somewhat like you. He can pretend that he doesn’t think about you as he dances behind her, his hands gripping her hips to hold her close. He can pretend that he doesn’t wish it was your neck that his lips trail up towards her jaw. He has to pretend when he finds himself asking her to leave with him. 

And when he finds himself that night, tangled up with a girl who’s name he doesn’t bother to remember, he gives up pretending and thinks only of you. Of your lips, of your body, of the way it would feel to have you around him. Your voice calling out his name in the quiet hours of the morning. 

He hates you.

He hates not having you.

This isn’t the first time that he’s tried to heal his sorrow with momentary pleasure. No, in fact, he’s done this a handful of times and each time he tries he hopes that this will be the girl to erase you from his life. But she never is. He’s a fool for trying the same thing over and over again expecting a miracle.

“Stay,” she mumbles into her pillow, a delicate hand draping across his chest. It’s cold against his hot skin. He turns his face away from her so she can’t see him cringe. Gently, Lando slides her hand away and returns it to her side. 

“Can’t,” He says while sliding to the edge of the bed and away from her. For a few moments while he rubs the sleepiness from his eyes, he listens to her groan and complain. He’s so tired. With a huff, he stands and collects his clothes that are strewn about the luxurious room. 

As he pulls his clothes on, he listens to the soft rustling of silk sheets and the steady in and out of sleeping breaths. But everything seems a thousand miles away, so cold and distant. In the slight hours of the morning, nothing feels real. He’s numb and tired. He’s cold and exhausted of feeling the same pain from the moment he wakes up to the time he finally is graced by merciful sleep. 

Spiraling thoughts plague Lando’s mind as he wanders the slips into the back of an uber. Glossy eyes scan the world as it streams by him in the back window of some random car. How many times has he lived this night? Every car ride back to his apartment or hotel room feels the same, blending into one continuous stream of dull memory. 

Stumbling into his hotel room, he heads straight to his bed without a second thought. Discarding his clothes onto the floor for the second time tonight, he can’t help but wish he’d been here sooner. There isn’t solace for him in someone else’s bed, and when he’s alone he doesn’t have to pretend there is. He’s sick of playing pretend and putting a mask on for himself, for his friends, for his team, and the millions of people watching him under a microscope. The truth and the pressure of that truth has weighed on him for months.

He’s heartbroken. He’s suffering. And there’s nothing to be done about it. He hasn’t had the chance to heal and he doesn’t know when he will–if he will. Because when he thinks of you, it’s like a knife of what could have been to the chest; and when he blocks you from his mind he feels guilty and hopelessly alone. 

A spinning ceiling and tears in his eyes coax him to sleep.

He dreams of you, of course. Even sleep can’t free him of you.

You

The City of Love and Lights has been a whirlwind for you over the last few days. This new piece on an up and coming grunge artist hailing from the infamous streets of Paris has become larger than you originally thought. Night and day, you’ve been chained to your laptop, cranking out a story worthy of its subject matter. 

Tonight, you’ve decided to dive into your work at some random cafe down the street from where you’re staying. Headphones on and phone turned off, you’ve been plugged in for hours. Countless cappuccinos have been downed since you came in which could be three days or minutes ago, you wouldn’t know. Only when the noise at the bar grows from a quiet, sporadic chatter to a distracting, constant hum of voices, do you look up from your work. 

The sun has set, giving the streets a chance to live up to the name “City of Lights.” People and cars whiz past you, everyone on their way somewhere. The crowd at the cafe has gone from a few coffee sippers to a mass of people huddled around the bar ordering drinks for them and their friends. 

Realizing you’ve lost yourself in your work, you rub the heels of your hands against your tired eyes. With a sigh, you fold up your notes and tuck them away into your bag along with your laptop. You gather up your empty dishes and mugs, placing them in the bin above the trash.

Just as you turn towards the exit, ready to slip to your bed and sleep for hours and hours, cheering rises up around you. A name you take care to avoid ripples through the crowd. A small group of people are huddled around the bar, chests pressed to backs, heads leaned in, trying to get a glimpse at something.

Biting hard on your bottom lip, you fight yourself. Your eyes flicker out to the darkened streets of Paris and then back to the group of people who must be watching the season’s final race. As much as you hated yourself for it, of course you kept up with the Formula One season. It was the only connection you had to Lando. Distant, impersonal, and safe. You could keep your eye on him, see his face every once in a while, but not fall in again. At least that’s what you told yourself every time you went out of your way to stream a race, no matter where you were. 

It had been ages since you saw him in London. Some days it feels like a lifetime ago, and most times it feels as fresh as yesterday. You wake up with the feeling of his lips on yours, his arms wrapped around you. 

And maybe it’s the romantic in you that you’ve tried to kill and bury your whole life, but the thing you miss most about him is his stupid smile. There’s such complete joy behind that smile. It lights you up in your darkest moments, lifting you up and warming you. There isn’t anything that you wouldn’t give to be able to see that smile just one more time.

But you can’t. So, you turn your back on the crowd of Formula fans and walk out onto the street. 

As you walk, you try to distract yourself by taking in the scenery or by thinking of your story. But of course every train of thought leads back to him. You know Lando would love Paris. He wouldn’t admit it, of course. He would rather die than let anyone know how much of a romantic he is. The two of you are similar in that way.

At least you think so. So much time has passed, you can’t really say that you know him at all. Sure, you’ve spent a little time together, but life is constantly changing. You don’t know who he is today, what he hates today, what he loves. All you’ve ever gotten of each other is fleeting moments. And you’re to blame.

Countless times you’ve gone over it in your head. Playing every single scenario out over and over, trying to find the one where it could work between you two. But every time, you come to the same conclusion: it never will.

Even if you could convince yourself not to run at the first chance, which you always will, your lives are too different. His job would be pulling him one way while yours would be pulling you to the opposite corner of the world. Constantly in motion, but never intersecting. No matter how much you want it to, his and your futures won’t bend to fit. It tears you apart.

When you’re not traveling or writing for work, you find yourself filling pages with his name and the pain that comes with it. Your messy, ink blotted notebooks are filled cover to cover with insane ramblings of a broken heart. You can’t bring yourself to think of anyone else that way. When you try, it falls short and you do what you do best: you run.

The walk back to your hotel is blessedly quick. Being alone with your thoughts right now is torture, especially with idle hands. Everything seems a little bit easier when there’s a pen held in your fingers. 

Walking through the lobby, you try to keep your head down, not wanting anyone to bother you tonight. Bee-lining for the elevator, you wish you were already in your room. But, as the button lights up under your finger and the numbers above the doors make their descent, you can’t help but wonder what solace a lonely hotel room would bring you. Trapped in a shoebox of a room with nothing but an empty bed and a full mind. A premonition of staring at the ceiling for the next few hours, slowly driving yourself insane flashes in your mind’s eye.

Glancing over your shoulder, you look at the small bar off to the side of the lobby. It’s blessedly empty, only a few randoms sitting quietly here and there. Abandoning the elevator, you walk over to the bar. 

Drinking at a hotel bar isn’t an unfamiliar low for you. It might be sad and slightly pathetic, but it’s better than any other option you have right now. Actually, drowning your sorrows in Paris doesn’t really sound half bad, right? It could be an interesting anecdote in the long, melodramatic tale of your life post-Lando that you could tell Bobbi. She would laugh and commiserate with you over shitty frozen pizza that her son loved and a sweet wine that she loved.

With that thought, you order three vodka shots and a Diet Coke. Dropping your bag and coat in the seat next to you, you haul out the book you’ve been trying to chip away at when you have enough focus to read. Then you crack open your Coke and take two of your shots. Tossing your head back, you relish the burn of the liquid as it slides down your throat, but quickly chase it with your Coke to ease the pain.

Leaning forward onto the bar, you pry your book open and try to focus on the words inked onto the pages. 

Within minutes, your fingertips are buzzing and your face feels flushed. The words in front of your swirl and sway. Pausing your “reading,” you toss back your last shot, grimacing at the taste. Still, you tap the bartop with your fingers, signalling the bartender that you’re in need of his services.

The bartender is quick to place a new shot in front of you. Reaching out, you play with the small glass between your fingers while you continue to read. You don’t know how long you sit like that, your head battling between the effects of the alcohol and your desperation to focus on your book. 

Suddenly, a rhythmic buzzing pulls your already splintered attention away from the stupid book. You rummage through your bag, looking for your phone. When you find it and turn it over, you're met with a blank screen. There are a few random notifications from earlier that day, mostly work emails you hadn’t been bothered to respond to yet. 

“Salut,” The bartender says as he presses his phone to his ear. You watch as he turns away from the bar and mumbles into the receiver of his cellphone. Shamelessly, you watch the hushed conversation of the young, brunette bartender play out. He’s splashed in the soft orange light that filters through the rows of bottles against the wall of the bar. He laughs quietly while leaning his hip against the counter. The white button up of his uniform, his dark hair, and tanned skin are reminiscent of someone you’ve been trying to avoid thinking about all night. It’s surprising you’ve just noticed now. 

You don’t have to speak perfect French to know what he was talking about on the call, or who was on the other end. He was swaying and smiling, his fingers brushing across his lips while his eyes lit up with the fireworks you could practically hear going off in his chest.

A sharp pang of loneliness erupts in your chest.

You take another shot and wait. Abandoning your book, you trace the grain of the wood bartop with featherlight fingers. Time slows and your vision goes a little bit hazy. A sweet peace crashes over your consciousness. Your thoughts begin to slide together so you can’t identify where one thought starts and where a feeling ends. Everything feels delightfully airy and heavy at the same time, making your reality feel a little less real.

“Can I buy a bottle?” You ask suddenly. You weren’t really sure if you said it outloud or not, but when the bartender walks over to you with a bottle of vodka he’d been giving you shots from and tells you the price, you don’t even hesitate as you toss a few bills on the counter, covering everything. He bids you a goodnight as you snatch up the bottle along with your other belongings and make your way back to the elevator. 

The walk feels much easier the second time. You feel so much lighter, so much better. Your thoughts are far away, not plaguing you like they were earlier. Laying on your empty bed and losing yourself in an overly expensive pay-per-view movie sounds far more appealing than it did an hour ago as well.

You take the elevator to your floor, stumbling to your door. Fumbling with your key, you open the door, toss your stuff on the ground, and flop onto the bed, bottle in hand. Almost instantaneously, you turn on the television and peruse the movies. You buy The Proposal and lean back into your pillows while the title sequence plays. 

As you take another burning pull from the bottle in your hand, you think distantly that you should be ashamed of yourself. Drowning your sorrows alone in a hotel room in Paris. The word pathetic echoes around your head. You try to kill the thought with yet another swallow of alcohol. 

With a hazy mind, you watch as a badass, albeit definitely bitchy, Sandra Bullock string along a charismatic and endlessly sarcastic Ryan Renolds. 

“She’s not that bad,” You say into an empty room as she tears her jerk employee a new one. “She’s just career oriented.”

Projecting much? Your subconscious whispers to you.

You tip the bottle back.

And that sequence continues to happen as you watch the movie. Every time something touches a little too close to home, you drink. It’s like some sad drinking game that you’ve forced yourself to participate in.

By the time the credits roll, you’re plastered. Eyes trained to the ceiling, you try to sling together a single coherent thought. But you can’t. Everything in your mind seems to pop up quickly and then slip away before you can grab a hold on it.

Everything except one thought, one name. Lando.

Your drunken mind whispers his name. You want him right now, right next to you. The thought of his big hands in your hair, against your skin, between your legs, is nearly enough to be drunk on alone. And nothing is stopping you now, not even yourself. Intoxication has given you the freedom to do whatever you damn well please. 

Fumbling for your phone, you don’t even really think about what you’re going to say. Instead, you open up your contacts and press on his contact for the first time since you made it. He’d called your work phone months ago and left his number. You’d debated even saving his contact, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Though, you’d never messaged him, never gave him a call. Until now.

Clicking on the call button, you don’t flinch as it begins to ring. It rings…and rings…and rings. His voicemail message sounds like heaven to your wary ears. 

“Landooo, it's…uh…it's me. I’m in Paris on assignment. I bought you a postcard, don’t worry. Listen, I don’t really know why I’m calling. Actually, that’s not true. We both know exactly why I’m calling.” A hiccup breaks up your monologue before you continue. 

“Give me a shout whenever you have the chance, alright? Wanna hear your voice, babe. Good nigh–oh! Good job this season, by the way. Ok, good night, Lan.” You slur into the receiver. There are a million things you want to say, but you know you can’t. Not tonight.

Sleep takes you just as you end the message.

–

“Holy shit.” Fear seizes your chest as you pick up your burning hot phone. It’s nearly dead, but alive enough to show you just exactly what horrible decision you made last night. Lando Norris’ name in red is at the top of your recently called list. You called him last night, which is a horrible grievance in and of itself. What’s worse is that you have zero recollection of what you said. And you don’t trust drunk you to keep her cool. 

“Shit, fuck…shit, shit, shit!” You cry as you dig the heels of your hands into your aching eyes. Your mind races with the million and one things that you’ve wanted to say to Lando in the last months, ranking them from most to least pathetic. You can only hope that you were too drunk to make any sense and he’ll disregard the strange phone call from a number he doesn’t know. He must get dozens of phone calls a week, so there’s no chance that he’ll end up listening to your message. Right?

With a hangover made worse by your intense worrying, you crawl out of bed. You’re unsurprised to find you’re still dressed in your clothes from the day before. Not sparing a glance in the mirror, you strip bare and take a steaming hot shower. Unfortunately, the sting of the water does nothing to burn your spiraling thoughts away. 

As you get dressed, you glance at your phone laying face down on the bedside table. You’d plugged it in before getting in the shower, but hadn’t turned it all the way off. Something kept you from ignoring the damn thing. Curiosity killed the cat and it’s well on its way to killing you too. A twisted, borderline masochistic part of you hopes that he finds your message, no matter how humiliating it is. The truth is that you do miss him and maybe it takes a little bit of liquid courage (foolish courage) to do something about it. 

Questions go unanswered as you do everything to avoid opening your phone. Notifications are still silenced, so you would be none the wiser if it was ringing off the hook or completely bone dry. Instead, you fiddle with a coffee machine, do your makeup, iron out your schedule for the day, and send a few emails from your laptop (which you don’t have your number connected to for the sake of a nonexistent work-life balance).

By the time you’re done, a solid couple of hours have passed. It’s time that you check your phone. You’ve been avoiding the inevitable for too long. Plus, you’ve undoubtedly missed a message or ten about work-related happenings. 

Standing up, you push the desk chair you’ve been perched in back with your legs. A slow breath fills your lungs as you flex your hands by your sides and then shake them out. Nerves prickle down your neck, spilling into a shiver that runs the length of your spine. You’ve always been balls to the wall and nothing so trivial should force you to quiver in a corner with your proverbial tail between your legs. A string of affirmations flood your mind as you turn on your heel and trudge over to the bed. 

The affirmations break down into a waterfall of nervous swears as you take your phone in your hands, pulling it off the charger. It feels oddly delicate in your hands, as if you’re deactivating a bomb. Holding your breath, you slide the control center down and turn your notifications back on. When you return to your home screen, you’re bombarded with a constant stream of notifications from a variety of apps. Your mind goes blank as you skim over everything, looking for the green icon of a message or phone call. Everytime you see one, your heart jumps so far up your throat you think you might vomit. But everytime, it’s just a colleague or your manager or an acquaintance you’ve made while traveling.

Not a single message from Lando. Not a voicemail, not a missed call, not even a short text telling you (rightly) to fuck off. 

Your heart drops into your stomach and the nausea you’d warded off this morning comes back at full force. Managing expectations hadn’t worked. All your worrying had been for nothing. And you’d been a fool to hope. With everything you’ve done to him, effectively ghosting him until just now, months after you’d promised to see him, you’re in no position to be upset that he couldn’t be bothered to respond to you. Let alone the fact that he’s a world famous driver that probably doesn't blink twice at a number he doesn’t know before deleting and blocking it. 

You know you should be relieved that he didn’t listen to your message. Though, some undeniably masochistic part of you wished deeply that he had. Was it unfair of you to force him into the battle that you’ve been waging with yourself over the last year. One day you were willing to give everything up just to see him, then the next you assured yourself that you’d made the right decision by staying away. You were a loose cannon and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you hurt one of the only people you cared so much about.

And maybe you did. Maybe he got your message and he chose to ignore it because he was in pain over you.

Or worse, he didn’t care to respond anymore.

Your mind reels and spins and a pain grows in your chest so severe you think you might have a heart attack. Tears prick at your eyes, blurring your vision of your stupid hotel room that holds everything too close. Memories suffocate you as you hold a phone filled with every notification you don’t want to see and lacking the one that you need.

After a few minutes of much needed cathartic sobbing, you stand up and begin cleaning up your room. Packing is what you’re best at. You’ve perfected it over the years. Everything you own could be stuffed into a few suitcases at a moment's notice. Even your apartment back in Monaco was sparsely decorated and home to only a few dishes and necessary furniture. Traveling from place to place for your job was no different. Rarely did you switch up what you packed into your favorite suitcase. Everything had its spot within. Everything knew where it was supposed to be and where you could find it. It was one of the only constant things in your life. No matter how much you needed constant change, you had this one consistency to keep you grounded. 

It’s worked for your entire life. But now, as you pack everything into its place, it seems slightly duller, more futile. 

Once everything is packed away and your room has been scoured corner to corner for anything you might have forgotten (which you know you hadn’t), you sit on your bed with your suitcase and stare absentmindedly at your laptop screen.

You wonder how many dozen times this exact scene has played out in your life. Something comes up that scares you or you can’t handle, you pack a bag, you sit at the edge of whatever you’d been sleeping on recently, and you wonder where exactly it is you plan on going next.

It’s always been exciting to you, adventurous and whimsical. But now it feels hollow and pathetic. You feel hollow and pathetic and all you want to do is go home.

But where’s home? You’ve made sure that you don’t have anywhere to call home because it’s always been exactly where your feet are. 

So, you decide to go to the next best place.

With a few swift clicks, you buy yourself a train ticket to Nice, Italy. You’re going back to Monaco.

Lando

With his headphones over his ears, he sits in the back of the jet while everyone else sleeps. For what seems like the thousandth time, he presses play on your message again. You’re drunk, he can tell. The voicemail is all slurred words and hiccups, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

When it ends, he’s angry. Angry at you for calling out of blue because it wasn’t fair. Angry at himself for not picking up. Angry that he isn’t there to make sure you’re alright. Angry because he shouldn’t care this much.

But when he plays the message once more, his anger melts away. Relief floods in at hearing your voice for the first time in months.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t responded yet, or why he didn’t immediately return your call. Instead, he’s decided to play it safe and protect himself for a little bit longer. His plan is already in motion, it has been since before he got on the plane back to Monaco.

He’s going to find you if it’s the last thing he does. He’s going to get real, concrete, honest answers out of you. The game is ending on his terms. 

-

taglist: @sarx164 @f1fantasys

[mahyuume]

CAPABLE OF LOVE!

— synopsis. the ways he proofs being capable of showing love!

pairing. various!haikyuu, jjk, bllk, mha, windbreaker x reader | genre. romance, fluff, crack.

reminders. I’m posting after a suuuper long break, hope you guys like this! | mlist

I THINK I NEED I NEED A PICTURE, is something you’ve said countless times to your boyfriend (who will one day be your husband) then proceeding to whip out any kind of device capable of taking a photo. Currently, is happening right now.

“Baby, we need a picture, again!” You gleam at him, the look on his face already dreading the next fifty photos going to be taken; exhausted from taking the last hundred— or maybe more than that photos. But, reluctantly, he agrees. “Fine, but this is the last time,” the boy sighs then flashes his award winning smile. Just in time for- click! that. Now holding the freshly printed Polaroid, he takes a look at your face instead of the physical copy of you both.

Staring at the facial features adorned on you, he sees no flaws whatsoever. He stares at your eyes; shiny but with the hints of clear joy. Lips— he’s kissed them multiple times, but never got over how soft and plush they felt. Always wondered how you do it.

“Are you even listening to me?” You turned your head to him, giving him a small frown. He snaps back into his senses from you cutting his train if thought; now darting back at your eyes, then lips again. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of all the mushy thoughts in his head. “What were you saying?” Giving a small huff, you re-explain why you both need so many photos. But truth be told, he wasn’t listening one bit. Okay, just a little, but your face is something he could look at for hours. The look of love is real when it comes to him, due to the fact that he always manages to accidentally ignore you; all while adoring you.

As voices drown out, he thinks about adding this new photo to the heart shaped Polaroid collection in his room. Cracks out a stupid smile, then further proves to be undeniably whipped for you.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, NAGI SEISHIRO, RIN ITOSHI, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, SHOTO TODOROKI, NEITO MONOMA.

‘CAUSE IT’S NEVER ENOUGH! Is what your boyfriend says almost if not every-time he gifts you things. His reasoning is always “just because” and that he truly meant it when he said if he could give you the whole world, he would. And what I just relayed out for you to process, plays out in your daily life. And is, right now.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Repeated sounds of the doorbell chiming in your ear, you smile as you already know who’s behind the door while opening it for your love. But this time like most, it’s not your love facing you. It’s a big teddy bear that’s twice his size. You’re even surprised a thing like that could fit into his car!

“And who is this for?” You question him, a silly one at that. “Some cute girl I met.” He responds but not so clearly since the bear completely hides his figure besides the arms of his holding it up, drowning in the big fluffy stuffy. You roll your eyes at his answer, “Oh? Come in and tell me all about her.” Entertaining him, you take the legs of the bear and help him inside. And oh my, it was pretty heavy. But no surprise your super strong fiancé could lift it without a sweat.

“I would but…” “But?” “I have more things for the pretty girl inside my car,” he looks over at you with a stupid smile. “If you don’t mind.” He says while walking away back to the front door in a seemingly rush.

Coming back, his hands and arms are full of designer goods, and some even being valentine gifts. Talk about a man who can treat!

“You got me all this?” A gasp leaves your pretty lips as he stares at them, it making him smile in return too. “Yup.” Helping him get the bags, he watches you with a dumb look that makes you wanna slap him for being such a mushy lover. Of course, in a good way!

Opening your early valentine gifts, each one never failed to surprise you and leave you even more grateful for the man watching and recording your reactions. He points to the Nekta bag next to you. In the video, you’re surrounded by countless luxury brands but he decides to point out a specific one.

“Open that one baby.” He smirks behind the camera, watching your face twist into one of excitement and shying away from the camera. “Why? What’s in here?” You say as your paid for nails on hands reach for the Nekta bag. Opening it, there’s many boxes to choose from. You’re not sure which he meant. “Which one?” He points to a small one, the tiniest out of the bunch.

Unraveling the box and seeing the message, cluelessly, you didn’t notice how your boyfriend set down the phone and got down on one knee.

‘Look in front of you dummy.’ You read aloud then looked up. And there he was, holding the missing ring from the box, proposing to you with it.

“Will you marry me?”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI, SATORU GOJO, SAE ITOSHI, REO MIKAGE, KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

TO SEE YOU SMILING IN MY MIND is a memory you often hear being told over and over again by your boyfriend. His dreams of you both are beyond romantic or very dramatic, there’s really no in between.

By far the most exaggerated thing he’d ever say is something about how you two turned into fishes and lived a happy life together swimming around the ocean, avoiding sharks and fishermen. But this time, it’s quite different.

Ding! Ding! Your phone goes off at 7:35pm, right as you’re getting ready for bed or doing whatever it is. Checking what notified you, a smile lit across your face as you read your boyfriend’s display name.

Weird random: Babe

Weird random: I had another dream call me rn it’s so important

Giggling and mentally calling him a weirdo, you read the messages in-app then click the Video Call option.

“Oh my gosh baby, you won’t believe what I dreamt of.” Is what you hear your boyfriend say from the audio of your phone that’s now prompt up on a water glass as a substitute for a stand. “What’d you predict this time?” You cheekily asked him as he closes the space between his device and face; now a super close up of him is in your screen.

You’re not complaining though. He’s in one of those hoodies you promised yourself to ‘borrow’ one of these days and has messy bed hair, which tells you he just woke up from a nap.

“Okay so like, it’s me and you right,” he settles his phone down somewhere around his house, now making hand motions like a story teller. “Mhm.” “We’re having this cute date and stuff right.” “And?” “And then like, you look so beautiful. Like so, like, just so beautiful that flowers bloom when you walk near them type of beautiful!”

Laughing at his silly compliment, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks turn a pink hue. “You’re so corny I swear…” it’s his turn to laugh at your comment, “Come on girl, don’t tease me like that.” His voice suddenly turns into one more of a softer beat, “hurts my feelings.” He says as he puts a hand on his heart, seemingly clutching it. Rolling your eyes at your favorite boy, he continues on with his story- dream. His dream.

“Then boom, some random dude comes up to you and goes like ‘hey you’re pretty’ and I’m like ‘dude back off’ and then we get into a fight in order to see who wins your love.” At this point he was just background music as you did your night routine. “Babe, are you even listening?” Or maybe not.

“Of course I am.” You look at him from the side of your eye, noticing how he’s now closer than earlier. “Doesn’t seem like it.” From the looks of it, it seems like you’re plain out ignoring him. But you’e not, really! “Promise I am.” Adjusting the camera to face you fully now, he focuses on you rather than talking about his hefty dream storyline.

“What if I just married you, like, tomorrow?”

What a nice question he asked, and your answer is…

“I don’t know?” You stop doing whatever you’re doing and look at him. “Why’re you asking?” “No reason.” Liar. “Stop lying!” His hands go up in protest, “I’m not!” He looks away for a bit then returns to stare at you. “Just… just had a dream about it.” And it clicks.

“So that’s what you were trying to tell me?” And like that, it’s as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “Ah, I guess so…” he muttered, hand on his nape as he realizes he’s not the best at lying when it comes to you. “I mean, come on!” He finally breaks, “you looked so good in the wedding dress and we…” his voice trails off the second you were getting invested.

“We?” You omit him to continue, but it comes out hurriedly. “We had a big, happy family. Like seriously happy.” He admits with a smile, clearly smitten about you. This makes you innerly gush about him.

“Yeah?” “Yeah. We did.” He sighs, “If only it were true.” He fake pouts, an ugly thing he does that makes you laugh horribly. “I mean, it can be.” You nonchalantly said, as if you weren’t wishing for the same thing. His eyes light up from your sentence, lips curling into a smile. “You can’t take that back!” You laugh at his antics, “as if I would ever.”

SHOYO HINATA, TOORU OIKAWA, YUUJI ITADORI, MEGURU BACHIRA, YOICHI ISAGI, KEIGO TAKAMI (HAWKS).

​৻ꪆ. Happy valentines everyone! I hope you like this one. (It’s been planned ever since December.) there were supposed to be two more lines added but I seriously ran out of time and didn’T know who else to write for… so, take this??

[blu-writes]

Ooooh, so many options! In that case, can I request an adult human reader for Prime that is trying to get info out of the bots for romantic gifts and gestures for their culture so they can try to do something for Optimus on Valentine's day to showcase their romantic interest and respect for the Autobot leader? I'll let you decide if the story ends in a PG rating or something higher~

A Gift from the Spark

TFP! Optimus Prime x Human!Reader

A/N: Soooo I lost my entire first draft of this story when it was 98% done.. 🥲 This will HOPEFULLY be out before Valentine’s Day, but I’m trying not to rush it too much. While you’re here, you should go follow me on twitter @ gloopyVT !! My VTuber Debut is in the works and I’m super excited to get the ball rolling on that!

Warnings: Cursing, NSFW ending, 18+ only!

A sigh escaped your lips as you scrolled on your phone. People all over town were posting pictures and videos of themselves out on dates and romantic trips with their significant others. Normally this time of year excited you, not because of all the dates, no, you liked it because the candy is half price for like a week afterwards!!

But this year, a certain bot had your eye. The two of you had multiple nights in each other’s company, talking about the things that troubled you both and about Cybertron, his home planet. Optimus Prime was the strong, and fearless leader of the Autobots, never backing down from a fight. But on long restless nights, he confided in you, explaining how much he wants to go home, how tired he was of this endless war. And you letting him ramble and vent had created a special friendship between you two, one that had began to make you have butterflies every time you looked at him, one that made your core heat up with no warning.

You would do anything to show him you cared. No more hiding the feelings you had for him, no more avoiding eye contact because you were scared he could tell how much you enjoyed his company. This year you wanted to do something that would show him just how much you appreciated him and how you really felt about him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got into your car and raced towards the Autobot base, hoping that Optimus was away either on a mission or a patrol so that you could get a chance to talk with the bots. You had no idea what Optimus would enjoy or appreciate, and you wanted to make sure you did something special for him so that he’d understand the full extent of your feelings.

As you pulled into the base, your heart raced with nerves. If he was here, your whole plan to talk to the other Autobots would be tossed out the window, and then you might as well just tell him how you feel anyways and leave to save yourself the embarrassment of his rejection.

‘Solid escape plan y/n. If all else fails, just run away and move to another state! He’ll never find me if I do that!’

Walking into the base, you kept an ear out for the familiar, deep voice of the fearless Prime, breathing a sigh of relief when you realized he wasn’t there. “Hey guys! Whatcha up to?” Bulkhead and Bumblebee sat behind Miko and Raf, watching them play some racing game against each other.

Bumblebee waved at you, chirping his hellos and Bulkhead got up to greet you, carrying you down into the main area where they all sat. “Hey y/n! How’s it hanging?” Miko paused the game and turned on the couch to look back at you, Raf following her actions. “Not much honestly, but I need to borrow you two-“ you pointed at Bee and Bulkhead “I need to ask you guys’ opinion on something.”

They got up and walked towards one of the hallways where you all could talk privately, leaving Miko and Raf to play their games once more as you followed them. “Alright. Do you two know what Valentine’s Day is?” They both nodded, “Yeah we’ve heard about it from the kids. Why?” You took a deep breath, were you really about to tell these two that you had feelings for their leader? Bumblebee's eye's lit up, he started buzzing and chirping happily at Bulkhead before calming down and letting Bulkhead take in what he was saying. "Hold on y/n, you're gonna ask Prime to be your Valentine?!" Your cheeks heated as you nodded, looking down at your feet. "Y-Yeah, I am. We've created a.. bond. He's someone I would consider closer than a best friend." The two bots smile at each other, letting your embarrassment calm before you continued. "I just want to do something for him that shows I really do care. Is there any customs on Cybertron that you would do to show someone you're interested in them romantically?" They thought for a second before a third voice chimed in. "Why not just tell him how you feel?" Bee and Bulkhead stepped aside as Ratchet walked up to you three. "I've known him the longest out of everyone here, and he would appreciate the honesty, especially since you two already have the kind of bond that's built on trust. I haven't seen him care for anyone like this since before the war."

Your face heated again and you took another deep breath. "I just want to show him that I care about his culture, if I do something that would mean a lot to him back on Cybertron then wouldn't that be best?" Ratchet shook his head "As much as I wish that were a good idea, Optimus misses hi- our home desperately. You may end up making him feel more sad than happy about your confession."

You nodded, sad that your original plan wouldn't work, but happy that Ratchet helped you before you made a mistake. "So you really think I should just tell him how I feel? No special gesture or anything?" He nodded as Optimus and Arcee drove down the hallway you all were standing in, transforming when they saw you. "Y/n? Is everything okay? You look stressed out." Optimus was the first to speak, him noticing your stressed expression right away making your heart flutter. "Y-Yeah! I'm okay! But I kinda have something I wanna talk to you about, preferably in private if possible." He nodded, picking you up and placing you on his shoulder, walking towards his quarters. "So what's on your mind? You seem really nervous." You sighed, being alone with him actually calming your nerves some. "Well, do you know what Valentine's Day is?" He hummed in response. "I have heard of it, it's a romantic holiday correct? Do you have someone in mind to take out?" You nodded, "Yeah I do have someone in mind, but I think he's way too good for me. He's strong and Kind, and he never leaves anyone behind. Hell, he'd probably save the life of his enemies without a second thought." Optimus entered his quarters, setting you down on a balcony he had Ratchet build so that he could be eye level with you on the long nights you would spend talking with each other. “I see, well I wish you the best of luck with asking him, Any man would be a fool not to accept your hand.”

You blushed, looking at him nervously. “You really haven’t picked up on what I’m saying?” He looked back at you, confusion all over his face. “Optimus, will you go on a Valentine’s Day date with me? Tonight?” His face of confusion turned to one of shock as he stared for a few seconds, just long enough for your face to drop.

“N-Nevermind. I knew it was stupid to ask. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You started to climb down a ladder connected to the balcony before his hand wrapped around you, stopping you from climbing farther down. “Of course I will Y/n. I’m just shocked you had the nerve to say something before me.”

You grinned happily, relief and excitement filling your body. “I’ll see you tonight then Optimus. Pick me up at my place around 10 tonight and we’ll go out into the middle of nowhere. Somewhere we can be alone.” He nodded, smiling back at you before setting you on the ground.

“I’ll see you then, goodbye y/n.” You waved excitedly before running as fast as you could towards your car, ignoring the other bots calling your name. You couldn’t believe that he agreed to go out on a date with you. And that he felt the same way!!

~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~

You checked yourself in the mirror for the 100th time, making sure your red button down shirt was tucked perfectly into your black skirt/pants, and you fixed your hair up making sure everything looked perfect. You saw two bright headlights shine through the curtains of your home and you ran out of the bathroom, taking a deep breath before going outside and climbing into Optimus’s cab.

“You look stunning, Y/n. You shine brighter than all of the stars in the sky.” You gripped the steering wheel slightly, blushing at his compliments, making him chuckle softly. “T-Thank you. I still can’t believe you agreed to come out tonight.”

“I would’ve been a fool not to. Like I said, any man or bot would be a fool to turn you down.” His constant compliments rang through your head, sending tingles down your spine that made you close your legs together to try and calm yourself.

“We don’t have too far of a drive, I already set up something special for us.” You hummed with curiosity. “What did you set up? I figured we would just talk and see where the night took us.”

“You’ll see, we’re only a few minutes away.” You looked out of the windows excitedly, trying to spot whatever he may have set up for the two of you. The stars shining down on the desert sand making everything look like a sea of glitter.

After a few long minutes you saw a small patch of light in the distance, and Optimus veered off into the sand, transforming and carrying you over to a lit up picnic area after he was far enough from the road that he blended in with the night.

“Oh Optimus, this is perfect.” He chuckled again as he set you down onto the blanket. “I’m glad you like it, I brought you some wine.” He sat down in the sand and handed you the bottle and a glass, the cork already popped for you.

You poured yourself a glass and moved to sit next to him, leaning against his leg and gazing up at him. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for us to be able to do something like this?” You asked him, taking a sip of your wine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” He replied, making your heart melt.

“Why didn’t you say something to me then?” He moved you into his lap, leaning back against a large rock. “Well, I’m from a whole different planet. And I’m a leader of a war fighting for that planet. I never wanted to put you in harm’s way.” You could understand that, your reasons were practically the same, except instead of worrying about yourself getting hurt you worried about him.

“I really thought you were going to turn down my advances. I thought you’d think I was weird for wanting to be with you since we’re different in so many ways.” He shook his head, looking up at the stars and placing his hand gently on your thighs. “That’s where we disagree. I think we’re the same, and it made it hard for me to keep our relationship friendly, especially when you’d visit me so late at night.” Your face blazed and you finished your glass of wine in one gulp before taking another swig from the bottle.

“Maybe my plan the whole time was to try and get your attention. I wouldn’t mind being your distraction for a night.” He rubbed the outside of your thigh, letting his thumb graze dangerously close to your core. “I wouldn’t have minded that either, my spark.” Your legs opened slightly, and his thumb grazed even closer towards where you wanted him most. “I would’ve loved a distraction from you.” Finally. The tip of the cold metal of his thumb brushed against your mound, making a gasp leave your lips, a chuckle leaving his in response.

“You are so perfect, y/n. Let me show you how perfect I think you are.” You nodded and he lifted you up, setting you down on the blanket as he pulled your bottoms off carefully. “O-Optimus-“ he leaned over, pressing his cold metal lips against yours, a deep groan leaving his lips. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” He kissed you again, moving his hand to rub your core, smiling into the kiss as you moaned, your back arching against his touch.

He pulled away after a few minutes, making you whine as the knot that was forming in your stomach faded away, making you feel cold in the nighttime desert air. “Fuck Optimus, why’d yo-Woah!” You gasped in shock as he picked you up and laid back, moving you up to his face. He huffed, and reached down towards his own crotch, grabbing his metallic shaft and pumping slowly.

“Just let me make you feel good my spark.” He sat you down against his lips, a harsh moan leaving you as his thick tongue entered your folds, filling you more than you’d ever been filled before. “F-Fuck!” You held the hand he had around your waist tightly as his tongue pumped in and out of your folds, and you watched as he pumped himself, his hips bucking up into his hand.

“You’re gonna make me cum! Oh don’t stop!!~” you rolled your hips against his lips, your clit touching the metal of his face making you shiver as the knot in your stomach became tighter. “Y-Y/n, I’m going to cum.” He took you off of his lips and made you straddle the length of his shaft.

“I’m close Optimus, please make me cum.” He nodded and thrusted his cock back and forth between your folds, the ridges and chill of his cock making your legs shake. “F-Fuck.. I’m c-cumming y/n.” You moaned loudly, gripping onto him for dear life as you squirted on his cock, his own cum shooting out of him as you shook against his member.

“W-Why didn’t we do this before?” You asked, huffing as you came down from your high. He chuckled, his cock retracting back inside of him and he set you down, helping you put your bottoms back on.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, My love.”

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Since it is my bday today I want to indulge in this post 😌

How the brothers + my favs would be for (my) Mc's birthday

* my MC doesn't like a lot of attention for her birthday so she requested for not a lot to be done! If you are alike my MC please insert yourself instead!*

Lucifer

He knows that you don't like much attention drawn to you because you don't know how to handle it all. So he plans something small for just the two of you and then his brothers for something more family related. His gift was something along the lines of random and silly since he tries to be more lighthearted for big events such as this. He does also get you something severely expensive but it was his favorite crystal grown in the devildom in a necklace. (He won't say how much it was)

Mammon

He doesn't understand why you don't like attention so much. It's your birthday! Take in all you can from everyone! He does realize not everyone is like him so he purposely decorates the outside of your bedroom door and waits patiently for you to come out so he can pop a party popper for you and be the first physical person to say happy birthday. He more so just sticks to your side (so like every other day) and keeps wishing you happy birthday or playing jokes that you are old and such. His gift was something you two could wear together (because he's possessive like that).

Levi

He completely understands not wanting attention drawn to you for your birthday. He since usually not noticed by his brothers will sneak into your room the night before your birthday and will have you two play games together all night. If you did have class they next day he would tell Lucifer it was his fault so you don't get in trouble. His gift is something severely sentimental. He panicked about 30 times trying to figure out what gift would mean more. He ends up getting you something that was in such small detail to a conversation you had that you had to rethink on it. You did praise him for such passion for your gift.

Satan

He also despise attention so he wasn't too judgemental on the ask of not doing too much. He settled on buying you damn near every cat item he could find. He even asked Levi to order certain things too. He sets your gifts in your room when he goes down to breakfast knowing when you'll get back it'll be a nice surprise. He doesn't make a fuss about your birthday but does wish you one when you two are alone together.

Asmos

Due to him knowing absolutely everything that you enjoy buying or looking at with your shopping trips together he bought everything he could but also was very precise as well. He knew your exact sizing and pictured you in the clothes to determine whether they would fit perfectly. He loves attention but knows you do not so he just gives you all the attention at home because you said at home was fine. He was practically dancing around you like Mammon all day.

Beel

He is indifferent on attention he doesn't despise it but doesn't love it either. He does however like giving you attention. He basically acted as himself throughout most of the day. But he wanted to be really amazing at giving you a gift so he decided to put himself through the discipline of making your cake. All the brothers were beyond amazed as he didn't eat any of the cake and just decorated and made it beautifully. He of course bought you other things but this was what made you tear up because he was fighting his sin the whole time just to make you happy. (You don't eat a lot of sweets so you gave him a lot of your cake)

Belphie

He's a brat so he requires attention only from certain people. He can ignore though. He doesn't exactly ignore you just doesn't really make a big deal that it's your birthday (which you appreciate). He did however go overboard on his gift giving since he isn't too great with words at times. He bought you so many pillows and blankets. But one thing he did buy that made you happy was matching cow pillows. You sleep with them almost every night now.

Diavolo

He always gets attention so he understands the overwhelming feeling of it. He of course is the one who goes the most overboard since he had the money too. You damn near have a whole new jewelry box because of him. But one gift that most sticks out is a crown. Now don't get the wrong idea he didn't make you a queen for your birthday. He just made it as a type of promise crown alike a promise ring where in the future he will make you his wife and queen.

Thirteen

She hides in a cave so she obviously doesn't mind not getting or giving attention. She does however have a hard time coming up with gifts for people. She thought hard about what to get you even asking for Solomons help too. She eventually settled on making you something. She made a thing of flowers that when only you look at them they bloom. They also last forever. She was very shy about giving you this and feared it wouldn't work. But once it did you immediately hugged her. (She won't admit it so easily but it was one of her only inventions she is hugely proud of)

Tis my birthday:D I don't feel much older but I'm just glad I'm getting closer to partying age 😈

[independentanon]

"EVERYTHING IS NORMAL" "THEY'RE █████████ THE INTERNET!"

Sometimes you'll notice changes being quietly made to your favorite internet services. Be it a video platform, your search engine of choice, your favorite social network, or wherever you go to buy the things you need or want. Sometimes you'll also see changes in advertisements that were, suspiciously, only relevant to your own unique situation.

You know it in your gut that something definitely changed, but it was only worth mentioning in conversation. "This changed for me, did it happen to you too?" Some of these changes are experienced by everyone all at once, but others are limited to specific groups, and sometimes are rolled out in staggered waves, meaning only some people are affected at different points in time. By the time the change is fully implemented - when every person targeted for this change is affected - it doesn't even matter anymore. The companies making these changes could report them publicly if they wanted to, and all people could do in response is be annoyed by it but eventually accept it and move on. The idea of "boiling the frog" comes to mind.

Our services have been getting worse in some ways, better in others, but there's undoubtedly some changes that are bad for everyone but the companies supplying these internet services (and sometimes, secretly, the governments of various countries around the world).

For me, personally, I've noticed changes to Meta (Facebook), to Google (and its services, Google Maps and YouTube), to ChatGPT, to Twitter - oh sorry, to "X", and many more. These changes are relatively small and are mostly unnoticeable... but I noticed them, just like all the other little changes they've quietly rolled out over the years. However, these changes feel a bit more insidious.

With Meta (Facebook for me), it was that they started suppressing accounts that frequently posted political content. This became most obvious during and after the 2024 election.

With Google, it was how it seems to bury certain content that's relevant to your given search, such as proof - one way or another - that something was happening with our politicians that's valuable knowledge to the public, but apparently isn't relevant enough to be on the very first page (or is simply hidden away entirely). This isn't even mentioning that Google modified its maps service so The Gulf of Mexico now reads The Gulf of America...

With YouTube, it's how it prioritizes click-bait, rage-bait, heavily-one-sided discussions of political topics, rather than pushing the very proof (or at least the very best evidence) that paints the clearest picture these overblown discussions are about. It's clear they're prioritizing watch time and engagement instead of truth.

With ChatGPT, I knew they had to control their generative text AI behind-the-scenes for certain situations (naturally you don't want your service to be generating stuff like "kill yourself," hate speech, lies, etc...), but recently it seemed to change its sources when looking up news online, to the point that it now paints a favorable image of Trump and his people.

And Twitter... sorry, with X... well, I shouldn't even need to explain this one, but I will try. The richest man in the world bought Twitter, changed how some of the back-end works, dramatically changed which voices were suppressed and which ones were heard, allowing hate speech and misinformation to spread freely on the platform, even promoting misinformation directly by retweeting it... there's a lot to it, but just know that Twitter used to be less shitty than it is now. Now it's really bad.

The point I'm making is that a lot of these changes happened around or soon after the 2024 election, and the people controlling these companies showed up to Trumps inauguration. On top of their million dollar donations to Trump, they're also doing work on his behalf to mask what awful things him and his people are doing while simultaneously promoting the things that make them look good. In short, information is becoming less accessible.

All of this, of course, is ignoring what Trump and his people have done to our government-provided websites and services, like removing the constitution and more from whitehouse.gov, how they're scrubbing decades of data from the CDC, etc...

The worst part about all this is I don't know if I could even prove anything anymore. These changes have made it difficult to know what services can be trusted going forward.

These are terrifying times. If the censorship was bad before, it's so much worse now.

Although I'd usually go out and protest with these signs, I've decided not to do it with these ones. I'd practically be an actor or an NPC, repeating the same visual joke over and over. These are my first signs I won't protest with. At least, for now.

Nonetheless, don't forget to fly your flags upside-down, boys and girls and non-binary types. Stay safe, and fuck Trump & Co!

[femboywizard]

✨Transmasc Glinda Headcannons ✨

This headcanon was born out of Ozma|Tip content, because Glinda turns this boy, who was comfortable being a boy and unsure about the process, into a princess again so Ozma could rule over Oz. And as a trans person, Ozma|Tip are so painfully trans coded that you can't ignore it. Therefore the voices in my head said, what if Glinda was doing to Tip what Morrible did to her?!

A Glinda who isn't a girl, who never felt like or was expected to be anything other than happy and authentic, is pushed into a little Good Witch box, into being the image of a girl for the sake of Oz, since Oz was historically governed by women - a land enchanted by Lurline the fairy queen, a sky goddess instead of a male figure - its “a must”.

I love the idea of gnc Glinda, where the princess-style doll vibe can stay. Where he likes being pretty, enjoys the attention, the sparkling, the pink, but he never felt like he was a girl. An universe where Glinda has Chenzel as parents, and therefore more acceptance than the book parents could afford. Where he wears pink suits instead, corselettes, and healed boots and looks like the encyclopedia picture of however many slurs you can imagine just ‘cause he can, being loved and popular for it too. Where he feels free to look and act as feminine as he wishes without it detracting from his identity until it's someone else forcing it on him instead.

An universe where being trans isn't common enough to be heard of, there's no internet after all, and the morality the wizard brought from our world made it so it isn't taken so well. Glinda and Elphaba sharing a room as roommates because Madam Morrible insists on not seeing Glinda as a man, and Glinda desperately wanted a private suite so things wouldn't be awkward or dangerous. A Glinda who's unaware of Elphaba being intersex, but jealous not only of the magic but of every more masc feature book!Elphaba already has, every place where Elphaba has and looks as Glinda wished he did. An Elphaba who's jealous not just of Glinda's general getting so much love and attention, but of having this side of them cherished by others, by the same strangers that judge her for hers.

A petty fighting between them that makes both feel more accepted and seen than anyone else could despite the fact neither of them understands it at first, and would rather die than admit it.

Transmasc Fiyero, with the top surgery scars showing where his shirt is deeply unbuttoned, with the shade of the scars matching harmoniously with the blue of his tattoos and he's so real to Glinda it makes him want to die a little. Sure, Glinda was never into men, but if there was ever going to be one it would be Fiyero.

A Fiyero that is the first trans person Glinda meets and feels more real to her than anyone ever did, with one glaring exception. He can't point as to why, why he feels like this, why he thinks elphaba just understands even when he doesn't voice his issues or concerns, but he does. He feels welcomed and pushed away by Elphaba's hands, her cheeks, her jaw, everything that draws him in so, yet remains too much while not being enough. Glinda who pushed boq onto Nessa because he's not interested in being anyone's experiment, beyond the fact he's not attracted to him at all, he's almost offended by the attention. Glinda who had one hell of a day and it's in this confused desperate hurricane that he gives Elphaba the hat.

It's seeing Elphaba dance alone and the hurt in his heart that he finally understands what the feelings were.

A Glinda who has to hold back from trying to kiss elphaba when Elphaba comes out to him, who has been holding back the entire night. His world goes happier and bright pink as his every hearts wish are fulfilled at once.

Competitive Glinda who always felt too thin to need top surgery pridefully going toe to toe to prove he looks just as good as Fiyero does post his, and both of them privately blushing over the situation. Fiyero who never had reason to stay anywhere finding it in Glinda and Elphaba, wanting more than anything to get to know them more, to be more for them. To see past Glinda's Goodness walls and Elphaba's closed off ones.

An Elphaba who never felt like she belonged, who's father was just as shit about her being intersex as he was about everything else. Finding herself accepted, proud for the first time. She's not all the horrible things he's said, she’s intersex, green, magical and above all loved.

An universe where there's no one like them, and then there's the three of them and the axis their world gravitates on finally clicks into place and they are complete.

Then the wizard fucks it up just the same.

[mt-oe]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴…—𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘶

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Here's a fic that I hope I post just in time for Valentine's day. I am currently writing this inebriated out of my shit. My cheeks are so hot and my world is spinning like I'm a dishrag in a bucket of water. I pray that my quality of writing doesn't plummet because all of you deserve so many good things and the world, and none of you deserve a shitty fanfic.

Every one of you deserves to be loved as softly as you need to be and as rough as you want to be.

I hope everyone will enjoy and I hope that everyone continued to love Mizu this day dedicated to love <3 Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, i do not know, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

What is love?

Even way back then, when you were still young, you've always wondered about what love is. You've heard it all over the teen magazines you bought monthly, on the newest romance film, and even in your parent's old film cassettes. Yet, still, you couldn't figure it out.

Your curiosity even reached a point when you'd pester your next door neighbor about it. The image of Mizu, your best friend, frowning at you as if you were asking her some kind of dumb insignificant shit would never fail to make you laugh.

"Could you stop pestering me about this and just go on," her annoyed voice would growl through the call. You distinctly remember her putting you on 'deafen' every time you started talking about it while the two of you were on Discord. But honestly, who could blame her? You were teens. Still kids. All she wanted was her LP and a new rank this season, not to hear you ask her what the hell love was.

There would be times when you'd ask your parents. But honestly, asking your parents about something that can give you incredibly subjective answers is never a good thing. You'd always be greeted with a ' just focus on your studied first' or a very vague try-hard-to-be-poetic-or-sentimental answer. They're answers were always either so lacking or so dramatic that it never quite hit the spot.

Searching on the internet was also an option. Your teen self would sit in front of your computer, searching and reading articles about love. Honestly, the answer varied so much it didn't satisfy you at all. More feel-y types of articles would tell you that it was a 'once in a lifetime special feeling that made you absolutely the happiest you'll ever be' while more logical sites would tell you that it was a chemical reaction in your brain.

You could remember Mizu scoff at them. Both of you were hanging in your house while her mother was getting high in their living room again. She walked up to your house one night with a small frown, tired from the smell of drugs and smoke.

Now, she had something else to be tired about. And that was you showing her all these articles were all the same level of ridiculous to her.

For the nth time that night, she rolled her eyes as you read out the contents of the article, both of you under the blanket with only the dim light from your phone illuminating your room. "We're almost done with high school and you're still hooked on this?" she asked, a rough huff leaving her throat. "Isn't this for kids?"

You immediately shook your head and let out a small whine, moving closer until your shoulders touched. "Oh c'mon, Mizu! Have a little curiosity in your life!" you grumbled, refreshing the website when the pictures wont load.

"I could think a hundred things more significant and worthwhile learning," she replied, hands adjusting the blanket, pulling it closer and making sure the chilly night breeze couldn't reach you. "This is nonsense."

"Reasonable nonsense, that is," you said with a slight smile. Her sapphire orbs scanned over your face, tracing over the excitement on your face and the twinkling in your eyes. A little part of her brain was filled with some sort of mushy happy feeling the more she stared. And before these feelings could take over, she rolled her eyes again, annoyance clear in the way she sighed.

"Whatever. It's your phone anyway," she grumbled, looking away. You giggled softly and shifted your weight further against her side, fully leaning against her shoulder. Mizu would never have admitted this during her teens, but your warmth, the feeling of your weight against her, and mutual feeling of comfort definitely made her heart beat faster than it ever did or could during fencing training.

Each article the two of you read together caused your curiosity to grow. Maybe, somewhere along the way, so did Mizu's.

What is love?

Love is a mystery, you thought to yourself.

In college, the two of you were still inseparable, attached by the hip as they say. Thankfully, both of you had decided to go to the same university under different programs. While you were buried in student debt, unsurprisingly, your best friend had managed to acquire a scholarship.

Everything was going well between the two of you. Both of you still hung out and still caught up with each other weekly or over a few games online. The frustrations and moments of joy mended your bond with each other every time. Each hour that passed the clock was worth the grogginess you'll inevitably feel for staying up too late. It felt like nothing could get in between the two of you.

That was until...

Some time during your sophomore year, Mizu's mother had waltzed her way into your lives. With her, she brought an arranged relationship for Mizu and another man. He was apparently an alumni of the same scholarship program Mizu was under and was pretty wealthy.

Both of you knew this was some ploy for her to get money, but whenever your best friend confronted her mother, she'd be greeted with excuses saying this was the best for her dearest daughter and how she knows what's best for her. You could only scoff at her words, knowing she never really cared for her past her childhood.

And for a time, Mizu believed you. She detested the idea of being forced into a relationship for money. Relationships in general were a waste of time for her. You thought everything was going to go well, that she'd still be by your side, that the fun would never stop.

But, somewhere along the way, your weekly gaming sessions turned into nights of doing your projects alone. Your best friend was apparently invited by her boyfriend, Mikio, to some new restaurant.

It didn't matter.

The weekly hangout sessions in either one of your dorms turned into a solo trip to the library to finish something or to mooch off of the campus wi-fi you paid for from your tuition anyway. Mizu was apparently going to go with the old geezer to some movie.

It didn't matter.

Your bot-support duo turned into you playing top or raging in jungle alone. He was apparently inviting her to play duo and she'd play with you some other time.

It didn't matter. It didn't hurt.

Just a pinch.

It was college anyway, people are bound to lose friends, right? Maybe you could go back to finding out what love is. Maybe the deeper academic pursuits in college and the wider range of educational materials could grant you a more extensive selection of literature regarding the matter.

You could drown yourself in writings from the library, books you've never even heard off, more knowledgeable goons trying so hard to explain love through neurotransmitters and electrical signals in the brain. Maybe the pursuit of this knowledge would allow you to move on from the person of your affection.

Affection? What a stupid word.

It was college and you've made new friends along the way. You'd get invited to parties and merriments and meet more people. Maybe this night, you'd take a shot more than the usual, a cig more than the usual, and you'd repeat that to yourself until the squeezing tightening feeling in your throat retches over to the toilet.

One more shot. One more cigarette. Rinse and repeat.

Over and over until you were in Akemi's arms crying about your blue-eyed best friend who she already seemed to dislike. Apparently, they'd known each other and Mizu had apparently wiped the floor with Akemi's boyfriend. A soft bitter chuckle left your throat.

"Yeah, that's definitely something she would do," you whispered, voice rough from vomiting the intoxication out.

One more shot. One more cigarette. Rinse and repeat.

Over and over until Akemi was starting to feel like comforting you was her own Sisyphus. You'd go on about how you were there first and how cruel the world was for making you realize your affection a bit too late.

"Affection? That's a stupid way of putting it. I think you're in love," Akemi would say, cringing as you buried your tear-stricken face against her hair.

Is love supposed to hurt?

You could not accept it.

Love tastes like pure coffee beans without any cream or sugar. Strong, bitter, almost tasteless, gives you migraines, could send you into palpitations, and can kill you. Slow and unknowingly.

Maybe it was the time to stop pursuing love. Maybe those old people in journals and books with a hundred million different titles from all the licenses they have were right. That it was all just neurotransmitters and electrical signals going the synapses in your neurons that'll inevitably deteriorate with age. It'll go away.

Is this really what love is?

What was love?

Love is a kind of bitterness that aches, you thought to yourself.

Semesters passed and you never got to bond with your best friend again—if you would still call her that.

The ache made you grow cold, but you preferred to call it mature. You continued on with your life, her name sounding like a distant song whenever the winds whispered. Every blue in your life felt like a strike of undescribed nostalgia. A memory that could have been a novel but ended a bit too early.

You weren't a god but you sure had the ability to summon a personal raincloud over your own moments of happiness. It wasn't bitterness. It was called choosing practicality over emotion, you said.

And maybe, that's how life works. Maybe you should just go on and be like those old geezers with a shit ton of masters degrees and doctorates who'd tell you that love was just hormones and your brain going overdrive.

Maybe you should grow old and into a boring life, not affected by the blue eyes that were staring back at your with a sad old smile.

Maybe you can be Ms. Practicality again and ignore how beautiful she was when she walked towards you.

Maybe you can finally control the electrical signals in your brain so your heart could stop beating so fast as she greeted you, placing a hand on your shoulder, feeling the warmth you missed so damn much. Her long hair against her shoulder and the cold aura of her eyes warming as her eyes squinted with that precious smile of hers.

Maybe the hundred million academic titles you planned to pursuit would give you an early lesson and tell you that you'd know what love was some day.

And maybe...that some day was today.

Maybe the crazy romance books and magazine articles were right. That love would waltz into your life one day and maybe love had already waltzed into your life from the very start.

You'd soon find out that your best friend had some how made a reputation for herself, getting into a fight with her ex over some betrayal. She didn't really want to talk about it since the wounds were still fresh. Rumors of her violent tendencies grew and now she was trying to lay low again.

They'd call her a dangerous fellow

Well...they were neither right nor wrong. This fellow was dangerous indeed.

Dangerously sweet.

Dangerously funny.

Dangerously understanding.

Dangerously charming.

Dangerously lovely.

After decades of asking the question, "What is love?", you'd finally get your question. The bells of heaven can finally ring now because your lifelong journey of finding out what this mystery was can finally end.

Love wears orange-tinted glasses. A gift she got from you before both of you went to college together. The sight and the knowledge of it being her favorite tugging your heart strings and warming your cheeks.

Love continued her fencing training and was somehow better than the instructors in uni. She'd be so cocky and call their techniques trash, so much so that they think of her more as a competition than a student.

Love doesn't laugh a lot but when she does, it sounds like what an angel would sound like. She thinks you're exaggerating but you could honestly drown in the honeyed sound.

Love incurs the wrath of her professors by passing projects late, but her work is so good, they could never give her a fail.

Love is called so many horrible things. They'd call her a demon, an onryo. You'd ask her if she was okay and she'd just look at you with a soft smile and tell you that she didn't mind.

Love was lying. She definitely minded and you could never figure out why she'd always act okay while she smile so genuinely at you.

Love always puts her hair in a bun and is lowkey ticked off about it going allover the place when she takes it out.

Love is always mistaken as a man. If she was a man, she'd be the prettiest man you've ever fallen in love with.

Love secretly likes stuffed animals but would never buy one for herself. Love likes to playfully rough house and lowkey beat the shit out of her friends.

Love wakes up before the sunrises and goes to the gym. All the equipment were available and it was quiet. She loves the peace.

But love also feels guilty whenever she accidentally wakes you up. Your groggy whine would make her heart beat faster and make her suddenly feel hesitant to go.

Love would get into arguments with you, but she'd still try her best to be understanding. Her patience wasn't big when it comes to anger and negative emotions, but for you, nothing was impossible.

Love was incredible. Love was all-pursuing.

Love made you realize that love wasn't a 'what' but a 'who'.

What is love?

Love is a person.

[kraeki]

Happy birthday to the only man that actually has “aura”

Who’s calm as you like except when he has to deal with English referees

Who’s not only a world class footballer

But also a world class model

And the best captain we could ask for ❤️🧡

[akemiiya]

if sif's island is still physically there, there could be an argument that the inhabitants are also still there and perfectly fine, and the island is just separated from the outside world. the island's separation from the rest of the world happened while sif was on that boat after running away from home. so in this theoretical situation, from sif's parents' pov, they actually ran away and never came back.

do you think their parents ever wonder what happened to them or what he's doing now. if he's living his life away from them in the outside world, eating all the non-veggies to his content, or if something bad happened and that's why they never came back. do you think they tried to go after him, but forgot everything immediately after leaving the island, and are now just living their lives in vaugarde or somewhere else, not knowing that they got there because they went looking for their missing child or that they had a child in the first place. do you think they ever ran into each other at some point and had no idea of their relation to one another.

[imerian]

Vr46 academy keychains

Set of five charms that all match in different ways

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 . ✦　　˚　

Open for detailed pictures of each one

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

˖⁺‧₊˚⭒✮⭒˚₊‧⁺˖

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

I ran out of tags so I'll say it here but i would greatly appreciate a reblog, especially if you share your thoughts on these pieces in tags (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

(Also i forgot that bez have matching part with luca so I didn’t add that to tags sorry

[thecoolertails]

I LOVE YOU SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG!!!!!!!!

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Kay Wolfer for Pit Crew Media

[deeloveskiss]

kiss - japan 1977

[butch-bakugo]

Why are vetted accounts sending people stuff like this.

I mean it's clearly copy-pasted and sent to multiple people but this isn't even a donations ask. Imma guess the reason people aren't responding is because you're accusing them of not doing enough for Palestine and sending it to multiple people who you clearly don't check because I've been posting about and for Palestine since oct 7th when I learned about it.

Also yes he is looking for donations, you can check his account and find it. Why are you sending this guilt trippy stuff to people and accusing them of not caring enough? You don't know me? You send these to multiple people so your clearly not checking the account in question. This dose nothing to help you personally or the Palestinian cause, it just pisses people off and makes them question vetters.