#i might just reread that

[bellaroles]

Finished reading the Regency Buck for the second time. Hmm...this couple dynamic really reminds me of the one in Crown duel.

[gojosbf]

[obsob]

bedtime story with my love !!

[tumatawa]

I wish she had more scenes... Whateva

[winnie-the-monster]

“My god,” he said, his voice a mere shadow louder than breath, “you’re so beautiful.”

And for the first time in her life, Penelope truly believed that might be true.

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[ambrosiagourmet]

There’s actually some wonderful terrible parallels between the way Kabru evaluates Laios and how the Winged Lion evaluates Laios and the Lion KNOWS this and lowkey points it out in canon and Kabru hates it so much he fully leaves the conversation.

Do you think this keeps him up at night sometimes.

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘

[blueberrybeomgyu]

virgin!soobin drabble *ೃ༄

+*:🫐:*﹤ warnings : 18+ mdni, intercrural sex, drugs (weed) / masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

soobin who...

is your friend and dealer, and asks if you wanna smoke with him when you come by his apartment to get your weekly order. he promises not to charge you, so you agree, why not?

and when you’ve got that warm fuzzy feeling circling through your head, soobin lets it slip that he’s a virgin. you definitely don’t believe him – he’s easily the most perverted person who you know – but he swears, words slow and eyes pink, and he’s looking at you so intensely that you can’t stop yourself when you ask, “wanna know how it feels?”

he’s moving closer to you on the couch immediately, causing a lazy giggle to escape from you at his eagerness. sure you’re under the influence, but you’re not positive this situation would’ve turned out differently if you were sober (he’s one of your closest friends, and he’s so big and cute, who wouldn’t be attracted to him?), so you make quick work of getting your (and his, ‘cause he’s moving too slow to do it himself) pants off

you try to start with a little foreplay, but the second you see his dick – long and red, and there’s already precum dripping down the side – that plan flies out the window. you’re too desperate to feel him inside you to take your panties off, so you pull them to the side and straddle him, lining his tip up with your opening

“fuuuck–” he whines out when you sink down on him, voice thick and raspy, head falling back on the couch. you’re not doing too well yourself, having to take a moment to adjust to his length

neither of you last long, the feeling of him twitching against your sweet spot causing sparks to fly behind your eyelids. he’s babbling something like “s’ good, s’perfec– you’re so–” before he’s pumping you full of his cum, and it spills back out, mixing with your own as he fucks himself through it <33

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : now im a drabble bot now apparently...

[sweeneydino]

I have mastered the art of no thoughts head empty.

WIP.

[orcelito]

ok, i cant resist the urge to make a post about it after all, especially since it's related to a post i made prior

one of my favorite moments in trimax is By Far this part in chapter 35

[ID: Two pages from Trigun. The first starts with Wolfwood thinking, "Now that I think 'bout it, it may be one of the major differences between our species." That deep rooted dear I felt on the ship…" He thinks of Vash crying blood and, swearing, wonders, "Is he the one who can save humankind? That monster?" Wolfwood is briefly shown in resolution before someone calls, "Hey, Wolfwood!" and he looks up with surprise.

Vash sits with a smile at the edge of a rooftop, backed by the Fifth Moon and its prominent crater. Vash asks with a smile, "Just coming back now? You're a bit of a night owl, huh?" Wolfwood looks taken aback and wary. End ID]

Right Here. Vash is just sitting there, smiling like normal, but he's got the backdrop of the damage he caused on the moon set Perfectly behind him. it's a glaring reminder to Wolfwood of who exactly he's dealing with here, and that TERRIFIES him.

& the fact that Wolfwood still remembers that moment of crying blood as a moment of true fear. because for all the cheer Vash shows in the average moment, Wolfwood just recently saw him nearly lose control Again (at the Dragon's Nest). the second time he witnessed it, & the third time he would know about.

Vash is a walking atomic bomb with multiple charges. even with how cheerful & kind he is, he's shown Multiple Times that he does not have full control. he is decidedly something different, something Hazardous to humans, and Wolfwood knows this very very painfully.

for all that Wolfwood loves Vash, he is also terrified of him. and at this point in the story, that terror is potent enough to nearly eclipse his affection for Vash.

leading to some of the next most iconic pages:

[ID: The next page starts with Wolfwood standing behind the sitting Vash, his expression hard and the moon bright behind him. Vash seems sad and has one eye open. A close-up focuses on Wolfwood looking down.

Wolfwood thinks, "So easy to pull the trigger. So easy to remove half the problem." Another close-up with bright lighting obscures his face but for one eye. Then Vash turns around curiously and asks, "What's up?" Wolfwood sits behind him and says "Nothin'. Come on. Let's go." Vash seems surprised as Wolfwood scolds, "Don't get yerself tangled up in every little skirmish ya see. It'll be pointless if ya get yerself killed before ya meet him." End ID]

the manga frames it like Vash doesn't know Wolfwood was pointing the gun at him, but I think he did know. he's freakishly perceptive over and over again throughout the story. he HAS to be in order to survive like he has. he'd hear the movement of the gun & sense Wolfwood behind him...

he'd know. i really think he knew.

but he doesn't do anything about it. there is zero fear in his face. he turns to look at Wolfwood curiously, a bit confused, but not afraid. he never once thought that Wolfwood would shoot him. there's full faith and trust there in that moment.

Wolfwood pretends that nothing happened, & Vash lets him. they both move on, not talking about it, because they never talk about Anything of substance like this (not until much, Much later).

overall, it's just such a great example of their relationship's development. Wolfwood's fear & Vash's trust that he won't act on it... it's just. Man.

(EDIT: people have made some good points about how Vash's expression when Wolfwood points the gun at him shows that he probably did know and YEAH that's a good point! & probably why I was so certain he knew lol, I just hadn't realized it myself)

[finelythreadedsky]

JSTOR Wrapped: top ten JSTOR articles of 2023

Coo, Lyndsay. “A Tale of Two Sisters: Studies in Sophocles’ Tereus.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 143, no. 2 (2013): 349–84.

Finglass, P. J. “A New Fragment of Sophocles’ ‘Tereus.’” Zeitschrift Für Papyrologie Und Epigraphik 200 (2016): 61–85.

Foxhall, Lin. “Pandora Unbound: A Feminist Critique of Foucault’s History of Sexuality.” In Sex and Difference in Ancient Greece and Rome, edited by Mark Golden and Peter Toohey, 167–82. Edinburgh University Press, 2003.

Garrison, Elise P. “Eurydice’s Final Exit to Suicide in the ‘Antigone.’” The Classical World 82, no. 6 (1989): 431–35.

Grethlein, Jonas. “Eine Anthropologie Des Essens: Der Essensstreit in Der ‘Ilias’ Und Die Erntemetapher in Il. 19, 221-224.” Hermes 133, no. 3 (2005): 257–79.

McClure, Laura. “Tokens of Identity: Gender and Recognition in Greek Tragedy.” Illinois Classical Studies 40, no. 2 (2015): 219–36.

Purves, Alex C.  “Wind and Time in Homeric Epic.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 140, no. 2 (2010): 323–50.

Richlin, Amy. “Gender and Rhetoric: Producing Manhood in the Schools.” In Sex and Difference in Ancient Greece and Rome, edited by Mark Golden and Peter Toohey, 202–20. Edinburgh University Press, 2003.

Rood, Naomi. “Four Silences in Sophocles’ ‘Trachiniae.’” Arethusa 43, no. 3 (2010): 345–64.

Zeitlin, Froma I. “The Dynamics of Misogyny: Myth and Mythmaking in the Oresteia.” Arethusa 11, no. 1/2 (1978): 149–84.

[lost-in-fandoms]

This is me, trying to preemptively soothe myself for whatever will be said about Daniel in this incoming race week. This got longer than I was expecting, it's about 3.5k, so it's on ao3 too if you prefer to read it there.

Daniel wakes up to the feeling of Max sliding in bed behind him. He smells like Daniel's body wash and his skin is still warm and damp when he tucks himself close against Daniel's back, knees slotting in behind his.

Still too asleep to find a way to work his voice for a proper hello, all Daniel manages is a sleepy sigh, but Max doesn't seem to want to break the silence either, squeezing the arm he sneaked around Daniel's waist in his own quiet greeting, smushing his face against the sweaty back of Daniel's neck.

The room is still fully dark, a combination of the blackout curtains and the fact that it's still not even dawn, so Daniel is happy to let the sound of Max's breathing pull him back under, until he realises two things.

First, Max is still curled up close behind him, sweat already condensing between them, not rolling away like he usually does, complaining about Daniel's mound of blankets, which piles up especially high when Max isn't there.

And second, Max is supposed to be in England.

Suddenly much more awake, he opens his eyes again, trying to make his sluggish limbs coordinate to allow him to turn around, but Max squeezes him harder, keeping him in place, shaking his head slightly, nose dragging against Daniel's skin.

"Hey," Daniel mumbles, raspy and heavy with sleepy. Max doesn't answer.

"Max," he tries again, feeling more and more awake, as confusion and worry start to mix in his stomach.

Max, stubborn in this like in everything else, doesn't budge. His steady breath is damp on Daniel's nape.

For a moment, Daniel considers the pros and cons of trying to have this conversation now, trying to turn around and make Max answer his questions, but finally he decides this can probably wait for the morning. If this isn't a dream, Max will probably still be there, and it will be easier to figure out what happened between this morning, when Max had facetimed him on his way to the factory, and now, Max tense and too warm in his bed.

So he lets it go, intertwining his fingers with Max's and sighing again, feeling Max's acknowledgment of his momentary retreat in the way his muscles finally uncoil, relaxing against him.

Silence falls again in the room, only broken up by the whirring of Daniel's white noise machine and the buzzing of far away traffic, LA's neverending lullaby, but neither of them falls asleep for a long time.

The next time Daniel wakes up the room is still dark, in that unique way it gets when it's light outside and his blackout curtains are doing their job, and his bed is empty. For a second he wonders if it had just been a dream, a weirdly realistic fantasy conjured from the aching spot in his heart that is missing Max all the time. But he can smell Max's scent on his skin, even hidden underneath his own body wash, and the sheets beside him are still just barely warm.

And when he reaches the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and tugging on a hoodie he had picked up from the floor, Max is sitting on a stool, very much not a dream.

"Morning," Daniel greets him, trying to figure out if asking what are you doing here right away is going to get him an answer or an annoyed Max.

He doesn't get the chance to try though, because Max only smiles at him, bright even if pinched at the corners, before pointing at his phone and at the earbuds in his ears.

Almost done he mouths. He pulls a face, exaggerated and ridiculous, but so paper thin Daniel can still perfectly see the annoyance behind it.

Daniel nods, joining him at the counter, sitting on the stool next to him and smiling as Max scoots closer, intertwining their ankles.

He wishes he had grabbed his own phone from the nightstand to keep himself busy, or maybe to order food, since he's not sure on what's in the fridge, but he's feeling too lazy to get back up, so he resorts to laying his head down on the countertop and look up at Max's face.

His mouth is in a hard line as he nods along to whatever they're telling him, distractedly running a hand along his unshaven jaw. He looks tired, and annoyed, and beautiful, and Daniel missed him so much it feels like even sitting like this, close and touching, is not enough to soothe the gnawing pit in his chest.

Max rolls his eyes, then looks down at Daniel and smiles again, reaching over to brush a hand through his hair, the motion smooth and practiced, the same he uses when petting his cats. Daniel fights hard to not close his eyes.

"Yes, change my schedule, email it to me, whatever. I have to go."

Daniel frowns at the snappiness of Max's tone, watches as his expression grows even stormier at whatever he's been told. Something tells him Max was not exactly free to come here.

"Yes, fine. Bye."

If Max had a flip phone, Daniel is pretty sure he would have just snapped it closed. As it is though, he just swipes his finger on the screen and drops his earbuds on the counter, pressing his hands against his eyes with a sigh.

"I'm going to throw out a wild guess, and say you're not a happy bunny this morning," Daniel says, hoping to ease some of the tension from Max's shoulders.

He partially succeeds, as Max does drop his hands, rolling his eyes at him, before laying his head down on the counter too, so that they're staring at each other from the same point of view.

"I am happy to be here," Max says, slow and precise, the way he gets when he's trying to correctly convey his feelings, "but the team is not."

Daniel hums, bumping their knees together. He doesn't really care if the team is happy or not, but he knows being at the receiving end of a scolding like the one Max must have just gotten is not fun.

"They're not very happy with me lately," Max adds a bit ruefully, closing his eyes. His cheek is smushed against the marble, making the bags under his eye disappear a little, the other one much darker in comparison.

"Flew away from many sponsor events then?" Daniel asks, again trying make Max smile. This time it works only halfway, a corner of Max's mouth ticking up, the other kept in place by his cheek and the counter.

"Just a couple. They..." Max stops, a hand coming up to tug at his ear, fiddle with his hair. Daniel wants to grab his fingers, press his mouth against Max's forehead and learn each one of his thoughts like that.

Instead, he has to speak. Boring.

"Why are you here, Maxy?" he asks, because he can't not. He wonders if he should add that he is happy that Max is there, hopes that he doesn't have to, that Max would know anyway.

"I missed you."

Simple, easy, deadly.

Daniel feels his heart do a weird stuttering skip, lungs squeezing, trying to accommodate the surge of love suddenly flooding his chest.

"I missed you too," he chokes out, giving up on resisting the urge and leaning forward, bumping his nose against Max's, their knees knocking together, looking for a kiss.

Max tastes like orange juice, Daniel probably tastes like sleep, and it's awkward because of the uncomfortable position. It's the best thing Daniel has done this whole week.

"They briefed me," Max murmurs, lips still brushing together, sounding like it pains him to speak. A part of Daniel wants to go back to kissing, but he can feel they are now getting to the real reason why Max is there, and doesn't want to stop it.

Not that he doesn't believe Max missed him, Max never lies, never says something sweet if he doesn't mean it, but he knows there must be another reason why he looks like this, instead of just happy to be with Daniel. And even if some part of him knows this will probably not be an easy conversation, he also suspects it's one they need to have.

"On what to say about you."

Daniel jerks back a little before he can really think about it, the words stinging sharply.

He knows it makes sense. He knows he now basically is an ongoing PR disaster for the team, and a part of him enjoys it, but the reminder of it still hurts. And it hurts to think about Max, sitting somewhere across the world, getting told what to say when asked about him.

Max's eyes are open again now, but his expression is carefully blank, just studying whatever Daniel's face is doing, and Daniel suddenly hates it all, pain and rage swelling once again inside him.

He's been doing well, trying his best not to think about it. He's been keeping himself busy, keeping himself with people, refusing to let the feelings dwell and drag him under, but it's unavoidable with Max right there, talking about it.

And something must show on his face, because he sees something flicker under Max's blank expression, and then he's moving back too, out of the space where they were still sharing air, taking his head off the counter with a wince.

For a second, Daniel thinks about staying where he is, neck starting to twinge painfully, and letting Max say whatever he's going to say, probably some kind of apology, then an excuse, and then letting him leave. He thinks about letting Max think that for Daniel it is worse to have him here, painful reminder of everything he's not going to get anymore, than have him gone, aching pit of absence in his stomach. Thinks about where all of that would lead.

He straightens too.

His wince is probably identical to Max's, his neck aching and sore from the awkward position, and he knows that normally it would make Max smile, it would make them both crack a joke about it. But now Max is too busy trying to hide what he's feeling, wanting to calibrate it on whatever Daniel is feeling, to joke about old age or something, and Daniel hates it.

He grabs Max's arm, pretending he doesn't see Max's barely there flinch, pretending it doesn't send a new wave of hurt through him, and leads him out of the kitchen, to the couch. Max follows him quietly, trustingly, not even asking where they're going, what is happening. Daniel hates it.

He lays down on the couch, tugging Max on top of him. A part of him wishes they had done this last night, when they were close and aided by the dark, but he knows that, as much as he doesn't like it, this is probably better. He doesn't want to have this conversation more than once if possible, so it's better this way, something they'll both remember clearly.

Max is still tense on top of him, careful, but he relaxes a little as Daniel winds his arms around his waist, tugging him closer, the familiar weight of him on top of him comforting.

It's only when they're properly settled that he lets out a breath, and he forces himself to face this head on.

"What did they tell you to say?"

He's proud of how steady and neutral his voice sounds, the swirling mess of emotions inside him nowhere to be found.

For a long moment, Max doesn't answer. His hair is barely brushing against Daniel's chin, and he can feel where Max's chest is expanding as he breathes, pressing against him.

"I am not going to do it," Max finally says, voice quiet but sure. "I told them, I am not."

Daniel hums, not even tempted to doubt him.

"What did they say?" he asks again, wanting to know, wanting Max to tell him.

"That you knew." Ouch. "That you were not performing." Ouch. "That this was the best choice for the team, and I am excited to see what Liam can do." Ouch.

He's not surprised Max wouldn't say any of this, he's more surprised the PR team would even try to make him say this, but it still hurts to know that this is how they are going to spin the story.

"Excited, uh?" is all he manages to say, slightly choked.

Max pushes himself up on one elbow, struggling against Daniel's hold on his waist, to glare up at him, eyes steely and fierce and red rimmed.

"I am not going to do it," he repeats, forceful and sincere. "They are wrong and they are stupid, and I am not going to sit and lie and..."

He breaks off, pursing his lips and pressing them firmly together, eyes shiny. Daniel loves him so much it hurts.

"I know I can't tell the truth," Max says slowly with a grimace, voice breaking under all the feelings he's trying to keep at bay, "but I am not going to lie."

Daniel wants to kiss him again. He wants to tug him close and kiss him and get lost in each other and in love until everything outside the door doesn't matter anymore. He wants to push all this away until it isn't hurting either of them.

Instead, he gently pushes Max down on his chest again, one hand on his neck and one on the small of his back, and breathes.

"You told them that?" he asks.

Max's nod drags the fabric of his hoodie against his skin, bunching it up.

"I said, I will be polite and I will say nice things about Liam, and about Yuki and Checo, but I will not say that shit about you. I am not fixing this for them."

Daniel wonders what the Daniel of 10 years ago would have said, if he got told that in 10 years time Max would still be by his side, fiercely on his side.

"Thank you, Maxy," is all he can say, his feelings to messy and big to try and put them into words without spilling them all over the room, making clean up a bitch he doesn't want to deal with today.

Max nods again once, rough and too quick, dislodging the hand Daniel still has on his neck.

"They were not happy," he says, squirming a little until Daniel puts his hand back. "They told me there will be consequences," he snaps, slightly derisive, "so I told them I can do consequences too, and left."

Well, that explains the scolding.

"You left?" Daniel asks, not disbelieving, but still incredulous somehow.

"I didn't want to be there anymore," Max says, as if that explains it all. It probably does, for him.

For Daniel, it's yet another confirmation of which side Max is on. Not that he needed one more, but it's still nice to have. Nice to know that even in something like this, something this big and catastrophic, Max will choose him, over and over. The flood of love is back, and this time Daniel has to tip his head back and breathe, trying not to let it out through his eyes.

"How angry are they?" he asks, when he feels like his voice isn't tangled up in a knot in his throat anymore.

Max shrugs awkwardly, trapped between Daniel's body and Daniel's hands.

"Angry."

It makes Daniel snort despite himself, the sound slightly wet.

"Can't have everything their way, I guess."

He can imagine it, Max storming out of a meeting room, leaving behind a mix of perplexed and angry people, knowing they can't really punish him in any meaningful way that isn't making him do more sponsor events. It's a very satisfying thought.

And then Max takes a breath, pushes himself up on an elbow again, and decides to shift Daniel's world once again.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks. Then, probably because he sees Daniel starting to frown, he adds "not here. The team."

It knocks the breath straight out of Daniel's lungs.

He blinks, unable to process what Max has just said.

"You...what?" he stutters, shifting back a little, trying to look at Max's face better without straining his neck.

He's almost expecting Max to laugh, to take it back, to crack a joke. But Max is deadly serious, the same unshakeable firmness Daniel knows from years of debriefs and arguments on his face.

"I want to win," Max says, not taking his eyes away from Daniel's. "I want to race, and I want to win, for a little while longer. But I don't like what they have been doing, what they did to you. I don't like what the team has become. I don't like what the sport is becoming. So if you want me to leave, if it would help that I leave too, I will leave at the end of the year."

Daniel can't breathe. There's loyalty, and there's Max being loyal, and then there's this. He doesn't know what to do with any of this.

"You can't...I can't ask you to leave." His voice sounds distant to his own ears, so overwhelmed it doesn't even feel his.

"If you want me to, if it would make you hurt knowing I am still racing with them, if it would make you angry, or hate me..."

"I am not going to hate you," Daniel interrupts. He doesn't know many things right know, but he knows that. He's suddenly torn between wanting to tug Max close again and wanting to keep looking at him while they talk about this, and settles on bringing his hand up to Max's cheek, relishing in the way he immediately leans into it.

"I don't want you to stop racing because of me," he says, another thing he's sure of.

"I would, if you asked," Max tells him, easy and steady, as if it's not monumental. Max Verstappen, willing to stop racing, for him.

"I won't."

Max nods, then breaks eye contact, suddenly looking shakier, unsure.

"You can't..." he takes a breath, bottom lip jutting out. Daniel's heart is beating too fast in his chest. "You can't hate me for it. I asked, and you said no, you can't hate me for it, now."

Daniel gives in, pressing Max to his chest again, bending his head to press his lips against his hair.

"I won't," he promises, voice swollen and heavy. "I won't hate you, Max. I won't even be angry at you, not for this. It was never on you."

Something that Daniel hadn't even noticed seems to uncoil between Max's shoulders and he slumps against Daniel's chest with a shuddering sigh, arms coming around Daniel's waist to hold him tighter.

Daniel wonders for how long Max had been carrying the weight of this misplaced guilt, of this fear. Wonders how he hadn't seen it before.

"If you want to leave for you," he carefully says, giving himself time to properly word what he wants to say, thinking about retirement jokes, and about much more serious retirement conversations, "you are free to leave. I will not be angry about that either."

Max shivers as he nods.

"I don't know if I want to," he mumbles, half lost in Daniel's hoodie. His hair is soft against Daniel's lips.

"You don't have to decide right now," Daniel tells him, suddenly and strongly grateful they're having this conversation like this, and not through a phone. Or worse, not having it at all. "I am not going to be your WAG, but I am not going to be angry either."

There's many things Daniel has to work through, to figure out. The past few weeks have been hard, some days spent in bed, too sad and angry and betrayed to feel like getting up, others spent doing things, feeling like all of this is just the start o something better. He is still confused, and a bit lost, but this he knows. Max he knows.

"I love you," he says, because it's the easiest way he has to promise forever without saying it, the word too big for a moment like this.

"I love you too," Max says, easy and unwavering, as if he wasn't shaking in Daniel's arms a few moments ago, as if the words are a steady enough pillar to sustain the weight of the crumbling word around them.

And maybe they are. Maybe they are.

The conversation isn't over, he knows it. What Max has said is too big to just let it go like this, especially if he really is considering retirement. And he wants to know when Max has to go back, what the team has told him, what his punishment for leaving like this will be. But for now, Daniel presses his lips again Max's hair again and breathes out, feeling like they have pushed past something, undone a particularly nasty knot.

And for everything else they have time.

[cringelordofchaos]

// for even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart //⟩ 💙💜

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!