#internalised heartbreak

[pleasantpirateturtle]

“I’m not sorry.” Geralt had said one night, the camp fire flickering over his hardened features.

There was something in the way the witcher had avoided his eyes, twiddled with a stick in the fire and turned slightly sideways, away from Jaskier, that broke a fine cord in the bard that night. A torrent of hurt and pain and absolute misery had stirred in his mouth, burning like acid down his throat. He allowed himself a moment, a split second to feel it before he shut it all behind a carefully constructed mask of witty remarks and humour.

Sour taste, Yen said later in the solace of a numb mind.

From that day, he laughed and laughed until the eyes following him found other interesting facets, other things to focus on rather than the annoying bard who spoke too much and then when the time came and he set his bedding further from Geralt, the kind of distance he only enforced with strangers, he hoped no one noticed. A part of him wanted them to, wanted him, the white wolf of Rivia, to notice the petty way he’d chosen to show his hurt – tired of laughing off every time Geralt jilted his axis without a care.

He never did.

And so Jaskier learned to shut off his heart in the witcher’s presence, made more abhorrent jokes to cover the sudden apathy and the terrible anger simmering in his throat.

Sour taste indeed.

Ciri became a distraction, Yen too if it weren’t for the blasted knowing looks she kept throwing him or the pity so poorly hidden. He had no doubt she knew he hadn’t truly forgiven Geralt, his longing had been a cavernous monster that often kept him wide awake at night and so when Geralt had stepped into that piss-poor prison cell the beast had won, Jaskier had launched himself at the white wolf before he could suppress it.

At least he’d gained a true friend in Yennefer. The kind that would follow him - misery liked company after all.

He heard light footsteps encroaching on the tight little alcove he’d sequestered himself into for the past couple of days they’d been at the keep – with a drink in hand, of course, alcohol was the cure for heartbreak they said – the footsteps paused an inch from his back, a deep chested, heavy sigh bounced on the cold walls, the wind picked up on cue.

“You’re being a miserable sod, Jaskier.”

“You are one to talk,” he muttered, “how’s life without your magic?”

“Touché.”

A heel pressed into his lower back viciously, he took a long swing from the flask, the rum was the sort he’d turn his nose up at even in dire straits but Jaskier, well, he was well past that stage and between the lovely company the keep had to offer and the terrible rum he’d made his choice.

“And you’re being a spoilsports, witch.” He replied drily.

At last, he twisted at the waist enough to glare over his shoulder. The witch flicked an eyebrow up, imperious in her disdain. Jaskier wagged the flask and her disapproving frown deepened, he shook it harder, some liquid sploshing on his hand and sighing again with all the weight of a witch without magic Yennefer took his offer, roughly stumbling and fidgeting into the tight space. He offered her the flask and she took a long – drawn swing. They sat there, staring at the dreary weather for a long time, when their fingers became numb with the bitter chill Yennefer’s gaze pinned him down; clever woman, Jaskier would have bolted if she’d bothered any sooner, not now when he was too weary with the cold and the heat of the rum low in his guts.

“Spring has come but the bird is yet to sing, Bard...”

Jaskier went for the flask again, never mind that it was empty. The witch did always notice the most unpleasant of truths Jaskier hid from the world at large, she had a talent for it, and if he hadn’t so passionately disliked her very existence upon their acquaintance he might have been quite besotted. As it stands, he can see in her no more than a friend or if he felt particularly sentimental a sister...

“Spring may come and the bird may sing, it is only the inattentive who do not –“

The witch interrupted him, exasperatingly calling out his name. Jaskier’s hand twitched, the white bandages stark in the dusk of evening; the wound was long healed, the skin raised and an angry red that will never fade despite the many healing salves. He could use the limb well enough, had no trouble when he completed his share of tasks around the keep, or when he helped Ciri wash her long pale waves.

“You are not composing.”

“You don’t have magic.”

The alcove fell quiet, the harsh winds screeched, louder than ever, their breathing terribly loud, a heavy bank of snow had fallen around the keep, pristine, white and glittering. Like the witcher’s hair. A question hung heavily between them but neither dared to voice the doubts swirling in the void, to confront that which had made them whole once was no more. They could get it back, with proper time and healing. Probably. Jaskier could not find joy in patience though, he’d lived long enough that the notion had lost all its shiny gloss and became a mere botherance.

Perhaps it was one of the many reasons he and the witcher were not compatible.

He doesn’t speak with the witcher much these days. Geralt only ever addressed him to shut him up from one of the many illogical rants he uses to take the heat off of Visemir’s knowing looks. There was tension between them and Jaskier couldn’t quite tell if Geralt was oblivious to it or simply ignoring it. He did not know anymore, after all Geralt had proven Jaskier wrong when he assumed he understood the witcher better than anyone.

This wasn’t the first time someone came to Jaskier to fix the Geralt mess – why they came to him and not the root of the problem will always baffle him – they explained, begged, threatened, all sorts of tactics to make him forgive Geralt. What was there to be forgiven? Geralt himself had stated there was nothing to apologise for. Why should Jaskier lower himself for the sake of their feelings? If they couldn’t stand to be around Geralt and Jaskier without feeling awkward they should fuck right off. Jaskier had zero fucks left to give.

“Well, I would like to say that this has been lovely, but that would be lying. I will let you to your misery witch, I for one have a date planned with a hot tub and some peace.” Jaskier said as he wiggled free.

The witch reached for him, calling his name out. He wrenched free and leisurely walked out of the room because, goddammit, he could be petty if he wanted.

[boimgfrog]

it's always "autism acceptance" until the autistic person is weird, or fat, or a man, or has poor hygiene, or a POC, or makes unfunny jokes, or isn't a cute feminine gay, or is actually bad at communicating, or needs to have things explained to them, or is too loud, or too quiet, or needs to be told something multiple times to understand it, or has mannerisms that make people stare at them, or, or, or, etc. if you would show patience to the cute autistic girl who collects plushies and stims by flapping her hands then you MUST show equal patience to the large autistic boy who stims by humming or hitting his head and worms underwater welding into every conversation. I am no longer asking. your acceptance cannot begin and end with people you deem palatable.

[satturn]

pros of doing things alone and scared is that people do find it inherently kinda cool even if you're awkward about it 👍

[6ebe]

whenever I’m in a male dominated sports fandom space and am violently reminded of the fact that the men there do not respect women nor expect women to share their hobbies or exist in their spaces

[storytellersumayyah]

heavy is the head of the king and broken is the hand of his knight

this was supposed to be a bonus, untitled scene in order to try and kill writer's block, and then it became a full-blown story that was too coherent to just be a scene and therefore, we are now here but Jonathan and tristan are dear to us all so there's no issue with that

tw: panic attacks, implied/referenced death, implied internalised homophobia

The day Tristan becomes the freshman Heartbreaker, he doesn’t come to dinner. He accepts the crown with all the grace and pride of someone who knew they would receive it. And he looks gorgeous wearing it, even if he seems too young and too small and too fragile, teeth still slightly wonky and cheeks flushed because of the number of eyes on him.

Jonathan almost feels jealous. But not because he wanted to be the king. Because he wanted things to be as simple for him as they were for Tristan.

And then he feels guilty, because there is an unspoken agreement between all of the students. They may want the crown, to prove something to their parents or to themselves, but they cannot have it. Whatever they want must come secondary to Tristan. He is the one who must prove themselves first, and then the rest can follow.

What they would have done if he preferred to play the long game, as some Heartbreakers did, was a question they would simply be grateful they didn’t need the answer to.

So, Tristan is crowned. Jonathan and Adelaide smile at him, then meet each other’s eyes and breathe out because everything is going to be fine for all of them now.

But then Tristan does not come to dinner.

Mr Carter enters the cafeteria, and everything goes silent. Despite everything he teaches, and the person he is, the tips of his ears go red and he tells everyone they can continue as they were. Out of politeness, they obey. Jonathan and Adelaide know why he’s there- everyone does. But Tristan is nowhere to be seen, and they are left hoping their pleading expressions are enough to convince him to bend the rules just this once and not tell Headmaster Rotchforth that they didn’t have a conversation because he didn’t turn up.

It's not their pleading expressions, but rather a unnamed affection towards Tristan, that make him nod and turn on his heel. He has a tense conversation with the Headmaster, making up responses that don’t feel real. If he thinks the Headmaster keeps his eyes on the one part of his face that he cannot stand to look at, he would not be wrong. He leaves, feeling uncomfortable. He wipes his make-up off without a mirror. He turns the light off without looking at his face.

Jonathan knocks on Tristan’s door, not sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t get a response.

He can see the light poking through the bottom of the door. Tristan can’t sleep with any light in the room. So he counts to sixty. And then he counts to sixty again.

Then he pushes the door open, slowly and quietly, giving Tristan more than enough time to scream if he’s changing.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asks. He’s sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide from the crown, as though if he’s small enough, it won’t find him.

“You didn’t eat dinner. I wanted to bring you some snacks,” Jonathan replies. He can’t tell if he’s being rejected or not.

Tristan looks up and smiles at him, but he can see the tears. “Thank you, Jonathan.”

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t see the point in asking if Tristan is okay because he’s clearly not.

Tristan breaks.

Before Jonathan can process the ramifications of being caught, or the Heartbroken nature of what they’re both doing, he has Tristan wrapped in his arms. He can’t maintain the position for too long, but he can do it for long enough. And Tristan has never once been angry that he can’t give physical comfort for too long. He will hold onto that.

“It’s too much,” Tristan chokes out. “It’s too much, and I can’t handle it, and I’m not strong enough, and I’m so exhausted from pretending like I can-”

“You can handle it,” Jonathan whispers, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. It’s pleasant. Floral, but not overwhelming. “It’s not too much. We just break it down into smaller pieces until it’s just enough, remember? You taught me that.”

He technically taught Katherine, but Jonathan realised it would do him some good to learn too.

Tristan chokes on a laugh, but he breathes slightly more evenly. “I don’t know if I can break this one down though.”

When Jonathan brushes his hair off his forehead, he doesn’t expect Tristan to react so harshly. He doesn’t know where to go from there, so he just swallows. “You can. You always can.”

If Tristan detects the bitterness, he doesn’t comment.

He turns away, and Jonathan realises his body is shaking because he is trying to sob quietly. He doesn’t come closer. “Let it out.”

Tristan takes the pillow behind his back and screams into it. Jonathan closes his eyes and tries to block out the noise slightly, but Tristan is already done and is back to crying. “It’s just- you, and everyone else- the weight, and the faith and the-”

His words taper off as he starts struggling again.

“Match my breathing,” Jonathan commands. He will have a conversation with Tristan about what is happening tomorrow. For now, he just needs to keep him stable.

Tristan manages to follow.

“I miss her,” he confesses once his heart rate is somewhat normal.

Jonathan knows he’s not referring to his mother, so he keeps quiet.

“I miss Delilah,” Tristan whispers.

Jonathan does not know what to do with Tristan’s grief. It is a fierce and gigantic monster, that cannot be controlled and does not know how to be cared for. So he does what he did to Tristan, and he tries to understand it so he can love it. He knows that this grief needs acknowledgement, because everyone else tries to minimise it as something he can hardly remember. But even if he can’t remember it well, he can remember it, and it deserves honour.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s completely okay.”

Tristan starts crying again.

Jonathan lets him.

It’s the only thing he can do.

“You should go,” Tristan says, what feels like hours later. “It’s almost curfew.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says.

“Jonathan.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Go.”

And Jonathan wants to say that it doesn’t matter, that it will never matter, but Tristan needs time to accept that. He’s already tried forcing it on him too many times.

He ducks his head. “Okay.”

Just before he opens the door, he takes a deep breath to give him the bravery he needs. “You will handle this. Because you are Tristan, and that means you are a Nightingale and a Heartbreaker. And that means you can handle everything.”

Tristan doesn’t reply.

The next day, he pretends the previous night never happened. He stays behind with Mr Carter, who keeps unconsciously covering part of his face, after their lesson and he emerges with a fake smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Jonathan doesn’t get to tell him what the moment in the bedroom really was that day. Or any day after.

buy the heartbreaker's handbook! | buy camilla! | buy me a ko-fi!

[korixae]

guys i just read a gay fanfic where the mc was rlly struggling to except themselves and was compartmentalising their queerness and it hit way too close to home and now i’m having a mental breakdown haha

[ninii-winchester]

Fleeting love

Pairing : Teen!Dean Winchester X Teen!Reader

Word count : 4k

Warnings : angst, mentions of period, fluff, john winchester (he’s a warning himself), heartbreak, not an AU, not proofread.

A/n: i love high school love stories, I’m not sorry for dragging it 😭

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean didn’t want to go to school. He wanted to hunt. Just like his father taught him to. Although John Winchester trained his boys to be hunters from the very start, he remembered his late wife Mary Winchester wanted her boys to have a normal life. And honouring her wishes, John decided his boys at-least deserve to have a high school experience. While Sam was happy to attend school Dean was throwing a fit. He considered himself better than a high school kid and it deeply bruised his ego to sit in a classroom with kids that were unaware of what goes bump in the night or what Dean Winchester was capable of.

John told his boys that they’d stay in the same town for four years while Dean completed his high school and then they’d move for Sam to complete his’ somewhere else. With that being decided it was a given that John would be gone a lot and the boys had to have each other’s back. John persuaded his eldest by promising him the keys of the Impala if he made it to his junior year with good grades. That was the only motivation that made Dean get out of bed everyday and to engage in focused study. For two years Dean dragged his feet to school and finally after passing his sophomore year at the top of his class, he got the Impala for himself.

Dean parked the car in the school parking and Sam jumped out of the car excitedly running to his class. Dean rolled his eyes and made his way towards his own class. He mostly kept to himself in class, girls swooned over him as he walked the hallways, no matter what grade they were in. The boys envied him since he had the looks, physique and was on top of his class as well. It was hard to categorise him as a bad boy or a good boy. He had his fair share of fights with jocks and make outs with cheerleaders. And now to top it all he had a badass car as well.

A scowl appeared on his face as soon as he entered the classroom. A girl from his class, he hadn’t bothered to know her name, was sitting in his seat, all the way in the back beside the window. He stomped his feet as he walked over to her. Damn she’s gorgeous. But that’s not the point,— Dean shook his head before he spoke,

“You’re in my seat.” He glared at her. She jumped a bit at his voice but then she relaxed. She looked up at him glared back at him.

“What are you, five?” She retorted leaning back in the chair. He breathed through his nose and urged her to get out of his seat but she remained indifferent. She sucked her pen between her lips and stared at his face with a frown. His face flashed with confusion at the change of her attitude. “Can I sit here please? I’m having a bad day.” She said softly and Dean could’ve sworn she was bipolar the way she changed her tone within seconds. With a loud sigh he dropped his bag on the table next to hers and sat on the chair. She sent him a grateful smile and he just nodded. The teacher entered the class and started teaching, after a few minutes passed the girl whispered. “I’m Y/n.” Dean looked at her blankly and turned to face ahead.

Normally teenagers think about relationships, falling in love, but Dean had already internalised to stay far from these attachments, finish school to please his dad so he can finally hunt. But the pretty girl next to him was already causing him to waver in his decision. He was teenager a of-course he felt attracted to a beautiful woman. The class ended pretty soon and the kids were rushing out as fast as humanly possible but she remained seated and Dean noticed.

“Not going to the next class?” He couldn’t help but ask, she had her head down on the desk and her hair was falling on her face which made Dean want to tuck it behind her ear. —God what is wrong with me. He groaned internally.

“No!” She pouted and Dean held back from kissing her right there. He had barely noticed her existence in the past two years and now he’s having these passionate thoughts about her.

“Skipping class?” Dean smirked, she didn’t look like someone who’d skip class for fun. She shook her head at his question and Dean wondered if there’s something wrong with her. He raised his brow at her but she didn’t respond. She sat up straight and stared at her lap. “What’s up then? Can’t help you if you won’t tell.” Dean shrugged.

She didn’t know whether she should tell him, he’ll probably make fun of her. She’s known him for two years, they’re in the same class but he never acknowledged her. He barely has friends and he seemed rude. But he’s asking right? That should mean something! —She thought to herself. “I’m having a bad day.” She finally said and she didn’t expect him to roll his eyes at her.

“You told me that before.” He crossed his arms across his chest. She felt small under his gaze but something made her feel safe too.

“I woke up late and forgot my homework at home.” She whispered. “I got my period early and it stained my pants.” Dean was caught off guard and he felt embarrassed. Yeah he knows what a menstrual cycle is but he’s never had the first hand experience of dealing with someone on their period. But that sure does explain her change of mood. He didn’t speak for a minute and then he shrugged of his jacket and extended it to her.

“Here, you can wear it, it’ll probably cover you.” His jacket was huge, she was pretty small compared to him and it would cover her up good. “Do you want me to walk you to the nurse’s office?” As much as she wanted him to, she didn’t want any rumours to spread about him and her. She shook her head politely.

“I’ll manage. Thank you for the jacket Dean. I’ll return it tomorrow.” She smiled standing up and slipped her arms inside the jacket. She kissed his cheek, both of their faces turned red and she quickly rushed out of the room. Dean stood frozen. He’s never felt this way before, blushing over a kiss over the cheek. He’s done way more than that but this made his heart flutter.

The next morning Y/n was at her locker, Dean’s jacket draped over her arm, she knew everyone saw her wearing his jacket yesterday and she could hear them talk. From her interaction with him she could tell he was a nice person but his reputation preceded him, he was popular and was always found making out with a new girl every week. She didn’t want to be one of those girls so she decided, she would return his jacket and go back to never talking to him again. However her plan was ruined when Dean appeared by her side, he leaned against against the locker beside her flashing her his annoyingly perfect smile.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” Dean asked and she looked around to see all eyes on them. He couldn’t explain why he was drawn to her; it was just a gut feeling, a spark he felt. He thought about her the whole day when he went back home. He knew she’d be stuck in his mind, lingering there longer than a stranger ever should.

“Better.” She replied and handed him his jacket. “Thanks, Dean.” She said before closing her locker and turning to go to class. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Let’s walk to class together?” Although he asked her it was more like a statement. She gulped before nodding her head. All the girls’ jaws practically hit the floor as they watched Dean lead Y/n to class.

For the following week Dean could be found wherever Y/n was. He practically walked her to her every class, turned down girls left and right and he finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. At first she was skeptical at his sudden interest in her, and she turned him down. He followed her like a lost puppy for another two weeks.

“Dean what the hell.!” She exclaimed as he cornered her after class ended. “Why’re you interested in me suddenly?” She folded her arms across her chest.

“I like you. And I wanna take you out on a date.” He replied, his green eyes staring into hers intently.

“I’m not going to be one of those girls you make out with and then dump.” she said, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability. She wasn’t trying to play hard to get—she just knew her worth and wasn’t about to let herself be another passing fling. Dean wanted to feel offended but he knew he had a reputation and he didn’t blame her.

“Just one date." he said, a teasing grin on his face. There was a playful challenge in his eyes, like he knew she was tempted but wouldn’t admit it. He leaned in slightly, his tone softening. “One date to prove I genuinely like you.” His eyes softened and she could feel herself getting lost in his eyes.

“Fine.” She nodded begrudgingly. She knew he wouldn’t have left her alone unless she agreed. She weighed the pros and cons and the situation seemed to be in her favour. He’s got one date to prove himself, if he failed she’d make sure he left her alone and if he did turn out decent enough she might get herself a hot boyfriend. She rolled her eyes at herself,— Dean Winchester and boyfriend don’t go in the same sentence.

The day of the date arrived sooner than Y/n wanted it to. She slipped on a simple sundress and kept her makeup minimal. She heard the doorbell ring, she said goodbye to her mom before rushing to open the door. Not only was Dean on time, he bought her flowers too. She smiled at him taking the flowers from him. He told her she looked beautiful and held her hand to lead her to the car. He opened the car door for her too. The two had dinner at local diner and he was a complete gentleman the whole time. He didn’t make any moves on her, just talked and flirted a bit. Dean paid for the food and helped her into the car again.

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from smiling until her cheeks hurt. She never thought Dean be such a cutie. She thought of him as the bad boy who played around with girls but he proved himself.

“I had fun today. Thank you Dean.” She said putting her hand on his as he drove. He threw her a smirk.

“It’s not over yet, sweetheart.” Dean replied. She looked at him in confusion. She looked outside and realised he’s not driving her back home, instead they’re going towards the lakeside. She tensed, unbeknownst to Dean. She cursed herself for thinking too soon. He’s up to no good—Of course it’s not over yet. She rolled her eyes.

The car came to a halt and he got out of the car and opened her door to offer her his hand with a charming smile. She got out the car and he led her to the front of the car and faced her. He placed his hands on her waist and helped her onto the hood.

Y/n swore she was going to knee him where the sun doesn’t shine if he pulled anything. He let go off her and sat beside her on the hood. She looked at him, he felt her eyes on him and turned to her. He then raised his hand above them and pointed to the sky. When she looked up she saw the most beautiful canopy of stars stretching across the night. The sky was a deep, velvety black, speckled with countless twinkling lights. He brought her see stars. She cursed herself again — for thinking too soon.

The night was cool, the stars above casting a soft glow on them, adding a touch of magic to the moment.

“Sweetheart.” Dean took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I really like you, Y/n. This isn’t just a fling for me. I want to be more than just that bad boy reputation.”

In that moment Y/n didn’t know what came over her, but it was her who leaned in first. Dean’s gaze lingered on her face as he slowly leaned in, his eyes locking with hers. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and tender. She felt her heart race, the moment stretching out between them. When their lips finally met, it was soft and slow, a sweet, lingering kiss that conveyed more than words ever could.

One date turned into five, and each one seemed to deepen their connection. What started as a single evening of getting to know each other blossomed into a series of moments filled with laughter, shared secrets, and growing affection. On their sixth date, Dean asked her to be his girlfriend, and she accepted. Being with her made Dean forget about hunting and how he would have to leave in less than two years. He forgot about how his dad might react or how Y/n would respond if she learned about his life as a hunter.

The news of Y/n and Dean being a couple spread through school like wildfire. They became the power couple, and it was truly endearing to see them together. Dean was the best boyfriend Y/n could ever ask for—always doting on her, showering her with compliments and kisses. He was completely smitten, and Y/n was equally infatuated with him.

They often hung out at Dean’s place since his father was frequently away. Dean shared stories about his mother, telling Y/n how she had died in a house fire and how they had to move. He omitted the part about the unnatural circumstances surrounding her death. Y/n also got along well with Sam, Dean’s younger brother, who liked having her around. Dean was happy that his brother and girlfriend got along so well. Time passed in a blur and they were towards the end of their senior year. Y/n couldn’t believe they’d been together for a year and a half.

Y/n and Dean were cuddling on the couch of his living room when the front door opened and entered John Winchester. The man was pissed, he’d a particularly hard hunt and he called his son thrice but he didn’t respond. When he entered the living room he found the reason his son wasn’t answering his calls and his anger flared.

“Dean.” His voice boomed and the couple jumped up from their place. The older man glared at his son and Y/n squirmed beside Dean. “I called you thrice, son.” He said calmly but Dean knew he was anything but calm.

“My phone is in my room, I’m sorry sir.” Dean replied avoiding eye contact. John looked at Y/n and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh dad this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” John tilted his head as he heard the word girlfriend leave Dean’s mouth.

“Nice to you meet you, Mr Winchester.” Y/n managed to speak, the man was intimidating her. The older man nodded his head. “I think I should go. It’s late.” She looked at Dean sensing the tension in the air.

“I’ll drop you-“ Dean offered but Y/n saw John wasn’t too pleased with his offer and she shook her head, politely declining. “I’ll walk you to the door.” She nodded making her way towards the door. “Baby I’m sorry about dad.” She turned to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“It’s fine, sweetie. I can understand the shock, coming home and finding about his son’s girlfriend he knows nothing about.” She smiled.

“Yeah I didn’t want to tell him over the phone.” He rubbed the back of his head. She pecked his lips but he grabbed her waist pulling her into him, deepening the kiss.

“Okay lover boy. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” She smiled pulling away.

“I love you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too. Now go before he gets any more angry.” She pushed him back slightly. Dean went back inside after she had completely disappeared from his sight. He sighed knowing he’s going to an earful from his dad.

“What the hell Dean?” John exclaimed as soon as Dean entered the living room. “A girlfriend?” He yelled making Sam come out as well. Dean opened his mouth to speak but John interrupted him. “I called you thrice because the Rugaru was on my ass and I needed backup. And I come home and see you cuddling with some-”

“Don’t even say anything Dad.” Dean growled before his father could say something about his girlfriend.

“What’re you gonna tell her at the end of the year huh? What would you say about leaving? That you’re going off to college.” His father asked rhetorically and Dean clenched his jaw. “How do you think she’d react if you told her the truth. Can you even tell her the truth?” Dean stayed silent knowing there’s no way he could tell her the truth. John sighed before he placed a hand over his son’s shoulder. “End it before it hurts the both of you.” Was all he said before leaving his son standing there.

Dean contemplated his father’s words. No matter how harsh they were, it was the truth. He had to end it, he knew she would’ve believed him if he’d tell her the truth but he didn’t want her to be any kind of danger, that too because of him. The next day he met with her in school.

“Hey baby.” She kissed his nose as he wrapped his arms around her. “Everything good at home?” She asked wrapping her arms around his neck.

“All good, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. He hated lying to her, he hated knowing he’s going to break her heart in a few days. He felt awful knowing he was going to break his promise of never hurting her—the promise of protecting the heart she’d entrusted to him. The weight of his impending actions pressed heavily on him, each moment deepening his regret as he faced the reality of the pain he would cause.

He spent the whole week with her, clinging to every moment. He kissed her as if his life depended on it—because, in a way, it did. Each kiss was a desperate attempt to savor their time together, knowing how fleeting their moments were.

The last week of school before finals was when Dean decided to do it. Y/n was studying hard for finals, so he knew that the distraction might lessen the heartbreak. He hoped that, amidst the stress and focus on exams, the pain of his decision would be somewhat mitigated by her busy schedule. He’d asked her to meet him at the park. He waited anxiously for her arrival. When she neared him with a skip in her step and a smile on her face he had half the heart not to go through with it.

“Hi.” Dean looked at her face, feeling the need to preserve the image of her face into his mind. As this would be last he’d have a good look at her gorgeous face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked cupping his cheek, seeing the anguish on his face and he leaned into her touch.

“I uh…Y/n, I’ve been struggling with how to say this, but I need to be honest with you.” Dean blinked back his tears not wanting her to see it was hurting him as much as it will hurt her. “I can’t do this anymore.” She chuckled as he said it. “I’m not joking Y/n.” He said angrily and she stared at him in shock.

“I promised myself I’d never hurt you, and the last thing I want is to be the reason for your pain.” Dean cleared his throat as tears formed in her eyes. “It’s not you—it’s me.”

“Dean what are you even- is it about your dad? Did he tell you to do this?” She asked tears dripping down her cheek. He shook his head.

“No he didn’t. We’ll start college soon. We can’t do long distance.” Dean said whatever came to his mind in that moment. He wanted to get over with it so he could go home and cry. He didn’t want to see her tear stricken face, when he’s unable to pull her into his arms and tell her it’ll all be okay.

“Yes we can baby. And if you think that’s a problem I can always go wherever you’re going.” She cried and he wanted to take every word back and gather her in his arms and never let go.

“I don’t want you to.” He said knowing that’s the only way he can convince her. “You’ve been an incredible part of my life, and I’ll always cherish the memories we’ve made together. I hope you find the happiness you deserve, I hope, in time, you can forgive me. But this ends here.”

“Dean you can’t do this to me.” She sobbed holding onto his shirt. “Please.” Her body shook as she cried. He couldn’t bear seeing her like that so he did what he thought was best. He left. He left her sobbing in the middle of the park. With a heavy heart and tear filled eyes Dean entered his house. His father was in the living room, his back to Dean.

“Did you do it?” John asked.

“Yeah I broke up with her.” Dean mumbled wanting to get into bed.

“Dean, you had to break her heart not breakup with her.” John said turning to look at his son.

“What is the damn difference?” Dean snapped not caring about pissing off his father. John ignored his tone knowing he’s hurting. But it’s for the best.

“What if she follows you or tries to persuade you to stay? You need to break her heart, so painful that she can’t help but hate you, ensuring she moves on and never thinks of you again.” Dean went to his room without a word.

Y/n went back to her house, spending the entire night crying and wondering what went wrong. She couldn’t believe it was Dean’s decision alone; she suspected his dad had pressured him. She decided she’d talk to him once more at school before she made any final decisions.

Her heart dropped the minute she entered the hallway, she watched Dean pressing a blonde against the lockers, his lips firmly placed against hers. He looked at her for a split second and he could the see the hurt in her eyes but he continued kissing the girl pressed against him.

I’m sorry, baby. He closed his eyes trying to erase her hurt filled eyes from his memory.

Seeing him with someone else, she felt a deep, piercing sting of betrayal. Her heart sank, a mix of shock and hurt washing over her. It wasn’t just the sight of him with someone else; it was the realization that what they had meant so much less to him than it did to her.

I hate you Dean. She turned away and made her way to class.

Part 2???

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

[paddockbunny]

Help Him Forget

Summary : After “retiring” Daniel gets himself into an awful state to which you don’t know how to help him, until your sister gives you an idea Rating : 18+ Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 4005 words Trigger Warnings : NSFW, quite a lot of sadness talk & hints of depression. Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : it is heartbreaking and I can’t even think of what Daniel must be feeling but I hope this helps ease some people’s upset and gives us all a chance to still dream of him, I’m still probably going to keep writing for him after all.

“I just don’t know how to help.” You sigh, bottom lip teetering on the edge of quivering. Your sister takes your hand in hers and gives you a sympathetic look. It had been a full month since Singapore and every day had turned into a struggle.

While Daniel attempted to hide his pain from you, you could read him like an open book. You had to give him props for how he tried his best to do his usual thing of putting a brave face on things but you knew how utterly destroyed he was.

His confidence, shattered. His pride, crumbled. His joy and happiness, slipping away day by day. And no matter how hard you tried to keep things normal it broke you as you watched your beautiful, beloved man internalise his mental suffering and flat out refused to talk to you about it.

“He has to be the one to pull himself out of it. You can only keep doing what you’re doing.” She replied. “Just be there and make sure he knows how much you love him.”

With her words reverberating through your head your memory flashed back to the night he got home. The first night after Singapore. The night he cried like a child in your arms as your whole body filled with unsurmountable anger and how he had been treated - for a second time, by the people he trusted most.

Rage built inside of you even more for the fact he had held it together until he simply couldn’t any longer. He had no one there. No support. No family, no friends, no you. If only you had known. If only he had proper warning. You would have dropped everything to be there for him. But no, they were snakes and he had to grip hold of his pride until he was finally in a safe space to let go.

“Hey!” Your sister’s hand hadn’t left yours the entire time you walked down the long shopping street. She gave you time inside your thoughts. It was as if she knew Daniel’s pain was your pain too and you simply needed a moment of quiet.

With a gentle squeeze and the feeling of her press her arm against yours you were pulled out of the soul destroying memory.

“You know one way that will help take his mind off of everything? Help him forget for a while?” She lulled and paused in the middle of the street. It took you a second to snap back into reality. To shove aside your distressing thoughts and come back to the present.

Upon doing so your eyes finally focused on mannequins. Mannequins covered in expensive shimmering silk. In fine, exquisite lace. You knew exactly why she had stopped but as if you needed verbal communication where her mind had gone she simply whispered; “Sex” to you and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, sigh and let out a small gasp of a laugh.

She was right, of course, but as you entered the store you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place because, well, you hadn’t really needed to wear lingerie for Daniel before.

Sure, you wore nice little bits and matching sets but that wasn’t FOR him, it was always for YOU. To make you feel good and give you a confidence boost. You had never actively purchased scraps of lace and silk with him in mind.

Truthfully, it wasn’t as if you needed to “get him going” - he was always already “up for it” - and he never took much time or payed much attention to your underwear because he wanted what was under it more anyway. But as you glided your finger over a pretty white lace balcony bra you couldn’t help but come to terms with the drought that had befallen the pair of you.

Before Singapore you hadn’t gone as much as three days without some form of intimacy between you. Sex, oral, touching, dirty videos, flirtatious texts, lustful phone calls were all the norm. It kept you close regardless of where you were in the world.

But since Singapore any attempt at the same closeness as before was turned down, dismissed or met with a simple “I don’t really feel like it”. While you understood and could rationalise it in your own head it had you resorting to getting yourself off in the shower or re-reading some of his filthy texts he had sent you before shit hit the fan. Fuck, you could admit to even looking up battery operated friends online in the middle of the night when all you wanted was to throw your leg over his lap and feel him get hard between your thighs. However, regardless of your own needs you respected the fact it was simply difficult for him right now and he was too, rightfully, in his own head to contemplate anything other than his career.

You thought of him as you picked up a blush pink satin bra overlayed with intricate black lace in your size. You wondered how he would react to it. If he would like it, if he would be turned on by the sight of you in it. As you leaned into the idea of him getting hard as he touched the material as he went to take it off of you, you suddenly felt yourself reaching to put the garment back on the rail. The sudden sheer embarrassment at the thought you might actually NEED something like that to entice your boyfriend back to you hit you.

“That’s gorgeous.” Your sister blurted from your side. Your hand hesitated. “You would suit that.”

“Really?” You swallowed and you watched as she pulled out the matching knicker and garter and swung them on her finger before you. “Go try them on.” She gave you a shove and you took a deep breath as you headed over to the back of the store to the secluded private area.

“What the hell, it couldn’t hurt right?” You muttered as you handed the items over to the bombshell who showed you to a changing room. With the sound of the door close behind you you gazed at the set hanging on the wall. He would like this. The colour, the lace, the fact you had picked it out while thinking of him. It would make him happy.

It took you three days to convince yourself to finally come round to the idea of wearing the items you bought the other day in the lingerie store. You had left them in the bag and shoved it to the back of your wardrobe, embarrassed and awkward about them. You felt like a teenager who had just bought their first thong.

Initially you just wanted to completely forget about the whole idea and pretend you had never even considered it but then, that Sunday afternoon - a race week that was still too unbearable to be watched - you caught sight of Daniel showering after his run.

Your heart rate picked up when you remembered of all the times he would pull you into the shower with him or slip in after you. How he would tenderly wash your hair sometimes before insisting on washing your body too. The recollection of him sliding his soapy hands all over your body, your shoulders, your sides, down between your thighs had you sighing and struggling to regain your breath. You leaned into the thought of it as you watched the way the soap suds flowed down over his tanned tattooed skin while his head tilted back and the water turned his curls into straight strands. God, how the sight had you aching for him.

And just then you feet seemed to take over. They walked you to the closet where you had stashed the secret bag and your conscience, pessimism and concern was forgotten. Pulling the bag out a wave of what you could register as excitement washed over you just like the soap over Daniel’s flesh.

With the bag open, the box was pulled from within. You took a steadying breath before swallowing and pulling lid from base. The set was as beautiful as you remembered and as your fingers ran over the soft fabric you hoped Daniel would have the same reaction to it as you did when you tried it on.

Wasting little time - so you couldn’t change your mind - you took the silk and lace from its concealed hiding place within the box and set it on the dresser while you removed your clothes. A t-shirt dumped on the floor, followed by a pair of shorts and the simple white cotton pantie you had pulled on this morning. As you stood naked you remembered to listen for the sound of Daniel’s shower turning off. You don’t want him walking into the closet and catching you. You would never recover if he thought of you seducing him was ridiculous. But he was clearly letting the magic hot water work on tired muscles for a bit longer so you had time.

Pulling on the panties first you registered that this was the perfect moment. He would be energised from his run but relaxed from his shower. It was stress free, pressure free, relaxed. The garter went next and it took you a moment to make it sit right and not look silly on you - nerves were starting to creep in and so was the self doubt. Breathing deeply you adjusted the bra before you fastened it around your rib cage and twisted it round. Your boobs slotted into the cups neatly and pushed them up making them look fuller, bigger even. In the dressing room that day you posed and pouted into the mirror to see what Daniel would see but today, you reassured yourself that you looked beautiful, he would like it and the drought would be quashed.

As you brushed out your natural formed curls and put a little pinky lipgloss on you heard the shower finally turn off. You thought of the steps he would take next. One, step out of the shower. Two, grab towel and dry himself off. Three, tighten towel low on his waist. Four, put his fingers through his hair and scrunch to get his curls to sit better. The steps were memorised in your head. It wouldn’t be long till he left the en suite and made his way toward the closet to find something comfy to wear. You knew you had to be ready before he reached you, before he reached within eyesight of clothes. Before he could say he wasn’t “in the mood.”

“Babe?” You heard him shout from the bathroom. “Did you remember to pick up floss the other day?” It was so mundane. Domesticated even. It was almost a slap into reality, the new reality in which you had found yourself. It was the direction that life had been going in since Singapore. Discussions over what’s for dinner, who took out the trash last, reminding him to put the toilet seat down were slowly creeping in like unwelcome house guests. Sure, it might have been normal - what happened in every couple - but it wasn’t how either of you were. You weren’t in your 50’s, you weren’t “those” people, you weren’t boring and certainly didn’t have discussions about whose turn it was to do the laundry. So you glanced at yourself in the lingerie and decided to ignore his question for the sake of your relationship.

“Daniel.” You cooed, breathily like you had seen in old fashioned movies where the actress would be all seductive and worthy of a sex symbol status. You stood in the entrance way of the closet and the bedroom, where he could see you once he left the bathroom.

“I have a berry pip stuck in between my teeth….” Sexy, you thought and took a deep breath.

“Dan…” you tried again and this time it seemed to work. He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. Unsuspecting and off guard. His mouth hung open as he saw you. How did this go? How did you turn standing staring at each other into sex? You swallowed from anxiety and decided with what felt natural.

“Do you like it?” Your fingers traced over the lace on the garter belt and you reminded yourself not to be awkward. “I saw it the other day and thought of you.” Good. Keep it going. You thought, trailing your fingers up across the cup of the bra. Daniel hadn’t said a word but you did catch him swallow.

“And the back? What do you think?” You asked turning around so he could get a glimpse of your perfect peachy ass on display for him. You let your hair flick back over your shoulder and tilted your head down so your eyes looked big and expectant.

“Daniel…” you lulled again. Hoping to get something, anything, out of him. “I uh…” you walked slowly to him. Hoping the time would give him space to think of an answer but it was no hope. You reached him before he added anything else. Before he turned you down.

“Don’t you like it?” You pouted “Maybe if you feel how soft the silk is…” you gently took his hand in yours and brought it up to your chest. In the moment it dawned on you that he was nervous and you come to realise that his confidence had been effected in every which way and that was why he hadn’t touched you in a whole month - it tore you apart thinking he was hurting like this, doubting himself, unsure if he was able to please you - but it was now time to build that confidence back up and show him how perfect he was and how your bodies fitted together so perfectly. You sighed lowly when his fingertips brushed against your skin as you guided him to feel the item you had bought just for him. Shakily, your name came from his lips.

“Shh, its ok…” you lulled as you stepped in closer to him, his body heat radiating off of him like always. Your fingers tenderly trailed through his wet curls and you could feel him start to lower his walls and the negative thoughts leave his mind. Your hand trailed to his cheek and you pressed your body to his.

“I love you.” Tumbled easily from your lips as they hesitated over his. You desperately needed this. You needed the closeness. He hadn’t let you in in four nearly five weeks and you needed him to just let you love him. But it truly didn’t matter what you needed right then because all that mattered was him and making sure he felt desired and above all, loved,

He kissed you back when finally you kissed him. An unexpected shaky breath flowed from his parted lips into your mouth and willingly you swallowed it right up. It was as if, through the action, you were inadvertently saying that he can relinquish some of his turmoil. That you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly, you could feel Daniel begin to relax against you. You felt the tension in his muscles begin to ease and you were positive his mind was following suit. Your hands trailed up his bare chest - taking time to notice how, although still firm, his abs we’re softer and slightly less defined now he had been eating properly and was working out less - and lingered for a moment right above where his heart was. You could feel it thundering away. Rising and falling with his quick, heavy breaths. Then finally, his hands gripped your waist and pulled you in hard against himself.

For a fleeting moment it was as if everything clicked back into place again, Daniel’s hand pushed through your hair and you moaned for him. For a few seconds you thought the lingerie worked and he was going to savour the moment and succumb to your seduction. You couldn’t help but be surprised when his hand tangled in your hair was all he did. There was no smug smirk as he teasingly pulled your hair back to expose your neck to him. There was no seizing of control and dominance. There was none of the usual things that usually signified he was turned on and delighted at your hungry desperation for him. It was as if he was scared to be himself. So you figured you had to remind him who he was and there was no reason to feel unconfident here, not in the bedroom, not with you.

You pulled your lips back from his, waiting for him to look at you.

“Can you take this off me?” Voice low, you purred at him, guiding his hands to the garter belt on your waist. It gave you the opportunity to turn, your butt against his towel covered crotch. You felt him hesitate before doing as instructed and opening the hook and eyes that had held the belt in place. It fell to the floor with a gentle thud.

“And the bra, how about that?” You could dirty talk, you were good at it usually, but this felt more intimate and tender than how you usually begged to be fucked or describing how wet you were for him over the phone. It was slow, guiding, confidence building. He done as you requested and the silk and lace fell down your arms and joined the other fabric on the floor.

“Your turn.” You whispered while pressing a featherlight kiss upon his lips. He didn’t move so your hands done the work for him. With a swift yank of the tuck he had placed against his hip, the towel fell down. His eyes never leaving yours as you trailed your hand down. A shaky breath escaped him as you touched him. Your hand slid down his hardening length and when he sighed out your name you almost missed it due to the kisses you were trailing across his big, thick neck. The clearing of his throat and slight tilt of his head made you realise he was going back into those nasty intrusive thoughts and you acted quickly to pull him back from them.

“This is the only thing that matters.” You lulled “It’s just me and you.”

“I don’t know if…”

“No, no doubting in here Daniel.” Was all you could reply because you knew he wanted it, you knew he desired you. His cock hard in your palm was telling you that and you made sure to glide your thumb over his sensitive leaking tip to remind him.

“Just us.” You whispered against his lips and finally, after several attempts at giving in, Daniel finally let go.

His hands grabbed your waist and you couldn’t help but smile at him as you staggered back toward the bed. This was where he usually slid in some dirty talk, called you his good girl, toyed with you to turn you on but today, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t an occasion for foreplay. As you fell back against the sheets you realised this wasn't just making him forget about everything with sex like your sister suggested. It was showing him, affirming that, he knew he was loved.

Daniel’s eyes roamed your body as he joined you on the bed. He drunk in your partially naked frame.

“I’m sorry.” He poured out. “I’ve neglected you.” You swallowed. “I’ve been so distracted, in my own head.” “Daniel” you were going to tell him to stop but he shushed you. You knew he was wanting to say things, talk, maybe apologise for the lack of intimacy between the pair of you (in other words an erection killer) but you knew if he did sex would be off the cards so you shushed him right back.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed being like this with you.” He spoke so honestly.

“Daniel,” you said simply “please let’s forget about it all. Just, make love to me.” His hand tenderly stroked your cheek and you leaned into it. You had never asked him that before, not in such an open way, and the way he was looking at you with such an “I intend too” look that it made an honest smile spread across your face. One which mirrored straight back on to his.

And you knew then, you had done it, you had helped him to forget.

[tothepointofinsanity]

Sayaka Miki is a character whose, depending on who you ask, either her primary or secondary role, is walking the path of a volatile teenage girl who does not understand the way the world works, much less one involving magic, and denied grace from others because of her reactive nature. Of course it is relatable that a character who needs an abundance of understanding and compassion is also one who harshly rejects it; there was no tangible way for Sayaka to accept such a gesture when she was cornered by her own ideals and afraid of the ensuing shame with admittance that she is Wrong. Because things that are wrong to Sayaka cannot be written off as “okay”.

In any case, it’s self-loathing for her failures as a protective figure, a concept incompatible with her prior grasp on goodness, power, and responsibility. The vilification of her character as an unnecessarily angry girl due to heartbreak is not wholly inaccurate, but does not cover the underlying problems she carries as presented by the narrative. Most of her issues are birthed from her clinging to what is most acceptable to others, but her actions do not reflect these qualities, and she was never taught how to reconcile this dichotomy in herself, far too entrenched by her perception that the world of potential and magic she admired so deeply has betrayed her, and when magic isn’t enough to solve problems and they come in physical forms of people frowning upon her methods, I do not think there was ever a chance she could have properly internalised all those aspects together.

Some people are actually ashamed or bashful to admit that they find such a character relatable because of her flaws, but these flaws are realistic precisely as they are unacceptable by others in this world. Trying to be an exceptional human when you keep stumbling, both in actions and words, pretending to be someone you are not - that is why the mermaid returns to the sea.

[grandline-fics]

Hi :3 i just watched the new episode and i want to hit that girl she had to touch zoro and sleep wit him 💔

So may I request zoro xs/o about seeing him with the girl maybe some angst and fluff in the end?

DESCRIPTION: After an unplanned separation, you feel insecure about your new relationship

WARNINGS: angst to fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,852

A/N:  Thank you for this request! I think I rushed the ending a bit but I hope you're happy with it

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

Things between you and Zoro were new, incredibly new. There was still a lot you both had to come to grips with, sorting out your feelings and boundaries with each other and still in that moment of not knowing whether what was happening between you both was just lust or if it was going to lead somewhere real. So far you’d both been content to just enjoy the time and moments shared while keeping it all a secret from the crew, deciding it was better to wait before letting them know your personal details. That had been the plan, then it all went wrong in Zou. 

You’d been standing too close to Luffy as you all discussed saving Sanji who was in Big Mom’s territory. Because of that, you were one of the ones he wrapped his arms around and leapt off of the enormous elephant. From there started the longest time you’d both been apart as a couple-albeit a secret one- but you knew Zoro would be just fine in Wano. You just had to do your part and help get Sanji back so the crew could finally be complete again and wasting time thinking about a certain swordsman would only just jeopardise the safety of the crew. 

The entire trip and rescue had been an ordeal you never wanted to go through again. The fractured relationship between Sanji and Luffy had taken its toll- even though much of what Sanji did was to protect everyone- and the battles you had to endure too. You didn’t feel like you could properly breathe any sigh of relief for most of the journey. Yes, you’d all been successful but the loss of Pedro and knowing that as soon as you reached Wano it wouldn’t be long until you were brought straight into another monumental burden of fighting and defeating an Emperor of the sea and his followers. You felt like your head was swimming and stomach was going to be twisted into knots from it all. The only thing that kept you from showing your worries to the others was the thought of seeing Zoro again after weeks of being apart. 

So imagine your shock and hurt of the first seeing him again was seeing him and Sanji interfere during the aftermath of an execution. It wasn’t the fact that he saved a child or that he immediately got into a shouting match with Sanji that got under your skin it was that he didn’t even seem to look for you in the crowd where you stood with the others. Then as fast as you saw him, he was gone again; running to safety with a beautiful woman in his arms. You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that while it seemed like they knew each other Zoro was only acting on instinct to save someone and not because of some other desires fuelling his actions. 

At least that’s what you told yourself at first but as you and the others in the crew ran to escape Kaido’s lackeys you had to listen to Brook gleefully inform a heartbroken Sanji that he had walked in on the sight of this same beautiful woman sleeping contently with Zoro. While Sanji screamed loudly at the revelation you internalised all of your hurt until you were safe and alone, finally able to take out your fury and heartbreak on some random tree in the dense forest with your weapon until your body was too exhausted to move let alone care anymore. In the coming days of preparing for the raid on Kaido’s banquet you kept to yourself, doing all you could to focus your mind on the reason for being in Wano. Still you couldn’t help but numbly rationalise Zoro’s actions. 

Of course the weeks apart would give him insight into how he truly felt. Of course he would have realised he could do better than you. Of course you both only got together in the first place because on the ship, you were the alternative to having any needs he had go unmet. You had to face facts, this was just a fling for Zoro and nothing more. It just killed you inside to realise that you felt so strongly for him, you wished things had ended before it had gotten this far for you. The only thing you were glad of when Zoro finally reappeared was that he had a new sword to hone and train with so he stayed away from you. If there was to be a conversation you wanted it to be after the fight with Kaido, a clouded mind would only lead to mistakes and in this situation it would have been fatal. 

However on the night before the planned fight while the crew had finished their preparations and were beginning to turn in, Zoro walked towards you in the quiet night. He knew you had been keeping your distance from him so he could train and he appreciated that you were so understanding that when he was focused, he needed space. But now there was no more training he could do in the short hours before things would start so he wanted to properly reach out to you. He’d missed you during the time away but to see that you were completely unharmed was a relief. If you’d come back to him with so much as a scratch he would have killed the stupid cook because at the core of the matter it would have been his fault. 

Zoro frowned when you glanced his way and immediately moved to gather your things and find a new place to rest. His hand dropped to your arm but you surprised him when you quickly and sharply twisted from his touch. Then he remembered you two were still a secret. He glanced around the space and smirked to see the coast was clear, but even if the others were still up and about he wouldn’t have cared, not after the time apart. Still if you were still worried about telling the others he’d respect that. “We’re fine. It’s just us.” He spoke lowly to reassure you but it seemed to have the opposite affect when you snapped your head up to glare at him.

“Us?” You repeated coldly, expression melting into one of mock confusion. “There’s an us?”

“Wh-” Zoro was genuinely thrown for a moment and then he became worried that you had been injured in the time away and lost your memories of him. “Of course there is! What happened?” Again he reached out for you but this time your hand slapped his fingers with a sharp snap while the fierce glare returned to your eyes.

“Oh nothing’s wrong with me, I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Last thing I’d want is to get cosy with someone else’s man.” Your tone was scarily even and Zoro still didn’t know what you were talking about. He didn’t even know how to fix whatever it was that was bothering you. Thankfully you clarified by lightly tapping the hilt of Enma that was against his hip with his other swords. “It’s cute she knows the right gifts to give you so early in the romance.”  Despite the sweet words, the venom in your voice was unmistakable and Zoro finally saw the pain dimming your eyes as you regarded his new sword.

“Hiyori?” Zoro asked startled that you’d even think there was anything romantic going on there. She only gave him the sword as an exchange that was it. “There’s nothing between us. Definitely not ‘cosy’ trust me on that.” At that you let out a short, hollow breath of laughter which worried Zoro even more when he was so used to your laugh being filled with warmth and joy. 

“Well the way Brook tells it, the whole situation seemed very cosy…” Slowly you stepped closer to him, finally for the first time in ages and dragged your fingers across his chest while your other hand slid up his arm, drawing your body further into his space. Your head tilted up, purposely letting your nose gently skim against his throat until you could peer up at him with your guarded gaze. “Something like this, if i’m remembering right. You don’t call this cosy?” Zoro was stuck, if he said yes he was screwed, if he said no he was also screwed.

“Don’t worry about it Zoro. We had our fun while it lasted, right?” You forced out in as light a voice as possible. “You should get some rest while you can and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time.” When you moved to pull away you were immediately caught by Zoro’s reflexes. While you were fast, he was faster when he wanted to be. You let out a gasp to be pulled impossibly close against his chest as his arms locked around you, holding your body against his. 

You wanted to fight against the hold that was strong, secure, and -as much as you hated it- comforting. Even now with your heartbroken mind racing, you always felt safe and warm in his arms. You tried to open your mouth to tell him to let go but you couldn’t. Part of you didn’t want to  because the last thing you wanted now was for your voice to be a pitiful, weak tremble but another part knew that even if you managed out the words, he would have listened. So you kept your mouth closed. “I’ve missed you. I wished you hadn’t gone after that cook with the others.” 

Your body tensed at his words, hearing how sincere they were made your knotted worries and spiralling hurt begin to loosen slightly. You didn’t regret helping with Kanji’s rescue but you did also wish you’d gone to Wano with Zoro. “I’m sorry you were made to think the worst. I promise you there wasn’t anything going on with her or anyone. There is no one but you.”  

“Don’t say that.” You whispered, trying not to melt into his embrace. Even with him telling the truth it didn’t stop the fact that your insecurities had surfaced and with them came concerns about everything. “Compared to someone like her I’m-”

“Perfect. Mine. Everything.” Zoro interrupted fiercely before pressing a kiss against your temple. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes to get you to believe it. But first-” You staggered when Zoro let you go and began stomping towards the Sunny. “I’ve got a skeleton to kill for causing you to hurt.” Bewildered by the immediately bloodlust rolling off of his frame you had no choice but to chase after him to stop him from killing another member of the crew while shouting that you believe him. When you finally caught up to him you pulled him into another tight hug with shaking hands. While things were still new between you two and it was clear you both had a lot to work out you now knew that for as long as you wanted him, Zoro would be there. 

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ an ateez series

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x ateez , ateez x female reader ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 13.5k┆ongoing ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through, references of a character's parent passing is included (specific warnings that may be particularly uncomfortable for readers will be found in each chapter in this section)

PROLOGUE » jung wooyoung x f!reader 00⌇be the air i breathe┆1.7k

ACT I » THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY 01 ⌇even if just for a little bit┆2.7k 02⌇relationships, fuck buddies, heartbreaks┆3.5k 03⌇the absolute fucking irony┆3.3k 04⌇memories of summer bring you┆2.3k 05⌇coming soon┆

ACT II » TO BE CONTINUED

[joinvoda]

Moving Past Queer Shame

Reducing Queer Shame: A Guide to Embracing Your Authentic Self 💖🌈

Hey there lovely souls! 🌟

We all have stories and sometimes, they’re marred with shadows of shame.

Here’s a little guide on how we can embrace our queer identities with love and authenticity...

🌷 Understanding Our Childhood Shadows: A lot of us queer folks have these childhood memories where we were told to be more 'this' or less 'that'. Maybe some said we should "man up" or that our fashion choices were “too much”. Sound familiar?

🍀 The Manifestation of Shame: It's heartbreaking when these shadows then slowly turn into self-stigma. The quiet voice that tells us to hide, to conform, or that we’re somehow wrong. This voice can remain with us for many years to come.

🔍 Recognising the Inner Critic: But over time, we can learn to build self-awareness. Next time you find yourself being judgmental to yourself, stop and reflect. Ask why that is. What’s that voice really saying? Whose voice is this really? Is it mine, or the internalised voice of someone else?

🌈 Choosing Love and Acceptance: Remember, there's nothing wrong with being your authentic self. Often, we forget the true nature of who we are, thinking we're somehow less than or not enough.

Emotionally accepting that might take a slow... therapy can be a good friend in this journey.

If you have queer shame and want to do something about it... We at Voda are on this journey with you. Check out the Voda app to try out programmes specifically designed to help reduce queer shame and be your authentic self, our app is designed with LGBTQIA+ therapists.

You can download Voda here.

Love and Light, Voda 💜🌈

[sleepyskeleton-0]

A scream ripped through camp. Warriors was up in an instant, heart pounding out of his chest. Everyone was awake now.

Hyrule sat up, sweat beading along his brow and body trembling to no end. He shook so violently that he couldn’t even hold the flask of water Wild had tried to give him (he took it back and thought it best to make tea instead).

Once Wars got to the traveler, the tears started to fall.

“I’m fine” he said softly, and goddess, how heartbreaking it felt for the captain, listening to a voice so calm come from such a frightened teenager.

Legend sat next to the two with a soft blanket and a bucket in his arms. He set the bucket in Hyrule’s lap.

“It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay” vet mumbled, then turned his head, feeling ill listening to the sounds of throwing up.

Instead, he looked around. Time was walking around making sure everyone else was okay. Twilight had gone to Wind, who looked rattled by the sudden scream, and was now trying to comfort him.

Sky had fallen back asleep not long ago. Figures, Legend thought, he’d had a rough week.

Wild was sat by the fire brewing herbal tea for Hyrule; and Four, who likely wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again without it.

When the sounds of heaving ceased, he turned back. Wars picked up the bucket, “I’m gonna do a quick lap, I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” he collected his sword on his way out of camp.

Four took his place and leaned up against Hyrule. The weight was welcome, it seemed, so Legend did the same.

“ ‘m sorry-”

“Don’t even start. We’ve had this conversation before, ‘Rule. People react and deal with nightmares in different ways. I hyperventilate, Four dissociates for a bit,” (smithy nodded) “and you get ill. It’s not a big deal. I mean, fucking hell, we’re heroes. Don’t you think we’re allowed to feel pain?”

Hyrule sniffled, tears dried up. He has a point, I suppose.

Legend’s words were, in fact, true. Still, he found it hard to internalise those thoughts. As a hero, he felt he constantly had to instill a brave, almost unbreakable facade for everyone else. It seemed surreal, being surrounded by people who knew exactly how he felt, and being encouraged to be himself for once. It felt good, but he often had to remind himself that it was okay to do so.

“Here, made it just the way you like”

Wild passed all three of them mugs of warm tea.

“Made one for you too Lege. Thought you’d also want one.”

“Thanks.”

It was how they liked it. Hyrule with a drop of honey, Four’s had mint leaves, and Legend liked his tea with 6 sugars (ironically).

One by one, over the course of the next hour, all the boys fell back to sleep (except for Wild, who resumed second watch).

-

Wars had taken longer than expected, he realised, but the perimeter was all clear… and so was the bucket.

When he got back to the others, a wolf lay with a tiny sailor, three empty mugs were set to the side, and any pre-existing tear tracks had long since been wiped away.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Fic idea that I am feral about right now because Wayward Son played on my walk this morning.

cw: Nikprice, alternative universe, mentions of torture, canon-typical violence, mention of internalised homophobia, Supernatural influences (sorry).

So, my partner commented on how Nikolai is like Price's guardian angel, because he always seems to be there when Price needs him (including when Price explicitly says it's a "one way trip"; Nik finds a way).

I laughed at the time, then promptly got headshot and threw the controller down, but wait.

What if he... is.

Sergeant Price dies in an Al Qaeda prison cell. They torture him for days, pushing his body into shock and then eventually into organ failure. Even with all the training, there's only so much a human body can take. Because he has done some pretty heinous shit already by this point, obviously his soul has a one-way ticket to the hot place and it ain't Mallorca.

But he has a fan.

An angel that has been watching him for a while. Price comes from a Protestant family, and he used to pray almost every night for god to make him "normal". To take away the unnatural feelings he had. To help him make his family proud. The angel used to listen and want to intervene, to tell him he's perfect the way he is, but there are rules.

After the... incident, Price stopped praying. (For those that know my headcanon, it's that, but I won't go into it here cause it would need a whole plethora of tags.)

The angel noticed.

In fact, he (we're going with that because it's Nik, but we all know angels are a... they? it?) misses the sound of Price's voice. He heads down to find out what happened and ends up visiting Price as he joins the service, becomes the very best, works hard, but always carries that deep sadness. He commits himself to getting dirty so others don't have to. Knowingly, given his faith, putting his soul on the line. The angel falls in love with Price, body and soul.

When Price dies, the angel can't stand the idea that someone who sacrificed for others is condemned to hell, simply because of what he had to do. So, he rebels. His last act before he is cast out is to wrench Price from hell and deposit him back into his body, and his first act on earth as one of the Fallen is to occupy the body of a lost and conflicted Russian Pilot, pushing him to accept the enticement of the US and the UK so Nik can reach Price. The guy has all but given up on life, so it's a mercy, really.

Price wakes up in an open mass grave and scrambles over to the corpses to safety. He doesn't know how or why, but he doesn't pause to think. He finds a radio, manages to get a message out, steals some weapons and some intel, blows the place sky high. Gets a medal.

The medics on base give him a clean bill of health but for some bruising and a broken bone or two. It's a bloody miracle.

A few weeks later, Price meets Nik for the first time because he's been drafted in as a pilot, and, for some reason, feels like he's known him for a lifetime. Nik thinks Price is the most beautiful thing in this world and the next, and wants to spend another few billion years looking into those blue-blue eyes.

The angel doesn't know why. Perhaps it's because he's so human. So flawed, so broken, so grizzled. Price isn't the dark underbelly of humanity and he's not the glittering hero; he is the scrappy, stubborn, imperfect, beautiful reality of the human condition, without apology.

To Nik, he's perfect.

And just... the heartbreak, the fear, the yearning, as Price falls for this tall, dark Russian who is always there. Always looks at him like he's worth something. Battling with the internal conflict of what he wants and what he should want, and realising the only thing holding him back now is the ghost of a man who can't hurt him anymore.

The betrayal, the disbelief, as Nik is forced to reveal what he is. The apology, the love confession, from both sides. The god damned wing kink when Nik takes them in the wilderness, high enough so that Price can almost touch god as Nik makes love to him for the first time; great, dark wings wrapped around them as if they could shield Price from ever being harmed again.

Nik ties his soul, his being, to Price's mortality. They'll grow old together, they'll turn grey, and after a billion years the angel will die at his lover's side, knowing that wherever their souls might end up, they will be together.

[secriden]

so i wonder if anyone else has thoughts about mame's choices regarding sky vs tongrak's stories and how she tackled the complexity of loving and being loved.

when i first heard about love sea, i saw a lot of people say that fortpeat were just re-cast as sky and prapai but with tongrak being older and richer than mahasamut. personally, i think that's a pretty reductionist view because mame explored the idea of being afraid to love and be loved from very different angles and perspective in these two stories.

i will give that there are some similarities on the surface - peat's character does that whole 'pretends to hate it but secretly loves it' thing; the cat-like 'push and pull' thing and fort's character is still a overly excited, loveable golden retriever of a human being with a strong sense of self; also both sky and tongrak have had experiences which make them both fearful of 'love'.

but i think while sky's main fear is being loved, tongrak's is very much a fear of loving.

like, sky's story is very... raw. it's an exposed nerve, tender and painful and present. sky's fear is so immediately tied to his trauma which he's still in the throes of. the betrayal he faced was from the one who claimed to love him and it's telling that sky's first flashback is not triggered by his feelings FOR prapai but by prapai expressing his 'love' for him. this trauma is intimate and physical and close, but that means that the start of his healing journey can begin because of an external force (prapai) giving him that safety but also physically removing the threat. when sky begins to feel safe again, he is able to begin healing.

in contrast: tongrak's trauma is relatively... hmmm, separated (? not the best word but...) on a physical level. it doesn't make it less or even less painful (or more, or more painful), but his fear of love largely stems from how he sees the people immediately around him being hurt by love. he's internalised the idea that love doesn't last. mahasamut starts confessing his feelings pretty early on; like episode 4 mahasamut straight up goes, 'well you can't stop me from loving you' and tongrak's disapproving but he's not triggered. what's the difference between this and episode 10, i think, is that tongrak's actively fighting his own awareness of his feelings for mahasamut. it's why his fight or flight response is triggered by vie calling him out about his feelings in episode 8 and also why he tries to force parameters back into their relationship (my take: i don't care if you love me but i won't love you) in episode 10. but it's also why his healing doesn't actually come from an external force - yes, vie kind of knocks him out of his depressed stupor by hiding the bracelet, but note that tongrak's has that breakdown realisation ('please come back, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, can't you please come back to me? i'm afraid you'll end up hating me (emphasis added) if you love me') before he has that chat with vie. he's already realised that the root of his fear of mahasamut's love isn't the love itself, but the fear that if he admits his own love for mahasamut, it will eventually get betrayed. it's also why even after he resolves that he wants to try at a relationship with mahasamut, he still can't say it. at this point, his father's a non-entity in terms of the fear of him going after his loved ones - he's already been proven a weakling and a coward and also they're physically on the island so removed from jak that it shouldn't be an immediate fear anymore. no; this struggle is completely internal and it's why we linger on his heartbreaking attempts to confess (also, love sea had some pacing issues but i'm so so grateful they took time to show this part; bless fort for insisting on it!). tongrak's afraid to love but he pushes and pushes himself, and finally breaks through and its entirely on his own terms because of his own strength.

i'm not saying sky's weaker for (in a sense) needing someone else to rescue him before he could heal, but i think it just speaks to mame really telling quite a different story of healing with tongrak.

like... have you ever thought you'd healed from something and then it comes back in an unexpected way but then your response to the trigger is also different? the pain is there but it's... at once deeper but also more distant? a deep pulse rather than a high pitched shriek? and the way you go about beginning this new phase of healing is also different? i think that's whats happening here.

it's fascinating how us humans can fear vulnerability in so many ways, so many forms, on so many levels but i think the lesson mame's stories tell is that sometimes it really is worth it to become vulnerable. not with everyone, and not all the time (goodness, that would be foolish). but also, keep holding onto hope. keep looking for that right person, keep being kind to yourself and others. know that it's ok if your healing feels different, if you didn't catch it some point in the past, its not too late.

you'll be ok.

[ineffectualdemon]

I said in the tags of my reblog for this post but do think it's both sad and kinda lovely that when Shen Qingqiu gets overwhelmed by how much he loves Binghe he's like: "well I HAVE to have him fuck me now right?"

Because for him, because he is drowning in internalised homophobia, letting Binghe fuck him is the most profound and deep display of devotion he can imagine

And he does enjoy it post canon, even when it's objectively not very good he still likes it because it's Binghe. He's rare to initiate it because it makes him shy and because as I said he's drowning in internalised homophobia but at least twice he becomes so moved and overwhelmed with how much he loves Binghe and how much Binghe loves him that he makes it clear he wants sex and he wants to bottom

Equal parts sad and hilarious is that one of the times he gets overwhelmed by love is because Binghe offers to bottom

But the other time is seeing those 5 years in Binghe's dreams and just being overcome with how much Binghe loves him and how much he loves Binghe in return and then waking up and just wanting to connect and be with him and let him know how deeply loved he is

And I don't think Binghe understands the depth of emotion that Shen Qingqiu is trying to convey when he initiates sex or agrees to bottom

And I think by the dream part of the extras Shen Qingqiu does enjoy sex for more than just the emotional side of it, they seem to have gotten better at it, but I think that's the major appeal to him

He's not a very sexually driven person in the first place. He read a stallion novel that he holds as proof of his sexuality but his fav wife was the one who didn't have sex scenes

And I know he's not confirmed canonically ace but he has the vibe of an ace character. And by that I mean as an allosexual person is that his motivations and reasons for having sex are frankly more interesting than say mine or a lot of allosexual characters (I love you airplane but you'd stick your dick in anything if it was your type. Which, same hat but still)

Anyway I just think it's both really heartbreaking and also rather beautiful why Shen Qingqiu insists on bottoming