#you’re making me question my life decisions and why i decided to stop writing

[stellar-haikyuu]

no regrets ☆ sugawara koushi x reader

synopsis: before their third year starts, an evening walk changes everything between reader and their best friend, koushi. details: fluff, opposites attract, childhood friends to lovers, first kiss, ~1.7k words, gn! reader. requested by @liquidcatt as part of my karasuno writing event (requests open) warnings: none! just repetitive use of the title and idk how to write kissing yet LOL

One week before your third and final year of high school, you realize that you’ll soon be experiencing multiple “lasts” before a new chapter of your life begins.

Now, you don't normally care about these things, but you can’t help it when Koushi calls you that evening.

Apparently, he made an impulsive decision to go on a walk, and he now wants your company.

You groan at him through the phone and he laughs. Of course, he knows there’s no real anger behind it. He’s the only person in the world you would drop everything for without a second thought.

“I’m sor-” he tries, but you hang up on him, cutting off his “apology.” Huffing with amusement, you rummage through your closet for something that would keep you warm.

After pulling on a sweater, you let your parents know you’re heading out. They barely glance up from the television before nodding in acknowledgment. It’s been years since they decided that hangouts with your best friend no longer warrant further questions.

The cold wind greets you as you step outside. You shiver a little, but you slowly adjust to the temperature as you wait for Koushi. 

After a few minutes, you hear the sound of footsteps against the pavement. They stop right outside your gate, and you can see the telltale tuft of gray hair peeking out from behind.

“Koushi.” You greet him with an air of nonchalance as you open the gate. 

Your tone has always been a little flat—an unintentional habit of yours. You don’t have it in you to amp up the energy like everyone else does, but your friend has never minded it, even when he is the very definition of sunshine and chaos.

“Heh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Hope you weren’t too busy.”

You half-heartedly glare at him, which makes him ruffle your hair. In response, you swat his hand away and try to smooth down the mess he’s made.

“You’re just lucky I was bored out of my mind,” you mutter, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and letting the gate shut behind you.

“This is the hundredth time I’ve been lucky.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you do like me after all,” he teases.

Your stomach does a flip. 

Is he onto me?

“Sh-shut up!” You stammer, elbowing him in the side. 

“Ow!” He yelps, clutching at his ribs as if you’ve stabbed him. “Hey, I’ve got volleyball practice soon, don’t give me an injury.”

“You’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics, watching as he rubs his side in an attempt to soothe the pain. As he pouts and mumbles something under his breath, you brave a quick look at him.

He’s wearing that adorable blue scarf again—well, it’s yours, actually. You lent it to him in first year when he forgot his scarf on a chilly evening. For some reason, you insisted that he keep it, and now he wears it all the time with no fail. 

(His reasoning? “Maybe you’ll miss your blue scarf, so I’m just going to wear it every time we walk together.”

You remember staring at him in disbelief, but internally, you were maybe five seconds away from passing out.)

“Agh. Gosh, why didn’t you go for martial arts or something,” Koushi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie.

“I don’t have that kind of energy.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want my punches to hurt even more.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a laugh.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, making the sound of leaves rustling much louder. When you glance at Koushi, his expression has shifted. He looks thoughtful, his gaze fixed ahead but distant, as though he’s turning something over in his mind.

“Why’d you call me out here?” You ask.

“Hm? It’s just…” Koushi hesitates for a moment, his voice softening. “We’re almost done with high school.”

The reality of his words hit you. “We are. But hey, I’m a year closer to my librarian dreams.”

“Ha. You’ve never really changed your mind, huh?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “How about you, still wanna be a teacher?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Dead set on it now, actually.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “You better keep your promise to apply to the same school. Don’t leave me to fend for myself in college or at work.”

“You’re not going to die, gosh,” Koushi laughs, shaking his head. “What are you going to do when strangers come up to you in the library to ask about different things?”

“That’s a problem for future me.” You scrunch your nose. Unfortunately, no job is exactly the way you want it to be.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there. But now, there’s one more year ahead of us,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not really…” He trails off. “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot about how these months will be full of last chances.”

Last chances?

“I guess I couldn’t help but worry about how I need to make every moment count. I don’t want to waste opportunities.”

Oh.

Koushi stops walking for a moment and turns to you. “Am I making any sense?”

You study his expression. The faint lines of uncertainty on his face say enough. “You are. What brought this on?”

“It’s the volleyball team.” He confesses, his gaze flickering downward as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I still want to stay. I still want to go to Nationals. I know that we may not be the best in the prefecture, but…it’s not stupid to hope, right?”

For a few seconds, you think about it. You’re no stranger to hoping for good things, even when it seems impossible. 

You spent your childhood hoping for a best friend, even though most kids never wanted to approach you. Yet, here you are, years later. 

(Now, you’re just holding onto the hope that your feelings for him will be returned.)

“No, Koushi. It’s not stupid,” you reply, despite the subtle ache in your chest.

“Thanks.” His eyes brighten at your response, and you can’t help but let a small grin form on your face.

That’s my dreamer.

You recall how painful it was to see him realize that Karasuno was no longer the powerhouse he imagined. But, the fact that he hasn’t thought of giving up once is a testament to his true strength.

“Well, I just hope we’re lucky enough to get some more first-years.” A puff of steam leaves his mouth. “And I hope Asahi and Nishinoya come back as soon as possible.”

His voice falters slightly at the mention of his teammates. You instinctively reach out to take his hand in quiet support. That incident had upset him more than he let on.

“But no matter what happens, I’ll work hard,” he continues with conviction. “I want to finish this year with no regrets.”

“No regrets,” you echo his words in affirmation. Your heart hammers in your chest.

Should I do it?

“Hey, are you okay?”

What if this is my last chance?

“You’ve been staring for a while.”

What if someone else takes this moment from me?

“Hey.”

Do it. Come on.

“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

No regrets.

“Koushi?”

“Oh, there! Thank goodness. What happened?” His voice sharpens in concern.

You close your eyes, willing yourself not to chicken out.

“No regrets,” you murmur to yourself.

He blinks at you, taken aback by your cryptic behavior. “Um, yes, that’s what I said.”

“I wanna do that too,” you admit with a steady tone.

“That’s…good?” he replies, but the confusion turns his statement into a question.

“So, to start the year off strong…” You let go of your grip on his hands and take a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Koushi.” You look away momentarily, trying to find the words. “I don’t know when I started feeling this way, but…” 

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and you reach a hand out to tug on his scarf, bringing him closer to you.

Your faces are mere inches apart now; you can feel his warm breath on your face. The fact that he doesn’t protest or pull away gives you the confidence to continue.

“I like you,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips crash into yours. You’re frozen, stunned by the fact that Koushi reciprocated. 

This is actually happening.

He’s kissing me.

One of his hands finds its way to the base of your neck, while the other wraps securely around your waist. His touch is gentle but grounding. It’s almost like he’s afraid to let you go.

You can’t take it anymore. 

The longing you’ve kept bottled inside for years finally explodes.

Releasing your grip on his scarf, you move your hands to the base of his neck instead, pulling him down a bit more. The height difference sends a quiet thrill through your body, leaving you giddy.

You part for a moment to gasp for air, but your lips find each other again. They seem to slot together perfectly, you think, as though you were made for each other.

You sigh at the feeling of shared warmth between your bodies, a stark contrast to the nighttime climate. Carding your fingers through his soft hair, you think about how much you’ve dreamed of spending the rest of your life with him.

No one understands you the way Koushi does. No one gets you like he does. Even when people questioned your friendship dynamics, you both found ways to defy the odds. The realization nearly makes you cry in the middle of this romantic moment, but there’s no way you’re letting Koushi use that against you.

As much as you want this kiss to stretch into eternity, your lungs are starting to burn. Reluctantly, you pull away once more, but this time, your chest is filled with something like peace and contentment.

Koushi rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. He giggles with pure joy. “So, no regrets? I totally don’t have any.”

There may be last chances, but also new beginnings

“Yeah, me too. No regrets.”

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

[appleinyoureye]

JJBA │ Forbidden Fruit Tastes the Sweetest

Summary: Your parents forbid you from seeing your boyfriend, but who are you if not a rule-breaker. So you sneak out to see him.

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Characters: Leone Abbacchio, Bruno Bucciarati, Pannacotta Fugo, Giorno Giovanna, Guido Mista, Ghirga Narancia

Word Count: 545

Type: headcanons

Abbacchio

Leone is very grateful. He may not show it the best but you’re a very important person in his life, a glimpse of normalcy in this crazy place Bucciarati’s gang become. He doesn’t question your decision to stay with him until the very last second of your illegal meeting. He then nervously whispers a short are you sure? as he hugs you, and after your affirmation, Abba doesn’t need any more words.

Bruno

Bruno is really happy, but the fact that he will be able to see you is not the main factor. He feels joy because you decided to choose for yourself, to screw your parents’ commands, and to do what you feel your heart wants to do. He fully supports your decision, even though he understands where your parents come from. After all, their kid dates someone from the mafia. But it’s your life, not theirs, plus he really loves you, so he doesn’t even think about questioning it.

Fugo

Heck yeah! Screw your parents! For the past week he has been angrier than usual, not being able to see you, waiting for a word from you after your parents locked you up in the house. It was ridiculous! All these pent up emotions makes him tear up a bit. Not a lot, and when he notices that you see the difference in how glossy his eyes become, he hugs you tightly, nose buried in the crook of your neck. You’re his oasis, and he has to calm himself now that you are right by him, not going anywhere.

Giorno

I’m not sure why but I feel like Giorno would be the only one to question your decision from the start. I mean, yeah, he loves you, he wants to be with you, but because of this, he agrees with your parents. Someone like you shouldn’t be connected in any way with the mafia, in particular be in a relationship with the head of it. He wants everything and more for you, and when you tell him that you’ve made up your mind, and he hears the confidence, the firmness your voice holds, he shuts completely up, a voice that acts against his common sense, celebrating that he isn’t losing you. 

Mista

Of course he celebrates! Picks you up, twirls around and peppers whole face in kisses. He doesn’t like your parents just like he doesn’t like stupid people that they definitely are. Who do they think they are to tell you who to date or not??? Mista even suggests that you move in with him, because this way you wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking out. He pouts a bit when you decline, and even tries to jokingly bribe you with marriage, but he knows when to stop. He's just happy that you’re choosing to stay with him.

Narancia

He feels that you’re pranking him. And after you try to reassure him that no, it is not a stupid joke, he thinks that it’s a trap that your parents set for him. Only after five minutes or so, he believes you. And when he does, oh boi, the scream he scrumpts. SCREW YOUR PARENTS! Hell yeah! He even suggests that he can pay them a little visit, and you need to calm him down if you don’t want to become parentless. 

a/n: hey! first writing posted on this account lol. pls don't be too harsh as english is not my first language! also, forgive me if i made the bois not so in the character. it's been a year since i finished watching the 5th part

[csuitebitches]

Hi, I'm a pretty shy person except when I'm with my friend. How can I stop living in someone else's shadow?

your friend is probably your comfort place. Sometimes comfort places can become an area of co-dependency.

I’d suggest you first reflect on whether you think you’re co-dependent on them or not. And try to understand the extent of it. can you interact socially without them?

can you meet new people without them?

can you do things without their approval or praise?

Figure out if there dependency and how much there is.

the biggest lie you’ll see on the internet is becoming fully “independent.” I also preach independence, but mostly in terms of financial, not emotional or friendship or relationship wise. Human beings are social animals and we need to be with one another. A little bit of dependability is necessary for any relationship to work. So don’t be stressed if you realise that you depend too heavily on them, you don’t have to end the friendship. You just have to pull back in certain areas that require you to make decisions independently (such as job hunting, college applications, financial, etc etc you get me).

I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again: soft skills are muscles that need to be worked out.

For any workout, you need to first figure out where you are currently and where you want to go (your desired goal).

Second, you decide the situations you feel shy in. I’d suggest you do this as a writing activity. Make four columns. Each column will have these questions;

When do you feel conscious?

Why do you feel so?

What are the thoughts going on in your head?

for the second question, I want you to use an emotion wheel to identity your emotions correctly.

work on these three columns first. Write down anything and everything that comes to your mind.

only when you feel satisfied with everything on those three columns do you finally look at the 4th column:

4. what’s the solution?

I want you to work on the solutions yourself. Do not ask anyone for help. Figure it out with your brain, I’m sure you’re smart.

after creating your solutions list, you now have a game plan. Use the solutions to create an exposure therapy.

How to create an exposure therapy plan:

Arrange your list of solutions in an order of least fear to the most amount fear you have if you had to enact the solution.

Start your plan by doing everything on the list, but starting with the least fear inducing items.

As you accomplish each item, ensure you make a note of it, whether on your phone or your diary. A lot of the time we don’t count our successes, only our failures. I want you to be happy even with your smallest wins. To be happy with that, you need to acknowledge it. And a great way of acknowledging it is to write them down.

it may be difficult, and it should be. Nothing gained in life is inherently easy. The difficult situations will make you stronger. You may screw up, you may make mistakes and guess what? It’s all a part of life.

[caelivir]

the fault of love | orter madl

— synopsis. orter doesn’t make mistakes, but what does that make you?

— pairing. revolution leader!orter x gov. spy!reader (gn)

— genre. angst

— warnings. major character death, description of death using a gun, mention of specific crimes (kidnapping, robbery, blackmail, etc.) none are explicitly described, lmk if i miss any

— word count. ~1.7k

— notes. i stayed up until 5am to finish this i’m so dead; i tried lowercase.. let’s see how i like it. this was fun to write ngl. i hope you enjoy <3

orter madl is a bad person. he was born to be. his entire life was a cycle of left hooks, knife throwing, and gunshots. from an early age he was bound by orders and loyalty. he was raised to lead, raised to be the top in the game. show no mercy to your enemies. be the best.

everything orter does is for the suffering innocents, his family, the organization. he has to do it, even if it goes against all morals. he can’t afford to make mistakes. they’ll hinder him and ruin everything he’s worked hard for. that’s why he shouldn’t get close to anyone. attachments and emotions weaken. they mess with logical judgment, and orter would rather die before letting his emotions make decisions.

yet orter couldn’t stop himself when he got to know you, the clumsy person who spilled coffee all over his suit. he hadn’t meant to, but it was like being a moth to a flame. he sought for you, and you invaded his thoughts at every waking moment. orter wanted nothing more than to see your face, to grasp your hand into his, and to press his adoration for you onto your lips.

and that in itself–that love–would be his downfall. your entrance into orter’s life sparked a long chain of events that brought complications onto the organization that never existed before. he should’ve seen it sooner. he could’ve ended it sooner. but that’s what emotions do. they blind. they’ve blinded him for far too long, and tonight, he’ll finally put an end to it.

hours into the night, orter arrives at the empty warehouse where you’re being kept. he wears a mask over his feelings as he passes by underlings who offer their respects to him. he’s ushered inside. orter spots your figure seated in the center of the wide space. a flurry of emotions surges through him, causing him to order everyone out despite their protests.

orter sighs, taking steps closer to you, becoming more aware of your current state. your hands and legs are tied down to the chair. bruises dot along your skin, and cuts bleed from your lips and forehead. the light in your eyes has gone dead. you stare into nothing.

it pains orter more than any beating he’s ever received. he wants nothing more than to untie you, find a med kit, and clean your wounds just as you always did for him. but he knows he can’t, so he has to tighten his fists, make his knuckles turn a blinding white to hold himself back from caring for you.

he takes the seat across from you, saying nothing despite the mess of sentences bouncing across his mind. you finally pick up your gaze, keeping quiet. no words are exchanged for what feels like hours.

orter’s mask is slipping, cracking ever so slightly as you catch glimpses of confusion, anger, sadness, and nothing all at once. you manage to not betray a single emotion.

orter caves, breaking the silence with a simple question. “why?”

you bite the tip of your tongue, deciding on an answer before you speak incorrectly. “because I had to.”

“had to-” orter cuts himself off with an inhale, rubbing a hand over his face as he abruptly stands. frustration sprouts across every vein in his body. he scoffs. “do you even know what you’ve done? do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

you glare, nose flaring, finally conceding an ounce of emotion. “people are dying because of you! it is my job to stop you.”

“you just don’t understand.”

“understand? understand what?!” you cry, voice ringing through the empty room. “what else is there to understand, orter?!”

orter flinches, unsettled by the abhorrent you carry towards him. it’s unlike you. no. that was never you. it was yet another lie you had fabricated. there’s no point in making you try to see his point of view. there was no way for you two to see eye to eye. it just couldn’t happen with your backgrounds. that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway.

“do they brainwash you over there?”

“don’t be ridiculous.” you scoff.

“the people i’ve killed,” he begins. “do you even know what they did?”

your teeth clench.

“kidnapping, blackmailing, murder, robbery, trafficking, and the list goes on and on and on. they are making people suffer, and it is my job to stop them.” orter echoes your words as a spit to your face. “i know you know it too. deep down you’ve always known.”

“you’re lying.” you deny ferociously.

“the government is enabling them by turning a blind eye. you’re enabling them.” orter declares, pointing a finger at you.

“stop fucking talking!” you scream, voice cracking. you let your head fall, chest rising and falling.

orter doesn’t know what to do. it’s eating him alive, tearing his heart layer by layer. is it possible to get you on his side? but who would trust you? can he still trust you after everything?

“just what are you waiting for?” you eye him, speaking in a quiet voice that’s laced in defeat after minutes of tense silence.

“what?”

“you know why you’re here, orter. finish the job. stop wasting time.” you tilt your head back, daring him.

“y/n-”

“finish the fucking job.” you repeat, seething through pauses, enunciating each word so orter can comprehend the message.

the provocation causes orter to pull his gun on you before his brain can think otherwise. it’s aimed square at your face, yet you remain unafraid, having already accepted your doom.

orter hesitates to pull the trigger. the weapon shakes in his hand no matter how much he tries to steady himself. he has to end this. he has to. orter needs to let your relationship end like this—in rage and hate. but he can’t bring himself too, because there’s a part of him that hopes.

“was any of it real?” he asks, gripping tightly on his gun.

you know exactly what he’s referring to. maybe that’s why you answer quickly with a confident “no.”

that should’ve been enough to make orter finally squeeze the trigger, to finally put a finish to your life, but he stalls longer, taking you in, memorizing each and every line on your face. he sees your beauty even in moments before demise. he takes a step forward, pressing the tip of his firearm to your head, using it as a chance to be near you.

the trigger tightens and tightens to the point where orter thinks he’ll follow through, but the sound of your voice makes it loosen. he drops his aim to his side.

“i can’t tell you that it was real,” you state, and orter begins to see your eyes glaze. each syllable of your following words break. “because if i did, then that would mean you would be right.”

you finally break down, your facade shatters. fat streaks of tears stream down the skin on your cheeks, and you lower your head, letting them fall onto the floor.

“if i told you it was real, then i would have to admit that my year with you has been the happiest i have ever been.” you continue between chokes. “and i can’t let it be real because that would mean that i hurt you again and again and again for no reason at all.”

orter hates your anguished cries. he would give everything to the heavens to make them stop. he can only tighten his strength onto his gun.

“i have to tell myself that it isn’t real… because doing so makes it easier to deny the fact that i love you. and i love you so much, orter.”

orter reacts in what seems to be record time, pressing his lips onto yours with a passion that could set the world on fire. every unspoken word of his is poured into your mind as you move in sync with him. for this one moment, you both forget who you are. the government’s top agent. the leader of a revolution. those are mere titles squashed beneath your foot as you kiss orter with all the love you have yet to return to him.

orter’s hand finds the familiar skin of your face, stained with blood. he commits that warmth into memory, and when you finally pull away to breathe, he loses himself in your irises, examining the details that he grew fond of.

neither of you dare to go for seconds because you knew that if you did, then you would both abandon everything, your responsibilities.

so orter straightens himself up, bringing his trembling hand to hover his weapon centimeters from your forehead.

“do you have any final words?” orter forces out, bringing himself back into the cold, ruthless leader he’s supposed to be.

you grin softly. tears still soak your cheeks. “i’m so sorry. i wish things didn’t have to be this way. maybe, just maybe if we get another chance, we can live the way we wanted, and i could keep bringing you those stupid cream puffs from that bakery we love.

you inhale. “thank you for bringing my heart joy, orter madl.”

a single wet tear drops from his eyes as a familiar string of words escape his throat. “i adore you infinitely, my love.”

orter can feel the next words that bubble on your tongue, and you break out into an even brighter, toothy smile. “is that so?”

he seals his eyes shut. the trigger pulls. a shot echoes through the warehouse. the chair falls back with a clatter. orter doesn’t dare to look. if he did, then there would be nothing stopping him from letting your blood soak the threads of his clothes, screaming your name so loudly that it could reach the heavens.

orter storms out of the warehouse, allowing his subordinates to take care of the rest. and when he's finally alone, orter breaks down. his cries ring through the night. his hands bleed from countless punches he slams onto the floor.

orter madl doesn’t make mistakes, but he made the mistake of loving you.

yet he would do it again.

every single time.

[cinamun]

Hello Cinamun! I wanna start off by saying I love your blog very much, and your story is my favorite on Tumblr so PLEASE don’t block me!! But, I have to wonder if you’re starting to add drama just for chaos sake? We’re still in the middle of all the stuff with Dira/Ryker/Rah that’s unresolved, and now Jayce, who we’ve only seen as loyal and honest is gonna have an affair? It just feels like a bit too much. Can anyone be happy and secure for once? Does everyone have to go through pain and struggle every time? Hope is dealing with grief while being a first time mom of twins, and I have a soft spot for her so maybe I’m biased but I think she deserves a happily ever after. Black women deserve peace and happiness, along with all the BS we go through, there’s room for both. I really appreciate you as a writer. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to give us non-stop trauma just to keep up with the story.

Hey friend! Thank you for the kind words. But now, let us ask ourselves some questions, shall we?

"and now Jayce, who we’ve only seen as loyal and honest is gonna have an affair? It just feels like a bit too much."

Firstly....

Why do you think this man is going to have an affair? Why do you automatically assume that? ESPECIALLY after all of the qualifiers you gave him. Its only too much if you're *making* it too much.

Hear me out....

If you're new here, yes, it might seem like "too much" so I ask, too much of what, specifically? Implication? Subtext? Friend, that is THEE best part of writing. Your head is spinning so when and IF a shoe drops, you never see it coming. So again, "too much" of what, specfically?

"Can anyone be happy and secure for once? Does everyone have to go through pain and struggle every time?"

Nope, you're not new here and I can tell because you started with "please don't block me" so you MUST know that I get your second question all the time. So you're not new here you just rebranded to fucking troll me, and I hate that, but I'm gonna entertain you while I wait for my flight.

If you think pain and struggle is coming because Jay ran into a student in a coffee shop on campus, you need to ask yourself why you assume there will be "pain and struggle" every time. I enjoy mindfucking you, it might not be painful or a struggle but you might be shook and question your life choices when I'm done.

As for your last few sentences, I am a Black woman so I write about the experiences of Black women. You're anon so I don't know if you're a Black woman, I don't assume the identities of my readers.

Myself and a bunch of IDENTIFIED Black women readers have been over this topic already, about Black women deserving joy and our happily ever after. It is absolutely true that we do. So for you to assume the characters in this story wont get their happily ever after because they are Black women says more about you than it does about me as an author and Black woman.

Initially I was going to block you because if you want happy shit in every plot, every arc, you can find that on other blogs. I write real shit. I don't sugar coat a gotdamn thing. But I decided to just let you make the decision of unfollowing me if its "too much" for you. I am actually writing what I like to write about and if that's non-stop trauma then so be it. If people don't like that then its on them to stay or go. Fortunately, I am NOT writing non-stop trauma and anyone who feels like that clearly isn't reading the same story as the rest of the room.

Would you like your wings to go?

[thewondelandifulcafe]

Leona with an s/o who gets worked up pretty easily about things they don't think make sense.

Example. The first time they met, and they found out about his plan, they started slapping the wall and yelling, "HOW DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE!? IF YOU'RE NOT CONFIDENT THAT YOU'LL WIN, WHY NOT PRACTICE!? WHY PROJECT ONTO EVERYONE ELSE!?"

Very analytical, and WILL stress about small things if they don't understand it.

Often questioning higher ranking people because "Why do you do this?"

Even gets mad at historical figures and different events. Will yell in class as they ask the teacher why said figure thought that was a good idea.

Basically an irritable analytical s/o who hates how life is set up

Title: Irritable and Analytical

Menu: Twisted Wonderland 

Beverage: Thai Bubble Tea

Main Dish(es): Macarons

Side Dish(es): Pie: Pumpkin Pie

Spoilers: For Book 2

Trigger Warning: None: Please tell me if there is one

Summary: Leona with an s/o who gets worked up pretty easily about things they don't think make sense. 

Notes: You sure do love Leona. Don’t you? Can’t stay I blame you. But I should start writing for the other fandoms and characters. As always Y/N is G/N since it is not specified. I decided to give you scenarios cause I couldn’t tell if it was headcannons or short story so you got both. Honestly this is like a part of my personality. Is it bad that I think you’re calling out Leona for his stupidity. 

Leona Kingscholar 

Leona can be very intelligent or very dumb. There’s no in between. Especially when it comes to his schemes. He has good one mind you but the rest. Um not so good. Scar would be embarrassed. Leona left almost everything to Ruggie (I don’t quite remember if he did) You knows he’s lazy but come on do something.

The reason is so damn stupid. Why make a scheme to win because of your current skill level why not practice? I can guarantee you Malleus was not born knowing how to play. Why not learn. YOUR A PRINCE FOR GREAT SEVENS YOU CAN AFFORD CLASSES BY THE BEST OF THE BEST!

Leona is scared of you since you can be very kind and sweet. But when one thing does not make sense. YOU BLOW. You yell at the teachers when they talked about Jafar. “JAFAR CLEARLY COULD HAVE FOUND ALADDIN EARLIER WHY WAIT SO LONG!“ The Enchantress from beauty and beast. “ADAM WAS LIKE 12 WHY DO YOU THINK HE OPEN THE DOOR FOR YOU!” This did bother me actually.

While Leona cuddled you, you kept ranting on about how some of the historical figures in your world made dumb decisions that could’ve changed everything! Leona is just begging for you to stop so he can nap in peace. 

First POV

      The herbivore scares me and I know shocking. But they’re terrifying especially when something doesn’t make sense. When we first met they started slapping the wall and yelling, "HOW DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE!? IF YOU'RE NOT CONFIDENT THAT YOU'LL WIN, WHY NOT PRACTICE!? WHY PROJECT ONTO EVERYONE ELSE!?" They kept yelling about how dumb it was. Sure two months later I can see why they yelled. Still calm down a little. But how did I fall in love with them. It was when they were calm. Actually calm, they were kind, sweet, caring, the list goes on. They were still terrifying. But as time went on I guess I got used to it. It’s still annoying how mad they can get over the smallest thing but I’ve learned to live with. Their points do make sense once you get the full story.

A/N: Soooo I did this I’m proud of it but I do have a story idea after a movie I saw. Sooooo be on the look out for that possibly tomorrow?

@queen-shiba that’s for the request it was fun to write!

[jellyellymusings]

Having a child in the modern world is a decision that is often taken way too lightly.

When I was 21, I made the decision to have a surgical sterilization procedure. Many of my family members were distraught, as you might imagine, but I assured them that it wasn’t a decision I made casually, nor on a whim. I knew this could be life altering, I knew I was very young to be making this choice, and so I did a lot of research, self reflection, and talking it through with my emotional support network. I’d known since I was a teenager that I’d never want to be a mom, but until I began searching for the reasons behind that gut instinct, I hadn’t realized how mammoth a task it really was. Actually, at the time I had to write an essay about this same topic - just for my own sake - in order to grapple with all of the nuances that it came with. There are so many facets to consider when making the choice to be a mom, or to never be one. When doing my initial research, I started out with the practical debate method: figure out the other side’s reasoning. Subsequently, I decided to simply… talk to moms: my mom, my sister, co-workers, friends. New moms, experienced moms, moms who’ve lost their children. Surprisingly, what I found was that most of the time, they had never given much thought to the “why,” they had just done what came naturally. 

My own mom’s story I already knew, and it likely played a big role in my ultimate decision. Both my sister and I, born 10 years apart, were “oopsies.” My dad, to put it lightly, was not the greatest, and being tied to him in such an inextricable way was detrimental to her mental health, and affects her to this day. Hers might be the most tragic of the stories I heard. One coworker, a soccer mommy of three in the most Rae Dunn way, had pictures of her kiddos tacked all over her cubicle. I asked her straight up, “Why did you decide to be a mom?” She told me, “I don’t know, I guess we wanted something cute and cuddly to play with. Like a puppy that talks!” Originally, I had planned to ask more questions, but I quickly changed topics and cut the conversation short after that. I was absolutely dumbstruck at how somebody could be so casual and flippant about the choice to create human life!

The way I see the decision to become a mom, you should be so beyond sure of yourself. And I don’t mean in the, “I’m going to be Super-Octomom and do everything perfect” way. I mean in the, “I have all of the emotional, financial, and spiritual support that is needed to raise a loved, loving human being, without sacrificing myself to do so,” way. I feel that if people stopped and asked themselves hard questions about it, they might think twice. Questions like, “Am I prepared to raise a child with special needs?”, “If I were to suffer personal tragedy, could I continue to give my child the love and support they deserve?”, and “if I bring a child into this world, will they be able to flourish in our future?” It seems that many mothers, if they have the option to ponder their decision at all, shy away from this kind of self-reflection. When my sister announced her third pregnancy, I was aware that her family was already suffering financial hardships. They still live in my dad’s home, often unable to pay the mortgage. I felt so afraid for the future of my soon-to-be nephew, not to mention the well being of my two already-forlorn nieces. Imagine my shock and discomfort at learning that her pregnancy had been planned, and eagerly awaited! They had decided that my youngest niece (14 years her sister’s junior) needed a playmate. As if they are pets to entertain. I’ll refrain from digressing more here, as it’s so close to home, but I’m sure you’re understanding my point. The decision to become a mother is the decision to create a life. To make one half of this decision without any consideration for the consequences on the other is, frankly, selfish and irresponsible. 

While at first I was angry at these moms for their seemingly frivolous attitudes, I’ve realized they aren’t to blame. It is, of course, a matter of cultural and societal expectations. When women are placed in the “baby-makers” box, and this is the most natural process your body can go through, it’s reasonable to not give much thought to it. However, I believe we are evolving, intellectually, past the norms of the naturalistic world. Humans have the cognitive ability to have foresight, consider consequences, and make our own decisions. Modern women now also have medical and technological advancements that make the choice to reject society’s ideas of your future even easier. We are freer than we have ever been in this regard (well… at least we were two years ago.), and I hope that the moms who are simply taking the expected path begin to realize that they have infinite potential.

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

DWC - Day 1 - Appearance/Mysterious

@daily-writing-challenge

To anyone looking in from the outside the gathering would have had the appearance of a typical family meal. 

The patriarch seated at the head of the table, nursing his coffee and flipping through whatever papers seemed to have garnered his attention this particular morning. His wife seated beside him, quietly (and not so subtly) eyeing their only son who seemed blissfully unaware of the scrutiny - or perfectly content to ignore it. 

In fact this was quite typical in the Blythe household whenever Ricard stopped by to ‘visit’ in order to keep his mother from stopping by his estate unannounced (a strategy that while it sounded good was ineffective in practice), but one step inside the room would have given away that this particular morning was anything but typical…if  the tension was anything to go off of. 

Even the staff had been unwilling to stay in the room for long, only stepping in long enough to refill a drink or to remove a plate and quickly scurrying away, leaving the three to their rather heavy silence that no one quite seemed willing to break.

Or no one had, until Catherine Blythe’s tolerance for silence had been reached.

“Enough is enough. Where the hell were you for the last three weeks, Ricard?”

“Catherine…surely there was a more tactful way to ask the question…” Beside her, the silence now broken, Gerald sighed heavily, setting the paper he’d been ‘scanning’ down and reaching for his coffee before glancing between his wife and his son. 

“Perhaps, but I’d rather get a straight answer and someone is rather adept at side-stepping questions if given the opportunity. Besides, there’s no one in here but the three of us, and you don’t care if I curse and you,” she pointed across the table at Ricard who was looking entirely too amused for his own good, “- seem to find new ways of making me curse on a daily basis. Now answer the question, son.”

“A question for a question. Why does it matter? As I told father - I informed him and the office that I wouldn’t be in but would be available if needed and all the work was handled. There were people at the estate who could get a message to me if they needed to. And - as we’ve previously discussed - my private life is very much my own and I will share when I’m good and ready to.”

Gerald cleared his throat gently. “...You did say you were going to stay out of things, dear…”

A decision that clearly wasn’t well thought out, as he winced back in his chair as his wife’s attention whipped over in his direction. 

“That was before our son decided to disappear for almost a month without leaving any indication of where he was going or who he was going with.” She turned back towards Ricard, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t care how old you are, Ricard, you are still my child, and as foolish as it is I worry about you when you disappear like that. So you could be a bit more considerate and perhaps tell us where in the hell you’re -”

A heavy sigh left him as he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, glancing up at the ceiling for a long moment as his mother continued her lecture. 

He considered waiting for a ‘good’ moment, he really did. But there wasn’t going to be one, and what better way to break his mother out of one of her tirades than to shock her off course?

“I’m courting Cordeila Gray.”

Gerald coughed, nearly spitting out his coffee - managing to lower the cup to the table before slowly turning to look at his wife who had, rather abruptly, stopped talking and was staring wide-eyed at their son.

Rare was the event that could shock Catherine Blythe into silence.

“...What was that, Ricard?”

Ricard grinned - a shit-eating grin to be sure, but a grin nonetheless - before finishing off his coffee. He stood, adjusting his vest and brushing a few imaginary crumbs off of his slacks before giving his father a gentle pat on the shoulder and moving around to kiss the top of his mother’s head. 

“I thought it was quite clear. I’m courting Cordelia Gray. The last three weeks I was gone because I was with her at her family estate. Don’t worry - everything is by the books, no foul play, nothing out of the ordinary. I’ll be organizing a dinner in the next few weeks for the four of us to sit and spend some time together, so how about you don’t show up at her door-step this time, hm? Since I’m actually providing you with a first and last name this go ‘round.”

He offered a wave over his shoulder as he moved towards the door. “Father - I’ll see you at the office next week. Mother - perhaps you should take it a bit easy today. You look like you’ve just had a shock.” A quick wink and he was through the doors and gone, leaving the elder Blythes to themselves and their thoughts.

“...Gerald?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did he just say he was voluntarily courting someone…”

Gerald’s stunned gaze shifted from the door, where Ricard had been standing moments before over to his wife. “...he did.”

“And he told us who it was. Said he was going to arrange a dinner and all - I didn’t imagine that.”

“No…no you did not.”

“And we’re certain that was our son?”

“I would assume so - otherwise it was a mysterious stranger who wanted to come in and deal with the questions you often put forth to our son…”

The stifling silence returned for a long moment before Gerald realized his mistake. “I didn’t mean it that…” He’d barely started to speak when the croissant hit him between the eyes and he sighed. 

Fortunately for him, Catherine’s attention was already turned back towards the empty doorway - one could almost see the wheels in her head turning. 

“Leave them be Catherine.”

“I know…I know. It’s just….he was betrothed once before and that fell through, and this is only courting - just to be sure I don’t think it would hurt if I…”

“It would.” Gerald stood reaching down and taking his wife’s hand, gently urging her up out of her chair and looping her arm through his. “Leave them be. We’ve met the woman once before, we’ll meet her again, and whatever happens will happen. Do not press.”

She huffed as the pair exited the room…she’d leave things be for now. 

But she never had been one to ignore a good mystery. 

She and her son had that very much in common.

Mentions: @promethea-silk

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 126

October 9, 2020

“It is the end of all hope To lose the child, the faith To end all the innocence To be someone like me”

I… I don’t really know how to start this or even how to write about it. It’s… Everything is just so awful right now and, in a way, maybe I shouldn’t even be writing this, but I feel like if I don’t put down in words what happened this week I’m going to make one of those decisions with no return, one of those that you can’t take back once they're done.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? On Monday morning, tired and bored as I usually am when starting a new workweek, I looked at my WhatsApp and decided to delete some groups that we were no longer using. They were mostly coordination groups and, since the reason I created them are no longer was valid, I felt like deleting them was the right thing to do.

I know, I know. I can almost hear you saying, “No, you didn’t!” And you’re right. They weren’t occupying space or bothering me in any way… Except that they were there any time I opened the freaking app, reminding me of those painful things that I don’t want to think about right now, like the fact that J.N. and I are no longer friends, that most of the spaces and activities we shared together are now gone, and that there’s no turning back when it comes to our friendship.

And I think that gets to the bottom of the thing, the real reason why I decided to delete those WhatsApp groups. To help me close the wound and start the healing. And so I did.

And that’s where the shitstorm began.

Hours later, I.C. (a mutual friend of both J.N. and I) contacted me and told me that she had started a cancellation campaign against me. And to clear any doubts about it, she sent me some screenshots.

To say that those words and pictures froze me in place would be the understatement of the century. This had never happened in my life before, but I just lost all sense of reality for a little bit. I was at a meeting with my boss and I just couldn’t hear his words. For a moment, I felt like the only thing I wanted to do was to disappear, to dissolve right into the groind. To stop existing. I hadn’t felt this way since the day I tried to kill myself (and failed, obviously) almost 10 years ago.

Luckily for me, the meeting ended earlier and I got to walk across the company, from one building to another through the parking lot, under a warm midday sun. It wasn't strong enough, though, because I was shivering all the way through.

Once I got home, after work, I sat down and decided to say my piece. After all, J.N.’s poor opinion of myself was an isolated case, wasn’t it?

Oh, dear. I couldn’t have been more purposefully wrong if I had been trying to miss the mark.

One other person I considered close to me (not a friend per se, but someone that had expressed admiration and at least “good vibes”—as the youngsters say—towards me) not only supported J.N.'s accusations, but she seemingly had an axe to grind with me about something we never talked about, and made use of a public forum to do so instead of discussing it with me in private! I... I just had—and still don't have—any words

I was horrified and questioning all my life choices in the past few years at this point, so I did the only thing that I thought could bring me some kind of peace. I wrote to M.C. to ask her if she had heard about the whole debacle. And here I must confess that I was fishing for some reaffirmation and comfort. After all—and I think I’ve said this before—I think she's probably my closest friend. And you want to know what happened? She didn’t write back. Not a word or reaction or phone call. Fucking NOTHING. Zilch. Nada.

And that was my Monday.

Tuesday was a dead day. I went and came back from work and slept the rest of the day and night (thanks, sleeping pills!). I ocassionally checked to see if M.C. had said anything. Nope. Nothing. I started fearing the worst.

Then Wednesday came and she finally replied.

Her answer (as I should’ve expected by this point) was the most disappointing of all the dissapointing shit that I forcefully found out this week. She basically sided with J.N. (and the other person) and, as a result, I lost two of the people I’ve loved the most in the past few years in the span of three days.

And, if that weren’t enough—and considering this whole disaster—I just had to leave all the public spaces we shared. And I fucking loved being there! But I had to leave! I had no options. How could I have stayed there, knowing that not one but two people, whose opinion I deeply appreciated, thought of me (in short, that I was—am?—the worst of the worst, everything I’ve stood up against for most of my life)? There was no fucking away I could’ve stayed there and remain whole.

It reminded me of a conversation I had with my dad once, perhaps the first time I asked him for advice in my life. I was 23 at the time, and I had just finished one of the most important relationships of my life (with V.M., which I believe I’ve written extensively about in other versions of you and in other places as well) and, to make matters worse, N.G.—who was probably my best friend at the time—told me, two weeks after V.M. and I had finished our relationship of almost four fucking years, that he was in love with her, and that he was going to pursue her now that our romantic relationship was officially over.

Talk about a fucking disaster.

We were sitting in a shitty fast food restaurant (those with ugly plastic chairs who are uncomfortable as fuck) and he and I were discussing whether we would remain friends going forward. And I’m so stupid (or I was so shocked by the revelation) that I just said “Yes” and I smiled all my way through that most awkward conversation I've ever had, trying to be encouraging as my best friend was about to romantically pursue who I thought, at the time, was the love of my live.

When I got home, however, I felt the uneasiness overcoming me… And I just didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t feel like I could ask my other friends (like J.C. or A.P.) their opinions because, in my estimation, both of them liked N.G. well enough to side with him and his “Why can’t we be friends?” bullshit. So I consulted the only person that I thought had my best interests in mind and could counsel me properly about this situation.

And you know what? My dad delivered. He told me very clearly (and without much floriture, as far as I can remember) that I had two paths ahead of me. If I chose to remain friends with N.G., I would have someone by my side who was clearly not as much of a friend as I thought he was and, in exchange, I would lose all my dignity and self-respect. And, on the other path, I had to withstand the pain of losing both my best friend and the love of my life then, but I got the rest of my life to recover and find better friends—and maybe another love of my life.

It wasn’t much of a choice, but I thought (and still think) it was sound advice, so I took it.

So that’s how I came to decide, once again, to cut ties with the people I love—and thought loved me back—with the faintest idea of surviving this, somehow. In the middle of a pandemic. On the brink of making the biggest decision of my life.

And that was my Thursday, one of saying “goodbye” with a broken heart to places I loved (and helped to build) and others I had a great desire to be a part of.

So, today is Friday and I have only one question on my mind: who the fuck has got time to think about transitioning under the current circumstances?

As a matter of fact, I do.

Because even through all of this shit, at the bottom of this pit I didn’t know I could fall so far into, there’s only one thing sustaining me and giving me life. And it isn’t the prospect of my family lending me their support through all of this, or whatever friends I have left telling me I’m not that person they’re saying I am, no.

It’s the dream of maybe one day transitioning and being myself.

“This is the birth of all hope To have what I once had This life unforgiven It will end with birth”

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[ronanlynchgender]

why buck’s journey = buddie endgame

so, I wanted to map out Buck’s character journey throughout the entire series to help me understand him (for fic writing and because I love him). I used the 7 point plot structure, and as I began to fill it out I realized that Buddie is endgame, actually -- the way that Buck’s character has been written, and continues to be written, leaves no other logical option. So, using my best friend, my hyper-fixation whiteboard (tm), here’s my argument.

1. Haunting [back story trauma that shapes the character]: Daniel. Buck is donor, not son. He is unloved as a child, due to his parent’s grief. Because of this, Buck’s perspective is that he can only receive love in 3 ways: by injuring himself, or by helping people [this has a subcategory of making people feel good]. The first and third options are removed eventually, the first by Eddie, through the will, and the last by Abby, and Buck’s decision to stop having casual sex, leaving the broader ‘helping others’ as the only way he will be able to deserve love.

2. Catalyst, or Spur [the event that sets the character in motion]: this is both Abby leaving, and the introduction of Christopher (which happen more or less simultaneously). Here Buck decides to stay, after Abby leaves, and begins his journey towards the ultimate desire of his character: to find a family that stays. I argue that it’s the introduction of Christopher over Eddie that incites this, as Christopher is the only relationship Buck has at this time based on unconditional love; Buck learns he doesn’t have to do anything to earn it [see 3 ways to receive love from point 1]. 

3. Life-Changing Event: the Tsunami. Notably, the character will have two reactions to the Big Event, the first of which fails. Buck’s first reaction to loosing Christopher in the tsunami is to try as hard as possible to get back to firefighting, as he believes he failed in the one way he believes he can earn love: by helping others. His second reaction, after the fallout from the lawsuit, is to lean into helping Eddie, strengthening their relationship. Eddie’s forgiveness and reassurance during these events leads inextricably to the Midpoint. Various moments illustrate this, leading up to the Well. It’s here, I believe, that the writers were consciously beginning to write Buddie endgame.

4. Midpoint, or, the Point of No Return: The Shooting and the Will Reveal. This is the point at which Buck receives his most serious motivation to reevaluate his relationship with his self-worth (and therefore to his right to a family that stays). He is explicitly given value not because of what he can do, but because of who he is. The “Because, Evan. You think you’re expendable, but you’re not,” is the fulcrum point around which their entire relationship, and Buck’s journey towards ‘being at ease’ rotates. (of course, Buck still gets lost here; the fear of almost being left again by someone he loves and his perceived failure to save him saw him retreat to Taylor).

At this point, the action starts to intensify, the character takes stronger actions (Buck’s journey solidifies; he’s cast less as a hapless kid trying to find his place and more of the adult with serious trauma that he’s working to undo), until, the worst thing possible happens:

5. Crisis: Eddie’s Breakdown. Here Buck believes that he may have lost Eddie again, and it forces a key decision: he leaves Taylor to be with his actual family. This is when BT effectively ends, in my opinion. Through his actions in the care-taking of Eddie, Buck demonstrates that he knows (at least on some level) that his place in their family is not in question, and does not need to be earned.

6. Climax, or Showdown: the Sperm Donation. Since this is about Buck’s journey with his own self-worth, this is the showdown with himself. We come all the way back to the Haunting, to Buck only ever being a donor. The battle between himself and his central opposition, not feeling loved [reflection of self-value], has him regress again to his only option for receiving love: helping others. Obviously we don’t know exactly how this will end, but it will end in Buck successfully learning that he is loved, not for what he can do but for who he is, leading to:

7. Realization: Eddie is in Love with Buck. I believe the end of the climax will come because of this realization: Buck already has a couch (Eddie’s); Buck already is a father (to Chris), and he has made a Family that Stays. Oh, and just because: Eddie has told Buck that he will stay exactly 3 times by this point. 3 couches (serious relationships) and 3 tries on that lasagna. just saying.

tl;dr: Buddie is endgame and the proof is in Buck’s character journey. I’d say change my mind, but you really can’t.

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (III)

It’s been 3 years since the last update and I apologize for that. 3 years in which much life happened. I lost my passion for writing and HP, but have gained a little bit again. So, without further ado, here it is.

Chapter Three: The Interview Warnings: language

Word count: 4,5k

The mirror reflected the image of a very tired young woman.

You washed your face with cold water, a failed attempt to get rid of the tiredness. A cold shower would certainly be more effective, though, and so you started to undress.

It was Wednesday afternoon, but you hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. You had stayed up late studying the material and preparing your stuff. You didn’t regret it per se, but you reckoned you had made better decisions in the past. Now there were just a few hours left before the interview and you were already feeling sleepy.

Jessie hadn’t been a good influence on you, either. She had texted you almost the entire time, asking questions about it and practically begging you to promise you would share everything with her. Mrs. Lennox had asked you not to, though, so you had to let Jessie down and say no.

You got out of the shower feeling a little refreshed. Maybe you could also brew some coffee before leaving, just to make sure you would be able to maintain your performance standard.

Once you got dressed, you sat down by your desk and decided to go through your material one more time, but before you could even turn on your laptop, you heard a ding from your phone.

- Coffee break? Xx

It was Jessie. You looked at the time and figured you could use a friendly ear to listen to your concerns before the job.

- Sure. Joey’s?

- Can’t it be here? I’m not sure if I want to get out of the building.

- And I’m not sure if I want Mrs. Lennox to see me.

- LOL OKAY

Truly, you weren’t sure if she would see a problem with you out and about just before the interview. It was better not to risk it. Jessie could leave work for half an hour with no issues and that was certain.

Joey’s was your favorite coffee shop in town. You knew all the staff (one high school senior and one college student, both girls), but you had never met Joey, their father. It was a small shop, with few tables and not many clients, but it was cozy, lovely and family-owned, which meant everything tasted like it had been prepared by your mom, if that made sense. It was very different from the franchise coffee shop in the business building, where everything was overpriced. Sam was cool, though.

You met with Jessie and soon she started begging you again to tell her about the job. Once again, you said no.

“I won’t tell anyone, Y/N,” she pouted.

“I know… But you know how Mrs. Lennox is. If she finds out I told anyone, I’ll be doomed.”

Jessie sighed. “Okay. I give up.”

“I need some reassurance, though. How do I look?”

“Oh my God, it is Tom Hardy, isn’t it?”

“Jessie, for the love of God, forget Tom Hardy. It’s not him.”

“I can’t think of anyone else I would be worried about my looks for.”

“Well-I- It’s not- I’m not worried about my looks. I just asked how I look.”

Jessie raised an eyebrow at you. “You look beautiful, Y/N. You are beautiful, you know it. Your hair looks extra cute today, though. What’d you do?”

“Hate on it.”

“Sounds legit,” she raised her cup of coffee to take a sip, but stopped mid-air, her eyes going wide.

“What?” you frowned, looking behind you. There was nothing there.

“It’s Sirius…”

You looked back at her.

“…isn’t it?” she looked intensely at you.

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times before trying to change the subject.

“Oh my God, it’s Sirius Black you’re interviewing tonight,” Jessie said excitedly and you quickly shushed her. “That’s why you couldn’t sleep and that’s why you’re so worried about your hair and that is why Mrs. Lennox wants discretion.”

“Okay, first of all, I could’ve gone to bed early if I wanted to. Second of all, I’m not worried about my hair. But, yes, you’re right about the last one.”

“Ohhh, this is so exciting! You haven’t seen each other in years, have you? What is it for? Can’t be January, it’s too- Oh! Valentine’s Day! Y/N… this is major!”

You let her freak out for a little bit before interrupting. “Congratulations, you’ve figured it all out. Now, please, be quiet and don’t tell anyone.”

Jessie pretended to lock her lips and throw out the key. “But tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? A little nervous.”

“You should be! He’s so fucking hot. Who even is Tom Hardy?”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry. I’ll be more serious now,” she sat straighter. “I know we never really talked about… him. You don’t like to do so and I respect it. I’ll be all ears right now if you want to vent, though. And then if you don’t ever want to talk about it again, I’ll never bring it up.”

You melted a little bit with Jessie’s small speech and reached for her hand, squeezing it slightly.

“Thank you. I do want to vent. I was planning to without revealing too much, but I don’t even know how it would’ve worked out.”

“I’ll pretend I can’t speak English now. Say whatever you want.”

You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, realizing your chest had been tight all day.

“The location… is what is making me specially nervous. It’s a house. A small house he bought way back. Today he uses it as a personal studio, but it actually… was our home.”

Jessie seemed legitimately surprised, but, as promised, she did not interrupt.

“He used to live in a friend’s house when we were in high school. It’s very public that he has no contact with his family, I’m sure you know. Anyway, when we graduated, we had already been together for about two years, and since he wanted to move out of this friend’s house, we decided to move in together. I went to college and got a minimum-wage job, while he kept working on his music, so the rent we could afford was a very small apartment. Things were a little tough money-wise in the beginning, but then he met a manager. He didn’t get signed right away, it actually took a while, but he was making more money with shows and soon we could afford to get out of that small apartment and upgrade to a small house,” you chuckled. “Still rented, but it was all ours and he could make as much noise as he wanted with no neighbors complaining. It was like that until he got signed. That’s when everything changed. He released a full album, his first, and money started coming in faster. He went on his first tour and more money came. Not long after, he released a second album. By this time, I graduated and got a better job. Then, after his second tour, he bought the house. That small house we had been renting for three years. I remember going crazy on him after he told me the ‘surprise’. I said we should’ve been saving money for a bigger one that both of us would pay for. He told me not to worry and that he didn’t want a bigger one. He said he didn’t want us to change lifestyles that quick because he didn’t want to ‘get used to it’. He genuinely thought he wouldn’t go far. I thought it was stupid at the time, but… I actually loved that house. And hey, it was his money.”

You stopped and bit your lower lip.

Jessie was still watching you, listening to you, and didn’t say a word.

“The rest is history, I guess. He exploded with his third album, when he changed his style a bit, and then we broke up.” You downed your second espresso and waited for Jessie to process everything.

She took a few seconds before breaking her silence. “Do you… um… mind if I ask why you two broke up?”

“Conflicting schedules. He got too busy.”

Now, that wasn’t exactly a lie, but it also wasn’t the entire truth. Jessie would probably guess, though, because she was part of the press too and she knew that was the number one excuse for a break up that celebrities used when they didn’t want to go into details.

“I see…” she nodded.

“So yeah, I’ll be stepping in that house for the first time in seven years. I don’t know what to expect, but I feel I won’t be too happy. It’s probably so different…”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine. You’re one of the best journalists I’ve ever met and I know you’ll interview the hell out of him.”

You allowed yourself to laugh a little, despite the nervousness. “Thank you, Jessie.”

“You’re welcome, babe,” she squeezed your hand. “Well, I gotta go back to work. Good luck out there and text me if you need me.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

And with that, she left you alone with your racing thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had a little trouble finding your old house, but that was the first time you drove there, you could be forgiven.

You parked your car across the street, knowing better than to draw attention to the small, discrete house. Before getting out though, you looked at it. The living room lights were on, but the porch lights were off, unlike the other houses around it. If he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, he should’ve turned them on.

The street was deserted, as it always was in the winter. You crossed it remembering how the kids liked to run around and ride their bikes in the summer. It was a happy neighborhood. You wondered if Mrs. Benson was at home. She used to bake the best cookies.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you knocked on the door and waited. The small garden under the living room window looked just the same, with the exception of a few extra flowers you didn’t remember being there last time. Despite a thin layer of snow covering virtually everything, you could see that the front yard was neat and the grass well kept. The little stone path gave you a very warming and nostalgic feeling. You had picked those stones, you had planted some of those flowers, you had mowed that grass many times. It was like going back in time, when things always worked out the way you planned them. Maybe the backyard still looked the same too, maybe the small wooden table you also had picked was still there. Wouldn’t be out of place to ask to look, would it?

No. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that thought. You were working. This was a job.

A rustling sound came from the other side of the door and you heard two locks clicking. Still two locks.

The door was opened, and a pair of grey eyes met yours.

His wavy black locks reached his neck and covered his forehead – it was the longest his hair had ever been. There were dark circles under his piercing eyes, but you knew that was usual. They had always been there, specially before he left his parents’ house. The black sweater and black trousers meant he had been there for some time now, you guessed. You didn’t think it was the outfit for a photoshoot.

Of course the only reason why you were paying attention to those details was the article. Descriptions were taken very seriously by you as it gave the reader a sense of proximity to the subject. Your eyes trailed his figure for that purpose, only. If it made you feel anything was another story…

Maybe a second or two passed before another sound was made, but it felt much longer than that.

“Y/N,” your name rolled out of his tongue like it was difficult to pronounce, although his voice tone was steady.

“Hello, Sirius. I’m here for your interview. I represent SL Magazine,” you explained in your business, emotionless and yet polite voice. The one you used for every job.

“I know,” he looked down for a brief moment and then looked back up. “Come in.”

Leaving the door open behind him, Sirius went inside. You followed, not forgetting to lock it.

He went straight to the kitchen, and so you stayed in the living room, eyeing everything in your range. To say you were surprised was an understatement. The house looked exactly the same inside too. All the furniture and decoration were the same, again with the exception of a few different guitars you didn’t recognize laying around or hung on the walls.

“Can I get you anything?” you heard from the kitchen. “I’ve got coke, beer, redbull… But also tea, water, you know.”

“Water is fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? There’s peppermint tea.”

You bit your lower lip. It wasn’t a big deal, why say no?

“Peppermint tea sounds great.”

A few seconds later he was back with a warm cup of tea in hands.

“No milk, no honey. Just sugar,” he said, offering it to you.

“Thank you,” you took it, feeling a little suspicious. He was too quick. A small voice in the back of your head said he had it waiting for you. You could appreciate it, though. It was no big deal.

“So… How have you been?” he asked. His voice tone wasn’t as steady as before. You could pick up the smallest of trembles in it. Your ears were basically trained for details like that and you wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you smiled minimally. “But I’m fine. It’s been a good couple of years.”

“Yeah, I’ve read some of your stuff. It’s pretty good.”

“Thanks.”

You took a sip of the tea, feeling a little out of place. Not that surprisingly, it was perfect, exactly the way you drank it at home. It wasn’t surprising that he still remembered because you had spent nearly eight years together, after all.

There was a small pause, though, and you quickly decided to speak before it turned into an awkward silence.

“And how have you been?”

“Good… good,” he nodded slowly as he spoke. “Can’t complain, can I?”

“You tell me. But not now. I’d like to set up my equipment first,” you let out a quiet chuckle.

Sirius looked slightly disappointed. “Oh yeah, this is an interview.”

“Where do you want me to stay?” you looked around.

“The couch is fine,” he pointed at it and you started to walk towards it. “You don’t mind if I drink during this, do you?”

“Not at all,” you wore the business voice again.

“Y/N…” he called and you turned around, “do you?”

You glanced at him for a few seconds and sighed. You were trying to be professional and treat him like you would treat any other interviewee, but he was making it very hard. “I’d rather not have you drink alcohol while I do my job, but this is supposed to be comfortable for you.”

“Got it,” he went back in the kitchen and you sat down, placing the mug on the coffee table. You opened your bag and took out your phone, tablet, notepad and pen.

Sirius came back with a can of coke and sat down, maintaining a certain distance so each of you were at one end of the couch. You mentally thanked him for the space and took another sip of the tea before starting.

“As you know, I will be recording this for future reference,” you showed him your phone. “And also taking a few notes and looking at my tablet where I have my… sort of script. You know, the standard thing.”

“Yes,” he rested his cheek on his fist.

“Let’s get this started, then.”

You turned on the voice recorder and placed your phone on the coffee table alongside your cup of tea. The tablet, with the script displayed on the screen, was on your lap and the notepad laying on the couch’s arm next to you. The fireplace sent a lovely warmth towards you. You had to admit this was a very nice setting for an interview. It was… home.

“So, Sirius, very recently, more precisely a month ago, right before your 30th birthday, you were declared artist of the decade by SL Magazine. How do you feel about that? Does it change anything for you, personally?”

Sirius sighed. There was something about your voice tone that he didn’t quite like. You sounded too distant. “I feel good. It’s good. People care about my music and that’s something I don’t want to take for granted. But I’m not sure if it changes anything personally.”

“What do you mean?”

“In all honesty, this is great for my career. Really great. But as far as my personal life goes, it’s almost non-existent.”

“Non-existent? What about friends?”

“Friends,” he repeated. “My friends have got their own lives and it’s been so long since I last saw them, I don’t know if they still consider me a friend.”

Sirius was looking at the coffee table, not at you, and he seemed to be wandering in his own mind. You guessed he was talking about James, Remus and Lily, but you didn’t want to go there.

“They probably do. They understand you have a busy life,” you reasoned. “But that isn’t what I meant, anyway. When I say personally, I mean your self-image. How do you feel about yourself now?”

“Hm…” he opened the can of coke and took a long sip before letting out a refreshed ‘ahh’ and licking his lips. “I don’t know. Like I said, it doesn’t really change anything.”

“Right. Okay,” you nodded. “And what about girls?”

Sirius looked at you. “What about them?”

“You do have fun, don’t you?”

“I… guess?” he frowned. “Are you sure you want to talk about that?”

“I’m just saying… You’re a very successful artist. There must be girls all around. Also, you have written quite a few songs about this matter.”

“Well… yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I guess there are.”

“Were those songs based off your own experiences?”

Sirius couldn’t grasp that you weren’t feeling weird talking about this with him. Because he was. Very much. However, you still sounded distant, too professional and emotionless. It was a tad bit disappointing.

“Honestly? Yes. Every single one of them,” he decided to just be real. “I know there are artists who write concept albums, but that’s not really my thing. I mostly write about myself and real events. Sometimes less serious stuff. So yeah, they were.”

“Would you say there is a muse behind them? Or are there multiple girls?”

“A muse? Nah,” he shook his head. “I’m my own muse.”

“Right,” you hid a smirk. “You draw inspiration from yourself.”

“Exactly.”

“Who’s the most important person in your life, Sirius?”

Now that caught him off-guard.

You had your pen between your fingers, swinging it while you waited for his answer. The seconds went by and Sirius had his eyes on the black screen of the turned off TV.

“…myself,” he mumbled.

“Yourself,” you repeated, not surprised, but not showing it.

“That’s quite pathetic, isn’t it?” he took another long sip of his can.

“It’s not my place to say.”

“But you thought.”

“I’m not here to judge you.”

“Yeah, you’re just here to publish information so the public can judge me.”

“I’m here to gather information about you and give it to the people who you inspire, the people who call themselves your fans.”

“That’s a very nice way to describe a tabloid. Good job.”

“Right,” you took a deep breath. “I work for SL, not a tabloid, Sirius. Are you gonna let me do my job?”

“I… Okay… Sorry,” he ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just this tone you’re using.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You’re being so… robotic. You sound just like them.”

“Them?”

“The press.”

“Sirius,” you called and he looked at you. “I am the press.”

“I know. But I thought…”

“What?”

“I thought it would be different.”

You stared at him, speechless. Was he that entitled? Or just delusional? You grabbed your phone and paused the recording before speaking again.

“Why would it be different? I’m working, Sirius. This is my job. What did you think was gonna happen? You would open the door and I would hug you and tell you how I’ve missed you and how I’m just so happy to see you?”

“No,” he eyed you intensely. “I just thought it would be more natural. None of that whole fake admiration bullshit.”

“Fake admiration?”

“Yeah, you know. You guys massage our egos and say that you loved our song, movie, whatever, but behind all those compliments and wide smiles there’s heavy criticism. In the end, you hate us and write a passive-aggressive article about how big assholes we are and make money out of it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I hadn’t realized how mean the media is to you. It’s not like you’re the artist of the decade or anything.”

“Artist of the decade, ha! Yeah, thanks for that. I’m all fucked up with no friends or family, but hey! I’m the artist of the fucking decade!”

“You chose this! You wanted this! You were the one who said to my face that you didn’t have time for shit like that. You started seeing our friends less and less, but bent backwards to make time for more interviews, photoshoots or any kind of promo.”

“That’s what you wanted from me!”

“What?!”

“I don’t mean you, you. I mean you, the press. You were everywhere! I mean, they. They were everywhere. They milked everything they could. Ricky said I had to-”

“Don’t you dare bring Ricky up.”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not another word of this. I came here to work. I came here to interview you. And that’s what I’m going to do. I will not discuss the past. So, please, let’s pretend we don’t know each other and just… work.”

“You want to pretend we don’t know each other? Fine. You might as well delete that recording because in this case the answers are gonna be a lot different.”

You gaped at him. “You are unbelievable. I don’t know why I agreed to do this.”

He looked at you. “Yeah, why did you agree to do this?”

“I just said I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“I guess… I guess I thought it would be different.”

“Oh my God,” he laughed humorlessly. “What do you want from me?!”

“I want you to be you! Just be you for once. Let go of this rockstar persona and be you.”  

Sirius looked at you and you felt like you had hit just the right spot. It was right there, in his eyes. The guilt. The shame.

The air was suddenly thick, and so you let a few seconds pass. You let him breathe for a bit before carrying on.

“Tell me about one of your songs,” you said softly as you turned the recorder back on. “Love Falls. What is it about? Why did you write it?”

“Because…” he said in the same tone, “because I had to get it out.”

“Get what out?”

“The burden,” he gulped, looking down. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like I’m constantly drowning and the only breath of fresh air is when I’m here. In this house.”

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because… it’s the last place where I was happy. It’s why I’ve kept it the same way. Every little thing in here has a good memory behind it. Even this couch. We would all sit here and watch a movie together, remember? The six of us. Then seven. Then six again. Then two. And now one.”

Sirius took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands. You blinked a few times and realized your eyes had gotten watery. Not enough to cry, though. No, you weren’t going to.

You looked down at your phone and realized this was getting too deep, too personal. It wasn’t right to record this. You stopped it again and threw the phone inside your bag, closing the zipper.

“Um…” you cleared your throat. “In the lyrics, you say you’ll never forget the day you died. When was the day you died, Sirius?”

Slowly, he looked up at you. “I think you know.”

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

“You do, Y/N.”

“Was it when Peter tried to sue you?” you frowned. You remembered it took a toll on him, but you didn’t think it was to that point. “When he falsely accused you of stealing his music?”

“No. It was the day you left me.”

You did not say a word.

Sirius stood up and chugged down the whole can, then threw it across the room. “That was when I truly stopped being me.”

“You had stopped being you long before I left, Sirius.”

He turned around and stared at you.

“You don’t remember the things you used to say?” you questioned. “You don’t remember the times when you implied you’d always be bigger than me? I was going to be ‘just’ a journalist, but you? You were going to be a big star.”

“I said that?” his voice barely came out. Sirius looked genuinely shocked and heartbroken, his lips slightly parted and a small frown between his eyebrows.

You nodded. “I guess you don’t remember because you were drunk.”

It was Sirius’ time to stay quiet, and you took that chance to say the things you wanted.

“So don’t you dare play the sad victim here. Like I abandoned you or something. You hurt me. Several times. You went from the sweet, funny boy who played guitar for me in recess to the selfish, arrogant guy who wouldn’t even remember my birthday.”

“I… I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You watched as his eyes shifted and suddenly became sorrowful. It was like he had taken his contacts off and you could finally look into his true self. At that moment, he didn’t look like the Artist of the Decade or Sirius Black, the rockstar. He looked like a sad young man who felt lonely and empty.

The pen between your fingers wasn’t moving anymore. The atmosphere of that house was cold now, despite the fireplace in front of you.

“Listen”, you started. “I need to make this interview work. This is very important for me. For my career. Let’s… let’s stick to the music. We don’t have to talk about the past. We shouldn’t. I won’t write an article about it. That would be way too personal. Not only for me, but for you too.”

“I don’t really care. I trust you.”

You swallowed tightly. “Then let’s do this. Please.”

The two of you kept staring at each other for a few seconds before you grabbed your tablet and went through the points of discussion. There was still a lot to talk about. Mostly his music, of course, which was the subject you had barely touched on.

I trust that you won’t leave out any details pertinent to the writing of this article.

Sorry, Mrs. Lennox.

Sirius sat down next to you again, a little closer this time, and you started over.

********

[multiphandommess]

Grievances

Requested by @wosoobsessed

Request - Hi, would you maybe be able to do a bit of an angsty one with Natasha? I lost my mum earlier this year. So maybe the reader's mum passes away and Natasha is just the best partner and comforts her through the Journey of her grief and like holds her while she cries. And goes with her to the funeral. Sorry if this is too sad you don’t have to do it I 100% understand if this isn’t the stuff you would want to write 😂😂But thank you anyway!!

I sat there in shock. I got the phone call everyone dreads, the call from someone letting you know a loved one has passed. My mother, a kind and funny woman, had passed on earlier today, and after getting a call from my sister, my world was crushed. The tears hadn’t set in yet, I was still processing the words that I had been told. Natasha was wrapping up filming for Poker Face season 1 in upstate New York. I wanted to text her, ask her to come back to the apartment with a bottle of liquor and a box of tissues, and fall into her arms. However, I felt bad doing that. It was only 10 a.m. and she had left at 7. This meant that there was most likely a 12-hour shoot day today and that she wouldn’t be home until 11 or midnight. So, I did the next best thing, I drove to the store, got some booze, and came home and cried. And watched sad movies, and cried. It was about 10 pm and I had a lot to drink. I wasn’t on another planet or anything cliche, but I wasn’t sober. And that's how Natasha found me, lying on the couch, staring off into space and mumbling to myself. “Hi Natty!” I slurred. Natasha looked shocked at my state, “Baby? What, uh, what happened?” The question made me remember why I got so drunk in the first place. This time, the tears came. I couldn’t stop them, they just kept pouring down my face. This reaction shocked Natasha, even more. “Ok, ok. Let’s get you to bed, ok honey? We can talk in the morning.” The next thing I knew, I was waking up in our shared bed with a killer hangover. After I emptied my stomach of the booze, I sat down on the bed next to an expectant Natasha. “So, do you wanna tell me what last night was all about? I brought home some beers to celebrate filming wrapping, but when I got home you were 2 sheets to the wind,” Natasha said, looking at me worried. “Nat…I…just…here,” I couldn’t get the words out, so typed it into my phone and handed it to my fiance. I was on the verge of tears again as I waited for her reaction. She didn’t say anything, she just pulled me into her and held me. I cried in her arms for a while. To be honest, I’m not sure how much time passed. All I know is that when I was done, it was no longer morning. We had spent the day cuddling, crying, and sleeping. 

“Darling? Are you hungry? I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Natasha said, after multiple hours of grieving. I nodded my head, my throat sore. “What would you like to eat?” She asked again. I only shrugged my shoulders, not currently wanting to make a decision. “Does pizza sound good?” Once again, I only nodded. I got up and made myself look a little more presentable and walked to meet Nat by the door. She took my hand and walked us to her car. 

I got in the car and she did too. As she drove, I decided to finally speak. “I’m sorry, bub,” I said, looking at my lap. I felt bad. I felt like I had been clingy and just overall annoying. 

“No, no. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Why would you think that? You’re grieving over the loss of someone who was a giant part of your life. You can be as sad as you want. I’m going to take some time off and I’m going to be with you, ok? Because I don’t want you to think that this is something to be ashamed of. Feeling like this, feeling emotional, even feeling numb, is all a part of the process of grief. Please understand that you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” Natasha reassured me. I almost cried out of relief. “Really?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the kindness and acceptance of my partner. She nodded as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

“I promise, hon. You have nothing to be ashamed of and you shouldn’t feel weak. Now, I’m gonna go in and get our food. Want your normal?” She asked. After I told her what I wanted, she walked into the store. I was still feeling lost without my mom. She was the kind of woman everyone looked up to. She was a head-turner, yet she put kindness before looks. Even though I knew it would be hard to navigate this world in this new normal without her, I knew that Natasha would help and support me through my grievances.

[ambrosialips]

I haven’t written in so long about what I feel, I haven’t really felt in a while the things that I feel. It’s been, weird or hectic. I feel like I’m alright, or maybe I feel too much to really write or begin to understand it. A lot has happened, a lot has felt. I have to remind myself how to experience past dilemmas and the feelings I’ve had, and I’m going through new emotion filled moments now. It’s a lot.

I don’t know what’s going on between me and my best friend. I don’t know if there’s something going on between us or not really. It feels foreign. It feels…uncomfortable. I feel hurt, I feel confused, I don’t want to be the one to take the first step once again. I don’t want to feel like I’m the one putting effort into everything once again. I don’t want to be the one to do eveyethin again. Heal, make mistake, talk about, beg to talk, try to understand, get an answer. It’s tiring and frustrating to. It feels like we’re doing through the same thing that we went through before and I’m so tired. Why do we have to go through this again? Why do I have the one to push and turn over backwards to get an answer and fix things again when I didn’t do anything. Why do I have to be the only one doing everything. Truth be told I’m tiring. It’s too much, it feels like too much effort simply coming from one person. I feel like I’m drowning and I don’t think that’s how a friendship is supposed to make you feel like . I’m not sure I understand what’s happening . I thought everything was good, then suddenly radio silence. I don’t understand how you can go from talking about how you’re scared of being “left behind” to talking daily then practically ghosting. It feels unreal . It feels frustrating. It feels infuriating really. How can you say that you’re too busy but somehow still have the time to talk and constantly post shout talking with other people, are you really busy or are you too busy to talk to your so called best friend? I don’t get it. I don’t get how you can ghost someone. I don’t get how you can be so dry when you talk. I don’t get how when I decide to let you do the first step we simply stop talking , but you make sure to be shady everywhere but talk to me. You call this a miscommunication but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like it’s avoiding communication . It feels like I’m once again left to do all the work, have to apologise and fix everything even if I didn’t do anything. It feels infuriating . I feel abandoned . I feel frustrated. I feel like I would do things that you wouldn’t do for me. It feels like i would do more . It feels like i do more. It feels like i put too much effort. It feels like i put too much feeling. It feels like i do and feel too much compared to you. I shouldn’t have to feel like this. I shouldn’t have to feel like I don’t want to be friends anymore, because I don’t think that’s true. I shouldn’t be questioning our friendship and if I even want you in my life anymore. This shouldn’t eat me up alive like it’s doing. I’m tired. I’m tired of trying. I’m tired of putting more effort. I’m tired of doing more. I’m tired of being more. I feel like giving up. I think I’m giving up. I’m giving up on don’t everything. I don’t want to reach out. I won’t reach out. I’ve done it enough, I’ve done it too much, I’ve felt it too much. If you want to talk to me fine, if not then that’s alright. I’m tired of prioritising someone that doesn’t do that to me. I’m tired of prioritising a friendship when I don’t get the same energy back anymore. If it ends then so be it, I know that I’m content with my decision. I’m leaving it to the universe. I’m leaving it all up to you. If we won’t be friends anymore, I know that it isn’t because of something I did or didn’t do. I know I won’t feel guilty . I’ve done all I can do and I felt all I could feel, and I’m tired of letting this consume all my emotional energy. I won’t out feeling into this anymore. I’m done. I trust the universe. I’m tired and I’m done

[apologies-i-never-sent]

H

For years we played a cat and mouse game… I don’t know why I ended up falling into that game with you and to be honest I don’t remember how it happened either. All I remember is that back and forth and what I would consider the feeling of a major “eye-roll” personified at the end. I wanted it to work, for a while it felt like it was a case of star crossed lovers where something was always in the way but it turns out you were in the way. Every time I tried to move on with my life and be happy you would pop up and try to become the center of my universe. You knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it in a way that would make me slip back into your trap…. theeeeen 2 weeks would go by and you would pick some sort of fight, start seeing someone else then disappear for about as long as it took for me to start moving on.

This happened on and on and on for years. And I remember one of the last times this happened, the time I decided I would move on and do it for good. You texted me, I was surprised because it had been a while. I guess I was not following the pattern you were used to. I said we should be friends because I had nothing against you I was just getting whiplash from the back and forth that was us. And you made the ultimate manipulative move…. You said “I love you”… you had never done that before, you had never SAID that before. For years I wanted to hear that and you used it as a last resort. Every part of me in that moment LIT UP like a 90’s Christmas tree in a Lifetime movie, for about 5.3 seconds. Then just as quick as my body lit up it felt sick, a rock felt like it was making home in my stomach and I felt like the air had been taken out of my lungs. That feeling was the realization that this was then end. I replied “no, you don’t”… I actually remember chucking when I sent the message.

It’s been so long and I have the image of these texts burned into my mind. I once again said it would be best if we were just friends. You responded in shock as if I was crazy for questioning your feelings, you insisted your feelings were real and tried to convince me of it. Looking back now, maybe your feelings were real? Maybe you had finally made a decision about the back and forth and decided you did want to be together? But I had made a decision too…. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I had been broken down and disillusioned by us so many times I was just tired. Our conversation ended there because you just stopped responding in a state of indignation… who was I to question YOU?! Well. I didn’t fall into that trapped either and I moved on anyways. Then… you came out of the blue again. This time I had healed enough (from you that is, I was still a mess) that I was ready for the conversation that was going to happen. You messaged me at 1 am to hang out. You and I, and the reader of this letter, know what that means. There is no hanging out at 1 am, there is one reason as to why people see each other at this time. So I said no, I said I was not your last resort and I was not going to see you. Again, you tried to make me believe that it was not like that and that you had just been hanging out at your aunt’s house with no charger and could not talk to me. Okay. Massive eye roll at that point. So we never spoke or saw each other after that. I guess in writing this I realize that there was no friendship like I originally thought, just a version of us where you used me to your benefit. You didn’t want me but you also hated the idea of me being happy with someone else. Can’t have your cake and eat it too, in your manipulative nature and your good looking exterior I guess it happened for a while but I guess the veil fell for me and I saw you for who you truly were. A con man.

I hope you’ve grown up. No hard feelings here, I’ve healed from whatever we were or weren’t. As with the others, hope you’re having the life the universe feels you deserve.

[twicecorner]

Smoked Out

A/N: Smoking warning. AU-ish, this is all made up, I don’t encourage smoking nor do I think Jihyo would really act like this, but I saw a scene in a show and a little quickie idea popped up. I know this isn’t the TA series that a lot of you had hoped for, but the writing fuel came out and this is the small product. It’s different from my other works, not really smut, but maybe it could be, who knows.

2624 words; idek what genre to call this one lol angst? but not really? idk LMAO anyways enjoy🫣

Being a foreign worker in another country is never easy, but luckily you got to work with an amazing team at a nice company. You’ve been working at JYP with the world-renowned K-pop girl group Twice for about a year now. It’s only normal that you’ve found your place on their team and have finally started to be more involved with them in and out of the workplace setting. 

One warm night the team, along with some of the girls, head out for some food and drinks after a long day's schedule. You’re surprised that they decided to go out tonight considering how long of a week it’s been and even more so surprised that even some members wanted to join in A nice Friday night of barbecue, soju, and beer, and the crew has become a loud bantering table at the small restaurant in the middle of Seoul. You’re laughing and making jokes with some of your co-workers and suddenly your phone rings. 

“Hold on guys,” you take another shot of soju, “I’ll be back in a sec, I have to take this.” You stand up from your seat and head outside as the laughter slowly muffles when you close the door and head to the small alleyway next to the restaurant in the still Seoul summer air. 

“Hello?” you question.

“What are you doing? Have you been drinking?”  The other person responds quickly.

“Yes… it’s a Friday night and we’ve had a long week.” You meekly reply.

“What the fuck. Who’s we?? I thought you stopped drinking.” 

“We as in my co-workers and I and quite frankly I don’t weally know why you’re bombarding me with questions right now… isn’t it like morning there?” Your words slightly slurring.

The person on the end of the line is the crazy ex that for some reason loves to keep tabs on you after your “messy” break up somewhere during your first month in Seoul. The initial phone call was made by you because you couldn’t handle the long-distance and that work was far too crazy to keep the relationship the way you wanted to, that breaking it off might be the best decision for both parties. Unfortunately, she didn’t pick up so you decided to leave a voicemail. A few days go by and you hear nothing from her. Your best friend from home calls you and tells you she’s been cheating on you ever since you left. 2 years of a relationship that you thought would be the last, down the drain. Your friends had always told you they’d seen red flags from her since you started dating, but ignorantly and “in love” you brushed them off. Now, you’re seeing the signs just a bit too late and clearly suffering the consequences. You took her silence as a sign of guilt or shame and decided to leave it at that. One phone call she made to you about 3 months after that incident is when she tried to explain herself, but you were having none of it, after hours of yelling and arguing and crying, you broke it off for good.

“You know how you get when you drink. This is why we shouldn’t have broken up. Why are you always out and ‘working’ don’t they give you time off? Do you even know what I’ve been going through?” She sounds like she’s about to keep yammering so you cut her off.

“We haven’t spoken in like months and you’re calling me now to complain? To yell at me? And for what?” It’s reached the point that this phone call has somehow managed to snap you out of your fun drunken daze and into a fed-up, upset mood.

“And what gives you the right to talk to me like that? For your information, I was calling to check up on you.”

“Oh really? And by doing what? Interrogating me on my life choices? I’m doing just fine here and I hope you’re doing well with that fucker from your office. You know I only picked up your call because some small fucking part of me still kind of cares about you and I thought maybe something had happened. But I guess not, so if there’s really nothing left to say, goodnight or good morning or whatever. Goodbye.” Click. 

Fuck.. really out of all times she could have called. Bitch 

You angrily shove your phone back into your pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes. You told yourself you’d stop smoking when you left home, but sometimes the stress of the job was too much, and of course whenever you drank you’d have a smoke or two. Right now checked off both of those boxes. Fumbling with the pack and the lighter you manage to light one up. 

Fuck god, I really can’t believe her you mutter to yourself as you slowly exhale your first puff of smoke. 

“You know smoking is bad for you.” You hear a voice from behind you and it makes you jump a little. 

“Oh shit-” you turn around and it's none other than Park Jihyo. And out of all people who could catch you now. “Oh Jihyo… Hi. Uh, I know, it’s just… I usually… you know.. Ah when I drink or I’m super stressed” You nervously hold the cigarette between your index and middle finger close to your leg, failing miserably at an attempt to hide what she already saw. 

“Ah right, that’s what most people say hm?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You let out a nervous laugh and shyly nod.

“So who was that? On the phone?” 

“Oh did you hear? Sorry, was I too loud?”

“No, no I came out to get some air, it was getting hot inside” She replies.

“Ah, I see.” Your eyes look down at the floor almost like a kid that’s about to get scolded.

“You sounded upset. Are you okay?” She tries to meet your eyesight and you instinctively meet hers.

“Yeah…. Actually, no not really it was my crazy ex” You explain a short version of your breakup and the phone call to her. “Sorry, that was too much information, but I feel like I just had to get it off my chest.” After a breath you give in and take another hit from the cigarette, turning to face away from Jihyo.

“Oh wow. Okay yeah, that does sound stressful. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Another exhale of smoke. “Thanks. Um, I think I’ll finish this one and head back in, you should go back, and like you said, this isn’t good for you…” You’re a little ashamed, but truly this is not how you’d hope this night would go. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to try smoking.” 

Her comment shocks you. “Really? But you’re a signer, and an idol no-less, this is like one of the top 3 things you never ever do.” 

“My older cousins used to do it and I always thought it was kind of cool. They’d inhale it like you do.”

As she says that you coincidentally take another hit. Sucking it into your mouth, puffing your cheeks out once, and parting your lips slightly, re-inhaling the smoke through your nose. The French inhale technique. Before letting the smoke exhale back through your mouth and nostrils. 

“Oh this… it’s a bad habit that I really intended on quitting when I came here and I was doing really well for a while before things got a little crazy and let my worst get the best of me.” Again you feel embarrassed. By now, the cigarette is about halfway finished. 

“Can I try?” She asks.

“What? No! I can’t let you. Remember the whole signer, idol, kpop star thing.” 

“Please just once” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes now.

“Jihyo no, you’re drunk and you’re gonna regret it.” You hold it even further away from her now. 

“I’m not drunk I didn’t even have one drink. I have to take care of Nayeon and Jeongyeon who, when I left were competing to see how fast they could down their 4th soju bomb”

This back and forth goes on for about another minute until you give up. At this point, she’s playfully trying to grab it from your hand and you’re about to flick it into the street when she catches your wrist.

“Jihyo. No.”  You hold her back with your other arm now.

“Make. Me.” She looks at you in the eyes with a stern sentiment. 

“You’re not gonna stop are you?” 

“Does it look like I’m the type to give up?” She quips back.

“Okay. Fine. But there’s a way that we used to do it back home that might hurt less for you. I’ve done this multiple times, just trust me.”

“Okay,” She flashes a gummy smile and pulls her hand off of you. 

Leading up to this moment, you had to admit you’d developed a small crush on Jihyo after working with her and seeing how kind and talented of a person she is. 

“It’s called shotgunning. And not the type with beer cans. I’ll take the initial hit and I’ll just blow a little bit of smoke into your mouth so you can emulate the sensation. Is that okay?” You explain the technique to her.

“Yes, I like the sound of that.” She replies.

“One time, and one time only. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, yes let’s do it.” It’s a little puzzling how excited she is about this.

“Okay, here we go.” You take a final hit from the cigarette and hold the smoke in your mouth before dropping it to the floor and ashing it out with your foot. You continue the motions with the french inhale, but instead of exhaling through your nostrils as usual, you take a step closer to Jihyo and cup her face with your right hand. She leans up to meet you, face-to-face. With your left hand, you bring it to the other side of her face and gently part her lips with your thumb. You lean in closer, your lips brushing against each other now. You thought at this point she’d pull away, but she’s right there. You slowly exhale through your mouth, letting the smoke travel the short distance between your mouths. You only let out a little before blowing the rest out of the side of your mouth away from hers. Letting her naturally pull away, she playfully lets the smoke fall from her lips and she exhales the small puff. Closely watching her to make sure she’s okay, you instinctively place your hand somewhere on her lower back. 

“Wow.” She looks with wide eyes at the small cloud of smoke dissipating into the air.

“Hm? Are you okay? Did that hurt? Burn?” You’re looking for any signs.

“No, it was okay. That was fun.” She touches her lips where your thumb parted them moments before. “I- I want to do it again”

“No, I already ashed it out. It’s gone no more.” You put your hands up in the air showing her there’s nothing there. 

“N-no not that. That was a fun one-time experience. I’m glad it was with you” She seems a little nervous now.

“Then do what again? Oh, and I hope no one saw that, I don’t necessarily want  to get fired for doing what feels like a crime.” You let out a light chuckle.

“This.” She steps back in front of you and grabs your arms, putting them back into the position they were in on her face. “Do that again,” Jihyo whispers and holds your thumb near her mouth.

You’re too stunned to speak at what you just heard. She wants me to kiss her? This is insane.

A slow nod is all you can reply with and you create the same motions, this time, her hands holding your forearms in place. You glide your thumb over her bottom lip as if asking permission and you bring your faces close together. Your lips brush over hers ever so slightly and you can feel her breath shakily exhaling and as if the feeling of butterflies make the same journey that the smoke did but in the opposite direction, you feel your breath hitch and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes flutter closed and Jihyo seizes the opportunity. 

She closes the thin gap between you and your lips collide. Her soft lips tangle with yours and you’re certain the fireworks are mutual. Like a movie kiss, it feels like time stops and the world stops spinning. The far memory of your ex dissipated with the smoke that left Jihyo’s lips and all you know is her lips on yours. A set of matching puzzle pieces, perfectly intertwining in this dimly lit alleyway. It feels like an eternity that you’re standing there kissing Jihyo and it may as well be, you’re content there with her. But the kiss comes to a natural end when you both pull away for some air. 

“Wow.” She says under her breath, face inches away from you.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you.” You confess, still gently holding her face.

“Me too,” Jihyo replies, looking deeply into your eyes. 

You can feel yourself starting to take a few heavy breaths, processing what’s just happened and been said, but before you could, the two of you collide again. This time the kiss deepens quickly. Her hands now let go of your forearms and wiggle their way to hook behind your neck, yours move from their place on her cheeks and down to her waist, pulling her body to yours and closing every gap between the two of you. Her hands weave into your hair and push you further into the, now messy kiss. Tongues dance together, but you know you can’t do anything more than this now, especially in public even if it’s the late hours of the night here. But both of you want more, to feel more. She grabs one of your arms and squeezes it, a wordless “okay” as if to signal you. You realize how hard you’re holding her waist and let up on your grip, only to slide one hand down to cup her full ass. She moans into the kiss and takes a harder grip on your hair. As if the universe could see where this was about to go, you’re both startled when a loud car passes the alleyway. Instinctive speed kicks in and you separate your bodies, scared that you’ve been caught. 

“Fuck…” you say catching your breath. Realizing now your pants are a little tighter than they were when you first stepped outside. Jihyo giggles when she also notices, “Wow that was fast”

“Yah! This is your fault!” joking as you motion towards your crotch. 

“You’re lucky we live in the same place. I can fix that at a later time, but right now take a second to relax and hurry back inside, they’re probably wondering where we are. I’ll say we ended up taking  a little walk to sober you up.” You’re amazed at how fast she’s able to process all of that and so nonchalantly bounce back to her leader persona. Jihyo skips back inside with a wide smile on her face. 

Bringing yourself back down to earth, you pull your phone out and quickly block your ex’s number. And then you pull out the pack of cigarettes, emptying the pack onto a nearby trashcan, leaving one in the box along with your lighter, and shoving it back into your jacket pocket. “Just one. No more” you say to yourself, before heading back into the restaurant and rejoining the group.

A/N hi again… ik this isnt my usual smut-type work BUT imma have a solely smut oneshot coming out next in response to something I got in my inbox recently :D oh and im in the midst of editing and finalizing the first part of TA hehe as always thanks for reading <3 twc

[jamminvroomvroom]

aren’t i supposed to be happy now? part 10

ln x fem teammate!reader

intro part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

hi! this is the last part and i’m emotional :) thank you so much for reading this and for the support <3 means a loooooot omg!! i have very much enjoyed writing about these two fucking idiots for the last few months, and no one hates them more than me! anyways, enjoy, bon appetite, yada yada, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <3

warnings: 18+!! swearing, angst, fluff, smut, max suffering again, them existing

5.5k

-

his grip on your hand tightened. the only sound that filled the air was your breathing. you were still looking at him expectantly, almost as if you were still waiting for him to speak, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. as if you were waiting for him to tell you he was just joking.

“you’re moving to where?” your voice was embarrassingly shaky, cracking at the end of the question. he sighed, head falling even further forward, bowed in shame.

“i’m sorry. this is something i’ve been considering for a while now. before you, before us.” lando explained quickly, almost desperately. “the apartment that i have is ideal at the moment, i’m barely home and it just makes more sense and-“

“wait a second, you already have a place?” your mind was moving at rapid speed to try and process all of the information that he had given you.

“well, yeah.” he awkwardly confirmed.

“so, that’s it then? you’re leaving? just like that?”

“no, not just like that. i still have things i need to finalise here. i’m sorry, this is something i need to do.”

“lando, i don’t give a fuck that you’re moving to monaco.” he looked taken aback. “you’ve done all of this and made all of these decisions and not once have you mentioned a word of it to me.”

“so much of it was decided before we were even serious. before we were even speaking to each other.”

“and that’s absolutely fine but now we are and you still failed to mention the fact that you were moving to a different fucking country.”

“babe, please-“

“no, don’t ‘babe please’ me,” you scoffed, “you tell me that you’ve been in love with me for ten years, leading me to believe that this is fucking real. how am i supposed to see myself as a part of your life when you don’t tell me something like this?” your voice wavered horrifically, tears pricking your eyes.

“please don’t say that. you know how important you are to me!”

“lando, you don’t get it. you want to move to monaco? be my guest. i get it. do you know how many financial advisors i have lining up to tell me to move to monaco?” you scoffed. “i understand why you’re doing this, i understand the benefits. but you’ve had god knows how long to tell me that you’re making a life changing decision and you didn’t.”

“i do get it. i do. listen, i, fuck,” he let out an exasperated breath, “i didn’t wanna tell you like this. i didn’t wanna do this here or now but i couldn’t stop myself.” he leaned back, reaching around in his pocket with quite some difficulty, given the fact that his mclaren was not the roomiest of spaces. “you’re my future. i know that. i hope that you know that too. i’m doing this wrong. i did all of this wrong and i’m sorry.” he was pleading with you now, trying to relieve the tension in the car. “i just want you and i made all of this too fucking difficult. i don’t want to hurt you again.”

he continued his ramblings and you really did try and focus on what he was saying, but all you could concentrate on was the shiny key in his hand. he noticed that your gaze was fixed on the small object, laughing nervously. slowly, you looked up, your gazes finally meeting.

“so, uh, this is for you.” he extended his hand, holding the key out for you. you didn’t move to take it from him.

“what does this mean?” you whispered.

“whatever you want it to mean.”

“no. don’t put that kind of pressure on me. what does it mean to you?” you needed to hear him say it, needed to know what he wanted, because in that moment, you were more than confused.

“it means that you can let yourself in to my house. or you can be letting yourself in to our house. if you’re ready, i would much rather it be the second option.”

“are you serious?”

“well, yeah. we lost so much time. i don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

“but you’ve… you’ve considered all of these things without me. just like you always have.”

the way he said your name, voice full of sheer desperation to change your mind, made the ever growing pit in your stomach twist.

“please take me home.” you dropped his hand.

-

you sat in your driveway in complete silence. you didn’t want to get out of lando’s car but you didn’t have the energy to talk. you could feel his gaze upon you as you stared blankly ahead, just as you had for the duration of the journey. you reached blindly for his hand, feeling warmth instantly as his fingers laced with yours. a gentle kiss was placed on your knuckles.

“i won’t let you go again. that was the biggest mistake i ever made.”

“i just wish you would have told me.” you sighed.

“so do i.”

“i need to go.” you whispered.

“okay,” he replied softly. “i love you.”

“i know.” you opened the door, getting out of the sleek car. you paused, turning back to him. “you know i love you too.”

you closed the door softly, making a beeline for your house. once you were inside, you rested against the door, letting out a shaky breath, followed by a groan. you rubbed your tired eyes, starting to feel the ache throughout your body that a day of karting had caused, but that paled in comparison to the way your heart hurt. you were truly at a loss. why could he never tell you anything? he never told you about his insecurities before your f1 debut and look where that had gotten him. three years later, your relationship was on the mend, only to be hit with another setback. and if that wasn’t overwhelming enough on its own, he wanted you to move in with him.

now, could you see yourself living with lando? the simple answer was yes. after only a few days spent in his house, you were ready to never leave his side. was he messy? yes. did he annoy you? almost constantly. did he take up half the bed with his ridiculous sleeping positions? of course. but you never slept better than you did with him.

you went straight upstairs, deciding that nothing would make you feel better than laying alone in the dark in your bed. you needed a clear head and you weren’t going to achieve that by standing in your hallway like you were lost. still draped in his hoodie, you peeled back the covers of your bed and dove in. it quickly became apparent that your head wouldn’t be clear anytime soon. the bed was too empty. your house was too quiet. the hoodie was basically taunting you; it smelt too much like him and it was far too comfortable. you tossed and turned, trying to stop yourself from getting out of bed and walking to his house. you would achieve nothing by doing that, and the media would have a field day if they caught wind of a half naked formula 1 driver roaming the streets in her boyfriends hoodie.

your phone started buzzing beside you, much to your annoyance. you ignored it, but when it didn’t stop, your reluctantly checked the caller ID.

“max, now is not the time.”

“right, you’re not gonna like this but i don’t care. go with him. just go with him. you deserve to be happy. if he goes without you, we’ll have another three years of you both being miserable bastards and, not to make this about me, but my heads gonna fucking explode. you want to be mad at him? go ahead. i’m mad at him and he’s mad at himself. but hear him out. and just fucking do it.“

“max, shut the fuck up, god.” you whined, as his monologue came to an end.

“i deserved that.” max affirmed.

“it’s not about monaco. i’d move into a shed with that stupid man if he asked me to. but he can’t keep doing this stuff, he doesn’t tell me anything.” your voice shook as you complained to your friend.

“as fucked up as it looks to the rest of us, he’s trying his best. please, just hear him out before you make any final decisions.”

“goodnight, max.”

-

before you knew it, it was two o’clock in the morning and you were very much awake. you were still angry, but perspective was your friend. max’s words rung in your eyes; you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life miserable, wondering what could have been. after many hours of consideration, of replaying lando’s words over and over in your mind, of wondering what that key would feel like resting in the palm of your hand, you sat up, throwing the covers off of your body. within five minutes you had a pair of sweats covering your legs, shoes on your feet and you were sat in the drivers seat of your car, contemplating what you were about to do.

-

nothing made lando feel worse than knowing he’d hurt you. that’s why he’d spent three years agonising over his shitty decision making. he deserved to agonise. he’d been sat on your newly claimed side of his bed since he’d gotten home. max, as always, pried what had happened out of him and then left him to wallow in self pity.

god, what a mess he’d made this time.

he’d been toying with the idea of moving to monaco for a while, things finally falling into place after sochi. he almost thought it was better, he’d be away from you and you could have as much space as you needed from him. fast forward a few months and you were together, finally, and lando found himself caught up in a mess of his own design.

he didn’t mean to tell you about monaco the way he did. it’s not like he had a plan on how to tell you, but he knew it shouldn’t have been like that. he’d ruined what had been a truly perfect day. all he could think in the car was how he wanted to spend all of his days just like that with you, and suddenly the weight of his decisions were crushing him and he had no other option but to let the words spill from his mouth, the key practically burning a hole in his pocket.

he’d been carrying that key with him since your first morning in qatar. you’d rolled over in the bed that you’d been sharing, sleepy eyes meeting his. the soft smile on your face and the way you pressed your lips to his skin made him realise that he wanted the pleasure of your face being the first thing he saw every morning when he woke up. a few hours later, he’d found a random locksmith to cut him a key and it had sat in his pocket since that day. lando couldn’t quite get past the hurt he felt when you hadn’t even made an attempt to take the tiny piece of metal from him, but he couldn’t really blame you for that.

sighing, he reluctantly stood from the bed, heading for the door. he wanted water, just how you had only a few nights ago when you’d left him in bed after the best night you’d spent together. he stood in his dark kitchen for a while, too tired to walk back up the stairs. there were many times in his life that lando felt pathetic; not one of them came close to how fucking pathetic he felt in that moment.

he was drawn out of his staring contest with the empty countertop by the sound of tapping. lando quickly made the assumption that he was imagining things in his emotional, exhausted state and walked himself back towards the staircase to try and get some sleep. but as he got closer to the stairs, and consequently his front door, the sound of tapping grew louder and louder until he realised, finally, that it was knocking. someone was knocking on his door.

lando’s heart rate pretty much spiked. unless it was an axe murderer, who probably wouldn’t have knocked, there was only one person who could plausibly be on the other side of the door. he was stuck in his place, staring at the front door like a bit of an idiot.

“lando, i can literally see you.” even through the translucent door, lando could hear that matter of fact tone in your voice that always made him smile when he shouldn’t, like when you would purposely try and piss off a journalist or when you’d playfully gloat about your place in standings. suddenly, lando sprung into action.

“shit, shit, sorry.” he mumbled, rushing to open the door, ready to fling it off its hinges if it meant he’d get to see you. and then, there you were. you looked extremely tired and mildly pissed off, but nonetheless, there you were. he became hyperaware of his rapid heart rate once again as he anticipated your words.

“you let me down. again.” you walked past him before he could even invite you in, stomping down his hallway and back into the kitchen. he sighed shakily, trailing being you. “you didn’t tell me anything, just like you didn’t before we started at mclaren.”

“lando, for whatever reason, i’m stupidly in love with you. i love you more than i have ever loved anyone. in fact, it’s almost embarrassing how much i love you.” your voice was borderline harsh, totally contrasting with your declarations and that was exactly why he was trying to contain a smile. you were always so unapologetic; “which is exactly why i will not let you fuck this up for us.”

“when you left me, i wanted nothing to do with you. every feeling i had for you, every thought, i pushed all of it aside. and then, you came back into my life on that podium, of all places, and it was like,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “being thrown into ice cold water. it was a reality check. i realised that i wouldn’t have wanted any other person by my side when i won my first race. you were the first person i saw after i got out the car and it hit me then and there, no matter how much i tried to pretend, it was you. you were the one i was supposed to be with in that moment.”

“i want all of those moments to be shared with you. but i can’t guarantee right now, from where i’m standing, that you feel the same way and that’s why this fucking hurts.” your voice broke slightly at the end, and he rushed towards you. lando couldn’t just let you stand there and assume something that was so far from the truth. he didn’t think you’d be too accepting of him putting his arms around you, so he settled for grabbing your hands, locking your fingers with his.

“i need you to look at me.” you shook your head in refusal at his words. “please. look at me.” reluctantly, you slowly rose your head, watery eyes meeting his and the look in your eyes, of pain and vulnerability manifested, almost made lando tremble. this was his last chance with you. this very moment that you were in was it. make or break.

“i told you in sochi that i would do whatever it took to make it up to you. i haven’t exactly gotten off to the best start,” he laughed humourlessly, “but i meant it. monaco has been on the cards for a long time, and i should have told you. i know i should have told you. i’m so sorry, baby.”

“i’ve made such a mess. i’ve hurt you and i have overcomplicated this every step of the way. but you have to believe me when i tell you this: you are everything. you have always been everything to me, even when i didn’t quite know that myself.” you stared up at him, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, trying to hold yourself together at his words.

“if you come to monaco with me, i will do everything in my power to make you happy. and if you don’t, i swear i will swim across the fucking channel every single fucking day if i have to. i just want to make you happy, as happy as you make me. it would be pretty fucking cool to see your face every single morning.” he finished.

you stood there for a while, arms crossed as you contemplated his words. lando couldn’t ignore the way you were fiddling with your keys, your car and house keys both attached to a tacky key ring that you’d bought at the beginning of the f2 career, something lando had teased you for. it truly was a piece of junk but it reminded you of simpler times.

“so, do you still have that key?” you asked him monotonously. he raised his eyebrows, not expecting that question.

“uh, yeah.” he shoved his hand into his pocket, still not having changed out of the clothes he was wearing earlier due to his wallowing. his fingers grasped the cool metal and he tugged it out of his pocket. you outstretched your hand and lando couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face, finally winning against the resistance he’d put up. he placed it in your hand and you stared at it. for something so small, it sure carried a ton of weight. he watched in adoration as you added the key to your small collection on the key ring.

“there. so, when are we moving?” you asked nonchalantly.

he flung himself towards you, pulling you straight into his arms, lips urgently meeting yours. he couldn’t help himself from smiling against your lips, barely able to kiss you properly. you giggled as you pulled away, pushing his hair back.

“this is it.” you told him, your voice laced with a certain finality, almost like you were warning him. the look in his eyes told you that he needed no warning; he wouldn’t let you go, not again.

-

monaco was nice.

you spent the first few weeks of the winter break moving into your new apartment and adjusting to life as lando’s roommate. you’d rolled your eyes more than once at his questionable taste, arguing that the grey and fluorescent yellow colour-combo he was pushing for wasn’t exactly ideal.

being around him in such a close proximity pretty much all of the time should have been harder. it should have been a frustrating adjustment, a period of mourning for your life alone, but it was the most natural thing in the world. you were still figuring things out about each other, picking up on one another’s habits and routines. you slotted into each others lives seamlessly, building a home that you would share. plus, waking up beside him came with its perks.

you’d woken up to sunlight streaming through the curtains, warmth radiating across your entire body, and the unmistakable feeling of his lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses across your bare shoulders. you’d happily rolled over, letting his mouth travel further across your body as he worked his way down your stomach, under the plush duvet and between your legs. he wasted no time, throwing one leg over his shoulder and splaying his hand across your inner thigh, pinning the other leg to the mattress. lazily, he worked his tongue through your folds, sucking at your clit so that he could be rewarded with the pleasure of watching your back arch and your head hit the pillows.

“love living with you.” lando mumbled into your pussy, his words sending shockwaves up your spine that reverberated throughout your body. you could only respond by threading your finger through his hair and bucking your hips to meet his mouth. he stayed between your legs for a couple of orgasms, eventually snaking his way back up your spent body. he hovered above you, kissing you deeply as he dragged himself through your folds, hissing at the feeling of how soaked he’d left you. just as he was about to push himself inside of you, a realisation dawned on you.

“max!” you gasped. lando pulled his head away from the crook of your neck, staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows and a face painted with confusion.

“uh, that’s not my name, babe.” he looked slightly traumatised.

“no, no, you were supposed to pick max up from the airport.” you clarified hurriedly, whimpering at the feeling of him sliding across your sensitive heat.

“oh. i’ll send him a car.” he groaned, completely unbothered, dipping his head down to kiss up your neck.

“you really should go and g-get him- oh!” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist as he sunk into you. suddenly, max was unimportant. in that moment, he could walk to monaco for all you cared.

“want me to leave you here all alone? waiting for me? how could i leave you like this?” lando chuckled lowly, pressing his hips against yours. the pressure made your head spin. he held you close, right in the centre of the bed, lips pressed against yours as you fell apart at his touch. he took you apart again, just one more time, simply because he could and because you wanted nothing more than to feel him, unhurried in that moment in the bed that you now shared.

you were home.

-

max was disgusted when he turned up at your apartment, just as he usually was by you and lando. or rather, your antics.

“like wild animals.” he muttered when lando had finally pried himself away from you to actually let max in, and max caught sight of lando’s messy hair and the fact that his friends shorts were on backwards.

“good to see you too, mate.” lando had laughed, slapping max on the back and taking his bag off of him to put in the guest room.

“so, this is your room, max. we’ve adopted you.” you joked when you finally joined the guys, hair still wet from the shower, dressed in lando’s sweats. you winked at him when you’d caught him raking his eyes up and down your frame. you knew he loved it when you wore his clothes. “all yours when you come to visit.” you took your attention off of your boyfriend and focused it on your friend.

“even left space for your set up.” lando chimed in, leaving you to roll your eyes at their gamer speak as they discussed lando’s gaming room on the other side of the wall.

the afternoon soon bled into the evening, the three of you sat around in your living room discussing the imminent trip to dubai to reign in the new year and let off some steam before the reality of the new season kicked in. you started to doze off at some point, only being able to listen to them fawn over all of the golfing greens in the emirates for so long. when you woke up, you felt like you were floating, groggily realising that you were being carried down the hallway to your bedroom. you looked up at lando, smiling sleepily as he manoeuvred you carefully as to not bang your head against a door frame.

he laid you down on the bed, slipping in beside you, before pulling the covers up and over the pair of you. you fell asleep to a kiss on your forehead and the whisper of sweet nothings about how he couldn’t wait to start off the new year wrapped in your arms.

-

the heavy desert air seemed to weigh down on you, holding you in your frustrated place. p13 and p14. you could hardly believe it. you couldn’t remember a moment in your career that felt as bad as you did after you got out of your car in bahrain, lando climbing out of his car right behind you. you walked through parc fermé together, side by side, in complete silence, only a knowing look and the gentle bop of his helmet against yours passing between you both. there were simply no words. barcelona had been so promising, the both of you topping the timesheets, but your brakes were overheating and that was not very helpful in the dry heat of the bahrain desert. you’d not even made it out of q1, lando barely pulling the car into q2, but none of that mattered now. p13 and p14. was this supposed to be relationship goals?

you cast your mind back to thursday, arriving at the track for the first time. you’d had to skip testing, struck down by a case of the flu that kept you and lando apart for longer than you had been in months. he’d been left to test the car by himself while you sulked your way through a fever. when the first race weekend rolled around, you were so glad to be back, pushing the doubt about the car to the side. when you’d driven it, things had gone fine and you’d been so sure that the struggles in bahrain that lando had encountered would be easy fixes.

thursday and friday morning had been spent by you and lando doing your media rounds, several outlets gushing about the pair of you and your relationship, that had only gone from strength to strength throughout the winter. you were asked a handful of times about him and the way you kept popping up in his instagram posts and on his twitch streams, smiling politely and breezing through the questions. you tried not to show your frustration, accepting the fact that this is how things would be as long as you were in a relationship with another driver, and you were not prepared to change your relationship status over some overbearing journos. plus, you could always rely on your boyfriend to keep things interesting with the media.

you had been on your last interview when lando caught you by surprise, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. you’d jumped, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks when he pecked a spot on your neck. the interviewer, a newbie who’s name escaped you then, blinked rapidly, trying to ask the question whilst simultaneously trying to not to jump up and down at the content he was getting.

“so, how would you say you’ve prepared yourself for the upcoming season?”

you’d opened your mouth to reply, beaten to it by your menace of a boyfriend.

“cardio. we do a lot of cardio.” he giggled behind you.

your jaw had dropped at the double meaning, looking at the monitor ahead to see his shit eating grin. newbie journalist looked partially delighted, and only slightly traumatised. sam, now the head babysitter at mclaren, after charlotte’s very upsetting, yet understandable, departure, looked like he wanted to put lando’s head through the monitor, pinching the bridge of his nose. you’d walked away from the interview giggling, lando’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as sam marched you both as far away from the cameras as he could get you.

as the memory of the weekend played in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. you’d come into the weekend so hopeful, refreshed after weeks well spent in the sun with lando and all of your friends. drinks of top of skyscrapers, lounging on the beach with lando wrapped around you and the burj al arab decorating the skyline, racing golf carts with max while lando sulked because he’d lost the round. it had been serene, exactly what you’d needed before life started up again. now, you were more stressed than you’d been all of last season.

somehow you dragged yourself through the post-race media rounds, trying to appear calm and not absolutely devastated. every time you caught lando’s eye across the media pen, you knew he was doing the same thing. you’d gone from fighting for podiums and even wins to being a back marker; a rather difficult pill to swallow. you had the urge to go home, leave the track and the country and just go back to monaco. you wanted to kidnap lando and take him with you, protect him from all of this negativity and stay bundled up in your shared bed for the rest of eternity, but you knew that you couldn’t do that.

as you filmed your post race message to the fans, lando sat beside you in the hospitality, his fingers laced with yours, you looked directly into the camera, squeezed his hand, and spoke.

“we’ll be back before you know it.” you smiled, throwing in a knowing wink for good measure. lando smiled, albeit weakly, at your reassuring words, while the entire pr team behind the camera nodded robotically in forced agreement. you would have to prove yourself right, because from where you were sat right now, it wasn’t looking good.

-

the blood, sweat and tears of the last few months had paid off in the most delicious way. the most satisfying conclusion to the struggles of the first half of the season stood right before your eyes, staring back at you. george was standing on the other side of the podium, you assumed; you didn’t actually know for certain if it was him. all you could see was lando.

lando on that glorious top step. lando raising the trophy above his head. lando absolutely beaming at you.

he was glowing. you were crying.

the british crowd had brought silverstone to life beneath the beautiful sunshine, watching as you and lando battled it out with mercedes and ferrari, eventually pulling into parc fermé to park your mclaren’s in p1 and p2. you’d made quite the turnaround. you hadn’t even lasted ten seconds out of the car, staring at him stood at the helm of his car in utter elation, before you were ripping off your helmet, followed by your balaclava. you’d thrown yourself at him the second his feet had hit the ground, unable to contain yourself. you held him as he followed in your footsteps, ridding himself of his helmet, and then he was kissing you.

the cameras didn’t matter, the crowd didn’t matter, the audience in parc fermé didn’t matter. he’d won his first race. he’d won. he pulled away first, muttering a “proud of you” against your swollen lips. that’s when you’d teared up for the first time. he was proud of you? right now? at the height of his career, his first thought was you? you kissed him again, and again, and again, the tears flowing freely by now. somehow, you’d ended up on top of the podium, not really making much sense of anything in your euphoric state.

you eyed him up and down, that look in your eyes, which he gladly returned, smirking as he popped the champagne and sprayed it right at you. george - yes, it was him in p3 - joined the party, as did andreas who was ready to start chanting then and there. to be fair, you were also ready to break out a verse of ‘lando, you’re the one.’

the four of you jumped up onto the top step, huddling together to pose for all the photos. as they photographers snapped away, you turned to look up at him, only to find him already staring down at you. he was still smiling so radiantly, you wanted to capture the moment and live it forever, only wanting to see him like this, and have him looking at you the way he was now.

“i love you.” lando mouthed. you blushed.

“love you, baby.” you whispered.

as you all hopped down from the step, he caught your arm. he smiled mischievously, pulling your 2nd place cap off of your messy hair, sending it flying off of the podium into the sea of people below. you were about to tell him off but his lips were pressed to yours. you moaned at the sudden contact, feeling him smirk against your lips as he deepened the kiss, dipping you backwards a little bit. the crowd cheered, the sound spiking your heart rate and sending another rush of adrenaline through your tired body. you pulled away, feeling your cheeks burn red, smiling like an idiot as you shyly pushed him away.

“i’ve always wanted to do that.” lando winked.

“didn’t think you were that cheesy, norris.” you teased, wrapping your arm around his back as you walked off of the podium together.

“maybe mclaren 1-2s will be our always.” you scoffed at his words, shoving him lightly with your shoulder as he laughed.

you turned, glancing at the podium one last time before it disappeared from view. a podium was where it all started, where everything seemed to fall into place. where you realised that you still loved him. sochi had really sucked the fun out of being on the podium, yet here you were now, living out a full circle moment for the ages. monza and silverstone, two of your most favourite places on earth, holding the most special memories that you shared with the love of your life.

-

✨the end✨

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustingold @vinvantae @anathemaloren @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys  @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan

(taglist got fucked up so i just made one big one and hoped for the best lol. lemme know if you wanna be added or removed xo)