#painful to me. and i don’t want to be bitter or resentful right out the gate i don’t want to project and ruin a good thing before it becomes

[pepprs]

the mortifying ordeal of being mere weeks away from living out a version of the second most traumatic thing that ever happened to me as a three year old (completely normal life phenomenon that 80% of the global population experiences and that kids sometimes take hard but usually get over after a couple of years, and that i should be totally over a) as a 23 year old b) who had that traumatic thing slowly turn into one of the best and most positive aspects of my life over the years 😃👍)

[uzurakis]

jjk men w gf who’s overly sensitive and they said something that hurt her feelings? ^___^

FALLING INTO ARGUMENTS?!

featuring: megumi fushiguro. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru.

n. nonnie, allow me to spice your req a bit by make them getting into arguments which hurts your feelings in the process. sorry it took a longer time to write this cause i really don’t want to mess their characterization on this one t—t you also didn’t say i need to end it with comfort so…

GOJO SATORU.

the atmosphere was heavy with tension, as if every breath you took stirred up a storm of unresolved emotions. the soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, accentuating the lines of frustration etched into gojo satoru’s face. his piercing gaze fixed into yours, a silent challenge hanging between both like a veil of uncertainty.

as you stood before him, the weight of his dismissive words bore down on you like a crushing weight. it was as if every syllable was a dagger aimed straight at your heart, each one leaving a deep, painful wound that threatened.

you cried out, "i can help, satoru," your voice quivering with a mix of hurt and desperation. "please, just let me help you."

however, his reply felt akin to a blow to the face. "i don’t need your help, alright?" he yelled, his voice snapping like a whip. "i've got this covered myself.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, filling the space between you guys with a palpable sense of defeat.

you begged, your voice almost audible, "but satoru, we're supposed to be in this together. i thought you trusted me. isn't that what relationships are built out of?”. nevertheless, his expression remained impassive, a mask of indifference that hid the pain lurking beneath the surface. “trust has nothing to do with it," he replied, voice colder than you had ever heard it before. "i do better alone."

with those comments, the abyss between you and gojo deepened, threatening to swallow both whole. then as you turned to leave his room, the weight of his rejection settled like a stone in your gut, leaving only a hollow ache and the bitter taste of regret.

the silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. every fiber of his being screamed for him to go after you, to swallow his pride and beg for your forgiveness, but something held him back, he didn’t want to pull you into his mess any further.

with a heavy sigh, gojo sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he let out a long, ragged breath. the weight of his actions settled on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with its suffocating embrace.

tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let himself break down in the face of his own weakness. he had always prided himself on his strength, on his ability to handle any situation with ease and confidence, but now, in the aftermath of this argument, he felt more vulnerable than ever before.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

"are you okay, megumi?" you asked softly as you reached out to touch his shoulder.

his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a tense energy that crackled in the air, setting your nerves on edge as he flinched away from your touch, his expression hardening as he turned to face you.

he snapped, "i'm fine," in a tone that was unlike anything you had ever heard. "stop asking me that."

the words were like a slap to the face, leaving you feeling with hurt and confusion. all you had wanted was to help him, to ease the burden he carried on his shoulders, but instead, you found myself faced with a wall of anger and resentment.

you tried to protest whilst trembling with suppressed emotions. "you know you can always talk to me, right? you don't have to go through this alone." yet he shook his head, his eyes dark with pain as he pushed you away. "i said i'm fine!” insisted, tone slightly went higher. "just leave me alone."

the tears threatened to spill over, but you just held it down and bit your lips. with a heavy heart, you turned and left his room.

as the door closed behind you, megumi let out a frustrated growl, the sound muffled by the empty room. he cursed himself silently, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as the weight of his harsh words settled heavily on his shoulders.

"damn it," he muttered under his breath, very much thick with regret. "fuck you, fushiguro.”

the memory of your hurt expression haunted him, a reminder of the pain he had caused with his thoughtless words. he had never meant to hurt you, never intended to push you away, but in his fear and uncertainty, he had lashed out without thinking, building walls around himself to keep you out.

now, as he stood alone in the quiet solitude of his room, he realized the magnitude of his mistake. he had pushed away the one person who had always been there for him, the one person who had never given up on him, and now he was left to face the consequences of his actions.

with a heavy sigh, the man sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of the mess he had created. he knew that he needed to apologize, to make things right, but the thought of facing you again filled him with a sense of dread.

ITADORI YUUJI

under the soft glow of streetlights, yuuji and you found yourselves standing at the edge of a heated argument that threatened to consume the bond between you. the cool night air was heavy with tension, each word you and he exchanged hanging in the air like a cloud of unresolved emotions.

"i just wish you would trust me, yuuji." you said, sounding frustrated as you looked for any indication that he might understand.

however, he shook his head, his expression stubborn and closed off. "i do trust you, but this is different. i need to handle this on my own, babe.”

his remarks pierce deeply. it seemed that he was shutting you down even though all you wanted to do was to help him. you looked at yuuji and said, "i can't just watch you struggle."

"just, give me some time alone, okay?”

the hurt in his voice mirrored your own. as you watched him walk away, the sting of his words lingered like a bitter taste in your mouth. just as you turned to leave, you heard him call out your name, his voice filled with panic and regret. "wait! baby, i'm sorry. i didn't mean it like that."

you turned back to face him, the ache in your chest easing slightly at the sight of his vulnerability. in that moment, you understood that beneath his tough exterior, he was just as scared and uncertain as you were.

"it's okay, yuuji," you calmed him down, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "we'll figure this out together."

GETO SUGURU

you couldn't stand idly by as suguru pushed himself into further depression from time and time again, and tonight, you had finally reached your breaking point.

"suguru, you need to take better care of yourself," you begged, tinged with frustration and concern. "you can't keep treating yourself like this."

“is there really nothing i can do to help you?”

only he scoffed at your worries, waving off your concerns with a dismissive gesture, expression stubborn and unyielding. "i'm fine, babe.” with a deep sigh, geto suguru pointed out, "and what would you know about my problems, huh?" he reacted with resentment.

those words cut deep, leaving you mourning with hurt and disbelief.

"suguru..” you claimed, “do you really think i would just stand there as you destroy yourself? when you mean so much to me?”

his eyes softened at your words, a flicker of regret passing over his features before he shook his head, expression hardening as he turned away from you. "i don't need your help," he spat.

“i can take care of myself."

the finality of his words hung in the air like a heavy weight, crushing the last vestiges of hope that lingered in.

"fuck, i'm sorry," he murmured right before you decided to walk away. "i didn't mean to worry you."

“i, i just don’t know what to do with myself. shit, i’m so sorry.”

you turned back to face him, tears welling in your eyes as he crossed the room to pull you into a tight embrace. his familiar arms curled around you, providing comfort and warmth despite the tension. you could feel his heartbeat against yours, a rhythm that expressed both guilt and tenderness. at last, words were unnecessary as you allowed the quiet to envelope both, saying more than any apology could.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[paarthunaxx]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

[stwrrybwrry]

Thinking of when you and gumi get into a fight... 💭

⊹　 ︶︶　 𖹭᪲　 ︶︶　 ⊹

Bf megumi! Who had been slipping further away each day, his gaze colder, more withdrawn, like he’d buried himself in shadows. Every time you tried to offer comfort or a gentle touch, he seemed to resent it. He acted as though your presence was a burden, something weighing him down rather than helping. You started to wonder if he even cared about what you were trying to do for him, you wondered if he even cared about you anymore.

Bf megumi! Who one night, after another icy silence, you found the courage to ask, “Megumi, what’s wrong? Why won’t you just talk to me?” He stopped, barely even glancing your way, his tone biting. “Why do you keep asking?” he shot back, anger creeping into his voice. “Do you really think you’re helping? Just stop—stop acting like you know anything about what I’m going through.”

Bf megumi! Who’s words stunned you, but you pushed back, telling him you were trying to understand because you cared about him. He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Care? You care because it makes you feel better. It’s like you need to feel important, like you’re actually helping. But the truth is, you’re just in the way.” The words hit like a slap, tearing down every effort you’d made, making you feel small and out of place in his life.

Bf Megumi! Who you looked at him, trying to hold back the pain, but he only grew colder. “Honestly, it’d be better if you just stayed out of my life,” he muttered, his voice harsh and unrelenting. “All you’re doing is making things worse. I don’t need you hovering around like you’re some savior. You’re only making this harder for me.” His words cut deeper than any blade, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart splinter under the weight of his indifference.

Bf Megumi! Who just when you thought he’d said it all, he looked you straight in the eye, his gaze empty and unfeeling. “You don’t belong here—you don’t understand anything about this world. You’re just… useless to me.” His voice was a final blow, shattering whatever pieces of your heart you had left. You swallowed back tears, giving him one last look before you turned and walked away, leaving him behind in the shadows he seemed to crave.

Bf Megumi! Who’s months passed, and as his anger dissolved, guilt took its place. Megumi couldn’t shake the image of your face, the pain in your eyes as his words had ripped through you. The silence he’d wanted so badly now felt suffocating, the emptiness left by your absence a constant reminder of what he’d destroyed. He didn’t understand why he said those things to you. He loved you dearly, is what he thought.

So imagine Megumi when he finally sees you from afar, a lighter smile on your face as you talk with someone else, a friend or perhaps something more. His chest tightens as he realizes you might be moving on, leaving behind the hurt he caused. For a brief moment, your eyes meet, but there’s only a fleeting recognition before you turn away, leaving him in a silence that now feels like punishment. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, haunted by the memory of all the things he said, and the reality that he may never get the chance to make it right. Because at the end of the day, he can only stand there, the bitter truth settled in—his cruel words had not just pushed you away, but had severed the fragile thread that held your hearts together, leaving him to drown in the unbearable silence of what could have been him and you, together forever.

≿————-　ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🌷་༘࿐　————-≾

[lxclerc]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

summary... it’s never the right time for  you and daniel, always something pulling the two of you away from each other. requested... yes by literally everyone. yall were coming at me with pitch forks for this warning... age gap (7 years), emotional cheating, physical cheating, angst, angst, angst, light smut (more on fade to black) pairing... daniel ricciardo x horner! reader

note... i am tagging each and everyone of you who asked for a part 2 bc this fic has quite literally loomed over my head ever since i posted it a year ago. literally everytime i open this godforsaken app, someone is offering me their first born for the part 2 so yall better give me all the notes!!!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

← prev part

high tide came and brought you in

“if you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”

the question caught you off guard as your friend drunkenly pondered over it out loud. where would you go? you were sober enough to say home, the most acceptable answer that would not invite any other follow up questions. it’s simple and doesn't need a discussion. the reason it caught you off guard wasn’t just that though but because your answer was instantaneous in your head. your answer isn’t a where but rather a who, came your bitter realization. 

and you knew that if you could go anywhere in the world right now, it’d be him you’d go to. he always lingers in the back of your mind, everything that reminded him of you tends to bring a certain kind of aching and longing you’ve grown to resent over the months and years spent without him. 

daniel sent you away and deep in you, you know he meant good. he’d done a selfless thing, loving you and setting you free. but missing him was unbearable, loving him all consuming and you resent him for doing this to you. you resent the world for making you fall for a man without letting you have him. 

still, you did as he told you. you went back to school, pursuing a career in a field you knew he’d be proud of, achieving your dreams and living your life as though a part of you hadn’t been left with him. 

your friends carry on with the party. half of university was partying which is a scene familiar to you. this time, it’s on the beach, the salty air and sound of crashing waves echoing with the sound of the music and chatter. still though, you can’t help but scan the place as though looking for him among the crowd of people the same way you always would. you miss the way you’d find his eyes already on you, pools of brown dripping like honey on your skin. 

but he’s never there and you feel dirty whenever another man looks at you, their gazes too eager as they look at you as though you’re a piece of meat, never gentle like his as though you’re aphrodite herself walking among mere mortals. 

you miss him is the ugly truth. you miss him so fucking terribly it makes you angry. you don’t want to miss him. you no longer want to love him. loving him hurts, as though he’s clawing at your chest and squeezing your heart together in a sick sort of torture. 

but even before he touched you, you were his. all he had to do was look at you. you exist in two places – here and wherever he is. 

eventually as the night progresses on, you move away from the party. you’re in some fancy country club and the tile is expensive on your feet as you step out of your heels and walked towards the beach, feeling the cool sand against your skin. 

in hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in a place like this but despite looking for him wherever you go, you’d never expect to find him. searching for him has become a comfort the same way longing for him has – in a sick, twisted and painful way. 

but he’s here now and in the one time you hadn’t searched for him, he found you. the moment you’d spotted his figure looking out at sea, he turned to you as though a gravitational pull connected you to him. 

one year, three months and fourteen days. that was the last time you saw him but he looked no different from the man who’d brought you back to your hotel room only to say goodbye. 

and then he smiled and it was as though the sun shone on you again. 

“honey,” he says and your heart trembles. 

daniel.

it was too early. and you’re drunk and you aren’t entirely sure if you were dreaming or not. 

but he stands before you, eyes of brown looking as though you’re aphrodite herself and he can’t quite believe he gets to stand before you. eyes of brown that seem to be sobbing without tears. daniel. 

you’re still not talking and he’s letting you, watching you so intently as though he’s memorizing your face. he looked the exact same but you know what he must be seeing. you look nothing like the woman he left behind. you’d cut your hair short and dyed it. long gone were your summer dress, replaced by tight fitting ones that showed off your body. you feel different and you tried so hard to make sure you wouldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. you hated seeing the woman who couldn’t make him stay. 

but in his eyes, you see your reflection and you recognize her well. 

“daniel,” you muttered as the crashing waves touched your feet. would you love me now? you wanted to ask. 

he smiled again. “you look beautiful as you always are.”

please touch me, you wanted to beg. soft eyes and soft soft hands. you’re lonely without him. 

you manage a grin. “sure, old man.”

the laugh that he let out echoed against your soul. “i’m being honest.”

you missed him. god, you missed him so fucking much. 

but daniel still would not let himself love you. not yet, not now that you’re finally building something for yourself. you have friends and have set goals. not yet. 

“y/n!” someone calls from behind you but you’re hesitant to take your eyes off of daniel, terrified he’d become a figment of your imagination the moment you do. but your friend's familiar calls force you to. “come on, we have to go.”

you ignore her, turning back to daniel and he smiles at you, offering his hand for you to shake. this is the best he can offer for now. “i’ll see you around, kid.” 

you wanted to cry, wanted to scream that it’s so unfair, but you smile sadly as he shook his hand, his calloused fingers so familiar against yours. 

“in a few years,” you say. 

and as the ocean brought him back to you, the waves must return to the sea. 

but you were still gone and gone, gone and gone

the next time you see daniel again, you were twenty four. you’re in your last year of university, applying for your doctorate. you loved academia, you loved your two cats and your little apartment downtown, you loved science and the galaxy it holds and you eventually realized that this is why he let you go. he wanted you to have this — be more than someone who just follows a man around country after country. 

he wanted you to grow, wanted you to find the things you really loved without influence from him. he wanted you to find your independence and learn to stand on your own two feet. 

max brought you here. it’s his first world champion and as his self proclaimed best friend, he refused to allow you to skip this one and so you pulled up your big girl pants and got on with it, arriving in abu dhabi on friday.

by some cruel twist of fate, he’s the first person you find the moment you enter the paddock. it would have been rude to ignore him and so you smile even though you can clearly see the woman next to him and the way she stands close. 

goddamn it. 

it hurt. it hurt seeing her there. it hurt seeing her cluelessly smile at you. the way he looks at you now, eyes of brown full of silent apologies, looking as though he wanted to reach over and touch you, to comfort you. 

you release a shaky breathe, raising your hand in an pathetic attempt of a wave before you walk past him. you aren’t the same young kid like before. now, you have enough self reservation to not actively put yourself in a situation that would only hurt you. you don’t need to play besties with daniel’s new girlfriend. 

the moment you enter the red bull motorhome, you hit max at the back of his head.

“what?” he exclaimed as you glared at him. 

“you’re an idiot,” was all you said before moving towards your father. you’d ignore daniel and his girlfriend. you’re here to support max – even if he is a stupid idiot – and there’s no need for you to obsess over daniel. 

but of course, you still do anyway. even as you watch the race, you’re watching him. he looks good, amazing, fucking edible. he looks like he stepped right out of your dirtiest dreams, all thick neck and stable arms. he looks beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and you selfishly want him just for you. but you’ve always wanted that and you’ve never been allowed to have him.

and then you’re watching her. she’s grace herself, really. she’s exactly the kind of woman he needed and you wonder if she knows about you and then you wonder what it is about her. what is it about her that made it so that daniel thought she’s good enough for him to love when he never could you?

“mate, it’s getting creepy,” max said as he took the seat before you. he looks tired but he looks determined and the way the hair falls over his face makes you smile. max is a very special person to you and you know that he always will. you hold him close to your heart and you know you’d move the earth for him. 

you reach over, fixing the collar of his red bull shirt. “shut up.”

“her name’s caroline,” max says. “if you want to get to know her then just approach her.”

you glared at him. you don’t want to know her name. you don’t want to know what her laugh sounds like or the color of her eyes. you don’t want to know what made daniel fall in love with her. you don’t want to know her. 

“shut up,” you say again. “i’m still blaming you.”

max laughed and you think him annoying you might just be his way of distracting himself from the race so you let him. you let him talk on and on and on the entire time till he’s needed back in the motorhome. you let him steal yur ice cream and tap your nose. 

but when you turned back to her, caroline, you find him staring right back at you, anger and jealousy in those brown eyes you missed so much.

and it was like you’re twenty again, petty and young as you glared right back at him. he had no reason to be jealous when he has her beside him. he has no right to be jealous when he’s the one who’s never allowed the two of you to be more. 

these hands had to let it go free

that night, he called you for the first time in three years. his name lit up your phone and your hand shook as you picked it up. his picture, smiling up at you taken at your twentieth birthday stares right back at you. 

“daniel,” you breathe out as you press the phone against your ear. you’d arrived back in your hotel room two hours ago smelling of champagne and victory. max’s world championship trophy is laying next to you after being forgotten because your best friend was far too drunk to grab it before his girlfriend dragged him out. throughout the party, you avoided daniel like the plague, keeping to your side of the room and never straying towards him. 

“i missed you,” he says from the other end, voice cracking and slurring. he’s drunk and you push back the blanket as you enter the bathroom, hand gripping your phone. “but fuck it, i don’t miss this.”

“what are you saying?” 

“he’s my best mate, y/n.” there goes your name. not sweetheart or honey. he says your name like it’s sacred, something he’s only ever allowed to say when he’s at his most vulnerable, completely raw and baring his soul to you. “and i wanted to fucking punch his face the entire night.”

you close your eyes. this is familiar to you. daniel and his raw honesty when he’s drunk. daniel and his jealousy of max. this is all so familiar to you that you feel twenty again. you feel young and out of control and so drunk in love with a man you can’t have that it physically hurts. he’s ripped you off the past few years where you’ve grown into yourself. you’re twenty again and so tragically in love. 

“i wanted to punch his fucking face because his touching you, because i’m not allowed to touch you,” he continues as you sink to the floor. 

“you’re the only one who’s never let yourself touch me, daniel,” you whispered on the phone, broken down from one phone call.

he laughs bitterly and you might as well not have said anything. “and here i am, can’t even sleep next to my damn girlfriend because i keep thinking of you. it’s so unfair.”

you wanted to laugh too. unfair? how does he get to talk about unfair when he’d been the one to create this mess for the two of you? how dare he talk about being unfair when he’s the one who’s with another girl? this is unfair. it’s unfair to you. he doesn’t deserve to talk about it being unfair. 

the night he left you in your hotel room on your twenty first birthday, you’d called his name again and again like a child. you hoped by some magical thing that he’ll appear. you were desperate. 

“you shouldn’t have come back,” he says. “not yet. we both weren’t ready.” 

you wipe the tears falling to your cheeks. “and when will that happen? when will we be ready? maybe it’s time to accept that it isn’t us.” 

you heard him let out a shaky breath. “don’t say that. don’t say it.”

“i’m so tired of waiting. if it wasn’t us then and it isn’t us now, why do we still believe that it’s us someday?” 

“ask me to stay,” he whispers. “ask me to stay and i will. ask me to drop her and i will. i will drop everything if you ask me to.”

you cry, pulling your knees against your chest. “goodbye, dan.”

struggled through the night with someone new

the next time you see daniel again, you invited him.  you’re twenty five, it’s two thousand and twenty two, you’re engaged and you’d gotten arrogant. 

you met your fiance, james, in university. you’re in the same program and the same friend group though you never paid much attention to him. for the most part, you never really paid much attention to anyone. six months later and he asked you on a date, one you’d declined without a second thought. it didn’t matter how many guys asked you out, you always declined, daniel in the back of your mind always reminding you of what you’re truly waiting for. 

but james never treated you any differently. he never made it awkward and never put you on the spot. for the most part, you both acted like it never happened. but you applied to the same doctorate program and coincidentally  ended up in apartments right next to each other. he was a comfort, a friend you already knew that you could rely on. he never made anymore advances towards you but it was inevitable to grow closer. 

he’s stability and curiosity. he never once pulled back whenever you touched him or apologized for liking you. it was a breath of fresh air – to be admired so freely. you did your thesis together, hands tightly clamped together as you defended it. 

you were the one to ask james out on a date, knowing he wouldn’t again in fear of making you uncomfortable. and after leaning on each other as friends for so long, transitioning to become lovers was so easy, you didn’t have to worry what anyone would say or think of you. you didn’t have to worry what your family would think. everything was easy with him. 

james was so different from the type of love you were used to. you could love him without guilt, without pain and longing. you could love him simply, easily. you didn’t need to ask him to love you back, didn’t need to wonder if he’d still love you tomorrow. it was so easy being with him and you’d gotten lazy. waiting and hurting and crying for daniel was exhausting. 

you wanted a love you didn’t have to fight for. 

you’ve convinced yourself that you no longer felt anything for daniel, gaslighting yourself into believing that you’d close that chapter and left it in the past. you can move on now. there was no need for you constantly being miserable and lonely waiting for him to be ready. 

and yet here you were, your fiance’s arm around you as you stare at the front door. you shouldn’t have invited him. there was no reason for you to do so but you wanted to prove yourself. you wanted to prove to yourself that he no longer affected you. daniel is in the past and you’ve told yourself repeatedly that you’ve let him go but now you wanted to show yourself that you have. 

if you’re lucky, maybe he wouldn’t attend at all.

“are you okay, love?” james whispered against your ear, having noticed your stiff posture. you spent weeks planning your engagement party, stressing over the smallest details but now you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. 

you loved this about him – the way he’s able to read you like an open book. james knows there was someone before him – someone who’d left you broken and torn apart. he just didn’t know that person would be attending today. 

you nod, taking a sip from the champagne glass you’d been holding as an excuse to stop your hands from fidgeting. “just a bit nervous from the crowd.”

“don’t worry too much. it’s just friends and family.” he gives you an assuring smile, accepting your reasoning as he pulls you closer towards him to try and comfort you. 

you’re an idiot, the biggest one there is. max told you himself after you told him that you sent the invite to daniel. you’re a massive idiot and you’re in denial and you set your own trap, tempting yourself when there was no need to and now you were going to hurt james because the moment daniel entered the room, your breath was knocked out of you, heart beating furiously as though it recognized him. 

it was daniel. how can you be so stupid? 

his eyes meets yours and you missed the way those eyes of brown settle on your skin, grazing as though his soul was touching yours. but they’re sad this time – sad and exhausted and defeated and you can practically hear the way your heart shatters. it was daniel. it has always been daniel. it will always be daniel. how stupid were you to think otherwise? how stupid were you to believe you could ever forgot the way your heart and soul roars back to life the moment he enters the room. 

you’ll break james’ heart, you’re breaking your own and you’ve broken his. 

the entire time, you and james had stood before the door, greeting all of your guests and showing them where they can wait. you absolutely had no plans to greet daniel. it was bad enough that he was here, but james, sweet sweet james, who had no idea what he was doing dragging you towards the formula one driver, hadn’t gotten the memo.

he didn’t know that having daniel’s eyes on you so close would set wildfires in your stomach and he didn’t know how exhausting and difficult it was to contain those wildfires. he didn’t know that he was burning himself as he all but dragged you in front of him. 

“hey,” your fiance says cluelessly. “daniel ricciardo!” 

daniel is looking at you and you feel frozen under his gaze. it’s heavy. he makes you feel heavy, like you were cheating on james simply by looking at you. you feel nauseous but with guilt eating up at every cell in your stomach. but you shouldn’t feel guilty. he had no right to make you feel guilty for moving on. he moved on. last you him, he had a girlfriend. why aren’t you allowed to do the same? why can’t you go on with your life and build a future with a nice man that isn’t him?

“i’m a big fan,” james says cheerfully, offering his hand for daniel to shake and forcing him to tear his gaze away from you. 

daniel forces a smile to his face, moving to shake his hand and you know this is the part where you’re supposed to introduce him. daniel is your guest after all and so you clear your throat, hoping your smile isn’t as stiff as you feel like it is. 

“james, this is my friend daniel. daniel, my fiance james.” you manage to let out, gripping your champagne glass to avoid having to touch either of them the same way you avoid the way daniel’s eyes hardened when the word fiance tumbled from your lips. 

“it’s really nice to meet you, mate,” james says with a massive smile. god he’s so nice and sweet and you hate what you’re doing to him. 

daniel says nothing, only smiling and you end this entire interaction the moment you get a chance to. pointing at the snacks table, you turned to him. “there’s food over there and max is around here somewhere. nice seeing you again, daniel.”

you were lying through your goddamn teeth. thankfully, he seems to have taken the hint, walking away without saying another word. 

the entire night, you feel his eyes on you. even as james makes his speech declaring his love for you, daniel stares at you with hooded eyes. he looks pissed and sad at the same time and you wanted to scream. stop looking at me! you couldn’t take anymore of this. he’s looking at you as though you’re under a microscope – staring into your soul like he could reach you there. 

you’re an idiot and now that he’s in the same room as you are, the illusion has left you. you’re not over daniel because you can never be over him. he’s engraved in your soul, his fingerprints all over your heart. he was, and still is, the sun that made your universe turn. you’re choking and you needed to get away lest you burst.

daniel is overwhelming. he’s terrifying and addicting and you hate him but you’re madly in love with him. and worse of all, you’ll spend the rest of your life being in love with him. you’ll spend the rest of your life wanting him and hurting for him and and longing for him and that’s a goddamn fucking tragedy. 

you manage to get through the party, practically dissociating yourself. eventually the guests leave one by one, only your family and closest friends left. you sit on the foyer with max, the dutchman watching you drink champagne straight out of the bottle.

“you shouldn’t have invited him,” he tells you quietly. “you were fucking yourself over.”

you roll your eyes. you stare inside the house where daniel is talking to your father. your dad offered his home for your engagement party. you know he likes james. your mother too and your little siblings can’t get enough of him. that fact almost makes you want to throw up. 

“i thought i was over him,” you say.

it’s max’s turn to roll his eyes. “you’re just a good liar. you’ll never be over daniel and he’ll never be over you. even i know that.”

you glared at him. you already know what he’s telling you and quite frankly, you had no desire to hear it again. “i hate you.” 

“neither you nor dan would survive this long without me.” max laughed and you threw the throw pillow at him. 

not that he’s lying. you met max the same time you did daniel and you clicked immediately. he knows everything, comforted you many times as you pined over dan. he’s your best friend and he’s also daniel’s best friend. he knows more than anyone how deep the connection you two shared. 

“go home already,” you tell him. you’re tired and slightly drunk and you just want to go to bed now. “and make sure you take him with you.” 

max laughed at the way you said him like it’s a bad taste on your tongue but did as you said anyways. 

that night, you laid on the bed you and james shared, you couldn’t sleep. he’s fast asleep next to you, his arm over your stomach as you lay wide awake. you shouldn’t have invited him because now he’s turned your world upside down again. everything you’ve built for yourself was gone the moment his eyes met yours. he’s a plague, sucking all the happiness out of you. 

eventually though, the restless night was about to get worse as you picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts till you found his name. you stared at it for a while, knowing that you shouldn’t but you’re rattled and your self control is at an all time low. you shouldn’t have been trusted to make any types of decisions. 

you come back to what you need

daniel was waiting for you when you parked your car outside his apartment building, hand gripping his phone as he watched you step out of the vehicle. four years since he first let you go and one year since he last saw you and you look as beautiful as you ever were.

he shouldn’t have told you to come but he’s so exhausted from staying away, from waiting for the right time. there will never be a right time and tonight, he’s done holding back. he wants you, he always has and he no longer has the energy to stop himself from wanting you. 

“i shouldn’t be here,” was the first thing you said as he opened the door for you. 

a lazy, almost mocking smile covered his lips. “and yet here you are.”

you glared at him but daniel’s heart was soaring. it’s been so long since you were this close. he can smell the perfume that followed you and the scent of your shampoo. he’s so so tired, he just wanted to hold you. 

he’s going to make this as hard as possible, you realize. you’re no longer a child, he doesn’t need to play nice and easy with you anymore. you’re a woman now and he’s going to treat you like one. but you just need to get over this. you need closure. you need to put him in the past where he truly belongs so you can go about your life. you need him out of your system. 

daniel may be everything you wanted but it’s time to accept that he’ll never be what you need. 

“why did you come?” you asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as you can. three years pining for him in red bull and four years of longing for him and everything leads you here. 

daniel cocked an eyebrow. he’s done with playing nice. “you invited me.”

okay, you walked right into that one. “you still shouldn’t have come.” 

daniel wanted to laugh. “i guess we  both like doing shit that we shouldn’t do. now the question is, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“i’m getting married, daniel,” you whispered. “we need to accept that it isn’t us.”

“i thought you did that in abu dhabi.”

he’s being an asshole. “you’re the one who told me to leave. you don’t get to be mad that i’m moving on.”

“you’re not moving on,” he laughed, leaning against the wall. 

you glared at him. “yes, i am. i’m getting married!” 

he looked at you as though you said something hilarious and you wanted to punch him in the face for it. “and yet you’re here.” 

“for closure.”

he stepped towards you and you found yourself holding your breath. from this close, you can see the freckles on your cheeks, the ones you used to spend all your time trying to memorize. the curve of his plump lips and the intensity in his eyes. and when he touched, it felt like the first drop of rain after a million years of dessert. his hand perfectly fitted on your hips, warm and so achingly familiar. 

his hand snaked from your hip to your legs, finger light on your skin as he ever so slightly tugged at your shorts. you need to pull away but your body needs him closer. you want him. you want him to get closer. you want him to touch you more, to feel his skin against yours. you can have every single inch of his body pressed against yours and you’d still begged to get closer. 

his lips graze your cheek before it reaches your ear, even breathes in contrast to your desperately shaky ones. “is that really what you want, baby?”

with every ounce of sanity you have left, you forced yourself to nod and you can feel the way his lips formed into a mocking smile against your cheek. 

“really?” he mocked. “then why are you clutching my shirt like you want more?”

you hadn’t even realized the way your fist is holding on to his shirt, pulling him closer towards you like you’re terrified he’d disappear right between your fingertips. 

“fuck,” you muttered, the heat of his skin against yours dizzying. james is nowhere near your mind as your hand slips under his shirt, self control flying out the window as you feel the curves of his abs. you want him. you’ve always wanted him so desperately that you’re willing to go to hell for it. “fuck me.” 

he kissed you then, fire in his lips as it finally finally touched yours. this is all you’ve ever asked for and it’s worth the damnation you’d be paying in return. you pull him impossibly closer, going on your tiptoes. you need to get closer. closer, closer, closer. 

like an addicted chainsmoker to cigarettes, you can’t get enough of his kiss. you want to inhale the fumes of his breath, of him, deep into your lungs. he tugs at your shirt and you pull away enough for him to get it off. 

you grunt in complaint when he pulled away from you, only to swallow it back as his lips attached to the skin of your chest, licking and nibbling as it slowly made it way down. 

“oh,” you breathe out as he lips attached to your breast, your fingers tugging at his curls as his tongue circled your nipple. 

you should have stopped him the moment his hand unbuttoned your shorts but as he bent you over and his hand slipped between your folds and he trapped your moans with his mouth, you were far too gone. god be damned, morality be damned. you’d crawl through hell for this. 

but eventually, reality comes knocking and morning comes and your bliss ends. you woke up from your phone ringing, cocooned in daniel’s arms. 

“don’t answer it,” he mutters but sleepily, you grab your phone from the nightstand, seeing james’ name on your screen. 

and that snaps you out of it, being reminded of what happened the night before and what you did and you all but jumped out of his arms as though his touch burned you. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you hurriedly put on your clothes, daniel watching you still naked from his place on the bed. you turned to him, “this never happened.”

you watched as anger slowly filled his eyes. “are you being serious right now?” 

“i’m getting married, daniel!” you’re panicking now, screaming as your phone rings again. 

“then why the fuck were you knocking on my door at two in the morning?” 

you ignore him, gathering your things. “it was a mistake.”

he’s glaring at you now, looking like he wanted to start screaming. but he remains silent, only glaring as you gather your things and put on your clothes. 

you look at him again, apologies and sorrow in your eyes. “i’m sorry but this isn’t me. this can’t be me.”

and then you left, not allowing yourself to look back as you ran to your car. maybe in a parallel universe or a different world, you sit next to each other at the kitchen table and go over the grocery list, but for all the universes and worlds there are, this one was not enough, not for now and not for you and daniel. 

when you finally arrive home, your father is in the kitchen, eyeing you up as you walk past him. “where were you? james was looking for you.” 

you grimace. there’s a knowing look in christian’s eyes as though whatever you reason he already knows will be a lie. and unfortunately, he’d be right. “i was out with friends.”

“at seven in the morning?” he narrowed his eyes and you hated his timing. of all times, did he have to question you now? 

“breakfast.” 

you all but run to your room before he can question you further, thanking all the gods that james isn’t there. for a moment, you stood stunned, reeling from the past twenty four hours as the guilt settles in your chest. you need to get as far away from daniel as you possibly can. you can’t be the type of woman who cheats on her fiance. you refuse to be. you refuse to break a good man’s heart like that. 

and yet as you finally calm down enough to try and fix yourself, your phone buzzes, his name appearing on your screen saying he sent you a text message. 

daniel i’ve loved you in every way i can. i loved you selfishly and so i tried loving you distantly, i tried loving you selflessly, i tried loving you correctly but i just want to love you now. if i could do it all over again, i would love you better but i can’t love you more than i do now.

this love came back to me

the wind is chilly as you step foot in hungary and the dress you wore is definitely not meant for it but still, you persevere, finding your way to the red bull motorhome and greeting your father. the last time you attended a grand prix was abu dhabi 2021 and yet it still feels like home. 

“there’s my biggest fan!” max cheered the moment he saw you, immediately wrapping his arms around you. he hasn’t seen you for nearly a year and he missed his best friend. to be fair, no one has seen you for nearly a year, disappearing from the face of the earth after your failed engagement. 

after the night of your engagement party, the guilt ate you alive as you realized that you were exactly the kind of girl you didn’t want to be and so you came clean to james. he screamed and cried and said you could work it out but you were exhausted from lying to yourself. as long as there was daniel, you can never be happy with anyone else and no man deserve to be someone you simply settled with. 

you realized then that you’d lost yourself. you don’t know who you are, don’t know who you’ve become and so you left everything you know, ignoring everyone’s calls as you attempt to find yourself. 

“actually, i’m supporting ferrari,” you joke once max finally lets you go. 

“i’ll disown you!” your father screamed from across the garage, making you and max laugh. 

“have you seen him?” max asked, whispering as though he’s telling you a secret.

you shake your head. coincidentally enough, or ironically, the first gp you attend in a while, daniel is announced to race in. and max, quite frankly, is far too excited for the two of you to see each other again. he’s had enough watching you both be stupid. 

after catching up with max and the mechanics you still know, you find yourself in a cafe with your father, talking about everything and nothing at all. christian watched your every move and you can see the worry in his eyes. he’s part of the people you ran from and you know that it was a cruel thing to do to your father. 

and then he was there and you’re all too familiar with the feeling of your world freezing the moment your eyes meet. he looks better, happier and you’re sure you look different too, hopefully more grown. 

“you’re here,” he says, unbelieving. 

you smile, genuine and free this time. “i’m here.” 

and this time around, you were both tired of fighting it. it’s him. it’s always been him. there was no point denying it. he’s the only person you’ll ever want. you are totally and irrevocably in love with him – the kind of love that’s so intense it feels like an explosion of fireworks throughout your whole body. the love that leaves you sleepless but exhilarated, speechless but poetic, lost but exactly where you're meant to be. 

and in that moment, your lives flashed before your eyes – marriage, children, growing old together. 

daniel ricciardo is the defining moment, the collision of stars that slammed into you so hard it tore your heart in pieces and only he can put it back together again. 

he smiles at you and you smile back. 

hello, love, welcome home.

and finally, finally, it felt like the world isn’t burning anymore. 

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[neiptune]

no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you

cw: 1.4k wc, mentions of alcohol, painful breakup, hurt no comfort, reader is a writer, you call levi in the middle of the night and the last thing you expect is for him to pick up

You don’t expect him to pick up.

Levi is always busy: when he’s not working he’s at the gym, tidying up his apartment or entertaining a surprisingly large social circle one wouldn’t expect someone as quiet as him to have.

Levi has hobbies. He enjoys going to the movies, visiting exhibitions, experimenting in the kitchen with western recipes.

Levi is also usually asleep at 1 am, the man has quite the regular routine and tries to be in bed by no later than midnight because, of course, he gets up at the ass crack of dawn.

But he picks up and suddenly the glasses of wine shared with your friends, the joy of a night out still lingering in your throat like magical golden bubbles, weighs heavy on your chest. He wasn’t supposed to pick up.

“Hey” his voice is gravelly but no as in I-was-almost-asleep-you-asshole-what-could-you-possibly-want. It reminds you of all the times you two have laughed until tears streamed down your cheeks, those incredibly rare moments where you could bribe him with your silly humor and stupid videos, knowing looks, exasperated smile. His voice used to always get so husky after laughing for so long, almost a protest of throat muscles not used to the foreign action.

“Hi” you swallow what feels like a lump of ashes “sorry, it’s kinda late. I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping. I’m actually at the bar with some friends”

You hear the music, the voices, the clinking of glasses.

Well, that’s new.

“Wow” you fail to suppress a tiny, amused smile.

“I know, right?” when you don’t say anything back, he clears his throat “how are you?”

“Good” the reply is automatic, you’re kinda on autopilot and being tipsy makes the entire situation just weird, unexpected, instead of painfully embarrassing “um, what about you?”

“I’m okay. Currently putting myself out there”

“Like I always told you to?”

He smiles a little at that but you can’t see it and it’s been too long to guess the stretch of his lips by his voice only.

“Like you always told me to”

“I don’t want to keep you”

“No, it’s fine” Levi inhales and waves back at one of his friends sitting at the table with everyone else while he lingers by the counter “I’m waiting for my beer. Erwin’s here, he’d probably want me to say hello on his behalf”

You ache for another little piece that has been taken out of your life for good the afternoon Levi broke up with you. His family and his hobbies and his routine and his friends. They all used to be a little yours, too.

“Tell him I said hi”

His gaze fixates on a tiny stain on the counter and as he starts absentmindedly scraping the surface with one nail, the words come out on their own accord.

“It’s nice to hear from you, by the way. I thought about calling but I didn’t want to make it weird or uncomfortable”

You melt against the comfort of your pillows, wishing the couch could absorb the sudden exhaustion consuming your cardiac muscles. Fuck, it still hurts. Who would’ve guessed? Five months of going out with your friends, drinking, dancing with strangers, downloading dating apps only to delete them again. It’s never enough. How could it be? Can five months fix a shattered heart that hurts as much as crushed bones? He’s pulled you apart and you still can’t quite remember which piece is supposed to go where. Five months are definitely not enough.

“For me, you mean” it comes out bitter, borderline resentful, and Levi sighs. He sighs. It makes you clench your fist.

“Don’t be like that”

“I’m not being like anything”

“Well, it’s not what I meant. But I know you need something to be mad at, you always do” he retorts.

You sit up straight at that, a jolt of electricity running across your spine. The skin of your forearms starts tingling.

Fuck. You.

“Levi” you’re a fucking asshole fuck you fuck you fuck you for leaving me fuck you for making me fall in love with you “seriously?”

“I’m sorry” he says and he actually means it, tone so sincere it plants a scorching fire poker right through your chest “sorry. That was shitty”

“It’s fine”

No point in fighting anyway, you want to add. Isn’t that what caused everything to go to shit in the first place? Arguments, bitter retorts, stupid quarrels and frustration building up over the silliest things.

I’m too tired for this.

I literally just got back from the office, can you give me a fucking break?

Levi, is it really so hard to wash your goddamn mug in the morning before leaving?

I don’t want to go out tonight.

I have plans with my friends, actually.

Shit, I forgot. Was it today?

It’s okay. No worries.

I’m not sure.

I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore.

It’s fine.

“How’s your family?” he conveniently changes the subject with evergreen smoothness. You shut your eyes.

“They’re fine” my mom misses you “dad is going to buy that kawasaki ninja, I think”

“Are you kidding?” his chuckle startles you and the room suddenly feels like a ship, couch and pavement and walls and paintings undulating dangerously “wow, that’s some dedication”

“Yeah, he’s pretty excited. Are things in the office alright? Is that intern of yours, Armin, still there?”

“I hired him, actually. Pretty good catch”

Pieces that were taken, new pieces adding up to his life without you being aware in the slightest. It’s none of your business anymore.

“That’s great, Levi” it’s redundant, really, repeating his name so many times. But you can’t remember the last time you said it out loud and it still tastes perfect on your tongue, weighs exactly the correct amount.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Ah. I’m kinda in a slump right now”

“Not the first time. You’ll bounce back, can’t wait to look for your next masterpiece in the thrillers and crime section” now you hear the smile and your eyes are suddenly wet.

“I miss you” it comes out before you can stop it, before you can think. He used to find your inebriated state adorable, funny, attractive even. He used to buy expensive red wine you’d share on your couch and cool fingers would sneak underneath your shirts and jeans and his laugh would fill the air like a perfect melody as his lips were softly pressed to your neck.

“God. Guess that’s a weird thing to say. Did I make this weird?”

“No” his voice is kind and dripping with sympathy, which makes your insides churn with sudden pangs of the worst nausea “I miss you too. We were pretty special”

Oh, Levi. Always so gentle at breaking your heart. Never too rough, yet careful enough to paint some very well needed permanent, conclusive hue over three years. You wish it could’ve been just as easy for you.

“Right” then why did you go? “breakups suck”

The childishness of what you just said makes you giggle.

“They really do” he indulges “it’s been a while but you know, right? I’ll always care about you”

It really hasn't been a while for you. His absence painfully throbs along the margins of your days, the spot he used to take in your life and your couch and your kitchen now filled with devastating emptiness.

“I really loved you” Levi adds softly and it’s a concession. You’re grateful.

“I really loved you, too” I would still cross oceans and climb mountains to get to you “have fun, yeah? I mean, be happy. Find whatever it was I couldn’t give you” when did you start crying? You hope he can’t hear it in how oddly your voice is quivering.

Levi sighs again, quietly. You gave me plenty, you gave me everything. He wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that you don’t have anything to blame yourself for. But he knows it’s gonna sound terrible, condescending and disgusting. He knows you’ll heal on your terms, it’s not his place to interfere anymore.

“Thank you for calling” he murmurs and the line goes silent for a second too long, has him shortly wondering if you’re already gone.

“Yeah. Sure, um. Goodnight, Levi” you hang up immediately because you know he’s already guessed the wetness of your cheeks and is probably imagining the redness of your eyes.

He stares at the screen, your name hasn’t blinked back at him in a while. It gives him comfort. But then his beer is getting warm and his friends are calling for him and the phone is shoved back into his pocket and the night has only just begun.

[leclercsainzz]

RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME

— 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: not much, just a small series collection of taylor swift’s songs with the formula one drivers

or

in which they say that timing is everything when it comes to love, and that sometimes the right person can come into your life at the wrong time

➝ f1 drivers

→ → → → → → → → → → → → →

i. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂 - red

— “losing him was blue, like i’d never known … missing him was dark gray, all alone … forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met, but loving him was red”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: as time passed and they went their separate ways, the intensity of that love faded into a dull ache of longing and regret

ii. 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐙 - champagne problems

— “she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to say “yes” to his proposal

iii. 𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍 - the way i loved you

— “you were wild and crazy … just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated got away by some mistake”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: despite knowing the fact that they aren’t good for each other, they can’t help but want each other

iv. 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍 - cardigan

— “i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired”

����𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which memories of their time together come flooding back, making it hard to fully move on

v. 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋 - my tears ricochet

— “and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain crossing out the good years”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which his bitterness and resentment erase the moments of happiness they once shared

vi. 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎 - i don’t want to live forever

— “i’m sitting eyes wide open and i got one thing stuck in my mind, wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which she might’ve dodged a bullet, but he certainly lost the love of his life

vii. 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 - i bet you think about me

— “i bet you think about me when you’re out at your cool indie music concerts every week”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: they’re over, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about her every now and then

viii. 𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈 - you’re losing me

— “my heart won’t start anymore for you ‘cause you’re losing me”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which she’s slowly falling out of love

ix. 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐘 - mr. perfectly fine

— “how’s your heart after breakin’ mine?”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: despite being the one who ended things, he’s more heartbroken than she is

x. 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐍 - the great war

— “i vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the great war”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: many of them did not survive the great war of heartbreak, and unfortunately, they were among those who did not make it through”

xi. 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 - exile

— “all this time, i never learned to read your mind … i couldn’t turn things around”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: “he was so focused on his own feelings and needs that he failed to notice the subtle hints she was trying to send

xii. 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐎𝐍 - right where you left me

— “you left me no choice but to stay here forever”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which she’s still at the restaurant

xiii. 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 - happiness

— “no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him too”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in which they both deeply hurt each other

xiv. 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 - better man

— “push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: she’d been hurt many times before and didn’t want to risk getting hurt again, so she pushed his love away and caused more heartbreak

xv. 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒𝐎𝐍 - bigger than the whole sky

— “what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: what could’ve, would’ve, or should’ve been the one for her, but sometimes things don’t work out as you hope

xvi. 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐎 - sad beautiful tragic

— “distance, timing, breakdowns, fighting … silence, the train runs off its tracks”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: maybe it was the distance that kept them apart, or the timing that always seemed to be off

author’s note: helloooo! so i decided to start a new series:) i got inspired by some of @love-belle series of the drivers, so make sure to check her page out:))

i’ll still be posting request that you guys have sent in … if you have sent requests, don’t worry i’ll get to them eventually 😊

[superiorsturgeon]

Forgiveness

Ren: *visiting with Arkos couple after a fight with Nora*

Ren: *sighs* Thank you again for letting me come by on such short notice, Jaune…I just…needed some space from Nora right now…

Jaune: *doing dishes after dinner while Pyrrha plays with Arkos kiddos in the living room* Hey, it’s no problem! The twins love when their favorite uncle visits! *pauses awkwardly* We can set up the pull-out bed after I finish, if you need to stay the night…?

Ren: Thank you again…*hands Jaune a cleaned plate*

Jaune: *stacks plate in drying rack and starts on a glass*

Jaune: …you know, Ren, if you wanna talk-

Ren: *interrupting suddenly* How did you forgive Pyrrha?

Jaune: *nearly drops glass* W-what…?!

Ren: I-I’m sorry, I’m not very good at…expressing my emotions or talking about others…

Ren: But after what happened with Nora, I need to know!

Ren: Back when Beacon fell, Pyrrha sent you away before she went up in the tower…you said that was your first kiss, but then she used it to trap you in a locker. It was a betrayal of your trust when Pyrrha chose to send you away and go to a fight she couldn’t hope to win.

Ren: I could see that she hurt you, Jaune. Even when she came back, I saw the pain she caused you, but now…

Ren/Jaune: *look over at Pyrrha playing with squealing Arkos children, balancing one on each shoulder while squatting up and down*

Ren: …and now, I’ve never seen two people more happy or in love.

Ren: So please, I need to know…

Ren: How did you do it? How did you work past something like that and stay together?

Jaune: *puts down the glass and pauses, watching Pyrrha do push-ups with her son clinging to her back while her daughter crawls underneath*

Jaune: …I gotta tell you, Ren, it was really rough for us, when Pyrrha came back. At first, I was like, SUPER happy to see her again, you know? It was like everything could go back to the way it was before Beacon fell!

Jaune: But after that feeling wore off, I remembered all that stuff you were just talking about, like how Pyr kissed me, and then shoved me in a locker and ran off without me to get killed instead of coming with us, and it started to bug me.

Jaune: …like, I REALLY started to resent her.

Ren: We all noticed. You stopped talking around her and stopped looking her in the eye. I think Pyrrha almost cried every time she saw you because you seemed so distant.

Jaune: Yeah…I was kinda bitter…Looking back, I know what she did was a dumb teenage decision made under a lot of unfair pressure, but at the time I was still mad, and I guess I kinda wanted to see her hurt because she hurt me…

Jaune: …in hindsight, it was pretty shitty of me to be all passive-aggressive and cold just to hurt her back, and I was being a dumb teenager too…

Ren: Did that realization make the difference?

Jaune: Nope.

Jaune: Believe it or not, I called my mom.

Jaune: I told her everything that was going on, and my problems with Pyrrha, and she gave me some advice her grandpa told her about relationships:

Jaune: *does a southern accent* “When the goin’ gets tough, ya only have two options: Ya either stop lovin’ ‘em, or ya love ‘em a whole lot more!” 🤠

Ren: …so…

Ren: …that’s the secret?

Jaune: *resumes putting cleaned plates away in cabinet* …weeeeelllll…there was a lot more to it than that! Pyrrha and I had to have a big talk about our relationship, and there were a lot of tears and apologies, but great-grandpappy’s advice kinda made me sit down and decide whether I wanted to be with Pyrrha or not, and once I decided that I wanted to be with her I could figure out what I had to do…

Jaune: *feels an impact as his son glomps onto his leg like a koala*

Jaune: *grins down at Arkos kid* And I think I picked the better choice! *scoops up his son as Pyrrha gathers up Arkos daughter for bedtime*

Ren: …your great-grandpappy sounds like a wise man, Jaune…

Ren: If you don’t mind, I think I need to make a call.

Ren later called Nora and they made up on Jaune and Pyrrha’s pull-out couch.

Nora: *snuggled against Ren’s chest* I’m glad you called, Ren, but what made you decide to give me another chance?

Ren: Someone gave me some advice that helped me decide what I wanted:

Ren: *in a terribly-executed southern accent* “When tha goin’ gets tuff, ya only got two opshuns: stop luvin ‘um, or ya luv um a whole lot more!”

Nora: …

Nora: Ren, that was sweet and touching and everything, but that accent was, like, the WORST accent I’ve ever heard! 🤣

Ren: Nora, please, it wasn’t THAT bad…

Nora: I love you, Rennie, but that was so bad it was offensive! 😂

[thesunisatangerine]

porque volví por ti (tú eres mía)

“Are you happy, Alexia? With me?”

“Why are you even–Yes! Yes, I am! What–”

You gently grabbed her face and you placed your forehead against hers. You looked into her wide, pleading eyes, and whispered softly, “Oh, Alexia. Imagine how much happier you’d be being with the right person.”

Alexia shook her head, adamant and defiant, and as she did so tears left her eyes. 

“Please, don’t do this. I love you. Please, I love you, damn it!” She put her hands over yours and squeezed them tight as if you were in danger of vanishing, like you were a spectre that was about to disappear. 

Emotion coiled in the base of your throat, choking you. You couldn’t say those words back to her even if you wanted to, not when you were already weak enough, any more and you would find yourself back in her embrace and you couldn’t allow yourself that relief because this was what needed to be done. Alexia would be so much happier, so much more content without you in the way.

“Alexia–Alexia, listen to me. You can’t see it now and you might end up resenting me but you’ll be happier for this, I know it. Everyone can see that you’re complete when you’re with her. I see it, too. The both of you just work and I’ll be damned to get in the way of something so beautiful.”

“Is this what you want?” Alexia asked and her voice wavered as she did so. Her eyes remained trained on yours, the plea in them as vivid as the red of her lips and the stain of tears on her cheeks.

You bit your lip so hard you were surprised you didn’t taste blood on your tongue. You whispered your answer. “Yes.”

Alexia sniffled, her brows pinched as she closed her eyes but she didn’t say anything. A moment after, she let go of your hands and left hers hanging between her legs, dejected and resigned. She looked so small like this and it hurt–you knew breaking up with her would but you didn’t expect the pain to weigh this much.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for everything.” You closed your eyes as you kissed her forehead and you allowed yourself to linger there for a moment, to savour the last taste of her skin, the last feel of her warmth against your lips. And then you wiped the tears from her cheeks with your thumb, straightened yourself, grabbed your coat from the counter, and you headed out the door.

Training the next morning was a silent affair as if everyone could feel something big went down because not even the staff and the trainers said anything. You were thankful for the space and privacy they were giving you but guilt burnt in you like a torrid brand–the last thing you wanted was to negatively affect the team’s dynamic, especially being close to the start of the Champions League like this.

Your eyes unintentionally wandered to where Alexia was, a few metres ahead with her earphones plugged in as she did her resistance training, a very rare sighting and a general indication that she had a lot of thing on her mind. And when Alexia was like this, everyone knew she needed some breathing room. It was not uncommon, however, to see Val being exempt from this unspoken rule so you weren’t surprised to see her join Alexia.

It also wasn’t a surprise that Alexia let her stay.

As if she sensed your eyes on the both of them, Alexia’s eyes found you. You were trapped in her gaze for a second before you quickly averted yours, standing up and putting away your weights and mat, and you moved to the stationary bikes that were located on the other side of the training room, away from their view. You didn’t even realise you picked the bike next to Mapi until you felt her hand on your shoulder which brought your attention to her. Clear understanding was in her eyes and the sympathy just as apparent. She squeezed your shoulder lightly, gave you a small smile, and then she let go. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat but the feeling remained; it tasted bitter and heavy on your tongue. Not knowing what else to do, you plugged your earphones in and hoped that time would pass quickly enough for this wound to heal. 

wanted to drop this cause the other one is still not close to finishing. just an idea for a possible one shot with reader, alexia, and val (an original character). not yet sure if i will actually make this into an actual fic so lmk if you want it to be continued.

[may-fanfic]

Quiet Sense 

summary: Tara can’t get her drinking in control and risks losing you. 

warnings: Drinking ig

word count: 1,267

((feel free to send in any request 💕))

                                                          *******

"You're drunk." The words spilled past the frown on your lips, leaving a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. Tara rolled her eyes, a dopey smile plastered onto her lips. "But, I'm here," she spoke matter of factly; you hesitated for a moment; she'd always do this, come late at night and be gone in the morning. Before any words could slip past your lips, Tara squeezed her way inside; a soft huff fell from your lips, slamming your door shut abruptly.

"Thought you'd be happy to see me." Tara taunted you with a soft caress on the arm, but you ripped away. "You can spend the night; take the couch." You shrugged lightly, avoiding the look on the plastered girl's face. It was sobering, having you so displeased with her arrival. "I don't want the couch." It was an old, flat sofa; it was impolite even to offer it. "You're too drunk to get home, Tara." The disappointment was all she could hear, it was loud most times, but she hated when it came in gentle looks and soft smiles. "I don't need you looking after me." She snapped, bitterness filling up her throat and pulsing at her temples.

You clenched your jaw, looking at the girl you were so sure you once knew, she had bloodshot eyes now, and her mouth reeked of whiskey,  but she was still her. She was still the girl who stayed up late, studying with you to ensure you'd pass. "So, why are you here?" Tara needed to see you that night; she wasn't even sure why; maybe it was when the man at the party kissed her or when she looked around the place and swore she'd seen you. Either way, all she could think about was you.

She overlooked your face, tired expression, and the pout that took over your lips; she missed them, how they felt, and how they tasted. She wondered if she kissed you, would you still taste like faint hints of strawberry?

"Why would you even ask me that?" Her eyebrows knitted together in anger, and her lips parted; she could feel a slight tingle throughout her body. She missed when she could drop by your house without any judgment. "It's 3 in the morning, Tara." Her eyes squinted through what seemed to be a puddle of tears. "So?" Her lips tugged downwards reluctantly.

"You never come when you're sober." It was the truth; it tightened your chest when you uttered it. "And you're never sober anymore." A sharp pain coursed through her body, her breath hitched in her throat, and you stood in front of her, arms crossed, shoulders rested, entirely calm.

"Fuck me for wanting to visit my friend, right?" her voice broke, the tears burned her deep brown eyes; her fingers balled at her sides into tight fists. You laughed lightly. "Is that all I am?" Tara began to shake her head but was confused at her reaction, she wished she could read your mind, tell you what you wanted to hear to stay one more night with you, but instead, she stood there, staring at the red in your cheeks and the small line that took place between your eyebrows.

"I'll get you a blanket." Turning on your heels, you moved slowly up the stairs, a small piece of you prayed she called out for you, but Tara never did.

Tara was right where you left her, standing there in the same place, her expression identical. "Tell me what I can do." It was a plead, a desperate attempt to feel what she once had. The words clawed out of her before she could even think about it. "Sit." Your look was tender and soft, but it reminded her just how resentful you were towards her. Tara was always envious of how forgiving you'd been; it was a trait she'd always admired in you.

Tara did as you said and sat by the pile of blankets you laid out; the sofa was just how she remembered it; she could feel the spring digging into her thigh. Her makeup was a smeared mess, her hair fully unruly, but that didn't help the pound of your heart when you saw her because even like this, she was still the most beautiful girl.

You passed a hand over the crown of her head, attempting to tame the flyaways; it was a tender gesture that you didn't even think twice about, but it was something that Tara found herself craving most nights. Her eyes burned into yours despite yours never meeting hers.

"You need some help, Tara."  She heard it frequently from Sam, but there was something about the way you said it, it made her chest burn, and her eyes welled up with tears. Your hand found her cheek, caressing softly at the freckled skin, and she melted into it entirely. "I know." That was one of the reasons she found herself back at your place so many nights; she felt grounded with you. Tara knew her drinking was out of control; she knew it by the way she was failing classes, losing relationships, and missing out on life, but it certainly helped. She wasn't sure there was anything to soothe her taunting brain, so she drank; Tara drank it all away, but sitting in front of you now, she felt like nothing.

"Good, because I miss you." Your thumb swiped under her eyelid, collecting a mixture of makeup and tears; she looked so fragile and hopeless, nothing compared to the girl you knew before; a shaky breath spilled past her lips, letting her body weight settle between you and the couch. "You can start tomorrow." She nodded to your words; a kind but pitiful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Tara could do this forever; she could do the gentleness and soft-spoken tones; she could do the calm with you; she could promise to love you forever and go along with whatever you asked because the girl never had such unconditional love; it was something she needed.  

"Let's go to bed." You brushed a gentle kiss to her hairline, this was routine, and it always ended the same; you always allowed her back in, you knew you'd regret it once the sun was up, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

With every step you took guiding her into your room, your guard broke more and more until you both were in bed, nuzzled into your warm sheets. You couldn't be firm when it came to her, could never stand on your word but laying in the still room with her, feeling the soft caress of her fingertips on your spine, it always felt like a reward.

When Tara dared to move closer, nuzzling into you entirely, she could smell the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth that radiated off of you. "Can you promise me something?" She spoke, letting her bloodshot eyes fall closed when you hummed, fingers shyly finding hers under the blanket. "Don't give up on me." The room was quiet, leaving Tara to feel like a wounded animal on display; you squeezed lightly at her fingertips. "Never." She felt like she could breathe again as she dipped her head deeper into your shoulder. It wasn't fair to ask you to stick around;  Tara knew that, but she needed you.  

"I won't be messed up forever." She uttered in hopes that you believed her, brushing a kiss against your shoulder. "I know, Tar."

You could only hope in the morning; she's still here.

reblogs and comments are appreciated 

[xiouahh]

☆ numb ─ 06.　overwhelmed

" [full name]! What is this on your test paper?! " The voice cuts through the silence like a blade. It’s the same voice that used to murmur lullabies in the dark, to hold you close when nightmares lurked. But now, every note of it drips with a resentment that clings, cold and suffocating. " But, Mom! I did well, didn’t I? I got a high grade—only three wrong answers— " Your words crumble as her hand connects with your cheek, sharp and unforgiving. The sting spreads through your skin, a bitter reminder that nothing you do is ever enough. You’re good, but never good enough. " You're a disappointment to this family, " she hisses, each word like poison slipping into your veins. " Is a perfect score too much to ask? Is it so impossible to make us proud? " You dare not meet her eyes; the shame burns hotter than the pain in your cheek. " I gave you everything, " she whispers, her voice shaking. " And this is how you repay me? With mediocrity? " You stand there, silent and small, too afraid to cry, knowing the punishment for weakness is yet more scorn. Silence stretches, thick and heavy, until she finally sighs, a sound full of pity and contempt. " What would your father say, if he were here to see this? I’m just trying to make a good future for you. " She reaches out, fingers ghosting over the mark on your cheek, soft and almost loving. " I just want you to succeed, " she says, the smile on her lips brittle and unconvincing. " You’ll do that for me, won’t you? You’ll be the child I worked so hard for? " You nod, throat tight, the wordless answer she expects, even as something inside you shatters. Her smile fades, and her face twists into something dark and sorrowful. " This is my fault, isn’t it? I failed you. I’m a terrible mother. " Her voice is soft now, pulling you into a new kind of pain. You feel the weight of her regret, sharp and heavy, threatening to crush you. " No, Mom, don’t say that! " You reach out, clinging to her, desperate to make it better, to prove you’re worthy of the love she so rarely shows. " You’re not a bad mother—it’s my fault. I’m the one who’s sorry. " " I’ll do better on the next test! " You plead, voice trembling, desperate. " I’ll get the perfect score, I’ll study harder. It’s my fault for not being enough. " A sob rises from somewhere deep within, raw and helpless, as you force yourself to promise again and again. " I’ll be successful, Mom. I’ll make you proud. I swear. " .. .. You wake up with a start, realizing you must have dozed off while studying. The remnants of a memory linger in your mind—the one where you were the one comforting her. How ironic it is that the child comforts the parent instead of the other way around. You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead as the familiar pressure of unfinished work settles on you again. You have to ace these exams. No—need to. You can’t let her down, not after everything. And your dad, too. You remember the promise you made before he passed, the one your mom made you tell him: that you’d make them both proud, no matter the cost. Glancing around, you notice the mess piling up in your room. It’s chaos. She’ll be furious if she comes home and sees it like this. But right now, the thought of fixing it, of handling any of it, is just too much. You can’t keep doing this. The pressure is suffocating. In a rush, you grab your phone and open Ayaka’s contact, desperate for some support.

masterlist　|　previous　|　next

SYPNOSIS.　You had always been the independent, strong-willed person who didn't need anyone's help. Despite your best efforts, your trauma continues to plague you, making it difficult for you to trust and connect with others. That is, until you meet a young man who is everything you've wanted in a partner. Despite his aloof demeanor, he manages to break your emotional barriers and become a source of healing and support for you. As you learn to trust and open up to him, he becomes the healer of your heart, helping you heal from your trauma. AUTHOR.　Genuinely why is the last pic so blurry. I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIX IT FOR THE PAST FEW MINUTES BUT IT WON'T COOPERATE?? But anyway.. Do people actually read author notes? I'm so curious, plz tell me. I will literally yap abt my whole day here. ++ I might redo the taglist since I noticed most people aren't getting tagged ! TAGLIST.　 @arlecchino-soon-main @skyoverkill1 @yo0ngleswag @scaraenthusiast1 @skyvella @lloovvv @ciellez @asukahiriko2 @trulyylee @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @animeobsessed56 @exhaustedcommunist @meigalaxy @dragontammerz @heusalettle @iloveapplepie7 @vitanye @shyentsmissingink @jiminscarmex @vixialuvs @kunikissr @rishaling @liuaneee

[gothamite-rambler]

Rose asks her crazy father for a favor (JayRose fic)

Rose sat on the couch in her duplex apartment, her mouth agape in disbelief as she listened to the story of how Jason had died and then been revived. She had always been curious about the details but was hesitant to ask, worried she might be stepping on a landmine. Their relationship was still new, and she wanted to ensure Jason didn’t feel pressured to share anything he wasn’t ready to discuss.

Yet, as he recounted everything he remembered, she could see that, despite the pain of the experience, he didn’t resent reliving it. He seemed to find a certain catharsis in sharing his story, and she felt honored that he chose to open up to her.

Rose (stunned): That's... How you died?

Jason nodded then sighed.

Jason: The craziest part was stepping out of the Lazarus Pit covered in—wait, why do you look mad?

Rose (fixating on one detail): That bitch egg donor sold you out to the Joker to save her own skin?!

Jason (laughing dryly): Yeah, pretty much. She’s not around anymore. She wasn’t exactly the best mom to the bitter end. Honestly, it was stupid of me to even go see her that night.

Rose frowned softly, covering her mouth in disbelief.

Rose (reassuringly): Jace, it’s not your fault you were deceived by someone so terrible. I’m sorry for insulting her, but that infuriates me—along with the fact of your death itself. The whole situation makes me so mad. And my dad? He’s just as bad. Oh my God.

Jason chuckled, rubbing his forehead.

Jason: You’re fine, trust me. It’s crazy to think about dying, but I’ve managed to adjust to this new life pretty well.

Rose (smiling): You really have.

She exhaled, gently rubbing the top of Jason’s hand. He smiled in response.

Rose (holding back her anger): But the Joker is still… alive and walking? Not okay with that.

Jason: That’s a whole different mess. I don’t want to think about him right now; sorry for unloading so much on you.

Rose (smiling softly): It’s fine, I asked. I showed you my missing eye, and in return, you gave me a detailed account of your death. Just so you know, I could take care of him for you since Batman won’t.

Jason chuckled, quickly pressing a kiss to Rose's cheek.

Jason: Nah, his misery is enough for me.

Rose (with a mischievous glint in her eyes): His misery is enough? I like the way you think.

She leaned in closer, kissing him passionately as she pushed him down onto the couch.

Jason (sly smile): That turned you on?

Rose (whispering near his ear): Are you turned on?

Jason (blushing): I definitely am now.

Rose smiled, deepening the kiss as she felt the chemistry between them simmer. With a carefree motion, she tossed aside his shirt and kissed him again, all while her mind began weaving a plot for revenge against the Joker.

---Later that night---

Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, sat in his prison cell, engrossed in Shawshank Redemption.

Slade (towards the end of the book): Huh, he dug a hole in the wall? Amateur.

He chuckled softly, continuing to read until his phone rang just moments later. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he answered.

Slade: Go for Deathstroke.

Rose (whispering): Death—Sla—Da—Nope… Father, yeah, that works. Father, I have a request that you definitely won’t turn down.

Slade's interest piqued as he continued to read.

Slade: I’m listening.

Rose: The Joker’s in Arkham with you. I want you to beat him to a bloody pulp. He probably won’t die easily, but don’t kill him. Go all out. I’ll bring you muffins when I visit next week.

Slade snapped the book shut, excitement coursing through him as he stood up.

Slade (pumped up): I’d do that regardless of an award! Regardless! You’re not joking about him not dying, either. I saw someone push him off the railing near the stairs and that clown jumped to his feet while laughing. I will smash his face to a pulp regardless! Guard! Bring me my brass knuckles! Code J!

Rose (sighing happily): Thank you.

Slade: No problem, Jeri—Which child are you?

Rose paused, remembering who her father was and that this was just typical of him, even during her time as his loyal brainwashed agent. She mentally noted to bring this up during her 'sucky dad' contest with Raven later.

Rose: It's Rose.

Slade fell silent as he slipped on his brass knuckles.

Rose (pinching the bridge of her nose): I cut my working eye out for you.

Slade: Oh! The one who proved her loyalty to me. Got it… Daughter? Right, Rose is my daughter. Just remember to bring me blueberry muffins on visitors' day.

Rose: You really don’t want to hear the reason behind—

Slade (with a hint of hatred for the Joker in his tone): Rose, regardless!

Rose: Cool, thanks. Loyal to ya.

Slade (with a cocky grin): I know you are.

With that, he abruptly ended the call and strode out of his cell.

Slade: Hey, jester man! Get over here!

---Meanwhile at Rose's house---

Rose ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Rose (whispering to herself): Thank God he hasn’t realized I hate his guts. I really am such a good person.

Jason: You done with the call? I’m getting cold in here, come back to bed.

Rose smiled as she let her robe fall to the floor, heading back to her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, keeping her plan to punish the Joker in prison a secret from Jason—at least for now, until the moment felt just right.

[ropebunnykant]

no because i actually need to talk about this because this episode really really drove home for me how low sand exists for himself on the totem pole. he doesn’t hate himself like ray does, he doesn’t drown himself in self pity, but for sand, he is his own last priority.

with what we know from sand’s childhood, it’s easy to gather that he has likely always been the one looking out for his mom. she lacked responsibility, so sand had to step up as a kid. and when you’re a kid and you have to look out for the person that’s supposed be taking care of you, that starts the trend of viewing yourself as last on your priorities list. you need to take care of everyone else and then you can take care of you if you have any mental bandwidth left.

but that’s not obvious because if you look at sand, he seems put together. he has dreams, a goal, five different side hustles, he can cook, he exercises, he’s clearly taking care of himself, right? wrong.

because that’s the sand that he wants everyone to see. take care of yourself just enough so no one else worries because no one else can worry about you, that’d keep them from focusing on them. and god is he the KING of bottling shit up. he holds in all the pain, the emotion, let’s it fester into bitter anger, which is why he resents top so much despite the fact that it was boeing that left. because it’s easier to blame the guy you don’t know than the guy you love. it’s easier to say top seduced boeing than accept that maybe sand just wasn’t enough. it’s not that sand “never got over boeing” it’s that he never got over what happened. he never expressed those feelings beyond sassy comments and bitter eye rolls and then that audio business, but that was still in anger at top. he never acknowledge his hurt over what boeing did, even if he doesn’t have feelings for him anymore.

which is also why sand barely fucking cries. i know this seems like an odd point to make, but as a first kanaphan enthusiast i have to point out what i’ve noticed and that’s that in comparison to other first characters? sand is stone fucking cold. he gets choked, mind you, a single tear at the end of ep5 and welled up at the end of ep6 even, but the only time he REALLY breaks down are in ep10 when ray screams at him and he thinks he’s really lost him and ep11 when he reunites with ray and realizes he hasn’t. and those are MASSIVE emotional releases because sand! bottles! shit! up! he doesn’t wanna put that on anyone else, so he holds it in and only breaks down fully when it’s too much and when he’s alone.

and like we’ve seen the way he sets aside his own care for ray over and over, we see the way he loves his mom, even with nick he’s always the one comforting. so it’s no surprise that when boeing shows up, he can’t establish firm boundaries. i’ve already said this, but i really do think when boeing asked if he had a chance, sand said no, but because boeing KNOWS sand and he KNOWS that sand cares so little for his own boundaries, he’ll keep pushing. because he thinks sand will eventually break.

and now ray and boeing are throwing him around trying to see who he chooses, and i just. i need sand to snap. i need him to actually be honest about what he feels and what he wants and put himself first for once.

[blissfulbarbie]

Of Reunions and Regrets / Joel Miller x Reader

Description: Joel's decision to leave the Boston QZ to find Tommy causes both of you to argue and break up. Years later, you reunite in Jackson but the ring on your finger is not Joel's. Word count: 1.3k

"You're late again," your voice is tinged with a bitterness that you can't fully suppress. "It seems like you’re always late these days.” 

Joel glances up, his tired eyes meeting yours. "I'm doing what I can, sweetheart. It's not like there's an abundance of stuff out there. I need to gather as much as I can before I make my way to Tommy."

You clench your fists at the mention of his departure. You had been fighting him on this for weeks. You telling him to stay, and him telling you to go with him. As much as you wanted to, you had friends here in the Boston QZ. People relied on you for help and your medical experience as a nurse. 

“Joel, you spend all your free time out there gathering supplies. I’m sorry if I sound like a needy girlfriend here but do you NOT want to make the most of the time you have left here with me?” You hated yourself for having to ask this but ever since he announced his plans to leave, you hadn't spent a single free hour with him.

Joel's jaw tightens, his patience wearing thin. "You think I'm not trying? You have no idea what it's like out there, what I'd have to do just to stay alive."

"I know that. But what about us? God, it just feels like.. It feels like you've already left, Joel."

He slams his hand down on the table, his own frustration flaring. "You think this is easy for me? You think I want to leave you? I have to leave. Tommy's out there, and family means something to me.” 

Tears well up in your eyes at the insinuation. You are not Joel’s family. "And what about me? Do I mean something to you?”

The room falls into a heavy silence, the weight of your unspoken pain suffocating. Joel's gaze softens, regret replacing his anger as he steps forward, reaching for you for a hug. But you pull away.

"No," you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Can you please stay?"

And with those words, a chasm opens between you both, a rift that seems impossible to bridge. Joel's shoulders slump, defeat evident in his posture. He turns away, his voice barely audible as he speaks.

"I have to find Tommy. I have to make things right with him."

Your heart aches as you watch him, torn between your love for him and the resentment that has built over this decision. "Then go, Joel," you say, your voice steady despite the tears that fall freely. "But know that you're making a choice, just like I am."

Your eyes lock for a moment, a silent understanding that this is the end for both of you. With one last lingering look, Joel turns and walks out of your apartment, leaving you behind. 

5 Years Later

Joel stands at the edge of the lookout post in Jackson, staring out into the distance as the wind rustles through his hair. It’s been 5 years since he last saw you but in moments of quiet like this, the loss of you is still fresh - a constant ache he carries with him. 

Ever since he left Boston and embarked on his journey to find his brother, he couldn’t shake the memories of you. He often wonders where you are, if you’re safe, if you’re even alive. He regrets so many things about the night he left. He wanted to say, I love you. I need you too. I don’t want to leave. But I have to do this. Come with me, please come with me because I don’t think I can do this without you. But instead he had just turned his back and left you in your apartment without a second glance back. 

Joel’s life is a monotonous routine of patrols and lookouts. But one day, as he stands watch at the lookout post, he sees a familiar figure in the distance. His heart races, his breath catches in his throat as he recognizes a silhouette that he would know anywhere. It’s approaching the settlement. It's you.

He runs to the gates as fast as his aching bones can carry him. Joel’s mind is at war as it battles with disbelief and the pure joy of seeing you alive and safe and whole. As you draw closer, Joel's eyes lock onto you. Time seems to stand still as your eyes meet for the first time in 5 years. 

"Joel..." your voice trembles, your lips parting in disbelief. "Is that you? You.. you made it."

He nods, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, sweetheart. I made it."

Immediately you both close the distance between each other, bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. Tears well up in your eyes as you hold onto him, grip tight as if you fear he'll disappear again.

"You're alive," you whisper, voice breaking.

"Yeah, I am," he replies, his own voice choked with emotion.

"Joel, I missed you so much."

"I missed you, baby. So fucking much and I’m so sorry for the way I left I–” 

A glint catches Joel's eye – a ring on your finger. His heart sinks and his head spins and he swears his vision even blurs a little. 

He pulls away, his gaze locked onto the ring. "You're... married."

You nod. “After you left, I was.. heartbroken, Joel. More than I thought I would be. I spent days just crying my eyes out because I thought you were gone for good. I tried to move on–” 

"You moved on," he repeats, his voice breaking. "And here I was, thinking you were out there, waiting for me to come back." He chuckles darkly, tears in his eyes. 

Your tears fall freely now. "Joel, it isn't that simple. Of course I wanted you to come back. I was shattered. I had to find a way to heal somehow."

"And marrying someone else was the way to heal?" he shoots back, his voice bitter.

"No, but it was a way to survive," you retort. "I thought you were gone, Joel. I thought I had lost you forever. I didn’t want to be alone and sad all the time.” 

Anger, pain, and regret swirl between you both, an impenetrable wall of emotions. The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. It's as if the years of longing, hurt, and missed opportunities have culminated in this painful reunion.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Joel finally whispers, his voice raw.

"I know. Neither did I," you reply softly, tears staining your cheeks. "But I’m happy for you, Joel. I really am. You got your family back.” 

But look at what it cost me, Joel thinks.

You both stand there in silence for a moment, the wind blowing gently on your faces. The pain of your choices hangs heavily in the air, both of you wishing you had chosen differently. 

“Hey, you coming? You've got to check out the house Maria’s giving us! It's got hot water and everything!” A young man jogs over in your direction, smiling as he makes a stop a few feet away from you both. The glint from the matching gold band on his finger taunting Joel.

“Yeah just a second! Catching up with an old friend here.” You smile at him, keeping your voice light to cover the fact that you’d been crying. 

The man nods and retreats back into the house, and the silence between you and Joel feels louder now. “An old friend huh?” Joel smiles sadly at the floor. 

“Yeah, Joel. The very best.” You cup his face and give him a soft kiss on the cheek and turn to go into your new home and your new life.

-

Tag: @just-some-random-blogger

[bestworstcase]

@cryptidblues tumblr ate this one too, maybe drop tumblr support a line to check if you’ve been erroneously shadowbanned 

Oscar is dying! He’s dying! We’re getting the full weight and crisis of the merge in volume 10 I NEED IT. The image of him collapsed on the sand as the sunrises with his back to the long memory OOUGH just like Ruby and crescent rose after she drank the tea, before the tree took her. The reversal on “I don’t want to be me anymore” / please let me stay myself. The lad is being eaten alive! From the inside out! By an unstoppable brain parasite that will kill him! And Replace Him! I Need the slow build up of horror from Oscar and everyone involved. “And Oscar…just isn’t himself” they’re place setting. Getting the table ready. Ooh yknow he’s hiding those merge episodes/attacks from his friends. I NEED the existential terror and dread! BUT I NEED THE CATHARSIS OF OSCAR BEING KNOWN, SEEN & SAVED TOO ;-;

NOT to make a post oscar about ozma instead but the thing that is really, really pulling the hinges off for me is the implication that this is happening because oz started actively fighting the merge. as long as oscar resisted and oz kept up the drumbeat of “this is inevitable, there is nothing either of us can do,” the curse kept on quietly eroding oscar as the boundary became thinner and thinner between them. it was, for lack of a better term, stable. 

the moment oz tries to resist, the curse starts trying to rip him forward. to force him to take over, inflicting what seems to be torturous amounts of pain on both of them. the subtle, silent, invisible violence that was inflicted on oscar before explodes outward to attack both of them. 

how many times have i said this curse is specifically designed to make it impossible for ozma to change? that the whole point is to prevent ozma from ever changing his mind or defying the god of light? never doubt me. the literal fucking instant ozma tries to break free, the curse becomes YOU DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE. 

the curse had a failsafe the whole time.

/ozma tangent

oscar though. this poor kid. like the greatest burden on his shoulders in the last four volumes has always been that no one wants to openly acknowledge what’s happening to him and the nature of the merge’s violence being so completely internal means that no one has to look at it except him. and he’s been so isolated in that existential dread but he’s also grown so accustomed to being treated like just. the next ozpin. that when the violence abruptly becomes externalized in reaction to oz’s resistance, oscar… hides it. keeps it to himself. somewhere deep down the idea that it doesn’t matter to anyone what happens to him got lodged in his brain so deeply that he keeps it hidden!!

and i’m obsessed with the emotional complexity the layers of what he’s feeling with regard to ruby, because it’s not as simple as that he misses her and aspires to her optimism; there’s also some underlying resentment there (“you were always so sure that everything would work out…right up until the moment it didn’t” <- paraphrasing) because she was wrong and he wishes he could borrow her certainty but she was wrong. she fell. she was wrong. 

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, everyone else believes that they’re gone forever. that they’re dead. oscar doesn’t. he’s thinking about it in terms of where they might have gone, what might have happened to them, he’s doing research because deep down, there’s a teeny tiny spark of hope that hasn’t been extinguished yet. so there’s this subtext of i wish i had your certainty. even though you were wrong. i’m still trying to find you. we’re still fighting this. you always saw me for who i really was. i don’t know who i am anymore.—there’s this tension throughout the monologue between bitterness and hope, and i don’t know if oscar is even capable of seeing that he is still hopeful or that he does have, if not ruby’s kind of certainty, something of his own that rhymes. he’s feeling this bleak about everything and still trying to figure out where they are because he doesn’t believe they’re dead. 

it was oscar’s idea to put the memorial where the portal had been. it’s taller than a person and shaped like a door. it’s a memorial but it’s also a symbol; the portal is gone, but they were inside it still, we should build our own door so they can find their way home. and then they do, according to the context given. the blacksmith gave them a doorway that went right through their memorial.  ETA: never mind, misremembered

ruby confronting and facing his mortality after running away from it for three volumes to galvanize her to really try to save him vs oscar doing whatever he can think of to somehow save her while roiling in all these complicated painful feelings about how no one cares to know how he’s suffering because it isn’t like there’s any real hope for him. tasty!

[stripedstarsblueflags]

for the hurt/comfort dialogue game - 6 and 21 for sargebon :)

MY FIRST PROMPT!! im so excited!

may have gotten a little carried away with this just a little. no beta we die like fourth of july at silverstone. TW for mental health

“Did you miss me?”/“You’re a terrible liar.”

When Alex emerges onto the roof deck of the hotel, he almost expects Logan to not be there.

Not that he thinks Logan would lie to him. But when Logan had finally picked up the phone after a day of missed calls and one-sided texts, the conversation hadn’t started well.

”What,” he’d snapped on the second ring. “This better be good. If you call me one more time I’m blocking you.”

Alex had been taken aback, flinching in place like a chastised kid. Logan’s tone was defensive, nearly a snarl; all the menace was aimed at Alex, but Alex had still felt more worry than fear. He’d seen Logan once since the crash, on his way back from medical. And then nothing.

”You didn’t answer me,” he’d said after a delayed moment. “I was worried about you. I didn’t see you since the cr– since practice. I was freaking out, okay?”

Logan a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “You saw me get out of the car. I got cleared by medical in, like, two minutes. There are probably ninety people who could’ve told you I was fine.”

And Alex had bitten his lip against the sudden urge to yell into the phone, because that wasn’t fair. His pent-up frustration and fear and distress wasn’t Logan’s fault.

Instead he’d looked around his empty hotel room, paranoia coiling around his spine, and lowered his voice: “James barely even talked to you. Why would I trust anyone there if you were actually fine or not? The way they didn’t let me see you?”

”Wait, when?”

”All day! Jon was practically yelling at me!” Alex did shout then. He didn’t mean to, but the words tumbled out of his mouth with heavy and unrelenting force, like a weight he could barely lift. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, willing Logan not to hang up. “I just wanted to see,” Alex tries, then his voice was too quiet. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to see for myself if you were okay because, Logan… it looked bad. Really bad.”

Logan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, static crackling through the speaker. “It wasn’t that bad,” he mumbles. “I walked it off.”

”Don’t try that with me,” Alex said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

”You don’t hear shit,” Logan retorted, but there was no heat behind his voice at all. He just sounded tired, and in pain.

Alex ignored the weak deflection. “Where are you right now?” he asked. “I know it’s late, but–”

”I’m on the roof,” Logan had told him, and that in and of itself was surprising. That Logan would answer him so quickly, and without any snark or rebuttal. That he’d answer at all. Alex thinks of the endless weeks of summer break, the endless silence between them.

”Okay,” he said. “Wait a minute, I just need to get something warmer on.”

The roof deck is large, with sweeping canopies and dead firepits, so many couches and chairs that in the dark he feels like he’s in a cushioned maze. Still, it’s almost completely empty, so it doesn’t take long to find Logan.

Alex joins him at the railing, panes of glass separating them from the dizzying drop below. He takes one look over the side and his stomach rolls; the glittering city lights and streaking cars blur together in a smear of vertigo. He white-knuckles the railing.

Logan had been impossible to read when Alex first joined him, but as Alex stumbles he reaches out and puts a steadying hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Woah there,” he says. “You can’t go over the edge, you’ve got a race tomorrow.”

His words sound like they should hold something sharp– resentment, jealousy, some bitter and unforgiving edge. But instead his eyes are smiling and he’s laughing around his words. The glow from the city underneath paints one half of his face in gentle gold, the rest of it purple from the nighttime shadows. His hair is wild from the wind, whipping around his eyes. He takes his hand off Alex’s shoulder to push his bangs away from his face.

Alex is wishing he’d worn something with a hood. The wind stings his cheeks and makes his eyes water. He shuffles forward, curling his shoulders in, and manages to put his hands back on the railing without collapsing. “Wind’s still crazy,” he mutters.

”You didn’t have to come up here.”

”No, no,” Alex backtracks, all but stuttering. “I wanted to be here.” He hears the desperation in his own voice, the eagerness to contradict, and cringes. Does he always have to sound so obvious?

Logan turns to face him. He has to lift one hand to the right side of his face to keep his hair back, and now his entire face is in shadow. Deep blue shadows hide his eyes. His lips look almost purple in the darkness. It makes Alex want to be closer just to see his face.

”What,” Logan begins, and Alex doesn’t see but hears the slant in his smile. The cocky way he tilts his head back, the way he lets his laughter slip into his voice. “You missed me that bad, huh?”

Alex is unexpectedly flustered. He looks away without meaning to, but that means he turns his eyes right into the gusting wind, and the stinging is sharp and immediate. “Ah,” he grimaces. “I can’t see.”

”You wouldn’t last a day in Miami.”

Alex is trying to protest that he’s lasted a day before, more than a day, admittedly without any storm activity on race weekends but his hastily formatted argument falls to pieces when Logan steps back to take off his hoodie.

His shirt rides up as he does it. Alex absolutely does not stare.

Logan tosses it at him. “Put this on,” he says. “I can’t talk to you while you’re losing a fight with the elements.”

Alex grumbles his protests but puts the hoodie on anyway. It’s warm with Logan’s body heat, a tender relief from the cold. It feels like being embraced. He sighs contentedly.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Logan taunts. “I’m gonna want that back.”

Alex pulls the hood up, and the sounds of the city at night fade away. The shrill rushing of the wind quiets and the clearest sound in the air is Logan’s voice.

“’ll give it back,” he promises. “Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Logan tilts his head down and crosses his wrists over the bar. “I’m cleared to race tomorrow.”

”That doesn’t answer my question.”

”You’re not gonna let this go until I tell you, are you?”

“You know me too well.”

Logan scoffs, then closes his eyes like he’s given up. “There’s some bruising on my ribs and my shoulder that’ll take some time to heal. And I did something to my wrist getting out, but I can still steer, I’ll just ice it after the race.” He looks down at his right hand and turns it over, fingers curling slowly into a fist, then releasing. “That’s all.”

Alex waits.

“That’s all,” Logan insists. “I saw the footage. It looked worse than it was.”

“It looked pretty bad,” Alex whispers, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper– a broken, unstable hush– but his voice won’t resolve. “I was scared.”

”I’m sorry.”

”Don’t be sorry.” Alex lays his hand over Logan’s outstretched wrist, and it shocks both of them.

Logan stares at Alex’s hand, lips parted, eyes still in shadow. Alex holds his breath, waiting to be shaken off, pushed, slapped. But Logan only stares.

Alex takes his other hand and slides it carefully under Logan’s, stabilizing the wrist. Alex has the sleeves of Logan’s hoodie halfway over his palms, but even through the fabric he can feel how cold Logan is. He steps closer.

“You didn’t get out of the car,” Alex says.

Logan tries to draw his hand away then, rolling his shoulders, but Alex doesn’t let him. He holds Logan’s hand tenderly but firmly, lacing their fingers together. Logan watches him do it without resistance, his face impossible to read, but his head is tilted just slightly in Alex’s direction.

”There was fire.”

”I got out.”

“Not when you should’ve. George told me. You just sat there. In the middle of the track. Burning…”

Logan squeezes his eyes shut, clenches and unclenches his jaw. “I didn’t know.”

”Logan, you’re a terrible liar.”

Logan lifts his head and looks steadily at the horizon, swallowing hard. As he turns back to the light, Alex can see the shine in his eyes. “You know,” he murmurs to the city. “Even before I hit the grass I knew, I just knew I was gonna lose it.” He pulls his free hand in and taps his fingers restlessly against the railing. “And then it all just–” he raises that arm and flings his hand out, miming a shunt. “It all just happened so quickly, I remember hitting the wall the first time and the car was in the air and I just thought, ‘This is it.’ This is the end.”

Alex tries to speak, but suddenly he can’t breathe. This is the end. He feels like razor blades are sinking into his throat, the concept whirlpooling in his head like the vertigo. He tries to close his eyes, it the burning afterglow of the city flashes behind his eyelids like fire. He holds Logan’s hand a bit tighter, needing to reassure himself that he’s actually there.

Logan winces, and Alex eases up a little. Logan doesn’t pull away.

“And then it wasn’t,” Logan continues. He pushes out the sentence in a stuttering breath, and the broken smile on his face clearly means he’s trying to laugh, but the sound is jolted and unnatural and he gives up. “And I just sat there like, No, this can’t be right. Like maybe I just had to wait for it.”

“No,” Alex chokes out. He looks at Logan through his tears, willing the other man to turn, to look at him, to give him the mercy of eye contact. He stares helplessly, but all he sees is Logan’s blurred profile. “Logan…”

Logan ducks his head again. “It wasn’t,” he mumbles. “I mean it wasn’t, like, over for me. I told you. I was fine.”

”If you’re waiting in a track when your car is on fire, you’re not fine,” Alex counters fiercely. It’s dark, but his tears are obvious in his voice, the way the words come out strangled an painful. He doesn’t care. “It wouldn’t just be the end for you. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex pulls his hand away so he can grab onto his hair, pulling in frustration. “You think we’d be fine?” he shouts. “You think everyone else would just move on after a fire like that? You think you can just leave?”

Logan finally turns to him then, but Alex isn’t done.

“We were scared. Fucking hell, you nearly gave George a heart attack. We thought something was wrong. We thought you weren’t gonna make it out!”

“But I did. It’s fine.”

“IT’S NOT FINE!”

Logan reaches out with his good hand and gingerly pulls Alex’s fingers out of his hair. Alex’s hands are shaking; Logan laces their fingers together, drapes their hands back over the railing. “Hey,” he whispers. “Calm down, okay? You sound like you care more than I do.”

“I think I do,” Alex spits out.

“Alex…”

“You can’t fucking leave.” It sounds like a demand, it sounds like a plea. And in a way it is; he’s begging Logan to understand, to show some regret, to somehow prove the danger is really over. “Please, Logan… it would kill me.”

Logan says nothing, just stares back. The wind ruffles his hair. He licks his lips.

”You can’t leave,” Alex insists. He’s repeating himself. He’s a broken record, but he can’t pull any more coherent thought together. The only thing that exists in his mind is the paralyzing urgency to make Logan understand. “Promise me that won’t happen again.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “That I won’t crash again?”

“You know what I mean.”

Logan looks down at their joined hands. “I don’t know why you care so much.”

It’s Alex’s turn to roll his eyes, putting as much exasperation in his heavy sigh as possible. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

Logan laughs bitterly. “What? You’re confusing me, man. You say you care, and then you’re yelling at me, you wanted to make sure I’m fine but you don’t believe me when I tell you I am? Like, jesus christ Alex, what do you want from m–”

Alex has heard enough. He steps forward and takes Logan in his arms.

Logan flinches at first, hands raising almost defensively, a shudder racking his body.

Alex is patient. Logan feels so cold and small in his arms; he’s never felt their height difference more. He runs his fingers through Logan’s hair.

Logan folds all at once, dropping his head onto Alex’s shoulder and staggering to the point where he almost topples them both. Alex stabilizes them as Logan grabs him around the ribs, hands crossed over the small of his back, holding too tight like he’s afraid Alex might let go at any moment.

Alex lets Logan hold him, hurt him. Logan’s shaking in his arms, hitching in breath, nearly choking. Alex holds him through it.

“I got you,” he soothes. “I got you. You’re not going anywhere.”