#maybe for days. maybe weeks. but i can't. ill never be able to

[toxifoxx]

when the major depressive disorder is major! 😲

[theladygazingatemptiness]

.

[itsalwaysdark]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[no-144444]

guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse. 

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered. 

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you. 

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise. 

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel. 

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off. 

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning. 

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?” 

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear. 

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave. 

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry? 

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head. 

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed. 

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his. 

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes. 

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

deputy's daughter

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, caught

“rafe!” you hiss as he makes his way into your room through his preferred method of the window. “my dad is going to kill you!”

“is he home?” he questions. he didn't see the cop car sitting in your driveway, which is why he scaled the lattice to sneak inside.

“no, but he's gonna be home any minute now!” you keep your voice quiet despite the rest of the house being empty.

“let me kiss you until he gets home then.” rafe says, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss. you know it's never just a kiss with him, but you can't help but open your lips for his adventurous tongue, gripping his shirt to pull him in closer.

rafe smirks against your mouth. he could have texted you asking you to let him, but that would have taken all the fun out of it. 

“you have to leave as soon as my dad gets home.” you scold him as rafe lays you back on your bed. 

“i know you can’t keep quiet.” rafe chuckles, hand groping at your tits through your thin pajama shirt. thankfully the flood lights above the garage are motion sensored, and with your open window they'll alert you when your dad gets home.

“if only deputy shoupe knew what i was doing to his little angel of a daughter.” rafe chuckles as you send him a glare, tugging at his shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

“shut up, cameron. he likes you anyways.” you roll your eyes. now if it was a pogue in your bed, that would be a whole different story. 

“mhm.” rafe nods, tugging your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. “im just so charming. all the parents love me.”

“all?” you raise your eyebrows, taking your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room. “you mean you do this with other girls.”

“not anymore.” rafe shakes his head, mouth dropping to your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. “you know they don't compare to that delicious pussy, baby.”

you tsk. “it's a shame you don't have time to eat it then.” 

rafe sighs dramatically, like it physically hurts him to not be able to give you head, to let his tongue drag through your folds and slurp up your juices.

“just a quick taste then ill fuck you, promise.” rafe tugs your pajama shorts down, knowing you never wear underwear just for him as he buries his face between your legs, forcing your thighs apart as his greedy mouth explores your pussy.

“delicious, baby.” rafe groans, voice vibrating against your skin. “my favorite meal.” he continues for only a moment longer, flicking his tongue against your entrance before moving up to press a wet kiss to your clit, making you moan out, eyes flickering to your window, making sure you somehow didn't miss the floodlights turning on.

rafe stands up with a lick of his lips, quickly undressing himself until he's just as bare as you are.

“condom?” he asks, forgetting to put one in his pocket, so caught up with getting over to your house on time, even running from his car to your yard, always parking a block away to not cause suspicion.

“fuck, you didn't bring one?” you groan, turning towards your bedside table. you squint in the low light as you scrounge through the drawer, but you know that you used the last one with rafe a week ago.

“just…” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the bed. “just pull out, okay?”

“promise.” rafe nods, eyes on your ass like they have been since you first turned onto your stomach, only half listening to what you're saying, but glad that you're still letting him fuck you.

rafe kneels over your legs before you can move back to your front or rise to your hands and knees. “stay like that.” he hums, gripping his cock and pushing it between your thighs, rubbing the head through your slick.

“fuck, you're so hot.” rafe groans as you reach behind your back, pulling your ass apart to show off both of your holes. “gonna let me play with this one one day?” rafe hums, his tip sliding past your entrance to your other hole, tapping against it.

“maybe.” you smirk. but certainly not today, not when you're already playing on limited time.

rafe slides back down to your cunt, pushing in as he leans forward, covering your body with his own. one hand keeps him held up, stopping from putting his complete weight on you, while the other grips your ass.

“fuck.” rafe groans out, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual. “you feel so good with nothing in between us.”

you moan as well as rafe bottoms out, pushing as far in as your pussy allows. he sits still, allowing you to adjust, to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. he goes from giving you nothing to pounding into you in an instant, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room.

rafe gives a glance at the window. lights still off. he smirks down at you, your hands now gripping into the bedsheets as he plows into you from behind, using the full force of his hips with every thrust.

“m-more.” you mewl out, body shuddering as rafe manages to go deeper with a tilt of his hips, along with you arching your back and bringing your ass up further into the air.

you let out loud groans with every thrust that's now hitting your sweet spot, pushing your orgasm quickly to the surface.

“fuck baby, you're so tight.” rafe grunts out. “don't know how much longer i can last.”

“re-remember to pull out.” you manage to hum out, even though you wish you could feel him fill you up, you're not on birth control and are already taking a risk with having sex at all.

“ass or tits?” rafe questions. 

“ass.” you shake your hips from side to side, making rafe let out a loud curse, pulling out sooner than he'd like to to jack himself off, spilling almost instantly over your ass and back, spreading long ropes of cum along your skin.

rafe is quick to grab a tissue and clean you off, as much as he likes seeing you covered in his cum, he's got other things to focus on.

just as he's about to flip you over to eat you out, the lights outside turn on.

“fuck!” you curse, knowing you have seconds before your dad enters the house. you turn over to look at rafe. you gotta get out.”

“you didn't cum yet.” rafe shakes his head, body covering you again, pressing you back down into the plush mattress. “im not leaving without giving you at least one orgasm.”

“you're gonna be leaving with a bullet in your chest if my dad catches you!” you hiss out.

“itll be worth it.” rafe manages to force his hand underneath you, finding your clit with ease as he rubs his fingers between your folds. 

“y/n!” your dads voice calls out. you usually greet him downstairs, staying locked in your room is bound to cause suspicion.

“rafe.” you moan out quietly. “please, stop.” you can barely keep yourself from screaming out as his fingers just move faster, his weight pressing down on you too much to move.

“babygirl?” shoupe calls out, his loud footsteps marching up the stairs.

“i-in my room!” you call out.

“you okay?” he asks, now right outside your door. you have to cover your mouth as rafe flicks your clit. you take a deep breath before answering.

“yeah, fine!” your voice wobbles a little, something you know your dad notices. “just period cramps!”

“can i get you some midol?” he questions, and you know his ear is pressed to the door, listening for any signs that something is amiss as rafe rubs you quicker, refusing to slow down, needing to get an orgasm out of you.

“already took some!” you call out, having to press your face into your mattress as you cum, body shaking as rafe smirks above you, hearing your muffled noises. “i think im just gonna go to bed early.” you say as soon as you recover.

“alright, goodnight sweetheart.” 

rafe finally allows you to flip over, lifting himself to lay on his side next to you. you raise your eyebrows and hold your finger to your lips, signaling rafe to be quiet until you hear your father's footsteps move down the hallway.

“rafe, you almost got us caught!” you whisper, giving him a shove on the shoulder, only to be met by a proud smile on his face.

“had to get you off, princess, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.” rafe leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips, feeling the way you melt against him.

“am i forgiven?” he questions.

“yeah, just get out.” you giggle quietly. you think your dad bought your explanation, but you can never be too sure.

rafe dresses quickly, throwing your pajamas onto the bed so you can also get decent.

“gotta give you one more kiss.” he leans over your bed to give you a sweet kiss, lips moving gently against each others.

“okay, now go.” you shoo rafe out, heading to the window now that your legs feel a bit more stable, watching him climb down the lattice. he gives you a wave once his feet hit the concrete, only for his entire body to freeze when the side door opens up, your dad stepping out into the light.

“rafe cameron, im going to kill you!”

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[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

Ko-fi

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[thebibliosphere]

Hey! I know that this isn't something you struggle with but since a lot of your other followers are disabled as well, it would mean a lot to me if you could publish this ask since I'd like to see if anyone else experiences anything similar to what I'm going through. I'm not asking for anyone to armchair diagnose me, I'd just appreciate not feeling so alone and scared and confused. My general physician is claiming that my anxiety is causing the issues I'll describe but I call bullshit on that:

About two years ago, cca 4 months after my top surgery, my body stopped being able to process oil. Whenever I'd eat anything that was made with oil of any kind, I'd get cramps in the abdomen after a while and I'd get diarrhea. Caffeine started to do this also but in a smaller intensity. I had a hysterectomy a bit after that and they checked my kidneys and liver so I know that those are both ok and not the cause. I also got checked for Celiac since it runs in the family. Because the issue wasn't getting worse and my then general physician was always dismissive, I let it be. When I wasn't having diarrhea, I was constipated, though I did have a bowel movement like once or twice a week. Fast forward to now. In August, it suddenly got a lot worse. At first, even a single drop of oil would make me feel ill. Then, the time period got longer - currently the cramps and the pain last for 48 hours afterwards. I also became unable to digest animal fats, the only meat I can eat is lean chicken and fish. Afterwards, gluten became an issue (Celiac is still negative), and then nuts as well.

My new GP, even though she believes it to be anxiety, gave me Itopride, and it worked for about 3 weeks - I had no cramps, pain, exhaustion, gas or bloating after eating, and I had a bowel movement once a day. But it stopped working two days ago, again without a reason, and the effects started being less effective about a week ago. Even when taking the meds, I have a movement only once in about 8 days, and laxatives make me gassy but nothing happens. I'm also not sure about this, but it seems that chicken is no longer safe either.

I think it's important that if I don't take Itopride, I never even feel the urge to go, so when I say that I've always been constipated, I mean that I don't even feel the need to have a movement. Lately, when I take Itopride, I do get the urge that I do always get when taking it, but it's like I can't go, so I always feel full.

I just feel super scared and I have no idea what's going on. I admit that I have a history of eating disorders (in recovery since May) and I did abuse laxatives about a year ago, but I don't think it was enough to cause such serious issues? I used to take them like once a week and for about 3-4 months.

I'd really appreciate knowing if anyone has ever experienced anything similar or knows about anything like this because I feel like my life is in shambles - can't go outside for long because I might need the toilet suddenly, or I'm in too much pain to walk, I'm afraid to eat, I often feel repulsive, I don't know what might happen in a month, I am becoming incapable of taking care of myself and my flat because I'm just so goddamn tired.

Ooft, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ll need a colonoscopy to figure this one out, so if you haven’t had one yet, really push for a referral.

Fwiw, I do experience something like this, but it’s from mast cell inflammation in my GI tract. The doc prescribed me bentyl for when things flare up but I’m also on a fiber supplement (citrucel. It’s a lot gentler than other types) to try and keep that from happening. Also if you’re low on b vitamins, your stomach sometimes stops digesting food, so maybe also ask about getting your levels checked. Taking an additional b2 supplement means I can process fats and oils again which I couldn’t before.

I’m not saying this to be like “this is what you have” just throwing them out there as suggestions that might help you piece together what might be wrong.

I hope you get more helpful comments in the notes 💖

[coff33andb00ks]

Burning - LN

Hopeless, Part 4

{1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury} {3 - Poison} {4 - Burning} {Epilogue}

Lando Norris x fem!reader summary: my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder, all my riches for her smiles, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter songs: lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley word count: 5872 warnings: angst, smut <mdni> a.n.: the finale <3

The overlook is quite lovely. Prettier than the photos he'd seen. The sea air is crisp, filling his lungs as he stares at a young family strolling along the beach. Pushing his hands into his pockets he watches them, homesick for something he's never had as the toddler picks up something to show their parents. A wholesome, beautiful moment, unmarred, and he swallows the lump in his throat as it occurs to him that he'll never experience it himself.

Turning his back to the sea, he breathes deep, eyes slowly scanning the area. Trying to match it to the description he'd been given. Gaze landing on the weathered bench he finds he's already walking towards it, one hand slipping from his pocket and reaching to trail along the arm, feeling the wood that's been carved with words and initials. And there, just as he'd been told, the two letters he would know anywhere.

Yours.

He drops onto the bench, leaning forward and trying to keep his breathing normal. It's the closest he's been to you in about a year – one year, two months, one week, five days, thirteen hours.

No, there was that day over winter break. When, melancholy and yearning, he'd spent more than he should have to fly out the week before Christmas, ignoring Oscar's suggestions that he stay away. He'd rented a car, following the roads you'd told him about to the seaside town that you'd described in such detail he could have drawn a map before seeing it. He'd driven the streets, stopped a few houses down from your parents' home. Had sat, watching the house, then cursed himself a million times over for being a fool and driven off.

Oscar hadn't said told you so. He'd merely sighed and nodded, listened to his sad story again.

You'd be so happy that Oscar's become his best mate. He wants to tell you, because he knows that only you would understand why it was such a big deal.

"Mate?"

He looks up, sighing at the sight of Oscar. "Nice, yeah?"

Oscar sighs sadly, sitting next to him on the bench. "You're torturing yourself."

"You said I could have one day," Lando reminds him.

"She's not gonna show up here on a Thursday morning," Oscar says after a moment.

"I know." It would be too movielike if you did. And the only genre of movies that reflects his life is tragedy. Standing, he walks over to stare at the beach again. The family has gone, their footprints already erased by the waves. When he heads back, Oscar stands, and there's a long look before they walk together to the gravel lot where they parked.

"Just call her." It's probably the billionth time Oscar has said the words since Lando's trip to Melbourne over summer break last year.

He exhales, about to lie and say he's deleted your number. But Oscar doesn't deserve lies. "I've tried."

"Did she block you?"

"Dunno." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stopped at the end of the lane coming down from the overlook. There's not much traffic, nowhere near enough to warrant him sitting idle for so long. He can't bring himself to hit the call button after punching in your number. Which he still knows by heart. The only number aside from his mum's that he has memorized.

"Lan?" Oscar ventures softly.

"Am I stupid?" he blurts.

Oscar sighs. "No."

"This—" He gestures angrily at their surroundings. "This isn't fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't say stupid. Ill-advised, maybe?" Oscar follows a passing car with his eyes. "It's been a year."

He knows.

"I think if you were able to get over it, you wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't even know if she's here." His voice is wavering and he can feel the sadness and frustration and anger stinging, piercing what's left of his heart over and over, clawing up his throat and up into his brain, burning his eyes.

"You know her better than anyone." Oscar's voice is still gentle and soft. Careful, and Lando knows he's truly only there to support him. "Where else would she go?"

"Nowhere." This tiny corner of the world is your home.

"Call her."

Lando throws the car into park and bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. "This is stupid. It's been a year. A fucking year. I can't even bring myself to text her or call her, what the fuck do I think I'm gonna do if I bump into her on the fucking street?"

Oscar doesn't speak, merely waits.

"What would I say to her?" he whispers, scared to raise his voice because he knows he'll either scream or cry.

"Mate…"                                                                         

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. I should never have—" He cuts off, swallowing hard, squeezing his eyes shut. It shouldn't still hurt this bad. "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

"Yeah," he gasps.

Oscar's silent for a long moment, looking out the window while Lando struggles to compose himself, knowing that if he reaches out to offer comfort it won't be appreciated. "It's a small town, yeah?"

"Yeah." He scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, wishing his heartbreak had been the type that was easily numbed. He's tried everything. Alcohol, exercise, random women, even random men when he was drunk enough. Therapy, antidepressants, meditation. Nothing's worked. He can get so drunk he almost forgets, he almost loses himself, but just when he's thinking this is it, it all comes rushing back and he snatches his body away from whoever he's with. Never much further than getting his belt unbuckled before he's rushing away with a shit apology and an empty ache in his chest.

It's been over for a year and it's still fucking him up. He can't do what the therapist suggested – seek forgiveness for your part in a wrongdoing – because Charles laughed in his face.

"You? Slept with her? Impossible. She has standards."

Fucking bastard.

"Switch, I'll drive."

Lando doesn't argue even though Oscar hates driving in America. Nothing rattles his unbothered friend. But six lanes of Americans driving like – Oscar's words – fucking cunts? His friend is ready to commit crimes. Once in the passenger seat he sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. It isn't long before he feels the car stop and he sits up, not looking to see where they are. "I'll call the charter for a flight out."

"Not yet," Oscar tells him. "Wait here a minute."

Confused, he rubs at his eyes, trying to keep more tears from forming. He just wants to go. Best to resign himself to being lonely. Alone. Maybe he'll be lucky and time will eventually heal the pain, even just a little, and he can— Grunting as he looks out the windshield, he watches Oscar walk into a small brick building.

"Really, Osco, not the time to be a fucking nerd," he sighs, leaning back and throwing an arm over his face. Why the fuck are they at a library?

It's not long before Oscar's back, getting behind the wheel and humming softly to himself. He doesn't speak, still humming while he buckles his seatbelt and drops a folded sheet of paper in Lando's lap.

"What?" Lando sighs, dropping his arm and looking at the paper. Even more confused, he picks it up. "What is it?"

"Mate."

Sniffling, he rubs at his nose then unfolds the paper. At first he's still confused, reading the address written in Oscar's handwriting. "Is… Is that hers?"

"Yeah."

"H…" He sucks in a breath. "How."

"She said she wanted to go back to school and work in a library, right? They've got a display board up of recent things that have happened, and there was a picture of her with a bunch of kids. A paragraph about how she's working here as a research assistant while pursuing her master's in library science."

Lando rubs at his temples, knowing his friend wants to tell the whole story but longing to tell him to get to the fucking point. And also a little touched that Oscar remembered the detail about you wanting to work with books.

"Asked the lady at the desk about her, said I was an old friend driving through. She's off today, won't be back until Monday. When she went to help someone I nicked the notebook by the computer and it has everyone's address." Oscar smiles, obviously proud of his ability to spy without being caught. "Nice lady. Said y/n's an asset."

Lando nods, typing the address into the search bar of the map on his phone. "It's…"

"Close." Oscar reaches for the in-dash screen, pausing just before his fingers touch it.

He could tell him not to. Could shake his head. And Oscar would nod, they would call the charter, and be on a flight back to Monaco by dinnertime.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

He swallows, barely nodding his head.

"…we'll shift our focus to the surge of trade throughout the Mediterranean, but first—"

You look away from your laptop screen when there's a knock on the door. The professor drones on and you mute him, standing from the couch and setting the laptop aside to go see who it is. You're not expecting anyone, and the neighborhood isn't the type where neighbors drop in uninvited. Peeking through the window, you furrow your brow at the unfamiliar car parked on the street. Leaving the chain attached you open the front door just a bit.

And nearly hit your knees in shock.

He's looking down at the stoop, at his impossibly white sneakers, and his hood's pulled up over his head but you know it's him.

"Lando," you breathe.

His head lifts and his eyes take your breath away. They're just as you remember them, the jade hue that could see straight through to your soul.

He looks sad. Worried.

Scared.

"H-hey," he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You can only stare at him, unable to really believe he's on your front stoop. The light breeze picks up and you're slammed by the aroma of his cologne. It's so faint you know you shouldn't be able to smell it but you do and a wave of memories rush through you with it.

"Hey, nice to meet you." He smiled, an easygoing aura radiating from him as he stepped over and held out his hand. "I'm Lando."

"Hi, I'm y/n."

You press your lips together and swallow hard. "Hey," you murmur.

You, walking along pit lane with Charles and on the phone with your best friend. "So I finally got the game installed. I need to upgrade, the lag is so bad I die before I can get a shot in."

"Really? What are the specs?" Lando asked suddenly, appearing at your side.

"Call you back," you laughed into the phone, putting it away and smiling at him. He was always popping up to talk to you, had quickly become one of your favorite people on the grid. He never seemed too busy to at least stop and speak to you, that easy smile putting you at ease.

Lando exhales, his shoulders rounding. His eyes are almost mournful, the light of memory flashing and you wonder if he's reminiscing, too.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he muttered, picking up a helmet and looking around, finally placing it two inches from where it had been.

"It's fine," you promised with a laugh. "You live here, it shouldn't look like a magazine spread."

"Yeah? I guess. Anyway, here you go, have a seat."

You swallow again, the sound of his hand slapping his computer chair echoing in your mind. Easing the door to a little, you reach up to unlatch the chain and take a step back as you pull the door open further. "What are… How did you know where to find me?"

"I love it here, really, but I miss the space. I miss having a little patch of grass where I can plant flowers and not have people squeezing in around me," you said, sliding the tarts from the baking sheet to the cooling rack.

"I get it. But I mean, you could talk to Charles, right? See about getting a place with a garden?" Lando looked at the tarts with a longing sigh.

"At least let it cool," you teased. Leaning against the counter, you shook your head. "No, this is his home. He'll never want to move out of Monaco."

"I like it here, but it's not home." He shrugged, pinching off a piece of the pastry shell for a taste, grinning when you slapped at his hand. "There's a villa up the coast a ways – it has space and nice gardens. I've thought about getting it, but seems a waste just for me."

"You could get a dog."

He's standing in your tiny living room. He looks so out of place and yet he fits and you think you're just in shock. Pushing back his hood, he fiddles with his hair, the nervous gesture you remember him doing. "Osco… He's with me – I mean, in the car," he says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Man's a fucking spy I think."

"No, no, you put your hand here." His face is serious as he guides your hand to his shoulder. "Okay?"

You nodded, grateful he was willing to teach you. You knew Charles would happily pay for dancing lessons but it's embarrassing, not knowing how to waltz. And when you'd mentioned it to Lando he'd said to come by, he could show you the basics, and he'd practice with you so you wouldn't make a fool of yourself at the prince's gala. His hand moved to rest at your waist, warm and strong, and you felt a glimmer of heat as his other hand took yours, holding it up.

"We'll take it slow, yeah?" he asked softly.

He's still standing there, looking lost and scared, and all you can do is stare at him. You've seen him – on tv, online, on your phone because you hadn't been able to delete the pictures of him and every once in a while your phone likes to play a sick joke and throw you a memory that somehow always includes him. But you're struck by the slight differences since you've seen him in person. His hair is a little longer, that one curl he used to complain about dancing against his forehead. The scar from Amsterdam last year is faded, barely a line across the bridge of his nose.

He's still the most handsome man you'll ever see. He still takes your breath away. It's taking everything in you to not beg him to forgive you.

"Love it. This. Us."

You suck in a breath and hold it. "How are you?" you ask, because really what else can you say?

I'm so sorry I never should have let us end like we did, even if we were hopeless from the start. I still love you, I'll never stop loving you. I'll never stop needing you. I'm miserable.

"I'm fucking miserable, y/n." His voice is strained. "I-I came months ago. At Christmas."

You feel your eyes widen at the same time you watch his do the same. Suddenly recalling a strange car parked just down the street from your parents' home that had sped off. At the time your first thought had been that it was someone up to no good. "You did?" you whisper.

"I remembered where your mum and dad live, and I… I hoped I'd see you."

He would have, if he'd waited five minutes. But you remember the texts you'd sent that had gone unanswered. The one phone call you'd attempted two months after moving away from Monaco, at four in the morning when your dreams had been him.

They still are.

Lando takes a step forward. "Y/n…"

"Why are you here?"

"I miss you," he says, his voice still strained. Like he's just finished crying. Or is about to. And you don't want to see him cry. It'll break your unhealed heart. "Are… Are you okay?"

You jump slightly when there's a soft tap at the front door. It's still hanging open – way to go, just invite burglars and murders in – and both you and Lando spin to look.

Oscar holds both hands up. "Sorry to interrupt. Um… Hi."

"Hey," you squeak. God, you can't do this. You can't have this awkward, painful conversation in front of Oscar. "C-come on in," you say, dragging a hand through your hair.

"I, um, just…" His cheeks darken as he closes the door and he clears his throat. "Could I use the restroom?"

Blinking at him, you feel Lando step closer to you. With a small nod you point in the direction of the bathroom, backing away from Lando as soon as Oscar's back is turned.

"Y/n… Please—"

"What?" you ask. It's as though seeing Oscar threw some common sense into you. "I'm in the middle of a class."

"For the library thing, yeah?" One corner of his mouth lifts.

"How did you—" You glance towards the bathroom. "Maybe he is a fucking spy."

"He was trying to help me."

"He always has," you whisper.

"He's kept me from going completely insane this past year. I… I owe him a lot," he murmurs, and he's picking at his own fingers.

You're reaching to stop him and jerk your hand back. He's not yours to comfort. He never was. "He flew all the way here with you when he could be home with his girlfriend. I think you owe him at least a new car."

"She's pregnant."

You gasp. "Really? I should—" But you can't. You haven't been able to call her, either. You text sometimes, but your friendship with the other girlfriends will never be the same. She hasn't mentioned being pregnant and you know it's because you're not in the 'club' anymore. It's a wildly different life you lead now. And you're happy. You're miserable and lonely but you fake the happiness for the sake of your family and coworkers. "I'm happy for them."

"God, I hate this," he whispers, and he rubs his hands over his face.

Then he's reaching for you. Almost catches you, but you jerk away.

"Y/n—"

"You have no right, Lando. What, did you think I'd just fall right back into your arms?" you ask, voice trembling because you want to. You want to be hugged as only Lando's ever been able to do. But you can't let yourself, remembering all too well how your life had been destroyed because you wanted a hug once.

"I didn't – I miss you," he whispers. "It's been a year and I still can't wash the coffee cup you left on the counter because it's… It's still got your lipstick."

Your heart twists, thinking of the hoodie tucked in the very back of your closet. The one you were going to throw out two weeks ago but couldn't after you opened the bag and could still smell him. Then you firm your resolve. You can't. "I'm not stupid. I've seen how not lonely you've been—"

"I was trying to forget you!"

"Then try harder. Doomed, remember?" You'll never forget him saying that, or how your heart had fractured.

"I couldn't even do it, because I felt like I was cheating on you!" The words ring out and he looks shocked, face twisting. "That's how fucked up you got me."

That rankles you, and you don't know if it's because he tried or because he's blaming the failure on you. "It's not my fault you can't get off," you snap.

"I can only get off if I'm thinking about you," he snaps back.

Your cheeks flame, your broken mind immediately conjuring up the image of him in the shower or on his bed. And you would swear you can hear his breathy moans. You bite your tongue hard to keep from confessing that when you try to make yourself cum you have to think about him, too. "Lando—"

"Tell me you're happy," he whispers. "Say it and I'll go."

"Happiness is subjective," you say, because despite everything you can't lie to him.

There's a creak or a sigh. Both your heads swivel and though you've only ever respected and admired Oscar, you aren't happy to see him. He doesn't speak, turning and studying the notes and photos on the refrigerator door.

Your heart lurches, knowing he'll see the snapshot of Lando.

"Y/n."

You snap your eyes back to him, forgetting all about his friend when you look into his eyes.

"Can we just… Talk. Please."

"I would have talked a year ago. When you left me on read. I would have talked a few months later, when I called you and you didn't answer." The worst part had been that his voicemail greeting was the automated voice.

"I was hurting! I was trying to get over you! I wanted to hurt you—"

You gasp, the admission a knife in your chest. You deserve it, you know that, and so much worse, but it stings.

"Like you hurt me."

"What was I supposed to do, Lando? We were doomed. You said so yourself."

"I'd rather be doomed with you than broken without you."

You must leave. Despite how long it's been you're not strong enough. You doubt you'll ever be strong enough to resist him. About to step away, you remember it's your house. Small and cramped and yeah the neighbors are too close for your liking. But it's yours. "Go, Lando. Live. Be happy without me."

"Like you're happy here?" he asks, throwing his hands out. "Rotting away in a fucking library?"

"I was happy until you decided to show up." Your voice cracks and you try to hold it back but a sob escapes as you back away, shoulder banging the doorway of your bedroom.

"Don't lie to me, y/n," he pleads, taking a step closer and reaching out.

"Don't touch me." You shrug his hand away, trying to get out of his reach, lift a hand to slap his arm. He catches your wrist before you can and your breath sticks in your throat when he moves forward. "Lando, please, let me go—"

His lips crash against yours and you whimper. It's harsh and demanding and you struggle weakly against him, spinning as soon as his hand grabs your waist. His near feral moan vibrates through your body and in a heartbeat you're clutching at his hoodie, whining as your back meets the closing door.

"Lan," you whimper, shaking your head as you break the kiss. "Please, we—"

"One more," he gasps. He lets go of your wrist, his hand trembling as it cups your cheek. "God, please… I just need you one more time. Everything's wrong without you." His lips brush over yours, and you feel your own inconsolable longing reflected back at you. "Y-you were everything, let me feel everything again."

His kiss tastes like tears and stifled rage. It grows harsher, his body crowding yours tighter against the door. It's everything you've wanted for over a year and yet not enough and you whisper his name into the breaths you share, knowing you'll feel the worst pain imaginable when it's over and you're alone all over again. The pull of him is too strong though and you want to feel everything again too, want just one morsel of what you once had.

"Wish I could hate you," he groans, voice as rough as his fingers in your hair, so tight your scalp stings. You whimper with both delight and pain and he answers with a moan, snatching back, breathing uneven as his hand slides from your hair and there's a frantic, familiar scrambling to remove his hoodie and your shirt. His moan as his fingers brush your bare skin ends in a whine, tracing patterns over your chest. "Wanted to hate you. Wanted to forget you but you—" His mouth is on yours again, his hands clutching at your breasts. Your nipples are stiff before his thumbs brush them and he groans deep in his chest, pressing his thigh between yours.

He pinches and squeezes, lips almost cruel on yours, and you can feel the rage he feels. Know you deserve every bit of it for everything you'd done, and more than he's capable of showing. Tears sting your eyes. It's beautiful, crushingly so, because you know this will be the last time. You want to rush ahead, to feel the incandescence only his lovemaking had created inside you and you also want to slow down, to memorize every breath, every touch, so you can cling to the memories for the rest of your lonely existence.

"Y/n…" It's a low, drawn-out moan, lips parted over yours.

"Please," you gasp. You're practically squirming with need, and the hate for you that he can't muster is there, coming from yourself. "Need it, Lan…"

You feel his pained grimace, taste the ache and the agony on his tongue. "Need you," he whimpers.

"Us," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears fall.

"Us," he barely sighs. One hand slips down, the rage still there as it pushes between your bodies and into your panties, cupping you and squeezing. His ragged groan echoes in your ears and it shreds the last sliver of your sanity.

You tip your head forward, initiating the next kiss, loosening your grip on his biceps and letting your hands smooth over his warm skin. Breathing in and holding it so you can taste and smell and feel him all at once. Your fingers trace the necklace at his neck and more tears fall – it's the one you gave him two years ago. Rough, his fingers rub along your slit, his other hand thudding against the door then cupping your throat. His lips still on yours, whining when you brush the tears from his cheeks.

He leans into you, fingers rubbing steadily, teeth catching your bottom lip as they grow slick. "Did you…" He moans when one finger dips, your hips tilt forward, pushing yourself against his hand. "You miss me, baby?"

"Yes." You're gripping his wrist, clutching his hair.

"This?" His fingers move in slow circles over your clit. "…Or me?"

"You, Lando, you," you whimper, head falling back, the curling heat so sudden you fear you'll cum already.

"Have you let anyone fuck you?" he asks, still rubbing your clit agonizingly slowly.

"N-no." Your cheeks burn, hating yourself for feeling a spike of desire at his crude question. Pulse racing, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, and his low hum as he leans closer, lips at your ear now. Your pussy clenches, gushing and you let out a shaky moan, able to hear the slick sounds of his fingers working your clit. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he chuckles.

"You need to cum? Hm?" He moans right in your ear and your pulse thunders beneath his fingertips at your throat. "You're gonna cum that quick?"

"I—" You whine, clutching tighter at his wrist. "It feels good, Lando, I can't…"

"It's gonna feel better when I'm fucking you," he whispers.

"Yes," you hiss, head falling back with a thump. "Please!"

"You want it, baby?" There's a slant to his cooed words and you wonder if he does hate you after all. "Want me to fuck you?" His lips tug at your earlobe, smirking while you whine. Slipping his fingers down, he dips them inside you, echoing your moan as you immediately squeeze around them. "Oh I missed your pussy so much… That's why I couldn't fuck 'em, you know?"

"Lando, please." God, you're gonna cum. It's sick and it's twisted now, but he knows exactly how to play your body.

"Cuz I know how good this feels…" He sucks on your earlobe, fingers curling tightly, exhaling harshly as they brush your spot and your hips jerk. "Gonna feel so good when you cum on my dick."

"Yes, baby, I need that," you whimper, digging your nails into his wrist. You need it more now than you did a year ago, your body buzzing. "God, please… Let me cum for you, Lan – Fuck!"

"Cum on my fingers, baby," he hisses, stroking your spot so hard it hurt. But his words and the reminder that he knew exactly what to say and do to you send you spiraling, pussy squeezing tightly around his fingers as a ragged cry ripped from your chest. "That's my girl, fuckin' cum…"

His fingers slip out and you gasp at the gush, tugging at his hair while he rubs your slit rapidly as your body tenses and trembles, panting harsh in your ear when you squirt over his fingers. When you slump back he coos, fingers strumming your clit and causing your back to arch.

He snatches his fingers from your clit with a low growl, and your lips meet in a fierce kiss, hands meeting at his belt. You wriggle between him and the door, frantic and scrambling to remove your panties, gasping against his tongue as he kicks his jeans away and then he's jerking your hips towards him, pressing his face to the side of your neck and your breath catches in the back of your throat, hooking your legs over his hips. His cock, hard and straining, glides along your slit and his teeth sink into your skin as his hips surge forward.

"Lando," you cry out, eyes rolling back.

"Make me hate you. Please, fuck, I need to hate you."

"How?" It's a broken sob.

"You can't." He presses his forehead to yours, hands so tight on your hips you know you'll feel the bruises forever. "You can't, y/n…"

"I'm sorry," you whisper, lifting trembling hands to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, Lando."

He exhales slow, releasing your hips and sliding his hands up, keeping the rest of his body still. It feels as though he's re-memorizing your body, closing his eyes while his palms sweep over your shoulders and up to your wrists. There's a prolonged moment as his shaky breaths fan over your lips, then his eyes open.

They're luminous. Shining with emotion. You can't breathe, can't even blink, can only just barely feel him shift, reminding you he's buried deep.

"I miss you so much." His hands are gentle, smoothing your hair back and cradling your cheeks. There's the reverence you remember.

"I'm right here." Your vision blurs and his lips are on yours, tender where they'd been rough before. "I'm right here, baby."

"Can't lose you," he mumbles, shifting again, his arm winding around your waist and holding you close. "Can't lose you again, baby, okay?"

You whisper his name, unsure of what to say. You're not sure you understand. "Lan?"

He kisses you again, turning and you're floating even after he lays you down on the bed. Each touch is gentle, like he's afraid of hurting you.

As though you're a dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

"I love you," he says. And for the first time since he stepped into the house it's the voice you remember. Clear and bright, warm and your favorite sound. It's him, the real Lando that you know and love.

Your lips part to say the words back – of course you love him, you've loved him since the beginning, before he was yours to really love. Before he was your forbidden secret.

"I bought the villa." Even he looks surprise as the words pass his lips and there's a small smile on his face and you want to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. He's talking as though he isn't inside you, as though he didn't just make you cum against your bedroom door.

"You did?" you ask softly, fingers following the freckles splattered over his cheek and neck. "When?"

Lando shifts, gently guiding your legs around his waist. The friction causes your toes to curl and he pauses, stuttering out a whimper. "F-first of the – god – year."

"Do you like it?" You're asking about the villa, remembering the photos he'd showed you on the realty website.

"Fuck I love it so much," he moans. His hands squeeze your thighs and he lifts himself up slightly, licking his lips slow. Eyes still luminous, he looks down at you and you can feel he's holding his breath.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you so much."

And it's like that's all he needed. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his hands finding yours and holding on, fingers tangled as he rolls his hips slow. His thrusts are slow and deep, echoing moans and gasps the soundtrack to the passion. There's no subdued rage or cruelty anymore, and you whisper apologies between kisses, needing him to know how sorry you are for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry… I love you… Love us." You whisper the words over and over, tasting the salt of his fresh tears and yours.

Clasped hands tighten, knuckles turning white. "Be mine," he murmurs, his tremble rippling through you. When you arch, crying out yes, he dips his head, pressing sweet kisses over your heart.

"I always was," you promise, eyes locked with his as the passion crests and you cum with a scream of his name. It's blinding, deafening, and all you know that is real is the tight grip of his hands.

"Get your degree," he murmurs an eternity later. You nod, heart racing, the ache that has been in your chest for so long begins to fade. "Move in the villa with me."

"What if it's doomed?" you whisper, fear slicing through the elation. "What if we fail?"

"W-what if we win?" His breath stutters harshly, hands squeezing yours even tighter. "What if it's sacred?"

He kisses you, both of you trembling as his thrusts quicken and you feel his muscles grow tight. Your name is a soft, pleading cry and you feel the heat of him filling you, hips straining and pushing you deeper into the mattress.

Another lifetime passes with delicate kisses. Tender whispers. Praise and love are murmured between you, and you feel the eternal hope springing back when he offers forgiveness.

If it's all a dream you never want to wake. You'll gladly sleep until your final breath or even hasten your end so you never have to know cold reality again. But it's not a dream when you wake up, it's real and he's real, and the love in his eyes is still there.

The peace, the dreamy bubble formed around you, is burst by a gentle tapping at the bedroom door.

"Um… You good, mate?" Oscar calls out, his voice amused and embarrassed.

Lando giggles against your shoulder, kissing your skin before lifting his head. "Are we good, love?"

"Can we get a dog?" you ask suddenly.

"Just one?"

You nod. "To keep me company while I'm studying."

Lando grins, dipping to kiss you quickly. "All good, Osco!"

"Thank fucking christ," Oscar groans..

a.n.: originally this was close to 9k, but I cut a full scene from the end, because these two idiots deserve a happy, hopeful ending. I hope you enjoyed. housekeeping: if you'd like to be added to my taglist(s), please fill out this form.

taglist: @driverlando | @leodette | @trisharee | @manicpixiemom | @littlegrapejuice | @mochimommy2002 |

[ratgirlexe]

To wrap up my thoughts on HDG as horror, now that I’m no longer in severe pain and writing my thoughts at 3 am:

I think the best summary of it all is that it’s hard for me to go into any given story and feel truly horrified, because I know on a meta textual level that everything is going to work out in the end, and the characters will likely be happier than when they started. I don’t know how to suspend my disbelief in the idea that ultimately things will work out, so even if the main character goes through any number of acts which are horrifying in *theory*. I almost empathize more with the affini putting them through that experience, more so than the character who’s point of view I’m seeing things from.

Are you a rebel feralist being put through awake surgery for your haustoric implant? It might be the scariest experience of your life, but that just means you get to be a floret now! You’ll have someone to care for and love you forever, and you’ll never have to be alone. Give it a week and you’ll be thanking them for doing so.

How about if you’re a terminally ill patient at end-of-life, or in excruciating pain that even the affini can't somehow solve? That's okay! We'll get you on a nice tasty regimen of class-O's, and you'll never hurt or be afraid again. There will be nothing but unending bliss, and you won't even realize that you're hurting. Not all suffering can be prevented, and eventually it all has to end, but heaven is real, and we've placed it inside you. Even in that last situation, which is the most personally scary to me, there's a certain level of bitter sweetness to it all. Maybe it's just the pain I've been in, but there aren't quite as many ways to end someones life that are as kind as bliss never-ending.

Ultimately I think it's just the fact that I know the affini are benevolent within the story, which makes even the most harrowing or scary events take on a more lighthearted tone for me. Yes, getting to where you want to be, where you *need* to be can be really scary. I'm autistic. Change is terrifying, change is death, and some changes can feel too monumental to ever surmount on your own. But to me HDG is a true escapist fantasy that says "Even if this change is scary, even if you can't choose to change for the better, even if the process hurts or makes you feel like you're dying, I'll be here with you to hold your hand and guide you through it. You don't have to go through it alone, and by the end you'll be able to blossom into who I know you can be."

And to me that's just not scary or horrifying. That's something that I yearn for each and every day.

[ouchthathurts]

❝ 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞? 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭! ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 3.1k

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 | 3

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Finally meeting the nurse!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Vomit Mentioned | Anya being Anya

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ APOLOGIES AGAIN! I DROPPED FROM A 95 TO A 25 IN TWO OF MY CLASSES. SO SORRY THIS IS VERY LATE AGAIN! WINTER BREAK TIL EARLY FEBRUARY SO ILL BE UPDATING AT LEAST ONCE OR TWICE A WEEK!

There’s something about the nurse aboard the Tuplar, she’s sweet, not sickeningly, but in a beautiful moderation. The way you’re given a piece of candy for completion of a simple task and even more so envelopes you when the day is rough. You’re not surprised by her nature; however, you are surprised by her knowledge.

You won’t lie to yourself that Jimmy had definitely convinced you that Anya was someone who tried too hard at things “She’d never be good at.” You feel for her, Jimmy setting these unrealistic expectations of what his own needs and wants that he desires from the group. 

Anya…Musume? Maybe it was a lack of attention you paid in school, but God, you couldn't read cursive to save your life. Looking at her name card, you could tell who she was. She was the nurse on deck and who you'd be spending your time with. Luckily for you, you'd given this time to really take in your surroundings, and by taking your surroundings, be stuck with Jimmy for a majority of the duration of your trip.

It peeved you to say the least, and you couldn't help but hate how much Jimmy was going to be around you, and how much this was definitely going to affect your relationship given the situation.

Your eyes laid on Anya, she was gorgeous, in fact, one of the most prettiest girls in the world. She honestly reminded you a bit of Daisuke’s older sister, she's not meek when she talks to you. In fact, you watch as Anya takes over Jimmy, she's a lot more carefree than Jimmy made her out to be, passionate about helping you, Jimmy also calls that her hellbent need to be in charge, and she tells you about how you should join her and Daisuke for a game, and which Jimmy will tell you that they’re both childish ego maniacs who have never told no in their life.

“They keep trying, reaching for something that they know they'll never reach, but thanks to their parents' big ambition and big push, they think they can accomplish the world. They don't know hard work. Failing 8 times? It's obvious she's not trying hard enough. Daisuke? It’ll just be inheritance.”

You hated how little time you were able to spend with Anya. It honestly pissed you off how fucking pushy Jimmy was. It was irritating to be around somebody so annoyingly negative, pessimistic, ignorant to the world around them, only thinking of how things can only get worse. 

It wasn't even you who told him to go away, it was Anya. The dark-haired woman speaks to you. There's a big, chipper smile on her face, and it's radiant, like a halo behind her, and she's looking to you like Mother Teresa. “I would love some help from you if you don't mind. I know Jimmy is rather busy since he is Copiloting and I am pretty sure Curly's been talking about needing some help in the cockpit for a minute. He came in here early with some injuries. I was hoping I would find Jimmy to tell him to go help Curly. It gives you the time to really look into the nurse's office and get to know more about the area, I'd be happily able to inform you while Jimmy's gone.” Jimmy scoffs. Obviously, he can't even help the idea of you wanting to do something else rather than be around him.

“Well,” “I’d love to, Anya!” 

Jimmy's eyes as it hits your gaze but Anya's there, and she's tall and proud and she doesn't give a shit. She's like this bright flashlight, beating down on a shadow. “You’re our only hope!” Anya jokes. There's a soft giggle in her voice. Jimmy leaves in a huff and it honestly brings you more joy to even be out of the area. She watches as your soldiers fall in relief and she can't help but just feel for you in those seconds as she watches you. 

“What a hardass, no?” You let out another sigh, “You’re fucking telling me.” Bursts in the laughter. It's the same boisterous laughter that you hear in the game room while her and Daisuke are going at it.

It's nice, you're not surprised Curly feels so at peace around her, she's like a garden, if you're gonna be honest, with all the pastels surrounding you and the smell of the nature hitting your nose. It's sweet, not nauseous, not irritating to the skin. Everything is soft and the temperature is perfect.

“Well, tell me about yourself,” she says. She takes a seat on the other side of the desk, and you follow in suit as you just can't wait to talk to this woman. “What do you like to do on the ship? What makes you smile? Why are you here? How'd you throw up on Jimmy without him making a bigger scene?” Anya's quick quiz questions. She's very inquisitive.

You look around her desk to see the small doodles on sticky notes, the many different books on psychology and mental health, and the personal notebook on her desk decorated with old worn-down stickers that are scratched up and fading in color.

You try to answer every question with suave, you hope your cool in her eyes, “Honestly, I like sleeping on this ship. I never realized how exhausting everything would be, especially with such a hard ass like Jimmy. I mean, Jesus, man this guy can't do anything without being such a bitch! He's always trying to make me do more and more and more like me doing the basics isn't enough. And he acts like this is like something I've done 1000 times but I'm literally doing only for the first time. And I can't believe it. He's just so aggravating, you know?”

Anya's listening earnestly, and it's riveting to have somebody genuinely sit there and listen to you. There are no accusatory glances, there's no language that has any type of anger or hindrance towards your story or how you feel. It's fully allowing you to be in the moment and be in your emotions.

You’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to Anya when you struggle talking to anyone else, is it always this easy to talk to strangers? It’s probably why your always on online chatrooms, like the time your mom caught you on one at 3AM and almost tore you a new one. 

Anya hits you with the simple responses, “Mhm.” “Right.” “Oh my god.” In her tone, it's laid back, it makes you feel casual, and it makes you feel amazing. “What makes me smile? Honestly, I really couldn't tell you, but I promise you that the reason? That's probably on this ship, actually.”

Anya's ears perk up, and she's most definitely way more into this than you thought she'd be. Not like she wasn't into it before, but it's definitely something that's alarmed her.  “On this ship?” There’s a hum in her voice as she playfully smirks, your bite your tongue as punish before shaking your exposed palms at her to try and lower the attention to your wording.

“No, not like that, just–” Anya just dismissively hums at you, she knows something you don’t and it’s eating you alive, “I’m really only on this ship for my mom? She wants to make sure I get better opportunities when I get back. But honestly, I just can't wait to move out of this house. It's exhausting. Everything is just so exhausting, but I think it's gonna get better. Once I'm out.” Anya nods, “Once you’re out!”

You smile at this. There's something so sweet about this, thus you continue on. “Honestly, I didn't really mean to throw up on Jimmy, it was a lot in the moment and honestly it was just so icky being around him. I felt like there was hundreds of thousands of maggots just swirling around in my stomach acid and they were becoming more than my stomach acid could take and not enough was being burnt down and I just felt it just plummeting back in my throat and I just couldn't fathom being around that man anymore.” 

Oh, fuck.

The look on Anya's face is caring but there's definitely a hint of anger, irritation even, and just grief for you specifically. Anya feels for you, she honestly can't stand being around Jimmy in the minutes she had to meet him. He was just nothing more than somebody who was just super-duper grumpy with Daisuke and Swansea make little jokes about the bitter man.

Anya stops joking with Curly after making one joke and Jimmy hearing it from Curly and thus Curly mentioning Anya and thus Jimmy saying lot of things very much out of line that led to their dismissive interactions with another unless under a professional lens.

“It’s just treating him if he needs it and making sure I do the psych evals, other than that, he has no reason to be around me.” 

You respect Anya in that regard: She's very much self-oriented, if it’s hurting her, it’s out of her life like that, she snaps, and you notice the shimmer from the glitter on her pink almond nails. “Do you get them done often?”

Anya raised a brow, you point to her hands put them out to cradle her as she allows you to get a closer look, “Oh, I do ‘em myself. I used to do my mom's when I lived at home.” That’s when Anya turned your hands around, your hands were fried from the manual labor that Jimmy put you through, she winces but a light bulb above her makes her shine like a descending Angel. “I don't know if you're against it, and if you are it’s cool, but I'd really love if you let me work on your nails. If not, it's completely cool. But you know, if you let me, I'd be like super happy!” There’s a cheekiness to Anya, she’s unapologetically herself, never in a mean way but uplift others. A smile on her face, it’s subtle but there, “I’d be super happy too, if you did my nails.” Anya gives you an even bigger smile, before she slowly pulls in with a flutter of her lashes, “Oh, yeah?” You giggle at her nature, “Oh, most definitely.” 

The two of you share a giggle before she unfortunately has to dismiss you, “Studying sucks, but I don’t think my gut can take more chili fries.” Anya playfully sighs as she waves you out.

There’s a pep in your step as you walk, this pep however hushes once you hear Curly and Jimmy talking in another room, “And she completely dismissed me, as if I didn’t exist!” You listen in closely.

Obviously, they're talking about you, so you should hear it. Because they won't tell you and they never will. Maybe that's your own fault, but the more you listen to Jimmy complain, the more you wonder if Curly even cares at this point.

“Well, you didn’t really take the time to really address Anya, y’know?” He's dismissive to the fact that Curly could even be right in this scenario. With how he's been carrying himself this whole time, he's assumed that Anya should just respect him regardless.

You have no choice but to really listen to him regardless since this is really all you really have, and you'd have to hear about him talking shit about everybody later anyways. “Even then, she should respect me, I am the co-captain.” Curly sighs, “Well, you don’t really act like a nice co-captain.” There’s a stifle in his voice, a choked out laugh escapes Jimmy and you can feel the spit hit your face from memory.

“Oh, you mean be you?”  “No. I mean be more likeable, try with the others, all you do is sit here cooped up in this section of the ship barking orders at…”  Curly backpedals, your peeved that he’s not saying more, Jimmy repeats your name, you feel your back straighten at the sound.

“Listen, what goes on with the training has nothing to do with you or anyone else on this ship. Besides, you put me in charge of them, you think I’m gonna sit there and let my protege get soft like Swansea’s?” There’s an eye roll from the blond, “What are you even talking about? Swansea has Daisuke study, and he gives him tests on the material.” 

Another sigh leaves Curly, you hear those beat up shoes hit the floor as he adjusts himself before he speaks again, “Y’know what your problem is? You sit here and you constantly compare yourself to others, and when they're not exactly like you, you wanna sit there and make them feel bad for being themselves.”

'Jimmy says nothing, your shocked by that fact alone, “I got you this job because it’s easy money, Lord knows your situation before wasn’t any better than this, and instead of trying to get along with others or at least being cordial, you’re trying to self-destruct when things don’t go your way.”  

There’s a drag in the air, you peek a bit to see that Jimmy huffs and his head hangs low, he’s like a child being caught digging in the candy jar.

Curly looks irritated, it's a very different light you see him in as its rare you ever seen him disgruntled, “I really am screwing this up. I mean, have I really not been trying at all? I feel like I have. Have I really not been changing to begin with?” Jimmy mutters to himself, loud enough for you and Curly to hear since the sound of a foot echoed throughout these halls.

Curly’s features soften, “Maybe you’re right, I’m not cut out for this stuff, I should’ve just stated back.” He sighs before pulling Jimmy in for a hug. “We’ve known each other since forever, I don’t want to see you struggle like you did before, this is how you lost your last job, remember?” Jimmy doesn’t even respond, he nods with his head in his friend’s shoulder before Curly has a big smile on his and he pats his friend’s back.

“I just want what’s best for you, Jimmy.” Curly says as he pulls away, Jimmy nods again, “Yeah, I know.” It’s like he’s reflecting on himself almost, before Jimmy begins to fold in on himself, “God, I really am screwing this up.” The brunette then puts his head in his hands leaving Curly to quickly comfort the man, “Hey, you’re doing your best, I’m not expecting you to get it overnight.”  

You're in awe by them, you wonder if you should do something or at least doing something more than just watching them right now. You clear your throat causing the two to look back to you, Jimmy straightens up, that remorseful look on his face now a bittered expression that was the sourness that your existence caused him. Curly perks up, “Hey there.” Jimmy says your name, you fix your posture, “Jimmy. Curly. How’s it hanging?” “Was doing a lot better earlier.” 

God, you wanna punch this guy so fucking bad.

“Ah, I get that. I heard from Swansea that Daisuke was sniffling earlier, you probably caught it.” The man raises a brow, “How can I catch it? I only saw him once today.” You also a raise brow, “Y’know, like pathogens? He sneezes and it’s all in the air now.” Curly nods in agreement, “Yeah, we are trapped on this ship so it would be hard for something like that to just disappear in the air.” Jimmy nods alongside him, “You’re right, Curly.” 

You allow the situation roll off your back, like a duck to water, you don't let it affect you and you're glad you don't. Now Curly and Jimmy are just looking at you before Curly perks up with a little question, “I mean, didn’t you throw up earlier? You probably got it from Daisuke.”

Now you're here stuck thinking about the fact that Daisuke has such a disgusting implication of you.

“Oh, yeah, probably.” That’s when Curly looks towards Jimmy, his eyes dart towards you and then back towards Jimmy. “Maybe you should turn in, it’s been a long day, and I need you to handle the challenges for tomorrow.” Gee, thanks. You smile, eagerly, “Thank you so much, Jimmy. I really appreciate this.” You dismiss yourself because what else are you doing around these two? You don't need to be around them longer than you need to be, and just being around these two just makes you feel off. 

You quickly make your way to your room. While walking around, you however discover one of the room’s door opened, It's not in your nature to really peak. The Jimmy and Curly thing was definitely you just trying to learn more about why he was such a douchebag, and you didn't really learn much to be honest with you. 

So maybe peeking isn't gonna really help you in this situation—

“Hey, come in here, you.” The only feminine voice you'll be met with on this trip. You turn your head after walking by the door without looking, and there you're met with Anya, she's out of uniform some pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt, you notice the face on it– “You like Love Island?” Anya raises a brow, “You know Love Island?” You nod your head, “My mom’s really into it, sometimes I just watch it with her while I’m making food.”

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.”

There’s silence between the two of you, it’s nerving given that she just has this unphased expression on her face, her half-lidded eyes with a small smile that showed how happy she was to be around you had only made you worry more as you believe your overstaying your welcome by standing around her. You try to dismiss yourself—

“You wanna come watch it with me? I got a bunch of downloaded episodes.” 

You perk up at the question, not like you have anything better to do, you’re not sick and Jimmy just let you go. Anya tilts her head, awaiting your response, “So?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yeah, of course.” The smile on Anya’s face got bigger, “Yeah, come on in.” 

©ouchthathurts please don't translate, claim as yours, redistribute and/or plagiarize in any way. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[goddessofroyalty]

hello! the fanart of Viktor with a baby you reblogged this week got me right in the soft feels u.u would you consider revisiting the Work/Life Balance 'verse? (random ideas: pregnant Viktor dealing with a minor illness (very minor, not a complication, no real threat to his health and no threat whatsoever to the baby, but Jayce is still fussing over them)? how a newborn affects Viktor's already hectic work/sleep schedule? either Viktor can't or chooses not to nurse and good papa Jayce does his part with formula and bottles?)

Kind of combined the second two parts of this into what I’ve written but more leaning on good papa Jayce helping feed their baby. Maybe I’ll figure out a quick 4th scene (to even out the POV’s) that focuses a bit more on Viktor’s messy sleeping schedule. Have also made a note of the first prompt as well to do separately.

I’ve given up and am naming this kid Naph as well. Why? Because it’s a nice easy name for me to kidnap and gods knows Arcane played fast and loose with League lore anyway. Also I like it and it has become the default in my brain if nothing else fills the space. It can be easily subbed out if I decide on something different later.

Warnings: past-mpreg, omegaverse (I refer to the baby as pup that’s literally it), some mention of after-birth pains (nothing major just a bit tender)

------------------

Viktor wakes to the sound of a baby crying.

“I’ve got him, don’t get up,” Jayce says as the sleep fades from Viktor’s brain and he remembers that it is their baby that is crying not just some random abstract one. Their baby that Viktor had given birth to days prior and had finally been allowed back home that day. The doctors happy with both their progress.

The bed shifts as Jayce gets up to go to their child. Viktor pushes himself up on his arms to sit up more as he does. Wincing as his weight settles on where he’s still tender from the birth.

“I told you not to get up,” Jayce says holding their son in his arms as he looks back at Viktor. It is a good image and one Viktor could get used to seeing. Will get used to seeing, as surreal as that feels.

“And I have not gotten out of bed.” Nor will he be. Not when he has a perfectly good and willing Jayce to get things for him while he still heals from the birth. To make up for you having done all the work to this point Jayce had said and Viktor had nothing to gain from fighting him on it. “What’s the time?”

“2AM. And you can go back to sleep,” Jayce says. “He just needs a bottle.”

“I’m awake now.” Viktor had never been able to go back to sleep once he woke. There always something he’d rather be spending the time doing than tossing and turning. “I can hold him while you heat up the bottle.”

“The doctors said you need rest,” Jayce says despite it being clear he needs both hands to keep their son settled which would leave none free to prepare a bottle as well.

“I am resting!” Despite how much he misses it he still hasn’t returned to the lab since he was put on bedrest in the final trimester. Working on formulas and schematics from bed can hardly be considered work. It’s just keeping his mind occupied. “Let me hold him.”

Jayce clearly wants to argue but he relents when Viktor raises an eyebrow. Carefully handing their son over and only taking his hands away once the baby is very secure and settled.

Viktor would almost be offended at the lack of trust but he all-too-well understands the impulse. It turns out newborns are tiny and so delicate. It is almost terrifying to think about all the different ways they could accidently hurt him. It is scary to even have him in Viktor’s arms but also nerve-wracking when he is not within easy reach.

“I’ll be right back,” Jayce promises, only taking his eyes off them when he physically leaves the room.

Viktor once again examines his son while he waits. He had hoped their child would have taken a little more after both of them rather than looking mostly like Viktor but it is still impressive to think mere days ago Naph was still growing inside him and now the boy is alive and experiencing the world, frowning up at Viktor as his tongue peaks out between tiny lips, followed by a small cry of impatience.

“Not much longer,” Viktor promises. If his milk had come in the wait wouldn’t have to be this long. But it is useful to know that Jayce can look after their son entirely on his own if needed.

Naph is still far too young to actually understand what Viktor is saying. Another louder cry being made as Jayce hurries back into the room.

“No, no, don’t cry, I got it,” Jayce rambles, sliding into bed beside Viktor, warm bottle in hand. He pauses when Viktor holds their child back out to him. “Uh-“

“You said you were feeding him, no?” Viktor has no problems with doing it as well but Jayce likes to feel useful. And Viktor likes to watch him with their son.

“Right, of course,” Jayce recovers quickly. Carefully taking their son back into his arms, offering him the bottle. It only takes two passes of the teat for the tiny mouth to open to let it pass.

“He is hungry,” Jayce says as their son makes quick work of the bottle.

“I suppose it was a big day for him.” For Viktor and Jayce they came home but all their son knew until the day before was the hospital.

“It was,” Jayce agrees, shifting slightly to allow Viktor to lean in closer and push the fabric from their son’s onesie down from where it had crept up to his mouth. “But we can all rest for now.”

Viktor gives a hum of agreement despite how he already itches to get back to the lab.

-------------------

Jayce wakes to find himself alone in the bed.

It isn’t that unusual. Neither he nor Viktor can be said to have a normal sleeping schedule even before their pup was born. But Jayce still never likes it when he reaches out for his partner only to find cold bedsheets.

He pulls himself out of bed and shuffles to the main living area. There’s no point trying to get back to sleep anyway and he might as well check on Naph to make sure he hasn’t woken in the night.

Viktor had apparently had the same thought whenever he had gotten up. He stands in front of the blackboard they had set up so they can make any changes to their equations even when not in the lab, a piece of chalk balanced in the fingers of the hand resting on his cane as the other holds their son steady where he is swaddled against Viktor’s chest. A slight bounce with every move clearly to keep the pup settled.

“I put coffee on,” Viktor says, not even turning around to acknowledge Jayce. Not that Jayce wants him to – he’s perfectly happy just watching his partner and their child together.

“Thanks.” There’s an almost empty baby bottle next to the coffeepot. It’s cold to the touch so Jayce rinses it out in the sink and puts it to the side to be sanitized with the others. He makes Viktor a cup of coffee as well as his own. “Couldn’t get him to go back to sleep?”

“He doesn’t want to be put down,” Viktor says, looking away from their life’s work to their son. “Clingy. Like his father.”

Jayce can hardly blame his son for that – he wants to cling to Viktor too at times.

“I can take him if you need to write,” Jayce says as he brings Viktor’s coffee over to him. Tapping his partner on the arm with it before placing it down on the table they keep next to the blackboard almost exclusively for coffee. He picks up the old empty one and takes it back to the sink.

“It is fine,” Viktor says with a small shake of his head, his eyes flitting back to the blackboard. “I have nothing new to add to it anyway.”

Jayce would suggest Viktor go back to bed then but he knows his partner would have as much a chance of going back to sleep as he would.

Instead he joins Viktor at the blackboard. Close enough that Viktor can shuffle over and lean against him while they both try and figures out how the equations fit together and wait for the morning sun.

------------------

“Jayce!” Viktor calls because he is in the middle of wiring up the controls for the latest iteration of Hexgates and their son is crying. Jayce is just doing some paperwork, necessary, yes, but nowhere near as dangerous to be walked away from in the middle of.

“Huh?” Jayce asks as he sticks his head into the room before realizing why he was called. “Right. On it.”

“Up we go,” Jayce says as he picks their son up from the cot they keep in the lab for him to sleep in while they work. Out of the corner of his eye Viktor watches his partner hold their son high to sniff at his backside. “Nope. Must be hungry.”

Viktor returns his attention back fully to his work as Jayce carries their son into the kitchenette of the lab to heat up a bottle for him. He’s still at it when he two return, their son still in Jayce’s arms as he comes to watch over Viktor’s shoulder.

“How are you going?”

“Nearly finished.” The wiring had nearly taken him all day but it should be worth it.

“And then we can test it?” Jayce asks despite the fact he should already know the answer.

“Yes. They should lead to a less, uh, jolty experience when the jump is made.”

Jayce doesn’t respond, but Viktor can hear him pace around the lab no doubt bouncing their child in his arms as he does to keep the boy settled and not distracting Viktor’s work.

Viktor doesn’t alert his partner to the fact once he finishes. Instead watching the two of them for the minute it takes Jayce to notice himself. He had been told by many how lucky he was to have Jayce as the father of his child and, really, he cannot argue it.

[derww]

for @heartcircus.

its not like zam actually tries to talk: he stands, carefully holding his notes, just staring at spawn, noticing one familiar face after another, feeling like all thoughts in his head became too heavy, and then just. turns around. and leaves.

you know, all of the princezam nature is to oppose, is to fight. but the last seasons taught him about just how important it is to appreciate people around, to do not only for yourself but for them too. and just today he promised to not interfere with mapicc's plans.

he can't fight, but he can't support. so he leaves. first time in many days, he has no words to say anymore.

all of it is just too familiar, and memories of the past cloud his mind and make every part of his body weak and stale. story repeats itself, and hed hate to see it continue and weave hemself into it, so he does not. i need some time to be alone, he says to derapchu and goes almost to the border – to sunny hill, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

this time something in it reminds him too heavy. he doesn't build a castle. instead, he builds a hut.

it's not so bad, he says to himself, laying firewood in the stove, it's not season 4 anymore, noone will backdoor the server and mapicc will stop. sooner or later. i cant fight him, but i dont have to. everything will end. and then ill go back.

he feels so fucking tired. only now he understands just how tired he is. so he lies down. and sleeps. and sleeps. and sleeps.

it never gets better; the tombstone of exhaustion only presses him down harder and harder. he sleeps and sees dreams. he cooks himself food and eats it, feeling no taste. he plants flowers and takes care of them. sometimes he talks to derapchu. he never tells where he is.

only in so slow time he suddenly understands just how misplaced he is. he's patch on patch, stitched over and over again with scraps of fabric, no matter how worn or unsuitable they may be, over and over and over, stitched with scars running through his spine. he is a trace of something forgotten, overlaid by images of other people and experiences, accustomed to it so much that it feels like himself. he sleeps and sees no nightmares. maybe it's for the worse.

so far from anyone, without any real goal, Immersed deep into himself, he easily starts missing hours, days, and weeks. time doesn't feel real, and he, at the end, too. people write him. sometimes he answers. he never agrees to meet.

i'll go back when the mawn thing will be over; he promises to derap but hardly believes in it himself. something makes him feel like he has nothing to come back to. this house is also not his home, but it's at least silent here.

derap persists, but in the end he gives up too. and, in the end, he is left alone. he grows dandelions in the field around. when an unfamiliar flower appears in the field, he does not prevent it from growing nearby.

he blinks and feels like he missed a whole week. sometimes he just lies there and doesn't move. he doesn't feel the softness of the pillow, the springy floor under his feet, and, after all, he doesn't feel pain either. a ringing void freezes in his head. he feels tired, but sleep doesn't help.

he missed a moment something changes.

something about how the world exists around him. something about how forest smells like. something about how the grass is rustling under his feet. something is wrong, but he barely makes himself care. it doesn't matter, not really, but time still slows down. he slowly dips his hands into the loose earth, feeling the coolness and texture. nothing here belongs to him, but that's not the point. he plants some poppy seeds. one of them ends up in a pot on his windowsill.

i'm fully okay, he says to derap while not being able to remember what he ate today, i'm just in retirement for now. i will go back to you, i promise. i just need some time.

the boards under his feet creak differently. sometimes something whistles, like an unfamiliar bird. sometimes it seems to him that the grass next to the house is crushed.

isn't this a true peaceful life, he asks himself. to run away from everything and be alone. in the end, there is no way to harm anyone if you are alone. he feels like he was running a marathon all this time and only now stopped.

he adds blue orchids, but their blue is drowning in the red. he takes the smallest orchid inside and turns it into a magnificent flower. In a moment of weakness, he takes the cornflower inside. the next one turns out to be an orange tulip. he doesn't comprehend it.

is it what i wanted in season four, he asks himself. this place strangely reminds him of it. he reminds himself of it, too, allowing himself to feel anything. he still can't decide if it's a good thing. 

the rain is pounding on his window. someone is knocking on his coffin lid. poppies fill the whole field.

i miss them, he writes on a paper. but i can't go back yet. not while spawn is someone's. not while i have to fight my best friend.

when he comes back from the forest, his house still keeps warmth. his footsteps are echoing, and his diary is open by the wind. i miss being able to decide, this page says. i was good at it once.

he doesn't feel sick. he feels dump. the green in his cape is starting to fade.

sometimes it seems to me that i won't be able to overcome this, he writes. but I know i can handle it. i always can. i will overcome anything. i just can't give up.

the forest smells of pine and fir, and it has not been lost in the trees for a long time, wandering far beyond the edge. the forest always brings him back when he wants to. it never holds him by force and generously supplies him with tree cones and wet moss. he always comes back because he has nowhere to go.

this time, when he comes home, he has a visitor. he is not surprised: he calls them by name, nods, makes tea from fir needles.

mapicc rests his head on his elbows.

– lets go home, – he says. zam shakes his head.

– to mawn? – he asks.

mapicc squints.

– yes.

– i won't.

– why.

zam looks at him almost regretfully.

– because i refuse to fight you, – he answers simply, – and i will have no choice but to.

– even fighting me is much better than- than whatever this is, – mapicc remarks irritably.

– i don't want to fight you ever again, – zam signs, – i know you like me as your enemy. i do not.

– you don't have to fight me. join me.

– i hate everything you've created, – he answers with pity, – and i can't change it. please, leave me alone. do whatever you want to do. and one day i'll be able to go back.

– i dont understand why you oppose it so much. you haven't even given it a try. is it, like, that bad? people love it; you can love it too.

zam shakes his head.

– did you really come to convince me to love what I hate?

– i came to invite you to my thing.

– not this time.

in the end, mapicc still leaves. only after that zam takes his floor apart to find a secret passage under the boards. it leads to a dug-out underground room filled with anything. there are books everywhere. an unmade bed. and a pot with a dandelion in the middle of the makeshift countertop.

mapiccs room, says the sign. he adds a glow ink to it and looks around again.

for an infinitely long moment he considers just starting to live here.

[fairykazu]

aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? [ plus an update ] cw: no plot, crackpost, use of kms/kys jokes, mild cursing, technically canon compliant, fudanshi joke / ref masterlist

r/amitheasshole ∙ a few minutes ago imjustagirl aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? i know how the title sounds but i swear it's nothing creepy! i (f18) saw this person with a peculiar hat (m19) and he just looks familiar to me. as if ive seen him before but if i tried to remember, it's like my memory was wiped. so, i tried to ask him if we had met before but he dismissed me, which i could understand since we are technically strangers. but i asked him again on another day and he seemed reluctant. he said that we never met but if thats true-- i know this sounds a little creepy but his handwriting. i saw it before, it's pinned on my board at home. letters written with love disguised as hate and little hearts. i have proof too, ill link it if anyone is interested. so am i the asshole here?

replies: albertlovesbarbara712 ta, you sound unreasonable. it's clear that you have this weird obsession with him and youre probably losing your mind lol rospearia albert you cannot be talking, you literally stalk barbara like your life depends on it albertlovesbarbara712 you dont understand her like i do albertlovesbarbara713 ok who got me banned again?

chronicgambler nta, i was going to say you're the asshole from your title but nvm... wait wdym you have notes from the guy? imjustagirl [OP] like i have this letter from this guy. and it matches up with the guy mentioned chronicgambler on aeons? imjustagirl [OP] on archons. ill show it in an update if anyone else asks

moonflwrscr lwk, ah. imjustagirl [OP] fr? why moonflwrscr idk i just wanted to disagree

winewhiner17 idk i need more updates imjustagirl [OP] alralr

load 200+ more comments?

r/amitheasshole ∙ a week ago imjustagirl aita for bothering this guy even though he looks familiar? i know you guys have been waiting for this for a long time. but lwk, for a while i was like damn, maybe i am crazy. besides people in the replies do not help either- you guys are like "op, maybe this is all a dream?" but how could it be a dream? when you can't even make up the image of someone else if you haven't seen them before. anyway, here's the picture of the notes. ignore how it makes me look crazy.

replies: gqqmbler OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST CRAZY. BUT MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT??? imjustagirl [OP] with the ta comments i got, i was like "damn, maybe im the crazy one." mar7th but youre just a girl gqqmbler real load full thread?

fudasethos waitt...𖦹donotinteractgetoutofmyhouse? yoifire OP BLOCK THIS MAN!!! mehrakisbetterthansomescribesclearly how did you manage to get his reddit? no other person is able to get anything from him fudasethos blackmail :p imjustagirl [OP]𖦹yoifire wdym?

donotinteractgetoutofmyhouse wtf imjustagirl [OP] ummm nothatguy why did you block me? dm me your ig imjustagirl [OP] OH MY GOD???? WTF...（；´д｀）

[ageingfangirl2]

You Drive Me Crazy! Buggy (OPLA)

You might be able to fight, but you have a knack for injuring yourself on stupid things around the ship much to the frustration of your captain who's had enough and decides to take you up on your offer...even if you were joking. Buggy x Reader Fluff

BUGGY

There had to be something wrong in y/n's head. They were the most skilled on the ship next to me and cut down many people without so much as getting a cut or scrape. However, interacting with everyday objects was a challenge for them because they kept hurting themselves. At first, it was endearing, thinking they would do anything to get my attention, but years had passed and it was no longer endearing but annoying.

As the captain, I had a responsibility to the crew, but some days I considered pushing y/n overboard and watching them either sink or swim.

'Where's y/n, I haven't seen them all day?' I ask Cabaji as we walk across the deck.

He shrugs his shoulders, 'Err the kitchen I think captain. The cook is ill and y/n promised to help out.'

My eyes widen at the thought of y/n alone in the kitchen with enough things to injure themselves, 'I'll check on them, they shouldn't be left unsupervised.'

Cabaji laughs, 'at least it's not dull with y/n around.'

I glare at him before stomping across the deck towards the kitchen which is below us, '...yeah fun for everyone but me,' I grumble.

When I entered the kitchen y/n was sat on a barrel peeling vegetables and humming to themselves. I approached cautiously since they looked okay, maybe I did need to stop overreacting.

y/n locks eyes with me and smiles, before waving with bandages on their fingers, 'Hey captain, what brings you down here?'

My eye twitches, they didn't have bandages on this morning, and the cuts must be fresh because blood seeped through the fabric, 'I can't leave you alone for a second without you hurting yourself, can I?'

I close the space between us and take their hand in mine which makes them flinch, 'I mean, I'm fine so it's okay--'

'No, it's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going to go crazy thinking you've hurt yourself. You're more than just another crew member and I need you in tip-top shape y/n,' I growl, cutting them off, and keeping their hand firmly in mine.

y/n's eyes widen, 'since when did you care about me like that captain?'

y/n might be loyal and a good fighter but sometimes they could be a little slow. I inhale sharply and bring their bandaged fingers up to my lips and kiss them one by one, 'since forever you idiot.'

A faint blush creeps onto y/n's cheeks but they quickly compose themselves and smirk, 'What are you going to do about it, captain? Going to keep me locked in a cage and never out of your sight?'

'That's a brilliant idea y/n,' I mutter, feeling a smile stretch from ear to ear, 'I should have done something like this earlier.'

y/n goes to jump off the barrel but I catch them and throw them over my shoulder with ease, and walk out of the kitchen grinning to myself as y/n struggles against me. I ignore y/n's protests as I carry them towards my quarters, sending one of my hands ahead to get a cage ready. Normal people would find it odd to have so many human-size cages, but pirates liked to kidnap so it was always handy to have some around.

'We'll make it super comfortable y/n and safe so your pretty head can't injure yourselves,' I say, kind of giddy at the thought of having y/n locked in a cage and at my mercy.

y/n continues to kick and protest, 'It was a joke captain...please put me down...I'll be good...' y/n pleads.

Entering my quarters I cackle seeing the cage, 'Here we go y/n, welcome to your new home.'

I throw y/n in the cage and lock the door before they can actually comprehend I followed through, and wave the key at them while they glare and shoot me a rather colourful hand gesture. I tap the top of the cage, I'd start by padding the sides, this was going to be a fun time.

EXTRA

Y/N

Two weeks had passed since Buggy put you in the cage for your own good, only letting you out a couple of times a week to walk around and bathe under his strict supervision. He'd kept his word about making you comfy giving you whatever you needed, knowing full well that when he eventually freed you you were going to find a way to kill the smug clown.

[lizzy019]

Hello! I love your writing! Would I be able to request a fic where Ponyboy has a younger twin sister and the week he's away at the church she's just shutting down? Won't eat can't sleep even with Soda there to keep her company, and just keeps breaking down at tge thought of never seeing her twin again. Then when he does come home she's attached at the hip like sharing a bed and even getting sick because he was sick?

Hope that makes sense!

Ooo this is such a cute idea :D

~~~~~~~~ 🖤-> ~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~ 💚! ~~~~~~~~~

The silence in the house was almost deafening, it was like a surround sound machine that was eerily loud.

Ponyboy was gone for a week, and you struggled to really wrap your head around the news. Your twin brother, the one you'd bicker with the most and steal cigarettes from was gone. Gone, like- for good? No, he wasn't, right? Maybe you were overthinking...

You felt yourself growing ill with depression. Gaslighting yourself wasn't helping, and you became glued to your bed or seated at the kitchen. You were emotionless, aimless. You felt no reason to have motivation when your closest sibling was gone.

Darry and Soda seemed to notice, and they tried hard to keep you happy. Darry would make the foods you enjoyed most, Soda would always offer to let you watch the TV whenever you came downstairs. But none of it felt the same, none of it felt the same without Pony making a mean comment or him fighting for a channel on the TV.

Even if you were immersed in the TV show, you weren't enjoying it as much as you should've. Soda's hand was reassuringly rubbing your back, an act of kindness to show you he was there. You couldn't find it in you to enjoy the things you normally would, such as his kind gesture.

It wasn't long until you passed the empty phase and headed into the tearful phase. You were crying almost every waking second of the day, you didn't know how to cope with the fact that someone so close to you could be so far gone.

You felt awful knowing you didn't give him a proper goodbye when he ran away from home, because now you felt like you were cold and distanced.

Sodapop was trying his best to be there for you and trying to manage his work. But he took many days off because you'd stay home from school, too emotionally unstable with knowing your brother could be out there somewhere, or come onto the news dead.

"It'll be fine, sis. Darry and I are worried too, but Pony's too tough to just give up, yeah?" He smiled, trying to get a somewhat positive reaction from you.

You just turned your head up to look at him, and you felt yourself admiring his positivity just a bit more than usual. Yeah, Pony was tough, but he'd been gone for a week. What if he didn't come back?

The next few days were spent alone in your room. You didn't want anyone to come in except for Darry and Soda, but on the occasion you'd let Steve come in just because he could be a bit humorous when you needed a pick-me-up.

But it wasn't until one day, the door opened loudly followed by a bunch of noise. It was obnoxious, stirring you awake and irritating you more than it should've. You lived with a bunch of boys, this wasn't uncommon, but still.

So you angrily got out of bed, wiping the tears that were already a bit dried from you napping before you slipped some proper clothes on and trotted out. The closer you got, the louder the noise grew, and you were just a bit too aggravated to handle it calmly.

But once you managed to pass by the kitchen and swerve into the living room, you froze instantly. No, was it really Pony? You waited for Darry to stop hugging him before you started bolting over.

"Pony!" You exclaimed, arms up and around Ponyboy's body as you clutched him tightly within your grasp. His arms did the same, squeezing at your shoulder blades and stuffing his cheek against yours.

"You smell like depression..." He teased, but his voice was shaky just like yours.

Ah, you couldn't argue with him, you were quite literally rotting away in your room anyway.

The next few days, you were right beside him. You made breakfast with him, brushed teeth alongside him, went and bought cigarettes together, hell, you even took naps with him. You were so grateful to have him back, you were so happy to finally be able to tease your brother after a whole week and a half.

But then again, he did kind of stink at times. Eating all the leftovers and hogging the TV. But, he was back, and he was doing all the things you missed while he was gone.

You couldn't really complain, could you?

[allsadnshit]

I was literally just thinking the other day about how much having no boundaries genuinely makes you physically ill and like destroys your immune system and wondering how much longer my ex best friend was gonna be able to go without hospitalization since I know she truly has no ability to have healthy boundaries and it was just something like passing through my mind cause realizing how I got so sick has been such a revelation to me where I have understood I am not just unlucky or something it's truly from how I'm living and she's muted in all social media for me and has been for over a year at this point but for some reason ig just sent me she posted on her personal account and I was like why did it send me this when she's completely muted and I never get notifications for her stuff? So I went to check it and it's just a long post about how she had to be hospitalized a few months ago for a few weeks from everything in her life and I was like wow yeah...there it is. Made me sad but also not because I would never have gotten better if I didn't get hospitalized and realize how much I needed to change, so maybe it will be that for her too.

Just crazy to see specifically women have all these chronic conditions that can't seem to respond to any treatment and like it's almost always this