#we talked about this idea a long time ago

[cxrrodedcoffin]

☆ 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧 ☆

Vigilante Older!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader (Part 1/3)

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝♡

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!rafe, older!rafe, age gap (rafe’s mid 40’s, reader is mid 20’s), established relationship, murder, mentions of past abuse, mentions of missing persons & kidnapping, handcuffs, condescension, praise, reader isn’t a virgin but experiences a couple firsts, daddy kink, breast play, oral sex fem receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, doggy style, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (doll, baby, babydoll, princess, sugar), rafe’s a smartass with a heart of gold, he talks you through it

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

Rafe Cameron was your neighbor. That’s all he was ever supposed to be, but three weeks ago when he broke down your front door after hearing your pained screams echoing down the secluded street, everything changed. He held no hesitation in beating your abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp, and by the time you had regained awareness of your surroundings, Rafe was dragging you out of the house, leaving your boyfriend’s lifeless body to rot in the house you once called home.

You’d had your flirtations in the past, in fact, that’s what you and your boyfriend had been arguing about before he tried to kill you that night. He saw the way you looked at Rafe, knew you had a crush on him, and his brain made the jump that you must have been sleeping with him. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it back when you were single, he was classically handsome, but he was also twenty years your senior, and you surely would’ve been the talk of figure eight if the two of you had actually started seeing each other, so you’d resigned yourself of that idea a long time ago.

When Rafe took your hand and dragged you behind him out of that house you didn’t have any urge to try and run from him, it was like you knew he was doing what was best for the both of you. You followed behind him the entire time he spent scrambling to gather things around his house, packing up the most important parts of his private life inside an old duffel bag and pulling several large stacks of cash out of his safe before running with you in tow to the body shop down the road to hotwire the most inconspicuous car there. You were ready to go, to leave your mundane life behind if it meant being with him like you’d spent many sleepless nights fantasizing about.

There were many pressing issues at hand, tasks that needed to be completed to ensure you wouldn’t be caught. You needed aliases, a story to cover your tracks as you drove cross country to evade arrest, and what Rafe suggested after hours of contemplation made your heart skip a beat.

“If anyone asks what we’re doing on the road, I’m your dad, and we’re going to visit family, got that?” His left hand held strong atop the steering wheel, the strength of his grip making the veins in his forearm particularly prominent in that moment. You swallowed, eyes wide as he took his eyes off of the road for a split second to see you slowly nodding your head in understanding.

“Like anyone’s going to believe I’m your kid.” You joked, your voice cracking despite your efforts to disguise how flustered the thought of calling him dad made you.

“Believe it or not babydoll, I am actually old enough to be your dad. I doubt anyone will think it's that far-fetched of an idea.”

“We don’t even look alike.” You scoffed, turning to watch the expanse of technicolor trees climbing the mountain side directly out your window.

“No one’s gonna be paying attention to our family resemblance if we stay under the radar, just keep your pretty mouth shut and you won’t have to worry about it.”

That thought was the only one you could conjure for the next two hours on the road until Rafe pulled into the parking lot of a seedy old motel so the two of you could get some much needed rest. He had to go out for gas and to buy a change of clothes for you and him at the truck stop down the road the next morning, shaking you out of your slumber to drag you to the closet and handcuff you to the hanger rod in the small closet.

“Now don’t think I don’t trust you babydoll, I do, but these are an insurance policy in case that silly little mind of yours decides to go all rational on me, understand?” He locked the first cuff around your wrist before looping the chain over the bar and securing your other one, leaving you to struggle against the metal.

“C’mon Dad, just take me with you.” You teasingly pleaded, pushing your chest out as you tried to take a step toward him.

“Can’t, it’ll look suspicious if we’re with each other all the time. You have to stay here and I gotta get this done so we can get back on the road. I’ll be back in twenty minutes tops.” He left you there, slamming the motel room door behind him as a silent threat to be good. You did, staying in place and stirring over how you could manage to take this whole dad thing further to push Rafe’s buttons as much as you could. You were getting bored. As much fun as running from the law was, the miles of highway and generic gas stations and fast food places were starting to meld together into one monotonous blob in your head, and you wanted some good old fashioned entertainment. You made a plan, figuring you’d slowly execute it over the next few days.

The next thing on your fugitive checklist was a change in appearance. You dyed and cut your hair in a truck stop bathroom after a couple days of driving, knowing your face and signature long locks were likely all over broadcast television at that point. Rafe, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea of chopping off his beloved mullet. He’d grown accustomed to it, spent twenty years perfecting the length and cut to his liking, but he knew he had to part ways with it if it meant keeping you. He hadn’t had a buzz cut in decades, not since his early twenties, and he wasn’t sure how it would suit his more mature features, but your words of encouragement gave him the push he needed to grab the electric clippers and head for a mirror.

When he finally walked out of that old motel bathroom, you had to bite back a moan. He was hot before, no doubt about it, but with the buzzcut? You wondered what it would be like to feel that peach fuzz against your palms as you pushed his face further into your pussy.

“Thoughts?” He studied the look on your face, that glint of something desperate in your eyes as the corners of your mouth pulled into a soft smile.

“I love it! Very dilf of you.” You beamed, giggling to yourself while shifting to your knees on the creaky old motel bed as he closed the space between you.

“You realize you just implied you want to fuck me, right?” He folded his arms over his chest, toned biceps framing firm pecs and you had to swallow back a groan at the sight.

“I know exactly what I was implying, Dad.” You pulled him closer by the bottom of his shirt, the look of amusement on his stubbled face only emboldening you further.

He stood at the side of the bed, looking down at you as your hands found the back of his neck, rubbing over the soft patch of hair at the nape just to feel the velvety smooth texture for a moment. The sound of the nightly news droning on the television across the room quickly became drowned out by the white noise of both of your bated breaths. You couldn’t take it anymore, all the stolen glances and unspoken tension. You needed him, now.

“Rafe, please.” The words came out like a whine, more needy than you’d intended.

“Please, what?” He cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips pulling into an inquisitive smirk.

“You know what.” Your hands moved over his shoulders and down to his chest, fingertips ghosting over his shirt.

“I need to hear you ask for it. I’ve made a lot of fucked up choices in my life and my morals may not be that sound but I do have some that I won’t compromise on. I need to know I’m not taking advantage of you.” He took your wrists in his hands, stalling your movements until you made eye contact with him.

“I may be young but I know what I want, Rafe. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I moved in next to you.” He wasn’t exactly surprised by your bluntness, but hearing those words in your angelic voice still threatened to knock the wind out of him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re breaking my heart here. You know how many times I fought the urge to knock on your door and just flat out ask to taste your sweet pussy?” He dropped your wrists, instinctively going to run his right hand through his hair only to be reminded he’d just buzzed it all for you.

“God, Rafe, I wish you would’ve, we could’ve avoided this whole thing.” You sighed, hands returning to his chest as you looked almost painfully into his tired eyes. There was so much built up energy between the two of you, emotional and sexual, and as a tear slipped down your cheek, all Rafe could think about was how pretty you’d look crying with his cock in your mouth.

“If we were still back in Kildare I’d be showing you off all over town, making every one of those little frat boy assholes jealous with you on my arm.” His tone dipped an octave as his rough hand met your cheek, brushing the tear away. His eyes bore into yours until you looked down to his chest to hide your flattered blush.

“I’ve wanted to pull the goddamn car over and pound you into the backseat on the side of the highway for three weeks.” He exhaled as he spoke and something broke inside of you, a chain snapping to let you finally crash your lips against his. It was crushing, all plush lips and slipping tongues, small gasps for air as your hands groped at one another, pulling at fabric until you’d both managed to discard your shirts.

“You’ve really been hiding these from me this whole time, sugar?” He sighed, large hands groping your breasts over your thin lace bralette.

“I wasn’t hiding anything, it’s not my fault I’ve been living in baggy truck stop shirts for weeks.” You shot back, arching into his touch despite your attitude.

“Didn’t know you had slutty little things like this on underneath ‘em.” He snapped the thin strap against your shoulder, taking note of the way you mewled in response to the short sting the action caused.

“I don’t want to talk anymore Rafe, just fuck me, please.” You whined, your hands haphazardly undoing his belt to allow his worn jeans to fall to the ground.

“That’s not how I do things, babydoll. We’re gonna talk until I say otherwise.“ He paused his movements for a moment, looking into your eyes and it took everything in you not to avert your gaze. You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so intimidated by him, you’d been firing back snarky remarks at him for weeks, what was turning you into this shy thing all of a sudden?

You just nodded, eager for him to keep going. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes for a moment before resigning to continuing his efforts to pull your bralette over your head, finally fully exposing your breasts. He flashed you a smile before pressing a kiss to your lips, gentle at first before devolving into something more hungry, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip as he made his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way to his hips, palming his half-hard cock through his briefs and the low groan that grumbled up from his chest made you reach for the waistband. His hands wrapped around your wrists, halting your movements as he pulled away from your neck, his face only a few inches from yours.

“Slow down, doll. I’m not losing out on the opportunity to see what makes you tick just because you’re impatient.” He chided, holding your wrists together with one hand while he opened the bedside table drawer to search for something.

“I thought guys didn’t like this foreplay stuff.” You sighed, trying to see what he was reaching for.

“That what your little boyfriend told you?” He pulled the handcuffs from the other day out of the drawer, clicking one cuff around your left wrist before moving your arms behind you, securing your right wrist in the remaining cuff.

”You’re gonna learn real fast how good this ‘foreplay shit’ can be for the both of us. I’m going to talk you through every last thing I do and you’re going to tell me exactly how it makes you feel.” The look on his face was serious, not a hint of insincerity in sight, and yet, you couldn’t quite believe what was being demanded of you.

“You want to hear me?” You clarified, the innocence and underlying hurt in your voice almost sending Rafe into another blind rage over how your boyfriend had been treating you before he took care of him.

“I need to, that pretty voice is what keeps me going every day.” Rafe wasn’t usually so sappy, that snarky attitude of his running rampant for as long as you had known him, but there was something about the softness you held underneath that opinionated exterior that made him want to be soft with you. You could go toe to toe with him in sarcasm any day, but he wanted to meet you in that softness you didn’t show very often. He continued his position at the curve of your jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses across your skin that made it feel like he would devour you whole if given the opportunity.

“You’re purring like a kitten and I’ve barely touched you.” You could feel his smirk against your skin along with the cockiness in his tone and as much as you wanted to retaliate, put him in his place, you couldn’t find the words. He was impossibly good, each nip and suck of his lips and teeth down the column of your neck drawing quickened breath and needy whimpers from your kiss-bitten lips.

He continued the trail down to your collarbone, ghosting his lips over your skin as his hand splayed out over your stomach, gently pushing until you took the hint and laid back on the bed. You could feel your cuffed hands digging into you, repositioning them to sit in the curve of your lower back, the slight discomfort quickly falling to the wayside as Rafe’s mouth returned to your chest, plush lips wrapping around your right nipple. His fingers found the left, brushing rough fingertips over your sensitive bud as he sucked softly, movements working in tandem to draw as much sound from you as possible.

You stretched your legs, thighs absentmindedly spreading to allow him space to slot his toned thigh between them as he continued to shower your breasts with attention, marking your skin with bruising kisses and tweaking your nipples until you couldn’t help but moan his name.

“So sensitive babydoll, you like when daddy plays with your tits?” He pulled away from your chest, shifting so his face was above yours, his pupils blown with desire as he took in the sight of you all worked up for the first time.

“Mhm.” Your face flushed at the bluntness, his confidence and curiosity such an interesting change of pace from the men you’d been with before.

“Speak up.” His playful tone turned serious again, his hands moving to your hips as he pulled your hips to the end of the bed, your clothed cunt pressed against the thick of his bare thigh. You gasped as he flexed the muscles in his thigh, rocking against your aching clit through your increasingly wet panties.

“I’m not him, princess. Let me hear you.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he brought his movements to a halt, watching your face drop in disappointment from the lack of friction.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this, I love it, Rafe.” Your voice held a slight tremble as you forced yourself to share your thoughts, still so unfamiliar with the notion that a man could want to know how you’re feeling.

“God am I glad I killed that piece of shit. He didn’t fuckin’ deserve you.” He sighed, a hint of pride lacing his low tone as he ran his hands over your sides, feeling every curve of your body as he slowly dropped to his knees beside the bed. He slid his hands over your hips beneath the fabric of your underwear, pulling the thin cotton slowly down your legs.

“Look at me.” He waited for you to carefully prop yourself up on your elbows, the cuffs digging into your wrists from the angle. His eyes held your gaze in an almost intimidating stare, his hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“You ever had your pussy eaten baby?” His question caught you off guard despite how obvious it seemed given his current position, and you were sure he already knew the answer from the look on your face.

“N-no, every guy I’ve been with said it was gross.” As soon as the statement hit Rafe’s ears he could feel that anger rise to another level, the need to make you forget about every shitty guy you’d been with stronger than ever.

“Where are you finding these assholes? I’ll kill the rest of them too, just say the word.” His tone was lighthearted but you knew from the look on his face that he was the furthest thing from joking. You laughed him off, your attention pulling to his hands finally pushing your thighs apart, making space for him to slot his broad shoulders between your legs.

“Rafe, you don’t have to.” You tried to pull your legs together but to no avail, the action only spurring him on. He hooked his hands underneath your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him full access to your cunt.

“No shit, I want to. Need you to keep your eyes on me so you can see how much I’m enjoying tasting your sweet pussy.” He locked eyes with you as he dipped his head lower, watching the way your brow furrowed and a soft gasp left your lips when he gave the first drag of his tongue through your folds. He smiled briefly before diving back in, lapping hungrily at your dripping entrance before sucking softly at your clit, the way your thighs tensed under his grip a physical indication of how much you were enjoying it.

He glanced up at you, watching the way your bottom lip quivered with every whimper and moan of his name in response to his tongue expertly flicking over your clit. His right hand slowly slid down from your thigh, his pointer and middle finger prodding teasingly at your entrance before sinking into your wet heat, the new sensation making you buck your hips against him. He pumped steadily in and out of you, massaging your walls with each flex of his fingers as he pulled his mouth off of you.

“How does it feel babydoll? Everything you hoped it would be?” He smirked at you and you had to fight the urge to laugh at the almost ridiculous question. You knew he knew how good he was making you feel, and yet he still wanted you to stroke his ego. He sure was living up to the reputation he held back on Kildare, that’s for sure.

“Yes, fuck, it’s so good, just keep going, please.” You sighed in frustration, desperate to have his mouth on you again. He had the nerve to laugh, but you couldn’t find it in you to call him out on it, just relieved to see him lowering his head back down to your cunt.

He wasted no time, flicking over your clit at an impossibly quick pace, his fingers curling up to hit that soft spot inside of you until you were throwing your head back, barely able to support yourself anymore as your elbows gave out behind you, falling back against the mattress as your thighs began to tremble. He wrapped his lips around your clit, humming in satisfaction as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, the sound of his name falling from your lips in a desperate cry like music to his ears.

He continued lapping gently at your cunt, working you through your orgasm until he could slowly slip his fingers from you, his digits coated in your cum. He waited for you to catch your breath, taking a moment to recover before propping yourself back up on your elbows, looking down at him through half lidded eyes. As soon as your eyes met his he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your slick off of them slowly, savoring the taste. Your lips parted in a small gasp, barely even audible, seeing him enjoy going down on you just as much as you had enjoyed it.

He rose to his feet, putting his erection right at your eye level and your small gasp turned into something much more substantial, the sound drawing Rafe’s attention.

“Did that really turn you on that much?” You squeaked out, your voice much more unsteady than you intended it to be.

“I told you it would be good for both of us, I don’t lie about shit like that.” He took a step toward the edge of the bed, His thumbs slipping into the waistband of his underwear before pulling it down, his weighty cock slapping against his thigh as he did so. You bit your lip, watching him wrap his hand around the base of his shaft before tapping the tip against your sensitive clit, the action sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the coil in the pit of your stomach. He rubbed his shaft through your folds, coating himself in your wetness as he watched your expression change from confusion to curiosity to desperation.

“Feel that? It’s all for you, babydoll.” He leaned forward, his face only a few inches above yours as he continued rubbing himself against your cunt, teasingly brushing over your clit in a way that had you squirming and silently begging for more.

“What, baby? What do you need?” He asked, feigning ignorance to what he knew he was doing to you. This was the longest any of your sexual encounters had lasted and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

“Need you inside of me, please.” You whined, trying to shift your hips to position him lower. He took hold of your hips, stopping your efforts before abruptly flipping you onto your stomach in the middle of the bed, your head almost hanging off the end. You felt the mattress shift under his weight as he positioned himself behind you, pulling your hips up to meet his so you were kneeling before him. Your cuffed wrists made it impossible for you to lift your upper half without assistance, your face and breasts resting against the mattress with your cunt on full display.

“Bet your shitty little boyfriends never showed you how to do anything other than missionary, that right?” You whimpered out a soft “yeah” as you pushed your hips back, feeling his head bump your entrance for a moment before he pushed fully into you, slow enough to allow you to get used to the angle but not torturously slow. He was over playing games now, all he wanted was to show you what you’d been missing with every man who wasn’t him. Your eyes rolled back, the unfamiliar angle stimulating your sensitive walls in ways you’d never experienced before. He steadily increased his pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every slam of his hips, that familiar pressure building impossibly quickly.

“Who’s that pretty girl on the tv? She looks awfully familiar.” His voice pulled your attention away from your impending orgasm for just a moment just as he took hold of the handcuffs and pulled your arms back, putting the tv right in your line of sight. The image that flashed before you made your stomach flip, a group of three photos of you with your physical traits and last known whereabouts listed beside them as the news anchor read off a teleprompter, “Nationwide search for missing Kildare, North Carolina woman continues as police expand their search into three new states.”

Your eyes glossed over, the sight all too surreal and the feeling of his cock hitting places so deep inside of you that you weren’t even sure they existed before this very moment too much as every nerve ending in your body erupted in euphoria, the strained cry of pleasure that ripped from your throat almost drowning out the news broadcast.

“You like seeing your missing poster plastered everywhere? Want everyone to know I own you now?” He teased, continuing to fuck into you as you mumbled incoherently in response, too fucked out to form a proper response.

“Listen to that, they’re saying I kidnapped you, callin’ me a monster. If only they could see how good I’m making you feel right now babydoll, how good your daddy’s making you feel.” His words pierced through your post orgasm haze, pressure starting to build in your tummy again.

“Oh my god, daddy, it’s too much, I can’t, please!” You begged, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm with every thrust, his remarks only spurring you on.

“I know you can baby, your pussy’s gripping me like a vice.” He laughed again, but you could feel his hips starting to falter, his thrusts becoming sloppy, he had to be just as close as you were.

“Fuck, who’s your daddy, baby?” He groaned, watching the way your ass reverberated back against him with every thrust.

“You are!” You moaned, so close to the edge.

“Say it.” He commanded, a darkness present in his tone that hadn't been there before.

“You are, Rafe, you’re my daddy!” You cried out, a white heat unlike anything you’d ever felt before rushing through you as you felt a warmth gush from your cunt, your body going limp against him, his grip on your hip and the cuffs being the only things to keep you from completely collapsing into the mattress.

You barely registered him pulling out of you and cumming on your ass, the warmth of the white stickiness dripping down into your folds being one of the only things able to draw you back to reality.

“You ever done that before?” His voice sounded miles away, your ears still ringing from your release.

“Done what?” You asked sleepily, turning your head to look at him. When you saw the liquid dripping down his lower stomach and thighs onto the wet spot on the bed, your eyes went wide, trying to scramble to your knees the best you could with your wrists still cuffed.

“Oh my god, no, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” The panic in your voice startled him, but that quickly turned to anger as he thought about what your shitty exes had done to you to make you feel like you needed to apologize for something so natural.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He soothed you the best he could, grabbing the key to the cuffs and undoing them as he rubbed the red marks on your wrists to ground you.

“You’re not mad?” You asked, blinking back the tears that had gathered in your waterline.

“God, no. I’m gonna be making you squirt all the time now that I know you can.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood again. You smiled, and his anger quelled. He had to remind himself that those assholes were in your rear view, he was your future. That’s all that mattered.

“What about the sheets?” You asked, standing from the bed to pull the wet linens off of the mattress, bunching them up in a pile in the corner of the room.

“I’ll just go ask for new ones at the front office, you go hop in the shower and I’ll join you when I get back.” He reassured, kissing you on the forehead and using the loose sheets to dry off his stomach before reaching for his scattered articles of clothing to get dressed to run to the office.

—

tagging: @starkeysprincess @rafesfawn @eddiesxangel @theeternaloptimistt @drewscoquette @rafesangelita @rafelust @bunbun-3 @poopiefartz @coquettebiatch @lilbunnyorwhatever @alejstarkey

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Roadside

Summary: On your way back from a long weekend that you got to spent with Joel, his car breaks down. While you both waited for Tommy to get there to help, Joel has some ideas on how to spend the time waiting.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 792

Rating: T

Warnings: roadtrips, falling in love but slowly, car trouble, implied smut, kissing, flirting, feelings, teasing, kinda secret dating, fourteen year age gap

A/N: I'm missing references to three pics I think, but it doesn't get better than this lol (technically I am not here, because I am on a writing break) The moodboard screamed road trip to me, so this is what I did. This is for @iamasaddie 24 hour writing challenge and I hope it does not suck 🙃

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

„What are you gonna tell him when he gets here?“ You hummed, looking up at Joel. He gave you a small smile before he stepped closer, his big, strong hands coming down to part your legs for him, stepping between them so he was towering over you, the sun slowly setting on the horizon.

You had almost made it home. 

After a long weekend of having Joel to yourself without the fear of running into someone you both knew (if you left your hotel room at all) that you had spend in a tiny town in close to Dallas, you were on your way back, just an hour out of Austin when his truck made a very sad noise until the engine went out and the car stopped on the side of the road. 

He had tried to get it to work before, with a long groan, he told you he had to call Tommy cause the something something needed a something so he could fix it. He had kept his eyes on you the whole times as he made the call, looking beyond sexy in the shirt you bought him, with his too long getting hair that you had spent all night running your fingers through as he made you cum over and over again until you both passed out. 

You had met Tommy before. You just hadn’t met him as Joel’s girlfriend.

Things between you and Joel had been… slow until they weren’t.

You’ve known each other for almost two years due to you working as an interior designer occasionally with his company. But it was six months ago that you had gotten closer as you worked on a very time consuming project where the client brought you both to the verge of insanity with how often they were changing the plans. 

He had finally asked you out one night and the rest as they say, was history. 

„Guess I’m finally gonna introduce my controversially young girlfriend to him,“ Joel smiled before he kissed you softly. You gasped in mock offence, before tilting your chin up to meet his lips with a smile, your hands running up his broad back until your fingers slipped into his hair on the back of his neck. 

„Not that controversial,“ you grinned and he chuckled before his lips kissed down your neck. 

„Fourteen years is a lot,“ he mumbled against your neck and you sighed, letting your head fall to the side to give him more access. One of his hands slowly drifted up your thighs, his fingers pushing the fabric of your skirt up. 

„Only if you care what other people think. Last time I checked, we’re both very consenting adults,“ you said and he playfully bit into your neck making your shriek. 

„How consenting are we talking about here exactly?“ He asked and you looked up at him as one of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing over your damp panties. 

You could feel your nipples harden against the fabric of the shirt you had put on this morning and Joel seemed to notice too, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits, his thumb playing with your nipple.

Looking around you realised that you were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t even remember when you had seen a car drive by the last time. 

„Consenting enough to let you fuck me in the middle of nowhere until your brother gets here,“ you whispered against his ear and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against yours. 

„Atta girl,“ he grinned, before he kissed you again while his hands made quick work of your underwear. 

You could still feel him dripping out of you, your legs a little weak, when you jumped of the back of the truck, Joel taking your hand as the door of the car that had parked behind his opened and a man jumped out, looking between the two of you. 

The sun had set by now, the cold air making you shiver and Joel let go of your hand, to put an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, the warmth of his body helping instantly. 

„So this is how I get to find out the mysterious woman that makes my brother grin like a teenager with a crush when he looks at his phone is you?“ Tommy Miller approached with a wide grin. You could practically hear Joel roll his eyes and you smiled at his brother. 

„You got a crush on me, Miller?“ You teased and looked up at him. 

„Brat,“ he sighed, fighting a smile.

„You love it,“ you winked, feeling him pull you closer. 

„Yeah, I really do,“ he hummed before he kissed you softly. 

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Drakel behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Bruce turns down a side hall and heads for the metal door at the end of it. He still hasn’t said a word since they got here aside from the comment about codenames, and continues in the fine Bat-tradition of not telling them a single friggin’ thing they might need to know as he taps two fingers against the keypad next to the door. It slides open silent and smooth, and Tim tries not to wince as Stud keeps chattering excitedly at Cat and Star and Red while flitting back and forth between Star and Red, Cat still lounging casually in his arms and all three of them seeming entertained by him. 

Tim really, really wishes he understood what the hell was going on there. 

“What the hell,” a baffled-sounding voice says from the other side of the doors, and a Pocket squeaks in surprise. Tim can’t see past Bruce filling up the doorway, but the voice sounded like Green Arrow’s. 

“Bats, please explain why you have a Superman Pocket now,” Green Lantern’s voice says, and Stud startles and looks through the doorway himself, given he’s got a better vantage point than Tim does. “Which literally no one is surprised that you do, for the record, just that it took this long.” 

“They’re not mine,” Bruce replies matter-of-factly as he sweeps through the door, and Tim can finally see past him. The room ahead looks like a meeting room, and it’s mostly dominated by the large circular table in the center of it where Green Arrow, Green Lantern, and the Flash are all sitting with their respective Pockets. “Where’s Wonder Woman? I need to speak with her. The rest of you too.” 

“No idea,” Lantern answers with a matter-of-fact shrug, his Saffie peering curiously at Stud from his shoulder and chittering inquisitively. “She was here this morning, but some friend of hers called and needed her for something in Gateway, so she switched off monitor duty with Hawkwoman and headed back planetside.” 

“I think Canary said something about her calling something in earlier?” Arrow says, scratching at his jaw as he glances towards his Singsong, who’s leaning forward curiously too and making melodic little crooning noises at Stud. “But she didn’t talk to her herself and we were more concerned with digging through the news on that whole bizarre mess in Metropolis, so I don’t actually know what–oh, okay, so you brought up half the belfry today, huh.” 

“Well, only the half of us,” Dick says with a grin, Flash appearing in front of him in an electric rush and the two of them knocking fists lightly in greeting as Flash’s Charger chirps a greeting of her own and peers up assessingly at Stud. Stud jumps like he was startled by the suddenness of Flash’s appearance–which, also weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown again. Flash can’t have been going that fast outside a combat or crisis situation that Stud’s own superspeed wouldn’t clock him. Though in retrospect . . . 

Does Stud actually have Superman’s powerset? He’s been flying, obviously, and he’s clearly more than strong enough to carry another Pocket around without even noticing their weight, but that’s not actually all that much, in terms of superpowers. Flight and enhanced strength are pretty basic ones, in fact, and Stud hasn’t even shown particularly impressive levels of either. 

Shapeshifting is less basic, but whether Stud has that or not is a whole different question anyway. 

Tim . . . probably should not have assumed that Stud would have Superman’s powerset, come to think. Or definitely should not have assumed Stud would have Superman’s powerset, more like. 

“Is the guy yours, man?” Flash asks skeptically, and Dick snorts. 

“Yeah, no, Red’s still annoyed over Star popping up, don’t think she’d forgive me getting a third Pocket,” he says wryly. “Robin woke up to him about six and a half hours ago.” 

Flash–pauses. Pauses for what is a very noticeable length of time, coming from a speedster. So do Green Arrow and Green Lantern. 

“That is a whole-ass adult man,” Flash says frankly, visibly raising an eyebrow even behind his cowl, and Stud looks briefly conflicted but then just scowls at him. “So, respectfully: what the hell?” 

“Yeah, we’re still figuring that out,” Dick says with a sigh and a shrug. Charger twitters up at Stud, who startles again and then abruptly abandons Cat on his shoulder and zips back behind Tim and–hides, again, for lack of a better word, same as he did when she and Star and Red were sitting down at the table and expecting him to come over and sit with them. Given that Charger is just as pretty as–well, not Star, because Starfire is in a whole league of her own, frankly–but is at least as pretty as Cat and Red, it’s still not a reaction Tim actually understands. 

Though there’s a lot of things about Stud that Tim doesn’t understand so far, obviously. 

[redosmanthuscookie]

I saw this video not so long ago on Twitter and this is what made me realize women will never be free with this kind of thinking. It is what made me realize the community is over and over falling in phallocentrism. It has been difficult to me because I was a TRA for such long time, 6 years. I defended without questioning but now I can see the damage libfems have been doing.

Why do we have to stop talking about FGM? Why do we have to stop talking about sex oppression that kill little girls and women around the world? To protect TIM's feelings? Women voices are being silenced because trans women cannot relate but we have to hear the ' transmisoginy ' they suffer or you are a disgusting creature. Women's safety is being threatened because a TIM felt insulted at the idea of woman not wanting to have sex with them. Have y'all seen how the Wikipedia page of 4B movement is now being vandalized?

When I was getting into radfem movement but didn't wanted to identify as one my posture was that they can support us if they deconstruct themselves and understand that they can have the same oppression as us but that will never happen. Male socialization has made them so self centered that they reinforce misogyny and if you don't agree with them you're a TERF scum, they don't want cis females yet they want to be in their space.

Is so sad to see females agree with them and make these types of videos, to gaslight them and make them believe they are the most oppressed group in the world when all oppressions come from the hate of the female sex. I dare to say that the female support of TIMs is thanks to female socialization (correct me if I'm wrong!) as they have been told to please males they haven't been able to decenter men in their lives and prefers not to make them angry or annoyed and their internalized misogyny puts them over biologically and POC females who suffer from sex oppression.

I really want to thank my radfem sisters to opening my eyes and also to keep fighting against these dumb takes and oppression! They'll never silence our voices! 💜

fully such an insane thing to say?? little girls are having their vagina’s cut without pain relief and in non-sanitary environments because people think it makes them ‘cleaner’ and ‘purer’ and you think talking about it too much makes someone transphobic?? like what is wrong with you

[laduenadelswing]

Lavender marriage

summary : soaps wife feels a little unsatisfied, when Soap has an unusual idea…..

The front door burst open, a gust of wind carrying the scent of gunpowder and sweat. Soap, dishevelled and exhausted, stumbled in. It was a long time since you last encountered your lavender husband. You loved Soap more than any friend, but your marriage was only on paper. Everything in your marriage was perfect, Soap was funny, talkative, a great listener and eager to make you happy, everything was perfect except for one thing, your non-existent bedroom life. Soap confessed when you got to know each other years ago, that he was not interested in woman. Still, your friendship blossomed into the healthiest relationship you ever had. Your marriage was out of convenience but it was smoother than any other marriage you knew, there was no drama, nor cheating. Maybe, your marriage went so well because there was no sexual component, which could have ruined your friendship. Still, Soap often noticed how you missed that masculine part in your life, someone who could satisfy all your needs. It´s not that he never imagined you without close, it just didn´t turn him on, he was just like you attracted to strong arms, brought shoulders and a trim waist.

Where was his wife? He wanted to surprise you with his great solution to your marital problems. You were in a deep sleep, not knowing when Soap return from deployment, unaware of what he brought home just for you. Ghost and Soap decided to call it a night.

The next morning, you woke up just to see your husband next to you. “ Johnny, your finally back. Why didn´t you wake me up? I will make you a coffee.” You mumbled and gave him a quick hug, you were relieved that your husband / best friend was safe after the mission. Slowly you rolled out of your bed, stretched and went downstairs. The sun was shining into your face, it seemed like a normal sunny, uneventfull day with your lavender husband.

Unaware, you went into the kitchen, to make a coffee. A simple drink, which never failed to wake you up, lighten your mood and start a day.

“Morning, Babe.” A deep, raspy voice echoed through the kitchen. You turned around and saw a mountain of a man towering before you. Deep brown eyes pierced into your soul, he was starring at you as a cold shiver ran down your spine. His face was covered by a skull mask, you wanted to run, scream or fight. Instead you froze on the spot, almost peed your panties, your body feared for it´s life. Slowly you begged off, the cup of coffe fell to the ground and shattered. He looked at you almost amused with a smirk under his mask. She was so scared of him, he couldn´t deny that she was just as cute as he had imagened soaps wifey to be, a perfect smile, beautiful eyes and perfect hair even though she wasn´t even ready for the day. Soap is a lucky man, he tought. Finally you got yourself together and did the only logical thing which came to your mind. “Johnny.” You screamed, before you graped the longest kitchen knife within your reach. Ready to go one on one with the masked man infront of you, in nothing but your lingerie.

With a sift movement, the man unarmed you. “Thats so cute.” He mumbled, while looking into your soul.

"This is Lieutenant Simon Riley, or Ghost, as we call him," Johnny shouted as he sprinted into the kitchen, he forgot to warn you about his surprise. When Johnny heard his name, the realisation hit him like a wall of bricks. "He's a great guy, war hero and he's here to... uh, help us out." Johnny explained as his hands wildy gesticulated in the air, a nervous smile spread across his face.

Ghost's gaze lingered on you, a silent challenge. "Help us out with what, exactly?" Your voice was tense, the anger was clearly audible. You thought that this could have been your last breath, but it was just a college of your husband Johnny.

Soap shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you see, Ghost here is a bit of an expert on... well, on relationships."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Relationships? What does a soldier know about relationships?" Ghost smirked. "More than you might think." that bastard was actually turned on by your fear, you thought.

What was going on? Why was Soap bringing this mysterious stranger into our home? And why did he seem so nervous around him?

Ghost's eyes flickered with amusement. "So that's the pretty wifey you told me of."

Your face flushed with a mixure of anger and embarrassment. "Soap, you can't just bring someone here to... to fuck me? Do I look that desperate?"

Soap winced, his cheeks turning red. "Hey, it's not like that! I just thought... well, maybe you two could, you know, talk." Ghost chuckled. "Talk, huh? I think we can do better than that." Your eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

Before she could react, Ghost stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. "I mean, I think we could have a lot of fun together."

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Ghost smirked. "I'm giving you what you want."

With that, he leaned in and attempted to kiss you. “ Are you guys out of your minds?” You yelled, as you pushed Ghost back. “ Absolutely not.” With that you left the kitchen, disregarding the mess you made and locked yourself in the bathroom.

[hnslchw]

not what we wanted - LN4 x Reader

Summary: You haven’t felt this kind of ache in years. As memories of your relationship with Lando resurface, the lines between love and loss blur, leaving you grasping at the emotions you thought you’d buried. With every lyric you write, you’re pulled deeper into the bittersweet realization of what was—and what will never be.

Based on "the apartment we won't share by NIKI"

Themes/Warnings: angst (ofc), commitment issues??, no comfort, singer!reader, daddy and mommy issues (lando prolly doesn't have daddy issues but let's pretend pls) (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Hello!! im so proud of this one i really hope everyone likes it. Please let me know what you think! Also if you want to suggest new drivers, characters, or new genres Ill try to make one for them, even though i only write once every two months HAHAH please feel free to ask <3 Anyways hope you enjoy!

The candle flickered on the desk as you stared at the half-filled notebook in front of you. The melody played faintly in the background, guiding the flow of your pen. Words scratched their way onto the paper, raw and unfiltered, each line peeling back the layers of a love that once felt indestructible. A love that belonged to you and Lando.

Two years ago, you had walked away from the man who, for a time, had been your entire world. The memories came rushing in as you tried to put them into lyrics, their weight settling in your chest.

The apartment we won't share.

I wonder what sad wife lives there.

Have the windows deciphered her stares?

Do the bricks in the walls know to hide the affairs?

You remembered the day you went apartment viewing with Lando. It was a sunlit afternoon, and the air buzzed with excitement as the two of you dreamed about building a life together.

“This one’s perfect,” Lando had said, his voice echoing in the spacious open floor plan.

You weren’t alone at the viewing. A couple—a woman with tired eyes and her distracted husband—wandered the space, too. The wife’s stares lingered on the window, and the unspoken tension between them was palpable.

When you and Lando got home that evening, he joked, “I swear, if we ever get like that, just put me out of my misery.”

You laughed, nudging his side. “Deal. Though you’re too busy to turn into a grumpy husband anyway.”

The irony cut deeper now. You hadn’t seen it then, but that couple was a reflection of what you and Lando were becoming—two people holding on to a love they couldn’t maintain.

The dog we won’t have is now one I would not choose.

A flash of warmth filled your chest as you thought about the day you met Charles’ dachshund, Leo.

“Now this is a dog,” Lando had said, crouching down to let Leo excitedly sniff his hand. “When we get one, it’s gotta be just like him—small, but full of personality.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You mean stubborn and impossible to train?”

“Exactly,” Lando replied, grinning as Leo flopped onto his back for belly rubs.

The idea of a dog—a small, tangible piece of the future you were trying to build—felt so easy back then. But now, even the thought of it was bittersweet.

The daughter we won’t raise still waits for you.

You wiped at your eyes, forcing yourself to stay present. The memory of late-night talks with Lando replayed like a broken record.

“I want a little girl someday,” he’d confessed once, his voice soft with vulnerability. “She’d be a daddy’s girl. Spoiled rotten.”

You had smiled, nodding along. You wanted to want the same thing, but deep down, you weren’t sure if you ever saw yourself as a mother. You had never told him that, though. Maybe you should have.

The girl I won’t be is the one that’s yours.

I hope you shortly find what you long for.

The breakup came rushing back, a scene you had replayed a thousand times in your head. It was late at night, and the exhaustion of trying to keep the relationship alive had worn you both thin.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you had said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. “I know.”

You wanted to be angry, to yell at him for not fighting harder. But deep down, you both knew the truth—you had drifted too far apart. You cupped his cheek, a sad smile on your lips. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Lando.”

The filthy joke that won’t

Burrow in the corner of your

Smirking lips, I mourn it to this day.

A laugh escaped your lips as you thought about the gala. You could still see the way Lando leaned in, whispering a dirty joke in your ear that was so wildly inappropriate for the setting.

Your cheeks had burned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold him. Not when he looked at you with that stupid grin, his dimples on full display. You had never loved anyone more in that moment.

The story we won’t tell

Is my greatest fantasy.

The passion I won’t feel again

Isn’t lost on me.

You paused, letting the pen hover over the page. The weight of regret settled heavily on your shoulders. You had loved him deeply, even as the relationship unraveled. And now, the thought of never feeling that kind of love again terrified you.

The son you never wanted

Is the wound your father left.

And the mother I won’t be is

Probably for the best.

Your mind drifted back to one of your many late-night talks. Lando had opened up about his childhood, his compilcated relationship with his father. “I don’t think I’d know how to be a dad to a son,” he had admitted.

You hadn’t realized it then, but that fear had mirrored your own doubts about being a mother. Maybe that was why you had hesitated to dream too big about a family with him.

Your demons I won’t meet

Now someone else’s word to keep.

I’m sure she’s beautiful and sweet.

The song was nearly done when your phone buzzed on the desk. You picked it up, and the screen illuminated with a headline: Lando Norris and Fiancée Announce Engagement.

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t look away. The woman in the photo was stunning, her smile radiant as she stood beside him. He looked happy—happier than you had seen him in years.

You closed the notebook, staring at the final line you had written:

Not what I wanted, but what we need.

The song was finished, but the story wasn’t just about you and Lando anymore. It was about letting go, about making peace with the love you had lost. You set the notebook aside, exhaling deeply.

Some endings weren’t tragic. They were just necessary.

[silverynight]

Feral

When the kakushi arrive at the scene, it's still chaos; the parts of the demon left are disintegrating under the sunlight.

There's a baby, a little pup secured on a rock and a very feral omega, making sure nobody touches them.

They have never seen Kamado Tanjirou like that before; his eyes are white, but he's not acting sweet and confused like the other times his inner omega takes control of him.

"Tanjirou-san?" One of them tries, getting closer, but the omega growls and bares his teeth as he moves right in front of the pup.

He's protecting the baby.

"You're hurt. We just want to help!" Another kakushi says, just to be snarled at by the redhead.

He's bleeding.

"We won't touch the pup!"

Tanjirou growls at the mention of the pup; he takes the little one in his arms, without looking away from any of them, and nuzzles against the tip of the baby's nose, making him giggle.

They don't know what to do or how long the feral state is going to last; Tanjirou is a very strong slayer, there's no way any of them can manage to tie him up and take him to the butterfly estate.

How do they make him go back to normal?

"Nice! You got rid of the thing with your bare hands, huh?" Despite being a tall and strong alpha, Shinazugawa doesn't make any sound until he speaks. He startles a few kakushi because of that.

Tanjirou answers with a growl and the wind hashira grins in response.

He looks like he's enjoying this.

"He's–"

"I know he's feral," the white haired alpha cuts the kakushi off. "It's okay. I'll take care of this."

The kakushi don't like where this is going, but it's not like they have any other choice.

What surprises them is that he leaves his katana on the ground, but flexes his knees like he's about to jump; his hands are curled slightly like he's ready to use them.

"If any of you touches my sword, I'll kill you."

The omega notices the change in the hashira's demeanor, and he snarls as a warning. He leaves the pup back on the rock and prepares to attack the alpha.

Tanjirou doesn't recognize Shinazugawa, although they're not sure if it would change a lot if he did; rumor has it those two had a long talk and a fight a few weeks ago and now they're kinda friendly towards one another, but they're not sure if that's true.

Just a month ago, Shinazugawa seemed to hate having the omega around.

"Tanjirou!" The alpha smirks. "Show me what you're capable of!"

And then he jumps at the omega who immediately attacks back. Their "fight" is not very difficult to follow, even for the kakushi around; they're not using breathing techniques or anything, mostly because Tanjirou's rational thoughts are gone and they have realized that Shinazugawa doesn't want to hurt him.

He's just trying to pin the omega to the ground, making him submit, but it's quite a challenge considering Tanjirou's inner omega probably believes he's protecting his pup.

However, Shinazugawa is still a hashira and a prime alpha.

Finally, the wind hashira gets the omega pinned against the ground, and it looks like the fight is almost over when the baby starts crying.

They have no idea where Tanjirou gets his energy from, but he growls again before headbutting the alpha above him.

Shinazugawa ends up on the ground too and even though there's a clear red mark on his forehead now; he grins like he's having the best time of his life.

Tanjirou rises from the ground with a jump, but something happens then... he blinks a couple of times before freezing on his spot.

Then the kakushi notice the protective scent the alpha is releasing.

"What... happened?"

Everyone around releases the breath they were holding before they notice Tanjirou's pretty eyes are no longer white, but their usual shiny red.

However, Tanjirou is still a very caring omega who loves taking care of little ones so the first thing he does is to check on the crying pup. He cradles the baby in his arms, nuzzles against their face, and hums a lullaby for them.

"Is he alright?" A kakushi asks.

Tanjirou nods, looking at the pup with so much love already, anyone would think they're his.

"She's fine, just hungry."

It's a little girl then.

That's when Tanjirou notices that everyone has recoiled significantly, right before he sees Shinazugawa rising from the ground.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt any of you?"

The kakushi assure him he didn't, and the wind hashira just laughs.

"Like you could do something like that," the alpha snorts, red mark visible on his forehead.

Tanjirou notices it too, but knows Shinazugawa well enough not to make a comment about it.

"Thanks for helping me snap out of it," the omega mumbles instead, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was my pleasure," the alpha smirks, and they can tell he absolutely means every single word.

"What happened, Tanjirou-san?"

The omega presses a kiss to the pup's forehead that makes her giggle; he pulls her against his chest like he wants to protect her from a non-existent threat or perhaps just the memory of it.

"Wait, are you hurt? Let us–"

"That's not his blood," Shinazugawa cuts the kakushi off, still smiling and looking at the omega like he's the most beautiful thing in the world at the moment.

"I arrived too late," Tanjirou mumbles then, face twisting with guilt and regret, even though everyone around is sure none of what happened is his fault. "The demon had killed this little one's entire family, and when I saw him trying to reach for her, I completely lost it. I... I don't remember the rest that well..."

Judging by what they found when they arrived, it was a brutal fight. The demon probably suffered quite a lot.

"I think we can find her a home..."

Tanjirou takes a step away from the kakushi who says that, before pressing the little one protectively against his chest.

His scent changes slightly and they just know that the omega got attached to her.

"I'm going to keep her," Tanjirou says, almost fiercely, like he's daring them to tell him not to.

Nobody does that; they like the omega too much to say something that could hurt him.

"I'll help you take care of her," Shinazugawa says then, surprising everyone; he doesn't seem the type to have fatherly instincts, but he's still releasing that protective scent from earlier. So maybe he does have those instincts after all.

"Really?" Tanjirou blinks in surprise, but he doesn't look opposed to the idea. He even lets the alpha get closer to the pup.

Shinazugawa reaches out, trying to touch the pup's forehead with his fingers when she moves her tiny hand and wraps it around his pinky.

The alpha looks almost in shock, but he doesn't move his hand away.

"She likes you!" Tanjirou says, absolutely pleased. His scent turns really sweet out of the sudden; he seems happy with the alpha, and when Shinazugawa realizes that, he lets out a loud alpha purr.

"You know you should... I mean, I think it'd be better for her if we smell like mates," the wind hashira says after a while, unable to hide the attraction he feels for the omega.

But of course, Tanjirou doesn't notice.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah..." Shinazugawa clears his throat, turning slightly pink for a moment. "At least let me scent you."

The omega nods and tilts his head slightly to the side, exposing his beautiful throat.

Shinazugawa stares at it for a moment; his lips part in awe, and they all can see his sharp teeth. For a second, it looks like the temptation to bite and mark is too strong, but the alpha manages to control himself before he nuzzles against Tanjirou's neck.

They both purr when their scents finally mingle.

Tanjirou still smells good, even though there's another scent surrounding him, like a neon sign they have only seen in the Red light district, that tells other alphas to back off if they don't want to get teared apart.

Shinazugawa looks way too pleased.

"Come on, let's get this little one to the butterfly estate," the alpha says as he carries Tanjirou in his arms. "So you can feed our pup."

The omega blushes at his words, but nods and doesn't even try to walk on his own; he must be tired or perhaps he feels more safe in the alpha's arms since he's busy carrying the pup.

Maybe it's both.

"Those two are going to end up mating, right?" A girl asks her fellow kakushi.

"It certainly looks like it."

Which means there's going to be trouble because Shinazugawa looks like the possessive type and Tanjirou is way too popular among alphas.

Although they're sure the baby is going to be very happy with her new parents.

***

Patreon

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never��� involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends—Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

—---------------------------------------------------

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.

[uroboros55]

so hey hi, i present to you the shortest cartetgigi fic, sb in carlos discord joked about caco waiting for the trio to finish kissing so they could take the pic with fire extinguisher and here we are now...

pls caco we are still waiting for the pic

Caco is going to kill his cousin.

Just straight up go to him and kill him. His uncle will understand why Caco did it, and so will his aunt. They know how dealing with Carlos Jr. is.

Caco loves his cousin. He and Carletes were brought up together, and they were always close to each other in a way only two boys surrounded by a sea of sisters can be. Carlos always supported Caco, and Caco did the same to his cousin, even when Carlos did not believe in himself as much as his family did.

Carletes was always like a younger brother to Caco. He was always the small thing close to Caco and his friends, who wanted to feel included. Caco still remembers how some of the boys made fun of how close he was to his cousin, how they tried to make fun of Carlos, or take his kindness and use it to their advantage. Caco made sure they were no longer close to his family. He has always been protective of Carlos, and it did not change even when they grew up and Carletes started to be his own person and made his place in Formula 1.

Caco still remembers when his uncle sat him down while Carletes was still a scrawny kid, fighting in go-karts, and told him how other kids made fun of him and used Carlos's kindness to push him off. His uncle, the El Matador in the family, asks his teenage nephew to look out for his younger cousin. Caco just puffed at that, already looking out for his brother. He never stopped doing that. He was there for him during the happy times, and the bad times, he hugged and picked him up after each time, he fought for him during Toro Rosso days, and in that Renault, he made sure that McLaren was ready for Carlos, and he made sure that Ferrari deal was good to go before Carlos signed the contract. He also picked his cousin up when they had to go from Ferrari to Williams, not losing the optimist and trying to make sure Carlos would get a place he could stay for longer.

But right now, he wants to kill Carlos. He is pretty sure he could do it without anyone noticing.

Despite the p3, Caco is pissed. At the race, the clownery the red team did, at Charles for acting like a crybaby, at the media, and at the fans for only talking about the drama. He has spent at least an hour talking with the social media team, trying to control the damage, he sat down with Silvia and decided what to do to let fans know that yes C2 is okay and still good. He had to listen to Fred talk with his French accent and act like he cares about the red team, cause Carlos never burns bridges, even though Caco had some ideas on how to destroy Ferrari before they go to Williams.

He did all that while Carlos hid in his driver’s room with his fucking boyfriends.

And not, the fact that he has a boyfriend is not a problem, neither is the fact that it’s not one but two. The problem is that Caco did all he had to do, and he wants his fricking photo with the fire extinguisher. And he cannot do that while Carlos and the trophy and half of their team are gone.

Caco did call the three of them a few times and left a bunch of angry messages in the group chat and in private chats. He learned his lesson a long time ago when he got into the room to see Carlos getting freaky with his partners. He loves his cousin but even he has his limits. And seeing Carlos like that is a big fat no from Caco.

He knows Teto from Carlos's karting days. One of the few of those scrawny kids who never took advantage of Carlos, instead making sure Carlos was okay and that he knew he had someone on the track who had his back. Carlos's calm is the opposite of Teto’s fire, the way he is always ready to protect his close one. The way Carlos is always diplomatic and tries to mediate contrasts with how unapologetic loud and passionate Teto is. Teto never forgets somebody who did something wrong to Carlos, and he might be one of the few people outside of the Sainz family that Caco trusts 100%. It was no surprise when Teto and Carlos finally got how much they wanted to be together and figured it out.

Carlos was smitten from the first time he saw Teto, but it took them almost 10 years to figure it out. Even longer to act on his feelings, to allow himself to have it while still being in Formula 1, in the spotlight, when one bad move could end his career.

And Caco was ready for the moment when somebody tried to make use of that fact about Carlos and Teto, about their love. He was ready to fight and bite and make sure his cousin and Teto would be alright even if they wouldn’t come out on their own terms.

And Caco likes Teto. He likes how Carlos is happy with him, and how he makes sure Carlos has his support system outside of the Sainz family. How he knows Carlos so well he just knows what to do even before Carlos asks for it.

So, when he sees the longing looks between his cousin and the new trainer he got when Rupert changed his teams, Caco is a little bit shocked. He knows that Teto and Carlos are going strong, that they are still very much in love if the amount of times Teto is around anything to go by. But the way Carlos looks at Pierluigi, the way the trainer's hands tend to rest on Carlos makes Caco feel uneasy.

So, he says something.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” he says to Carlos, while the two of them sit in the villa in Mallorca. Most of the Sainz family went to bed, and Caco and Carlos still sitting outside, the dogs asleep close to them.

“Hm?” asks Carlos, not really following what Caco is talking about. He looks a little bit like that kid that used to follow Caco around, with the old Senior shirt on, in swim trunks still on him, shoes long forgotten. If Caco thinks hard enough he can hear his mom and aunt Reyes screaming at Carlos to wear some flip-flops and stop bringing dirt into their house. Mallorca makes Carlos look softer like he is still a child, maybe a teenager, and not a 30-year-old man.

 “I get that Gigi is a good guy. A great one even. For fuck’s sake he is going with us to Williams. But he is no Teto, remember Carletes,” says Caco, taking a sip from his beer. It’s a little too warm for his taste, but he won’t complain now.

Carlos does not answer for a while. He plays with the label on his bottle, the tick he had ever since he started drinking. Caco is pretty sure he won’t reply when he finally hears his cousin's calm voice.

“It’s not like that with Gigi,” he starts, still not looking up from his bottle. “Me and Teto… we would never do anything to hurt each other. You know it. I love him. But I also love Gigi. And Gigi loves me back. And even before all of that happened, it was Teto who brought it up. He was the one who talked with both of us. And I was so afraid of all of it, that I would wake up one day and both of them would leave me or tell me that I’m disgusting that I cannot choose, and why can’t I be normal. I always thought that something was wrong with me you know this.”

Caco is speechless. He lets Carlos speak.

“But we talked. And they are both happy with our case. They do not think I'm disgusting or that I am some kind of freak. And they are so good to me, and I think I might love both of them and I need you Caco to be okay with it cause I'm not going to leave them or just pretend I don’t love them and I'm sorry,” and while Carlos speaks, he is breathing louder and louder, and Caco knows he is close to crying. His little cousin was always way too gentle for the world. Never learned how to bite. But he was also never afraid to be himself.

So Caco does the only thing he can do. He gets closer to Carlos, hugs him, and kisses his big ass forehead. Carlos hugs him back and cries quietly on his shoulder. It’s not a happy cry, more like a cleansing one, Caco can feel the tension leaving Carlos's shoulder while he sobs.

And when they go back to the real world, Carlos is acting more… freely. He lets himself blush and smile around both Gigi and Teto, he seems to smile more and spends more and more time on his bike and going out, instead of sitting at home, trying to forget that he will be at the back of the grid next year.

And Caco can see how both Gigi and Teto take care of Carlos. In how gentle Gigi is with him, and how Teto always makes sure Carlos is not too much in his head. How Gigi hugs him even more than ever, knowing how much Carlos depends on the physical touch. And how Teto makes Carlos laugh so much. How both of them are working like a well-oiled machine to make sure Carlos is okay.

Unfortunately, that little shit, who sometimes is called Caco’s cousin has gotten way too comfortable. Caco has lost count of how many times has he found Carlos with either of his partners in compromising positions, or even worse with both of them. Once he was let into Carlos's room by Teto while Gigi and Carlos were taking a shower. Caco still shudders when he remembers that.

He even posts on his social media that the long-awaited photo is a work in progress before calling Carlos for the 2194399494 times since he went with Gigi and Teto. He does not pick up, and Caco is getting ready to go and see whatever is going on in Carlos's room when finally, he sees Teto around the corner. Soon after he follows Gigi and Carlos.

For fuck’s sake. Carlos looks like got fucked all the way to Friday. His hair is disheveled, and his big lips look even bigger and redder like somebody spent a long time biting them. He also has a shirt that not only is on the left side but also does not look like Carlos's shirt at all. Caco is pretty sure it's Gigi’s, given how loose it's in the bicep. And that dopy look on his face, like he already forgot about the shit show that has been this race.

Gigi’s hair is also tousled, but at least he looks presentable. The same could be said about Teto’s whose hair looks as good as ever (Caco is a little bit salty about it. He mostly has gray hair by now, while Teto’s lion's mane is still as glorious as ever).

“Fucking finally, I have been calling for at least half an hour,” exclaims Caco, putting the phone in his pocket. “We need to make the photo and then finally go, vamos!”

When his cousin finally passes him, Caco can see the big hickeys no makeup or clothing will hide. His neck looks like he was attacked by wild animals.

Caco will kill his cousin.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝔻ℝ𝔸𝔽𝕋 𝟙: "𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘"

A/N: So im starting a series called "Drafts" and basically i'll be dropping stories/series that i dont really like so that other authors can copy/use them, I realized i have so many ideas and stories but i do have a short attention spam so i never really finish them and i get bored easily but i've had so many people ask if they can use my works as inspo so i thought i would make a section for writers starting their blogs or if they like my work...I do have some rules tho and if you really want to use my work just DM and we can work together and figure out stuff but for today....

i started this story like an hour ago and i dont really like it so...whoever would like to finish it or use it as inspo can just dm and lmk and i'll tell you the full plot and how you should go on about it! If you steal my work i will call you out and sue you (im joking...maybe)

The sun was high in the sky, casting its golden rays over the island as the group gathered together for another monthly tradition: teambuilding. It was a day when everyone set aside the hectic schedules, the long hours of practice, and the stress of being in a band, to focus on one thing: each other. The team had gotten better over time at communicating, problem-solving, and even just relaxing together. Most importantly, it was what had helped Hyunjin and Han get along, despite their differences.

This time, the band had ventured to an adventure park on a picturesque island, with lush green trees and winding trails leading down to sparkling blue waters. The air was warm, tinged with the scent of pine and saltwater. It felt like the perfect place to bond.

The tents were set up in a small clearing near the edge of the forest, and the smell of wood smoke and cooking food was already drifting in the air. Everyone was busy unpacking their things, setting up their temporary homes for the weekend. Chan and Lee Know were outside chopping firewood, while Y/n was struggling with an air mattress that refused to inflate properly. Felix was off with I.N. near the campfire, talking excitedly about the activities ahead.

“Hey guys, the tour guide says we’re starting now!” I.N. called out, looking over his shoulder as he hurried to the others. His enthusiasm was infectious, and even the grumpy Hyunjin seemed to perk up a little at the mention of getting started.

“Okay, we’ll be there soon,” Hyunjin replied, his voice muffled as he concentrated on tying up some gear. He was focused, intent on getting everything in order before heading out.

But it was hard to ignore the heat of the day. The air was thick with humidity, and beads of sweat clung to everyone’s foreheads as they worked. Chan, still wearing his black cap, wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He glanced over at Y/n, who was still trying to manage the air mattress.

"Babe, did you pack the lighter for the stove?" Chan asked, his voice carrying a note of concern as he finished stacking the firewood with Lee Know.

Y/n paused, looking up from the deflated mattress she was struggling with. She frowned, shifting through the piles of kitchen supplies they'd brought.

"It should be somewhere here," she said, her brows furrowing as she sifted through the plastic bins. She could feel the pressure mounting—the heat, the clock ticking down, and Chan's gaze on her, his frustration clear.

"Please don’t tell me you forgot it," Chan's voice shifted, irritation creeping in. His tone wasn't as light as usual.

Y/n felt a slight sting at his words but chose to brush it off. She knew he’d been stressed lately—work stuff, maybe. "I told Felix to put it in one of the boxes, I swear. Let me look again, give me a second," she tried to reason with him, her hands digging deeper into the box of kitchen tools.

The heat was making everything feel ten times worse, and Y/n could feel the sweat rolling down the back of her neck as she scrambled to find what they needed.

Chan’s sigh was sharp. "Forget it. I’ll just go get one from the tour guide. I swear, you can’t do anything right these days." His words hung in the air, cutting through the noise of the campsite. The way he spoke—so blunt, so sharp—made Y/n freeze for a moment.

Her eyes lifted from the boxes, meeting his. She hadn’t expected that. Not from him.

"Hey… that’s not nice," she said quietly, her voice softer than usual. She could feel her chest tighten with a mix of confusion and hurt. She had been trying so hard to plan this trip, to make sure everything went smoothly, but it felt like none of it mattered.

Chan, not even looking back at her, shrugged with a careless attitude. "Yeah, whatever. Just finish up here and get to the others. Make sure to carry your water bottle; it’s too hot out." He didn’t even wait for her reply, turning and walking away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he left.

Y/n stood there, still holding the kitchen utensils in her hand, staring at the spot where he’d been just a moment ago. The harshness of his words stung. Why was he so angry? She knew he was stressed, but it was different today. His words felt almost cruel.

“...Okay then,” she murmured to herself, trying to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t sure if she should push him or just let it go. In the end, she decided to focus on the task at hand.

After finishing up the tents and making sure everything was packed neatly, Y/n felt a slight sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t just that she didn’t like messes; it was the peace of mind knowing that everything was in order before the real fun started. With a quick glance around the campsite, she slipped on her trainers, ready to catch up with the group. Her mood was still weighed down by the conversation with Chan earlier, but she knew that seeing Felix would help lift her spirits.

As she rounded the corner of their tent area, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” Felix chirped, appearing from behind one of the nearby trees. Before she could respond, he pulled her into a quick, sweet kiss.

She smiled, the warmth of his embrace doing wonders for her mood. “I was just finishing up the tents,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “Have I missed anything?”

Felix chuckled, his voice light and playful. “No, not really. Seungmin and Changbin have been arguing about team captains.” He gestured over to the two of them, who were already bickering loudly as the rest of the group looked on.

“Of course they are!” Y/n laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

Felix’s giggle was contagious as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I told them to just do rock-paper-scissors, but they still end up fighting.”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. “Some things never change.”

Felix tugged her gently toward the group, who were all standing around watching the bickering match. Lee Know was the first to step in, clearly fed up with the squabbling.

“Okay, how about this?” Lee Know called, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “The couples stick together, and I.N. can be in charge of one group. Hyunjin will be with me and Han, and Changbin, Seungmin, you’re with I.N.” He pulled Han into his arms as he spoke, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"I ain't complaining," Han giggled, shooting a playful wink at Lee Know.

Seungmin’s eyes widened in horror. “What? I’m stuck with him?” He pointed an accusing finger at I.N., who was standing beside the rest of the group, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Fine, but there’s no way on earth I’m letting I.N. be in charge,” Changbin grumbled, crossing his arms in a dramatic huff. “He got so lost in the forest last time.”

“Hey! That was one time! Give me a break!” I.N. pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sure, cause it’s totally normal to get lost in the forest,” Hyunjin teased, a smirk forming on his face.

I.N. shot him a glare, and without warning, punched Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Ow! Rude!” Hyunjin cried out, rubbing his shoulder in exaggerated pain.

“As much as I love watching you guys argue all day,” Chan started, his tone already dripping with sarcasm, “we need to get this show on the road. Everyone, let’s get to the track.”

Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her water bottle. “It’s too hot for this,” she complained, wiping sweat from her brow as she followed the group.

Felix, always the considerate one, frowned sympathetically. “Tell me about it.” He handed her his water bottle, and she gratefully took it, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat. “Drink water, it’ll help,” he added softly, flashing her a reassuring smile. She gave him a thankful look, feeling the refreshing water cool her down just a bit.

The group began making their way to the obstacle course. The track looked brutal—a long stretch of muddy trails, water pits, and even ladders. It resembled something straight out of a military training course, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little anxious just thinking about it.

“Okay, people!” The tour guide called out, clapping his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “This is going to be the toughest course you’re going to run on this trip, so I hope you’re energized!” He grinned, clearly enjoying the prospect of making everyone sweat.

Y/n squinted at the muddy course ahead, already dreading what was to come. “The team to ring the bell first wins. And remember, losers get a swim in the lake,” the guide added, his tone light and teasing. Everyone chuckled, but it didn’t take long before the competitive energy started to bubble to the surface.

“Hey, Lee Know, make sure you don’t lose, or the crocodiles will get you,” Seungmin teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he noticed Lee Know’s sudden terrified expression.

Lee Know’s face drained of color. “What? Crocodiles?!” He looked around nervously, taking a cautious step back.

“Oh, please, he’d drown before they’d even get close,” Y/n snickered, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Be nice! We’re not going to lose,” Han chimed in, his arms still wrapped tightly around Lee Know. He defended his boyfriend with a smile, though it was clear Lee Know was still visibly shaken by the crocodile comment.

Lee Know shot Y/n a playful, but ominous glare. “Tonight, you die in your sleep.”

Y/n froze for a second, then burst out laughing. “What?!” She gasped between giggles. “What the hell, Lee Know?”

Lee Know was smirking now, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s what I thought,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

For a moment, Y/n’s laughter died, and she quickly found herself hiding behind Felix, who was already doubled over in laughter. Hyunjin, too, was wiping tears from his eyes as they both snickered at the banter.

“What just happened?” Y/n asked, peeking out from behind Felix, who was still trying to catch his breath from laughing.

“That was gold,” Hyunjin chuckled, giving Lee Know a teasing look. “You’ve got to admit, that was pretty good.”

Y/n just shook her head, still snickering as they all gathered at the starting line. The tension from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and playful competition. And though her mood had been low before, the lighthearted teasing, the friendly chaos, and the easy laughter shared between the group reminded her just why she loved these moments. Even though there was no telling who would win the race, one thing was for sure—they would all be laughing until the very end.

"Okay, shall we?" The tour guide's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter and the tension that had settled among the group. Everyone looked toward him, and in unison, they responded with enthusiastic "yeahs!" A few people stretched their arms and legs, preparing for what was going to be a grueling but fun race.

Y/n, however, couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She glanced over at Chan, who was standing off to the side, arms crossed, wearing his usual serious expression. His quiet mood had been lingering all day, and it didn’t seem to be letting up.

"Channie-oppa, do you want to go up first?" Y/n asked, trying her best to sound casual, though there was a hint of concern in her voice. She wanted to make sure he was okay.

Chan didn’t look at her at first, adjusting the bandana around his bicep without even glancing in her direction. "If Lee Know is going up, then I will. He’s the only problem," he said flatly. His tone was cold, the distance between them growing with every word.

Y/n felt a sharp pang of disappointment, but she hid it behind a small, tight smile. "O-okay, baby, I’ll just go first then," Felix chimed in, noticing the subtle shift in Y/n’s mood. He could feel the tension in the air. Felix gave her a small, reassuring look, sensing how much she wanted Chan’s attention but wasn’t getting it.

"Okay, I guess I’ll just wait and see when Lee Know goes, then," Y/n said, trying to shake it off. She took a step back, allowing Felix to take the front.

Felix shot her a quick smile before positioning himself at the starting line, his nerves evident, though he was trying his best to mask it. The excitement around him was contagious, but Y/n could still feel the weight of her own emotions.

“Is everyone ready?!” the tour guide called from the far end of the track, his voice booming.

“Yeah!” Felix responded enthusiastically, his competitive spirit kicking in. Seungmin and Han moved up beside him, each of them taking their marks.

“Come on, Han! Fighting!” Hyunjin cheered from the sidelines, Lee Know beside him, grinning and clapping.

“Seungmin, if you lose, you’re sleeping outside. Fighting!” Changbin shouted, his teasing voice carrying over to Seungmin, who responded by flipping him off dramatically. The group burst into laughter, their energy slowly ramping up.

Felix stood up straighter, looking down at the course in front of him. Y/n caught his eye and gave him a bright, encouraging smile. "Felix, you’ve got this!" she cheered, her voice filled with warmth.

Felix’s face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude as he gave her a shy, nervous smile. "Thanks," he muttered, his fingers drumming against his sides.

Y/n turned her attention back to Chan, who was still standing quietly, staring at the track with an unreadable expression. "I really hope he wins," she said quietly to him, her voice soft, almost pleading. She knew how much Felix wanted this.

Chan's response was short and clipped, his eyes never leaving the race. "He will," he said, his voice flat. "Let’s just watch."

Y/n let out a quiet sigh but decided not to dwell on his mood. She wasn’t going to let it ruin her excitement for Felix. She had come here to enjoy herself, and she would.

“Felix, fighting!” she cheered again, her voice louder this time. "Go go go!"

As the sound of the starting bell rang, the group surged forward, their adrenaline pumping as they tackled the muddy course. Y/n jumped up and down on the sidelines, clapping and shouting, her eyes fixed on Felix as he navigated the first obstacle—a wall of tires.

"Oh my God," Hyunjin muttered, rubbing his face in disbelief as he watched Han slip and fall, face-first, into the mud.

"This boy is not made for sports," Lee Know laughed, shaking his head with mock disappointment, though the grin on his face said he was enjoying the chaos.

Y/n couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she heard Han’s panicked yells and screeches from behind the group. He was covered in mud, flailing his arms in a dramatic, almost cartoonish way as the others raced ahead, leaving him in the dust.

The rest of the team was already way ahead, but Han’s misfortune provided some much-needed levity. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” Han yelled, his voice high-pitched and frantic. But even through his exaggerated protests, Y/n could hear the laughter in his tone. The whole scene was absurdly hilarious, and she couldn’t stop giggling.

"Poor Han," Felix said, grinning as he passed one of the mud pits. "At least he’s trying."

“Tell that to the mud,” Y/n joked back, her laughter ringing out across the course. It felt good to have a moment of lightness, to be able to laugh and forget about the tension with Chan. For now, all she cared about was supporting Felix and enjoying the chaos of the day.

As they all moved further into the course, the rest of the group continued to cheer each other on, the banter between them only growing. But for Y/n, there was a new focus—she could feel herself rooting for Felix more than ever. The way he powered through the obstacles, his energy infectious, reminded her that no matter what else was going on, they still had this—together.

the race had ended with felix in first place followed by Seungmin then ofcourse han.

"im never doing that again," han huffed as he made his way with the rest of the group.

y/n run and jumped into felix's arms wrapping her legs around him. "you did it, im so proud!" she squeals giving him a kiss althought he was muddy.

"thank you, but babe..." he huffed and puffed, "i cant feel my arms or legs," he whined and she quickly got off him laughing once she realized she was squeezing him too death.

"Han seriously i love you but there is no way in earth and letting you touch me," leeknow was jogging away from han. The younger boy was trying to wrap his arms around leeknow.

"touch meee, im hurting. i need your love," Han teased as he caught up to leeknow and wrapped his muddy self around an annoyed looking han.

"dont worry leeknow, you'll just wash it off when you get into the lake," seungmin told him and everyone laughed as i.n high fived seungmin.

"ha ha ha real funny but you forget that's just 1/3, lets stop talking and get back to business," he rolled his eyes pushing han off.

"alright, the next members please step up!' the tour guide called once he had finished updating the points.

Y/n, who was helping Felix wash off some of the mud from his face, glanced over to see if Lee Know would be participating in the race. When she realized he wasn’t, she quickly handed Felix the bottle back and made her way to the starting block, ready to face off against Hyunjin and I.N.

“Good luck, sucker!” Hyunjin teased, sticking his tongue out at her. Y/n playfully rolled her eyes, a smirk forming on her lips.

“Just you wait, Hyunjin! I’ll show you who the real sucker is!” she shot back, her competitive spirit ignited.

“Woooo! Go Y/nnie! Make me proud!” Felix cheered from the sidelines, his voice ringing with encouragement. The rest of the boys joined in, their shouts blending into a chorus of support for their teammates.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n got onto her knees, ready for the whistle. When it finally went off, adrenaline surged through her veins, and she took off running.

She navigated through the tires and climbed up one of the shaky ladders, her heart racing as she noticed Hyunjin in the lead. To her surprise, she had managed to outrun I.N., who was trailing behind.

The cheers from the boys echoed in her ears, and it felt like time had slowed down as she pushed herself forward. She sprinted into the murky, muddy water and ducked under the tunnels, managing to pass Hyunjin, who had gotten tangled in the ropes.

“I can’t believe this! Is this real?” she thought, disbelief washing over her. There was no way she was going to win. She glanced back and saw I.N gaining on her, and her heart sank. They only had one obstacle left: a narrow, stiff piece of wood they had to walk across.

Her lungs burned, and sweat dripped down her forehead as she stepped onto the beam. Just as she found her balance, her ankle buckled, and she felt a sharp pull in her muscles.

“Ugh!” she gasped, losing her footing and tumbling to the side, hitting the ground hard.

“Ha! See you, loser!” I.N laughed, oblivious to her pain.

“It’s okay, Y/nnie! You can do it!” Felix’s voice cut through the laughter, urging her on. She struggled to her feet, pain shooting up her leg, but she pushed through, determined to at least finish in second place.

With a quick glance back to ensure Hyunjin was still far behind, she sprinted toward the finish line, but as she crossed it, she collapsed, wincing in pain as the

impact jolted through her ankle. The cheers from her friends faded into the background as she lay on the ground, trying to catch her breath.

Felix rushed over, concern etched on his face. “Y/n! Are you okay?” He knelt beside her, his hands hovering over her ankle, unsure of how to help.

“I... I think I sprained it,” she managed to say between breaths, her voice strained. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was becoming more pronounced.

“Let’s get you up,” Felix said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to help her sit up. “You did amazing! I can’t believe you almost won!”

“Yeah, well, almost doesn’t count,” she replied with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood despite the throbbing pain.

Lee Know approached, his expression serious. “We need to get you some ice and check that ankle. You really pushed yourself out there.”

“I’m fine, really,” Y/n protested, but the look on Lee Know’s face told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Fine? You just collapsed at the finish line!” he said, his tone a mix of concern and frustration. “Let’s take care of you first, okay?”

Han returned with a towel and a bottle of water, handing them to Felix before kneeling down next to Y/n. “You were incredible, Y/nnie! I’m so proud of you, but we need to make sure you’re okay.”

As they helped her to her feet, Y/n leaned on Felix for support, her other hand resting on Han’s shoulder. The boys surrounded her, their voices a comforting buzz as they reassured her and celebrated her effort in the race.

“Next time, I’ll win for sure,” she said, trying to sound confident despite the pain.

“Next time, we’ll make sure you’re fully healed first,” Lee Know replied, a small smile breaking through his worry.

“Yeah, and I’ll be your personal cheerleader,” Felix added, grinning widely.

[gay-mooshrooms]

Part 1 of Spock TOS vs AOS

Ok so from popular demand I’m posting this. I made a post a lil while ago about writing an "essay" looking at the differences in Spock's characterization and relationship with kirk in TOS vs AOS so this is the first part of that cus I actually polished it up XD. First couple paragraphs under to cut :)

A lot of things bug me about the AOS movies and there’s a whole nother essay there, BUT, one of the biggest things that’s always bugged me is the difference in Kirk and Spock’s dynamic from TOS to AOS. If you’ve seen both you know exactly what I’m talking about. Obviously a large portion of the difference comes from the changes in individual stories and personalities. Kirk is made much more aggressive and the “macho man” he has become known to be in popular culture, and Spock is also shown to be more assertive. The timing in AOS is also different, in TOS they’ve already known each other for a short period of time, Kirk is already the captain of the Enterprise and Spock is already the First Officer, we meet them when they already have professional respect and admiration for each other. In AOS we don’t get that. They meet each other much earlier and at very different stages of their character development. This causes tension from the get-go which will continue pretty much throughout all 3 movies to some extent.

However, I think a lot of the changes in the relationship and personality, specifically on Spock’s front, can be attributed to the change in his relationship with his parents. In TOS we see, primarily in the episode Journey to Babel where we first meet Spock’s parents, that he has at least a semi-strained relationship with both of them. He hasn’t visited either of them in years, and Sarek declines to have him as a guide around the Enterprise. Amanda tells Kirk that the reason for this strain was Spock’s choice to enlist in Starfleet, which went directly against Sareks wishes and Vulcan teaching that he had been forcing on Spock from an extremely young age. In AOS we see something entirely different, while it is true Spock was originally going to go to the Vulcan Science Academy, as his father wished, he chose to enlist in Starfleet not due to a sense of alienation or a longing for a place to belong, but out of righteous anger at his and his mother’s treatment from the Vulcan’s of the Academy, so while Sarek might not have approved entirely, he didn’t object either. 

Sarek is not the only change we see, Amanda is changed a lot in AOS, and her change is arguably more important. The Amanda we see in AOS is a very kind and understanding woman, and Spock is shown to care very deeply for her and she was likely the person he was closest to before enlisting in Starfleet, which we can tell from how he reacts to her death. But the most important thing is how she treats him and his choices. It is established extremely early on that she would love and support Spock no matter what path he goes down, even when he asks outright if she would support him going through Kohlinar(the purging of all emotions), which would effectively eliminate his human side(or at least he hopes it would), and permanently distance her from him. This is EXTREMELY different from the Amanda we see in TOS. In TOS Amanda does seem to somewhat understand her son’s struggle, but she neglects to realize her own hand in that struggle. She so badly wants Spock to be human like her and tries to force him in that direction many times even when it’s clear he is unwilling or unable to do so, going so far as to slap him. Spock in TOS effectively comes from a divided household, as Sarek and Amanda have such different ideas about who they think he “should” be, Vulcan vs Human, which causes Spock himself to have even more inner turmoil. He is constantly being pulled in two different directions depending on what will make Sarek or Amanda the most pleased, rather than them trying to think what will actually be best for Spock himself.

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Will post the other bits later <3

@neil-perrys-glasses i know you wanted to read this so here ya go <3333

[jullbnt]

I really enjoy all of this too :D

Aonuma's comment about nostalgia was also because he genuinely seems to think more freedom = better games, so he doesn't understand why some fans like me prefer the old Zelda formula when it was more "restrictive" in his opinion.

I still prefer to keep the timelines separated but what you're saying makes sense, I better understand how it could work! I like the idea that the merging would be the result of very careful planning by the gods/goddesses that would take millenia, it's kind of fascinating (you're right "just" was a bit of a stretch). Don't worry my take is probably very confusing too, it has time travel and a whole crazy fourth timeline ^^

It's definitely been a while since SS, though I always found the time scale in BotW a bit ridiculous (10 000 years since the first Calamity just sounded like an alternate way of saying "a very long time ago" to me). Oh you didn't like the dragons in BotW? I love seeing them flying over Hyrule, I always stop to watch them. At least they're way better than the ones in SS, I still think they looked kind of terrible 😆

Yes Faron is the Water Dragon in SS and Lanayru is the Thunder Dragon, which never made sense to me (especially with Farore's Flame still being green and Nayru's being blue). The opposite would have been better in my opinion. It's a real pain in my side because the dragons play a big role in my story and I want them to be the same ones from SS (with an explanation for the way they changed), so until I find something not too convoluted to explain the swap I just ignore the inconsistencies… Anyway even with their elements swapped I think it's hard not to see the link with SS, especially with the sacred springs being on the map (sure SS only had two, but still). And if the dragons don't talk it's simply because they play no role in BotW ^^

I don't mind when things are a bit vague because it allows us to theorize, but I still think something as big as Rauru claiming to be the first king when he is not should be explained, that's way too confusing. What you said could be the case, but then I would have loved an explanation from Rauru himself. It didn’t need too be very detailed, just that he founded this new version of Hyrule on the ruins of an ancient kingdom with the same name.

(Also the new timeline we got in TotK Master Works is very confusing, it really makes TotK look like some kind of reboot. The events of Skyward Sword are never mentioned, the Secret Stones replace the Triforce, and Rauru is confirmed to be the first king of Hyrule. But maybe it could work with your theory, the gods/goddesses could merge the three timelines and then start all over again in this way. But I really wish they wouldn't kind of erase previous lore this way).

I think it's a bit different for the Oocca and the Minish, since both TP and MC had the excuse of being released before Skyward Sword and the official timeline (and they weren't sequels to other games). I won't argue about MC though, I think it never really fit in the timeline because it's too different from the rest.

In TP the entire story wasn't about the Oocca and they weren't the ones to seal Ganon, to name the Sages, to be the first rulers of Hyrule… Shad only theorized that they were the real creators of Hyrule, and since no one travels through time to see it happen there's a possibility that he just got them mixed with the Skyloftians.

Hyrule in game is the size of Kyoto, but I think we can assume in reality it would be a lot bigger, maybe even like a continent. I mean I can't imagine having a desert, a jungle, a volcano, and a few snowy montain chains cramped up together in such a small area ^^ Hebra alone could be the size of the Alps or something like that. But I agree, it would definitely be nice to know what's happening outside of Hyrule!

Yes the stones are blank power modifiers, I just find it a bit… lame. But my major issue with them is that I don't see how owning one makes anyone a Sage. As I said in previous games Sages had important roles and had a more spiritual aspect to them than just being warriors with magicial abilities (that's more like being a Champion from BotW). Usually the Sages all need to be awaken by Link for their shared power to be effective, which is something I like a lot. In TotK you can go straight to Ganondorf and fight all the bosses without the help of the Sages or with only half of them if you're good enough, and since I've seen people do it with only one heart we know that Link is canonically perfectly able to do so. That makes the Sages useless (the same could be said of the Divine Beasts in BotW, but it's less lore breaking. Though the fact that you can beat Ganon without the Master Sword is another story).

It's as if OoT Link didn't need the Sages to seal Ganondorf in the Sacred Realm and could confront him any moment after fighting all the bosses in a row. That would basically ruin Ocarina of Time.

I know about On'nen, I've actually read a bit about it to better understand Zelda lore and Demise's curse (though I may not have gone as deep as you). I'll definitely check QuestWithAaron, that sounds very interesting (thanks!). I didn't know gloom was Shoki though, I didn't understand why it was not malice anymore in TotK so that's a good point. But I think it confuses things even more between TotK Ganondorf and BotW Ganon for people who don't know Shintoism, which isn't ideal.

I still don't think Ganondorf with a secret stone would be more powerful than Ganondorf with the Triforce of Power. TP Ganondorf has just as many reasons for his resentment to grow after being exiled to the Twilight Realm, but he still can't break the Master Sword and he has a piece of the Triforce. I was really expecting an explanation for that later in the game, especially after Ganondorf recognizes Link and Zelda at the beginning and mentions Rauru (I was so excited about this, it felt big). That's one thing I hope I can better explain in my story.

Btw in French malice is indeed called "rancœur" (rancor) and gloom is "miasmes" (miasma). I'm not sure the official reason for weapon durability in BotW was malice, but it could be a good way to explain it!

Haha the Zonai being evolved Remlits is a fun idea ^^

__

You're welcome! Yes something like Croifluances could work, though I prefer Confluances. It sounds closer to Crossflows so it could be a good idea! For Mipha it would be Cour Sainte Mipha (saint is masculine). Cour might not be the right word though, in French a "cour" is an open space enclosed/surrounded by buildings (more like a courtyard actually!). The French translation went with Parc Mipha, and I could also see something like Promenade.

Yes games centered around the non-Hylian races would be interesting. Though I think what I would love to see most in a future game is a Gerudo King that is not Ganondorf and is portrayed in a positive light.

OoT and MM are my favorites so I completely agree, I want to see something like that again. The subtext and depth of these games were unlike anything they did since, I really miss it ^^

Hi, sorry if this is a bit rude. 😅 I guess that I was just wondering. How would Jabul Waters, Zora Cove, & Crossflows Plaza be named in French?

I'm trying to give Jabul Waters an interesting name that works to go with my hc & I came up with "Jabuleaux." And Google Translate tells me that Crossflows Plaza would be Place des Flux Croisés. And, I'm seeing that Anse is the term to refer to a cove &, if that's true, then would Zora Cove be Zoranse? At the same time, somewhere else, it said that Anse actually means beach.

And, I believe that a town by a swamp would have cher, quier, bren, brin, or Hor- in it?

I'm sorry if this is weird... 😅

Hi! Don't worry it's not rude or weird at all! I offered to help and I'm happy to do so :D

Did you check the official French translations? I had a surprisingly hard time finding the French version of the map online so here's a screenshot I took myself:

Jabul Waters = Eaux de Jabule (this one only appears when I zoom out)

Zora Cove = Baie Zora

Crossflows Plaza = Place de l'Estuaire

In case you didn't know the Zelda Wiki often lists names for places or characters in various languages in the "Nomenclature" section of its pages. It's very helpful especially if you're searching for the original Japanese names. If we look at at the different names for Crossflows Plaza we can see that a literal translation from Japanese would be something like "Exchanging Place". I checked the Jisho dictionary and it seems to be an accurate translation, though "Place for Cultural Exchanges" would be more meaningful.

It's not exactly a good name in English so it makes sense that the localization team would come up with something like Crossflows Plaza instead, which in my opinion does a very good job of stating that this is both the place where the river meets the sea and where the two Zora tribes traditionally meet each other.

Other European languages all settled for variations of "Estuary Plaza" ("Place de l'Estuaire" in French), which is fine but looses the "cultural exchanges" aspect of both the original name and the English translation.

I've been trying to come up with a French translation of "Crossflows Plaza" but it's not that easy. To me "Place des Flots Croisés" or "Place Flots-Croisés" would sound better than "Place des Flux Croisés", but I still find it a bit weird ("flot" meaning flow, tide or stream). "La Croisée des Flots" is another option if you agree to get rid of Plaza/Place (it means "the intersection/junction of streams"), but I don't think it works very well as a name.

You could also mix words to create a name the same way it was done in English, something like "Place Croiseaux" (croiser/cross + eau/waters). If any of my French speaking followers is feeling inspired, please share your ideas! :)

(I just thought of "Place Cruciflot" and found it too funny not to mention 😆 maybe it sounds too much like crucifix)

In French we also have the word "confluence" that has the exact same meaning as it does in English: either the meeting of two rivers or a gathering of some kind. So to me the most obvious translation would be something like "Place des Confluences" or maybe "Place Confluence", as it would preserve the dual meaning, but it's not very fancy or creative. Maybe we could simply change the spelling to something like Place Konfluans, the same way "Village Côtier" (Seaside Village) is spelled "Village Kothié" (Seesyde Village). But it doesn't look like a French word anymore so I'm not sure that's something you'd like.

As for Jabuleaux, it can work but I prefer the official translation "Eaux de Jabule". Same thing for Zoranse, we would say "Anse Zora" or "Anse des Zora". The official French translation is "Baie Zora" (Zora Bay), which I think is more appropriate given the size of the sea inlet (in my understanding an anse/cove is a small baie/bay and isn't very deep). I think maybe it should have been bay in English as well instead of cove, but I might be wrong! Also I believe "anse" isn't used as often as "baie" and might be confusing for most people, so I would go with "Baie Zora".

I'm not sure where you found this information about swamps and town names? I didn't find anything to confirm it but I might not have looked in the right places.

French towns are often ancient and their names can derive from other languages such as Celtic, Occitan, Flemish, or regional dialects, so that's a very difficult question and I'm not sure I can give you a satisfying answer ^^

I still did a little search and found an Old French word for swamp, "palud" or "palu", that still appears in some town names such as La Palud-sur-Verdon, Saint-Pierre-la-Palud, Lapalud, etc. (today we say "marais" or "marécage"). You might be right about "bren", it could be something like muddy in Gallic.

There's also "vign" or "mign" (from Celtic), as in Mignéville or Lévignac, or l'Île de Migneaux on the Seine river (this one's in my city!).

Near where I grew up is a town named Hazebrouck, it literally means "hare swamp" (brouck/broek = swamp in Flemish). For a bit more French flavor you could maybe use -broucq or -breucq instead of -brouck.

I think the vast majority of French people have no clue about all of that (I didn't except for the last one and it's more Flemish than French), so I'd say don't oversweat it ;)

And that's all! I hope you'll find this helpful ^^

[fvckw4d]

The concept of queerbaiting annoys me. I was told that it refers to a work of fiction pretending to cater to a queer audience but then pulling back from it to avoid alienating homophobes, which is an incredibly specific thing. But a lot of people seem to think that it instead means "any time there's any gay subtex, metaphor, or ambiguity" or "whenever something from 1995-2012 was being a normal amount of homophobic for the era."

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[talesofwhimsy]

WHY?, “Sin Imperial" // Car Sear Headrest, “I Can Play the Piano”