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[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy (2)

PART 2 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I was wondering doing a bonus part about Fernando POV throughout everything (to show he was ALSO miserable), but I don't know if i have the time and energy for it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in it and I'll do it in headcanons/topics.

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was taking way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

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PART 1 | FERNANDO'S HEADCANONS

You were moping and crying in the living room when the phone started ringing. Looking at the little screen that showed the number that was calling, you knew it was Fernando. You had memorized his number at some point in your lifetime. Your parents weren’t home, so you hesitated. You took so long that his call went to voicemail.

“I know you’re there,” he said, voice sounding tired, low and inpatient, “please pick up the-”

You pulled the phone cable, unplugging the call and silencing him. Wiping your tears, you stared at the unplugged phone on the little side table for what felt like hours, until your parents returned from work, when you got up to plug the phone back and pretend like you didn’t spend the whole day mourning a friendship you always thought would last forever.

After two days ignoring all calls, even Flavio’s, you decided that you’d shield yourself from now on, and you wouldn’t give Fernando any more ammo to hurt you. You met with Flavio at the next race, face heavy with makeup to cover up the sleepless nights you had gone through. You put your bag down and stared at Flavio across the table.

“Good morning. Let’s go back to work,” you said, gently pulling the stack of papers from his grasp. He called your name in that tone, of someone wanting a heart to heart.

“We should talk about the f-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to talk about that,” you said.

“I talked to Fernando and he-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead to me.” You repeated slowly, finally looking up at him. Flavio must’ve seen something in your eyes because he let the topic go.

You didn’t see Fernando for two more days, and when the weekend officially started, you avoided him like the plague. Even when you two were in the same place with other drivers, you’d ignore his existence for the most part. Whenever you were in a little circle chatting with other drivers and he arrived, you’d leave immediately. Press conference, you convinced Jenson to switch places with you so you could be as far from Fernando as possible. Even with team debriefs, with Flavio trying to make you talk to Fernando, you refused.

The rest of the season was insane, during team meetings and debriefs you were cold and barely talked to him. He didn’t try to talk to you either, and the silent distance only grew.

You were head to head in a race, you were P2 and Fernando P3 right behind you.

“Switch with Fernando,” your engineer said on the radio.

“He won’t fucking pass me,” you said into the radio, holding your position and pace. He was less than a second behind, and you refused to let him pass.

“I repeat, let him pass,” That was Flavio.

“If he manages to overtake me, he can go.”

He didn’t. You knew you had more pace, but still he insisted, and through the mirrors, you could see him closing in behind you. He tried to overtake but you pushed the car fast, and when he couldn’t anymore, he turned into you, touching his front right tyre to your rear left tyre. You were too fast. The mere touch of his tyre bursted yours. You couldn’t even get angry as you lost control of the car in a millisecond, the speed making your car fly into the air as it hit the gravel. With your car overturning a few times in the air, you watched your sight going ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

Then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were on a stretcher being placed carefully inside the ambulance, you tried to get up, dizzy and someone handed you a bag where you threw up inside.

You had an insane headache as they took you to the medical center. Apparently, everything else was alright as you checked your own body for any injuries or problems. The doctor checked you but still made you through a round of tests and injected saline solution diluted with pain medicine in an IV drip. They also decided you’d stay overnight to make sure nothing was wrong. 

Your dad, who was watching from the garage, was the first to find you in the medical center, visibly worried and crying. He hugged you for a whole minute, before taking a step back and touching your face to make sure you were really alright.

“I’m ok, Papá. Just passed out when the car was spinning in the air,” You smiled softly, wanting to dissipate his worry.

“When you didn’t answer the radio-” He choked back tears.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now.”

“What are you feeling, darling?” He pressed, holding your hands to look for injuries in your arms.

“I’m all in one piece, Papá. Just a little sore, but that’s normal whenever a racing driver crashes,” you let him know, and he nodded.

“Let me just call your mother. She was so worried she wanted to get into the first flight here,” He told you.

“Tell her I’m alright and I love her,” you whispered and he nodded, going outside.

You sighed as you were left alone, trying to find a comfortable position where you didn’t have to move too much, since your whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. The door opened and you thought it was Flavio, but you were faced with Fernando, still sweaty and in his overalls. He looked disheveled, but he was full of worry, even his eyes looked a little misty as he stood there a few meters from you.

But you couldn’t look past the anger when the memory of him diving into your car came back. He had gambled with your life, out of pettiness, out of envy, he couldn’t pass you, so he decided the next best thing was to take you out, not even caring about the danger he was putting you through.

“Leave.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Please,” he begged with his voice softer than you had heard for almost a year, “let me just-”

“Leave! You could’ve gotten me killed, Fernando. Get out!” You said, louder. “Do you have any idea that you could have ruined my life in a moment of anger?! That you could have gotten me seriously injured or worse?! I would have never done that to you!” You pressed your index finger to the nurse button repeatedly, and a few seconds later, a nurse came in, “Ma’am can you escort him out please?”

You could see in his eyes that he was hurt by your words, but in that moment, all you felt was blind rage, for what he did the last time you spoke and because he crashed into you on purpose. You didn’t want to hear any excuses now that he realized he put your life in danger just because his ego couldn’t take a hit.

The next day, after you were discharged, you traveled for a meeting with Flavio at Renault’s headquarters. He met you alone in the meeting room, talking to you about the accident, and after making sure you were physically fine, he went off.

“What you did yesterday was reckless and you went against express orders from the team and from me. This is not happening again, or you will be risking your seat at Renault,” He said, his voice never leaving room for debate, you swallowed and nodded, “When the team orders you to do something, you do. No questioning, and no going against it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fernando was really worried about you yes-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” You cut Flavio off.

“You two are best friends, it’s really sad to see you lose all that because of Formula 1” Flavio said, gently.

“He put my life at risk, Flavio. This is not something a friend would do,” you stood up, walking away but you stopped by the door, “Kinda curious how motorsports, the very thing that brought us together, is the same that tore us apart.”

Then you went to meet the engineers for the next race strategies. 

That night as you laid down at home, you thought that you’d never compete with Fernando solely because he was Flavio’s favorite. If it ever came to Flavio to decide whether you would win or Fernando would win, he’d always pick Fernando. You could’ve been fighting for the championship this year, he had promised you, instead you were being used as a step in Fernando’s path of glory, when you could be fairly racing him for the championship. You’d always come second to him there. That was also the moment you stopped seeing Flavio as a friend, and confined him back to a position of Team Principal.

You reread the Sauber proposal that came to you that year to start racing for them the next season, tempted to just go and make your name somewhere else. Somewhere where you’d be put first.

But deep down, a sense of indebtedness had rooted into your heart ever since the day Fernando told you the truth. You had to pay Flavio back for his trust and for his money, and the only way you thought you could do it was by becoming world champion under his team.

There was still a little kid inside you, a little kid who aspired to prove Fernando wrong, to become a champion and prove to yourself you’re more than him. More than who he wanted you to be, more than a loser.

You turned down the offer from Sauber.

The rest of the season you went almost robotically. You still gave your all every race, but your mood would always damper when you had to follow team orders.

“Ask if me and Fernando can switch, I’m faster!” You said on the radio. You kept driving, Fernando a little less than two seconds in front of you, but you were getting closer and would catch up to him in two laps.

“Negative, protect his position.”

“There’s a McLaren right behind me! They’ll pass us both!”

“Negative, team orders.”

You swallowed and held your position, trying to maintain your P2 and Fernando P1. But when the McLaren got close to you, they managed to pass you after a brief battle, going for Fernando a couple of laps later.

Later, you stood on the podium, looking ahead knowing that P3 could’ve been a P1 if they had let you fight for it. You didn’t look at Fernando on the other side of the podium, you just stood there, eyes watery. You pretended to take part throwing champagne for a few seconds, forcing a smile knowing that it would look bad not to.

The post race interviews were torture, and you wanted to go home and vent to your parents.

“How has it been to manage your friendship with Fernando outside the track?” A reporter asked, and your smile disappeared from your face.

“We were never really friends,” you shrugged, annoyed, you added “Are there any questions about racing instead of my personal life?” The reporter was silent, visibly taken aback by your responses, you had rarely been hostile toward a journalist before, you knew he would have a field day with just those replies, especially when your PR manager gave you a hard stare, “No? Thank you, see you around.”

You finished P2 in the race Fernando became champion for the second time. When you got out of the car, you watched as Flavio and Fernando hugged, jumping from the ground and celebrating. The number one and your team principal. After the podium ceremony, you didn’t bother to stay to spray champagne, just leaving and going straight out.

You got a couple more proposals from other teams, and you were tempted, until Flavio told you Fernando was leaving for McLaren the next year and offered you an extension. You took it under the condition to become the number one driver now that Fernando was out of the picture.

A part of you mourned the death of the dream, the one you had at fourteen to become teammates with your best friend. So many things had happened in between everything, now you would miss it. Only the good, not the bad and ugly. You wish you could go back in time, redo everything, and never allow yourself to lose your best friend on the way.

The next year you ended up striking an unexpected friendship with Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg and eventually the two rookies Lewis and Sebastian, who had been very vocal about being fans of yours.

You didn’t go back to talking with Fernando. You didn’t try and he didn’t either. It felt like the bridges were too far burned to recover.

One day as you walked out of the garage, you saw Fernando with a girl on the opposite side. She was clinging to his side, whispering. You knew he had his fair share of fun with grid girls but he never invited them to watch the race from his garage. You wondered if he was dating again, after a couple of years being nothing more than a player. You also wonder why it made a pang of pain flare through your chest.

You don’t linger too much. He had no reason to tell you. You weren’t even friends anymore.

You moved on, as much as you could. And eventually, you met Kaka, or Ricardo, as you preferred calling him. He was a footballer, a big name in the sport, playing for a big team in Italy. You actually met him at a gala party, the both of you being silly introverts, bumping into each other when trying to find a way out. You two ended up talking for hours on the balcony, watching the city lights.

He reminded you of Nano before Formula 1.

And you actually wanted to smash your own head against the handrail as you thought that.

After exchanging numbers and calling a couple of times, you managed to convince Ricardo to come to a Grand Prix. His presence was calm, funny without being mean, and so gentle. It was actually the calm between the storm your life and job was.

You were pacing around outside the motorhomes to try and see if he had arrived yet, since the last you had talked to him was when he was on his way. While waiting, your eyes found Fernando’s on the opposite side in front of McLaren, he was sitting down with his girlfriend telling him something. You stared at him for a whole minute, and for a brief moment, the anger left his eyes for something softer, something like-

“Hi, minha linda!” Ricardo showed up out of nowhere, and he hugged you so tight he actually swiped you off your feet.

Once the surprise passed, you hugged him back, your fingers finding their way through his hair. And he laughed, spinning you before putting you down. You talked for a bit, your face lit up as he told you about his day.

Your eyes unconsciously turned to Fernando, because you could feel that he had been staring at you for as long as Ricardo was there. His face was back to anger.

“You want me to give you the grand tour?” You offered, just so you could escape the weight of Fernando’s glare.

You took Ricardo by the hand and showed him all around, even introducing him to part of your team. After that race when you placed third, Ricardo invited you to a date, the first official one. After a couple of months and a few kisses, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You only hesitated for a second before smiling and squealing a yes.

Being the main driver of your team allowed you to live an entirely different season as a racer. You didn’t want to be arrogant, but you had it in the bag. You had the best car, the best engines, and just the perfect amount of boldness. Add insane strategies, and you were unstoppable.

Despite Fernando being your close rival on track, he was way too busy beefing with Lewis, his surprisingly great rookie teammate.

During summer break that year, you were on a trip to Brazil with Ricardo, but still, the night of July 29th, you got up at two a.m., slowly went to the fridge, where you got an ice cream pint. With a spoon, you sat on the handrail in the balcony, and watched the waves breaking on the beach a few meters away.

It was weird keeping the ice cream tradition alone, but you supposed it was even weirder not keeping the tradition. Staring at the stars, you wondered if Fernando had any ice cream to celebrate his birthday that day.

“Hi,” you heard Ricardo behind you, his hands sneaking around your middle and he hugged you from behind, laying his head against your shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted a little treat,” you mumbled, closing the lid on the ice cream, because a selfish part of you didn’t want to share the tradition with anyone other than Fernando. It was silly and stupid, and still… you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the ice cream back in the freezer and smiled at Ricardo as he pulled you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

You came back from summer break with a renewed sense of focus. Deep down you knew that was your season. Your season to become world champion, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. As you won the first two races after summer, you became first in the standings, this sense of purpose being the one thing motivating you every weekend to give your best.

It was Interlagos that year when you needed only a podium to become World Champion, pretty much the same as Fernando two years before. The race was tough, and it felt like Fernando was out to get you, especially in a moment right in the middle of the race, when you were behind him in P3 and he tried to brake test you again, but this time you were quick to react, avoiding his rear and using his own dirty trick against him, turning sharply to overtake him from outer side, moving past him fast enough to gain some precious couple of seconds.

After that, you managed to smoothly overtake the P1 with a carefully planned pit stop that allowed you to come out first. Later on, you saw a crash, nothing too bad, but you found out it was Fernando and Webber.

“Are they ok?” You asked via radio to your engineer.

“Yes, they are already back on the pitlane.”

You sighed and focused back to your race, keeping your P1 safe, and going smoothly to take the checkered flag.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You’re a Formula One World Champion!”

You felt the tears coming down and dampening your balaclava, as you took one last lap to parc ferme, waving at the crowd that went insane.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from your chest. Because you were now world champion. You were there, and you deserved to be there, among the best. You didn’t need to prove yourself anymore, and you had finally paid Flavio back.

You jumped out of the car straight into your team, jumping with them, and Flavio ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Jenson also found you and hugged you firmly, patting your back and Nico also hugged you, both of them were on the podium with you.

As you looked down from the podium, with a watery, emotional smile, you saw your dad crying like a baby and clapping his hands. Unconsciously, your eyes looked for Fernando, silly hoping it mattered something to him, that at least in the name of your former friendship, he would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you felt like that was another nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Deciding to forget it, you drank champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as both Nico and Jenson paired up to drown you in champagne, looking happy for you.

After talking to your mom on the phone, you stood up, taking your bag and going out to look for your dad. You didn’t make it very far, as you came out in the hallway, you found Fernando, leaning against the wall. You paused, looking up to him while your heartbeat went up.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. And you wanted to believe it really badly, but thinking about him brake testing you during the race, trying to take you out, made you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, you are,” you said sarcastically. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, like he was disappointed you didn’t believe him, “my debt is over now.”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“I just paid Flavio for his investment,” you explained, “I’m not just here because you asked him to support me, I’m a damn great driver. I’m here because I deserve it, not because you took me out of pity.”

Fernando stared at you completely shocked at your words, something painful stabbing at his chest. He never thought you’d think like that over disgusting words he said in a moment of anger. Words that never meant anything to him, that he didn’t even believe in himself. The hurt in your eyes was the same from the day he said the words, when you cried looking into his eyes and telling him he was dead to you.

You walked past him and away. He wanted to shout that he never meant those words, that you were so much more, so much better. But you just left. Fernando followed you outside, trying to catch you and explain himself, maybe fix things between you, making peace.

But as he got outside, he paused, seeing you jumping in your boyfriend’s arms, laughing at something he whispered to you. Fernando swallowed, closing his fist and jealousy burned through his limbs, with such force that it felt like a fever.

Right after the Brazilian Grand Prix, Ferrari got in touch with you, offering a two year contract to become teammates with Kimi Raikkonen and drive for what was one of, if not the most classic team in Formula 1. After negotiations, it was a no brainer. You didn’t owe Renault anything any more. And that’s what propelled you to meet with Flavio that winter break in a cafeteria in Monaco. When you had called, he said he wanted to talk to you about something, which was convenient.

After pleasantries and small talk, you were ready to start, but Flavio cut you off without noticing.

“I have to tell you something,” he started, carefully, “Fernando is coming back to Renault next year.”

You froze for a second, not wanting to think too much about the implications of that. The fact that Flavio was willing to force you and Fernando to be teammates again even after the catastrophic ending you had before. Sighing, you covered your face for a second.

“I know you have reservations, but I’ve talked with Fernando and he’s willing to-”

“I’m going to Ferrari.”

And Flavio understood, after talking for a while. He knew Ferrari was most drivers' ultimate dream, and you weren’t immune to that either. Unfortunately for you, Fernando released the news he was going back to Renault a week before Ferrari announced you, and the media had a field day with that, tabloids and media outlets doing numbers of articles about you avoiding being teammates with Fernando again, since he was coming back and you were conveniently leaving almost at the same time.

Your races with Fernando kept being dangerous, one always trying to one up the other, dangerous moves and overtakes, close calls of crashing into each other, and more and more jabs publicly. The attacks at each other never stopped, and the media seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it ever so often.

One occasion, you were going for a win, and the only thing between you and that damn P1 was Fernando Alonso. So you kept your P2, biding your time as you tried to close the gap, leaving your chance at overtaking for the last few laps. When a fast turn came, you advanced, overtaking him, Fernando tried to defend his position, but you were getting the lead, and both of you were in high speed. Someone had to back out, otherwise you two would crash. But you were feeding off of anger and hurt, and you didn’t back down well into the turn, but suddenly, Fernando slowed down, giving up defending. You took the P1 and after a few laps, the checkered flag. You knew on the podium that Fernando was seething, his face didn’t hide that. Later, at an interview, someone brought up the dirty move.

“So, a very dangerous move at turn 2 during lap 47, no?” The reporter asked, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I thought it was a pretty common battle, no?” You said, a condescending tone imitating him.

“Well, it could’ve caused you both to crash.”

“I took a risk, either I would pass and win, or we would both crash and DNF. Alonso was wise and went for the safest option.” I gave the reporter a fake smile.

You knew that answer would piss Fernando off, and a part of you knew he deserved it. Sometimes you acted on pure rage and pettiness, feral and way more aggressive against Fernando on track than you really needed to be. But he just pissed you off. Walking around with his model girlfriend, his attacks at your racing abilities, his pretty eyes that always seemed to find yours at the most inconvenient times.

Then, the race weekend would end, and everything that was left was shame. Your burning shame every time your mom’s eyes shone when she asked about Fernando, hoping you two would have made peace. You, looking away from her face every time you told her you knew nothing about Alonso because you didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Later that year, after your two year anniversary with Ricardo, you accidentally found a ring box in his suitcase. A proposal ring, a beautiful big diamond ring, probably worth a small fortune. And you tried to feel happy about it, but you could only find dread in your heart. Despite loving Ricardo, you knew you didn’t love him as much as you could. And certainly not as much as she loved you. You didn’t love him as much as you loved-

Closing your eyes, you also closed your heart, and after that just like the coward you were, you broke up with Ricardo the kindest way you could. He was confused, because your relationship was tranquil, without many problems. It broke your heart to break his heart, but you couldn’t lead him on, you knew Ricardo was husband material, and the earlier you let him go, the earlier he would find his true happiness.

Ultimately, you decided to only pursue love after your Formula One career. Having a bit of fun here and there, and a couple of casual relationships even with other drivers, but nothing serious or public. When you found out Fernando was single again, a flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but when you saw him go back to his playboy ways… It died down.

Sometimes you would dream of a different life, of one you never lost your best friend… or even better, one that you never had to suppress the love you felt for him. And sometimes it felt too much, like all this love was just filling up your hollow heart, filling up until it overflowed, until you felt like you were drowning in it, because there was nowhere for this love to go. And you wondered, what do I do with this love, there's no one to give it to, there's no recipient to put it. So you would just ground your teeth and bear it, holding onto anger because that much love, that much longing did nothing but cause you pain.

Every time someone mentioned him outside race weeks, you felt ashamed.

Despite being in a top team like Ferrari, you’d only get a few wins, and some podiums here and there, so it wasn’t like you didn’t achieve anything. But you were a woman so it was obviously not enough, and the media started questioning your career and your place in Formula One.

After two years of you driving for Ferrari, Domenicalli, your team principal, sat you down to let you know Fernando Alonso would be joining the team the next year, and you bit the inside of your cheek, considering just retiring. The criticism was getting to you, and the perspective of living hell with Fernando as your teammate was a broken heart all over again.

When an opportunity arose to drive for Red Bull Racing, with a two year contract, you didn’t think twice before accepting. It would be your chance to turn the tide in your career.

It sent the motorsport world into a frenzy when your new team announced you and a week later Ferrari announced Fernando as their future driver. The same narrative of you running away from him was passed ahead. And of course, it got to the paddock. Most drivers that were close to you actually congratulated you, but of course, nothing was ever good for Fernando. And despite not fully talking to him, he was always willing to throw a mean comment at you any given day.

“And people said you’re washed” Fernando said right after the news broke, the second to last race of that season, his voice dripping with venom. You knew it was a backhanded compliment, he always did that when he wanted to get a rise out of you. He smirked, waiting for your feral clapback, as you always had one on the tip of your tongue.

But when he looked back at you, your face was stony, and you were looking ahead with your chin raised. You didn’t even look at Fernando, nor answered his taunting. You pretended he wasn’t there but he noticed your eyes were misty.

That had been a low blow, even for him. He didn’t know shit about your feelings regarding your career, but he knew exactly how the world had been treating it, and it made you burn with shame that he could add insult to injury this easily. You wondered why he would say something like that if, just like you, it had been years since the last time he was champion of the world. Two years pushing yourself to the maximum so you could achieve your second championship.

Fernando had been your best friend for so long, he knew exactly what buttons to push when he wanted to hurt you.

When someone else arrived, greeting you, you cleared your throat briefly before answering and plastering a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Are you running away from me?” Fernando cornered you later that same day.

“What?” You paused.

“I went back to Renault and you left, now I’m going to Ferrari and you’re leaving,” he shrugged. You scoffed.

“I’m not sure if you know, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, Fernando.”

“Well, that’s a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

Fernando paused for a second, his eyes searching yours, he looked vulnerable, open like he hadn’t been in so long. He looked every bit your best friend from years before.

“I miss you, I-” He started, then cleared his throat.

“I miss the old you,” You swallowed a whole bunch of your pride just to be able to say those words.

“Things are different now…” Fernando started, his eyes full of hoping, of longing, “We could- maybe we could-”

“Fernando, we’re too far gone, what we said- what we did…” You muttered, feeling a lump in your throat, “how do one come back from that?”

“We could restart. Try again-”

“You lost me forever that day, Fernando.” You muttered, the tears holding on to your eyelashes. You didn’t need to specify the day, he knew, he had seen in your eyes the moment he lost you, “I spent so long hearing your voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I shouldn’t be here, and I- I hated you that day. And I had to hold onto this hate, because the alternative was overwhelming sadness.”

There was a numbing silence for a couple of minutes, as you stared down at your own feet, trying to stop all the feelings you spent years carefully locking away from breaking free. So much had happened, you believed you and Fernando were too far to recover now.

“I’m a woman here, the first and only woman in so long, and the whole world was against me. You have no idea how it felt that my best friend, the person I trusted the most, was also against me,” You shook your head, feeling the tears drop.

“I’m sorry, Nena… I’ve never- I’ve never meant any of that.” He muttered, and you didn’t look at him to see if he was being genuine. You had formed walls around your heart to protect yourself from heartbreak, and you now had a hard time believing him.

“There are some things… that are not meant to be.” You didn’t look back at Fernando after you said that, choosing to walk away with this broken heart feeling ever present.

It was hard to keep going everyday. You had always faced backlash for being a woman in Formula 1, and you were used to it. But the media took a turn over the next few years. When you didn’t win more championships, when years passed and you were still there, along with other champions and future champions. They started to call you old, washed, telling you to retire and placing bets on when you’d lose your seat. It was baffling because it had been six years since your championship, but it had been seven years since Fernando’s, but still, you were the only one whose spot was questioned all the time. It was unfair, and whenever they came up to you talking about it, you’d ask them if they’d ask the same to older drivers or other champions. They would leave you alone for a week and then come back stronger, ready to throw your whole career under the bus.

Finally, you got another chance at the championship in 2013, after an unbelievable start of the season with five consecutive wins. That had put you first in the standings for the championship, and from there on, your team molded the season around you. Smooth sailing through the season, you became world champion in Suzuka, way too far ahead in the championship to anyone be able to catch up to you.

When you stood on the podium that night, you cried happy tears. You had once again proved wrong years of demerit from the world. As you looked down to search for your family, your eyes found Fernando right beside them, a proud, emotional look on his face as he kept a hand over his heart, listening to your national anthem.

He nodded at you with a small smile, and a part of you healed a little bit.

You enjoyed a couple of days of pure bliss after becoming world champion. Parties, celebrations and trips, they were all you did for the next few weeks.

When the FIA Prize Giving ceremony came, you had another bombshell to drop at the world. You were the most stunning you ever felt that year when you arrived at the ceremony, in a beautiful dark blue dress with little crystals all over the bodice, a beautiful hairstyle and even more beautiful makeup. Never in your entire career in Formula 1, you had felt so fulfilled, so happy.

Hearing your name being called as the winner, the number one, was different this time, and had much more weight, and it made your heart burst with happiness. As you walked up the stairs to the stage, receiving your trophy, you stopped by the mic.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank my family for supporting me from the beginning, my team for making the perfect season, and the perfect car for me to be able to achieve this. I’d like to thank all my teammates that, in one way or another, taught me some valuable lessons as a racer. Thanks to Flavio for taking a chance on my career when probably no one else would.” You said, with a smile. You took a good look around, all the people in this sport who made Formula 1 the most important category of motorsport, all your peers, all the teams. “I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1, as of right now.”

There was a wave of shock and loud gasps in the whole room, flashes and flashes bulbing harder than before, journalists scrambling to take notes… But you kept smiling, hand firm around your trophy as you let the news settle down before speaking again.

“In 2007 I wanted to pay Flavio back for giving me the opportunity to be here today. That debt was paid that same year. After that year I wanted to win for myself, to write my name in the history books, and my dream is now realized. I feel like I should move on and make space for new upcoming talents.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears, but you smiled, the first genuine smile in a few years.

Fernando felt his heart drop at your words. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, you two should be best friends, drive together, retire together. Go down in history together.

“I’m grateful for everything this sport provided me, the adventures, traveling around the world, the people I met and the people I lost,” there was a calm pause, and Fernando wondered if you were talking about him too, “Now it’s time to go and achieve new dreams. Thank you very much.”

You turned around and walked away under the applause.

Later, after the ceremony was done, you were getting ready to leave when Fernando came to find you. He was dressed in a beautiful suit, looking like a million dollar man.

“Nena…”

It made you pause. It had been a while since he called you like that with that specific tone. 

“What? Came here to gloat?” You couldn’t help but be defensive, worried.

“What?”

“I knew you’d be one of the happiest when I retired.”

“No, I would not-”

“You would, Fernando. You did. Many times you said I was done, that my prime was over, that I should retire…” 

“I never thought you’d easily give up!” He shouted at you, “Like you did in 2006, not competing against me.”

“That’s because they didn’t let me compete! Do you think I couldn’t have competed with you back in ‘06? I could, but every time, they would tell me to back off, to let you pass, to not fight you, to not overtake you-” You threw at his face, because you wouldn’t stand there and let him look down on you like that. You refused to back down now that you were finally free. “Pat threatened my seat if disobeyed team orders.”

“What?! Why did you never tell me that?” Fernando looked shocked. His fighting stance was completely gone now.

“You were going to be World Champion again. I would never take that from you,” You whispered, voice failing.

“Nena…” He said, like he wanted to drop everything. “Please, don’t leave. If Red Bull don’t want you, you can find another spot with another team, we can think of something.”

“Fernando, I’m not leaving because the team doesn't want me. In fact, they offered me a 3 year extension.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to go, remember? We planned that-” His voice was kinder than it had been to you in many years, “We would go down in history together. Win together, retire together.”

“When push comes to shove, only one wins… We learned that the hard way.” I say, with a sad smile, “Life doesn’t always go as planned. And I got everything I could ever want from Formula 1. Now it’s time for new stuff.”

“What new stuff?”

“I want to have a family, Fernando. People don’t stick around long for this lifestyle, you know that-” You shook your head.

With one last look at Fernando, your eyes watered, and you walked away.

Sitting on the porch, you looked up at the sky, thinking of what’s next for you. It had been months since you announced your retirement from Formula 1. The new season had already begun. It was your birthday, a refreshing new one.

You heard steps coming closer and your heartbeat sped up as you saw Fernando walking up to you. He sat down by your side, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. He handed one to you and in silence, you started eating ice cream.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Was it hard to find me?” You asked, with a tentative smile.

“It only took me my whole life to find you again…” He said, wistfully, his eyes shining under moonlight and you didn’t know if those were unshed tears or not, “my best friend, my nena, my girl…”

“I’ve always been here. Right here.” You said, eyes watering. You weren’t sure you could explain what that here meant, but somehow you knew he would understand.

Fernando took your hand, gently placing it on his chest, right above his heart.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing his hand above yours, over his beating heart, “you were always here.”

Then, he kissed you. For the first time in more than a decade, for what felt like the first time for both of you. As his other hand pulled you closer, the kiss deepened, like a prayer and a promise. Both of you knew there was a lot of resentment to navigate through, and a lot of feelings you’d both have to unravel and understand. But there was one thing that was always there, through hate, anger and hurt… And it was love, unshaken, steadfast love.

As you broke apart, Fernando pulled you into him, hugging you tight for a few minutes, before pulling away to hold your face with both hands, his eyes looking into yours with so much devotion it melted everything away.

“We will be alright.”

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[astxroiid]

new york private life // tasm! peter parker

❥ childhood crush, date nights, vigilantes, apprehension, sweet young love.

wc: 1.5k

navigation ✩ empire state of mind (II) ✩ manhattan longing (III)

"Hey, um... I'm Peter."

A familiar face stands in front of you, one you've known all your life.

"We went to high school together. I, uh, was wondering if maybe you'd want to maybe hang out sometime." The walls of the college cafeteria seem to be closing in around Peter. His hands twitching nervously as he shifted his feet uneasily.

"Oh!" you're caught a little off guard. "Well, I'm free tomorrow. Where will we be going?"

Peter smiles to himself a little. "There's this sushi place that just opened up a few blocks over... if you like sushi, that is."

The amount of anxiety radiating off this poor boy is so potent you can practically taste it.

"I love it," you grin up at the boy from your seat. "Pick me up at 5:30? we could be there by 6."

"Th-that sounds great!" His eyes light up as an excited smile spreads across his face. He's never gotten a this positive of a response before. This feels good.

"I'll pick you up at 5:30 then. Thank you," he says, trying not to be too happy about this, but he is. Very.

“Sounds like a date to me.” you smile, stand from your seat and kiss his cheek before walking away with a bounce in your step.

A date?! A kiss to his cheek! He's never felt so alive before! His cheeks burn red as you walk away. He can't believe that you said yes.

When 5:30 comes around the next day, you’re waiting by the entrance of your house, ready to meet up with Peter. You’re a bit nervous, but mostly excited. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, your heart beating fast and body tingling.

When 5:45 comes, you start to worry. Where could Peter be?

5:50. Your heart begins to sink. Was this all a joke?

5:55. Is he... not coming?

6:00. You're officially distraught. Your mind immediately starts running to various conclusions. Is he busy? Did something happen to him? Or did he simply change his mind?

6:15. Maybe he forgot? Maybe he's late? Maybe he lost track of time?

6:30. Your eyes are puffy and red. Tears start to stream down your face as you realize he’s probably not coming.

7:00. Anger replaces sadness. Did he do this on purpose?! What the hell?! What was the point of even asking you out?

8:00. Sadness returns. After all your emotions drained your energy and tears blurred your eyes, you cant help but come back ton the thought: Why did he do this? He can't even have the courtesy to at least call you?

Just as the thought come to mind, your phone rings. It's Peter.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the phone. You desperately hope that this might just change things, but you also can't help and start to feel anxious, afraid of what he might have to say.

"Hey," Your voice cracks as you hold the phone to your ear.

Peter's heart sinks at your tone, immediately feeling at fault. "Hey," he echoes in a small tone. "I'm sorry I didn't show up today..." he says, almost inaudible for a moment. He sounds... shaky. Nervous. "Something came up..."

In what world is that a good excuse for leaving a girl waiting for you for two and a half hours? He mentally cringes, wishing he could explain better. How? 'Hey, sorry I basically ghosted you , I'm Spiderman and I had to stop a robbery?!' it almost sounds made up.

"oh..." the same, tearful tone etched into your voice from before. "it's okay, I guess."

He gulps at the sadness in your voice, feeling worse now, not sure how to handle this situation.

"My aunt called me. She had some things she needed help with," he said, trying his best to avoid giving details. "I lost track of time and only just realized how late it was. I was rushing as fast as I could but I know I missed our date. I'm sorry, I should have at least sent you a text."

“It’s okay.” you sound only slightly more cheerful. “How about you make it up to me come over with some takeout and we watch a movie?”

"Really?" he asks, sounding surprised. After the tense conversation you both just had, he didn't think the night - or relationship for that matter - would be salvageable. "I mean sure," he says, not being able to hide the joy in his voice or the smile on his face. "What kind food do you want?"

“You pick.” You smile “Come over as soon as you can.”

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

About 20 minutes later Peter knocks on your door. You open it to reveal the sweetest looking boy with flowers an Thai food in hand, appearing a little guilty but still excited.

You couldn't resist smiling back at him, feeling much less mad about what happened earlier.

"Sorry for the wait," Peter apologizes as he hands you the bouquet of tulips. You gladly take them.

Walking over to the kitchen and filling a vase with water, you call out to Peter, who's still standing in the doorway.  

“You can come in Pete! You can set the food down over there," you gesture to the coffee table, covered in candles and books for your college classes.

Pete?! He smiles warmly as he enters into the living room and he watches you set the flowers in the vase. Peter glances around your apartment, your home is quite cozy.

Dark blue curtains hang around each window, soft lights from the New York night glowing through. Every surface in your home is decorated with mixtures of candles, lamps, books, or cute little trinkets.

The whole place smells like cherries and coffee. The soft music playing in the background bringing the whole mood together.

He goes ahead and sets the food down on the coffee table and he looks around the room. "Your place is nice," he says softly. He loves it. he could get used to spending more time here.

“Why thank you.” You blush, placing the flowers down “Oh! I was thinking about watching some of the Star Wars movies - is that okay?” You plop on the couch, patting next to you for Peter to sit.

"Star Wars is always okay with me," Peter replies, happy that you're not upset anymore. He sits down next to you and he can't help but notice how close you're both sitting next to each other. His heart flutters.

"The Empire Strikes Back is my favorite," Peter replies excitedly, happy to be sharing one of his interests with you.

He smiles, feeling very happy with the current state of things.

"That's my favorite too!" You smile brightly, looking into his eyes.

There was an odd and almost indescribable intimacy between you two, as if your shared love of Star Wars had brought you closer together in some unknown way.

“Really?” Peter asks, feeling thrilled by this coincidence.

You nod, giggling at Peter's excitement.

"What's your favorite character?" Peter asks. He's trying to watch the movie, although it's hard to take his eyes off of you for too long.

"Hmmm..." you place your finger on your chin, feigning deep thought. "Obi Wan, hands down the best in my opinion. What about you?"

"Definitely Han Solo," he replies, smiling. You notice how his cheeks are a bit red right now.

Is he blushing?

"He's cocky and always in the middle of trouble, but so charismatic and charming," Peter adds. He leans closer, getting a little more comfortable on the couch.

"Who's your least favorite?"

You notice him moving closer but don’t mind at all “Kylo Ren, I think. His character is just too underdone - they could’ve done better. What about you, Pete? Who’s your least favorite?” You lean in close to him, placing Your hand on his shoulder.

"Totally agree," Peter says quickly, gulping. "Kylo Ren sucks."

Chills take over Peter's body as your hand rests on his shoulder.

You're sitting awfully close, and the thought of it makes his head rush. He wishes he could take his eyes off of you.

Your heart begins to pound. He's getting so lost in the atmosphere.

You smile and turn your head back to the TV watching along as Han Solo grabs Leia, kissing her deeply. There's an ache in your chest for something similar.

Please kiss me. Peter's mind races and begs. Just go for it! He silently urges himself.

He's dying to turn his head towards you. The closeness is sending him into a spiral of emotion. If only he could find the courage to make a move. As he glances your way, he notices you're not looking at him; your attention is elsewhere. A wave of disappointment washes through him.

Peter looks to his fidgeting hands, now incredibly insecure.

Is he reading the signals wrong? His heart sinks. Does she not feel the same way?

His breath is shaky and he's afraid of ruining the evening.

Peter decides it's best to focus on the movie and not his growing, aching feelings.

I hope y'all enjoyed my first fic in a loooong time lmao, big thanks to character.ai for helping me come up with this!

[yourwitchybrother]

Worship in my Daily Life

When I wake up, rested and relaxed, I thank Hypnos for aiding me in my peaceful slumber. I roll out of bed and I start putting myself together every day.

When I put together my outfits or pick which work shirt I want to wear with what pair of pants, I think of Venus helping me make the choices. When I brush my teeth, fix my hair, and do my makeup, I think of her.

I look to Hekate when I dress myself with anointing oils. I hope to bring in positivity, energy, and anything else I call for. Or when I stir my coffee per my daily intent - banishment or enticement.

Recently, I've started thinking of Hestia when I make my breakfast or even just my coffee. Such domestic, slow tasks remind me of her.

Every day when I leave my room for my shift, I say "Good morning, Apollo!" I give the sun a little wave, and I bask in the feeling of the sun against my skin, the light filling me with positivity and good graces.

Arriving at my job, I call to Neptune. I ask him to help me relax, and feel as calm as the waves of the sea, as soothing as the sounds of waves. Or, when I'm angry, I ask him to help me use my anger constructively.

While working in customer service, I ask Mercury to help me feel approachable, communicative, and clear-minded, and to stand my ground with angry or aggressive individuals. I ask him to help soothe my anxiety and exude confidence.

I say hello to Loki whenever the Spiders littered around campus pay me a visit, or whenever my coworkers and I conspire to do something silly or mischievous.

I see and acknowledge Bacchus in the end-of-shift chaos that we all feel - coming out of "customer service mode", slowly returning to our dorms and rooms, laughing, smiling, and making weekend plans.

And through everything, my fox spirit is always nearby, following, observing, passing along messages, and helping me navigate situations and problems as they arise.

I see my deities in everything that I do - or at least, I try to. They see me, and I see them. And I encourage other practitioners who may not be so able to practice openly to do the same! See them in the little things. They'll appreciate that just as much. Blessed be, and may the Sun be your guide. A domani!

[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

“I Won,The Battle Of Love”

a/n-This art piece I will search for source and credit them.

Master List

One Shot

Ghost x Reader

Warnings- Mentions death of main character. Angsty, mentions blood.

🎵 “I don’t want to set the world on fire.”🎵

-The Ink Spots-

Hiding her gunshot wound from her team. König noticed her stance was off and her face going pale. The sound of men yelling and bullets flying by. He tried to make her sit down and let him assess her condition.

She pushes him away.

“König there’s a bomb here. It has to be defused. If I don’t it’s gonna kill everyone in a 15 mile radius. We won’t have time to escape.”

“Get them out of here. I’m the only one that can defuse the bomb”

“Nein, denke an Ghost Ich kann dich nicht hier zurücklassen” (No, think of Ghost I can’t leave you here)

“I’m dying König I don’t have much time. The guy that attacked me earlier stabbed me near my heart and lung.”

“I’m the only one that can defuse the bomb. I was trained for this. I’ll save you all. Get going.”

“GET OUT OF HERE. Don’t look back!”

König gathered everyone together and rushing out of there.

(Y/N) defused the bomb with ease. With the last amount of energy and strength she had she sat down on the balcony to watch the sunrise. With the flip of a switch she held a red button. Holding a cigarette in her hand she struggled to light it up. Hassan men started to advance to her position. With a smile. She pushed the button killing everyone with the bombs that König laid out before he left.

“If you get this I do hope you read it.”

“That would mean one of the privates was able to get out alive”

“I never gave up on us?”

“Even when you pushed me away. The fight that we had didn’t hurt me.”

“I just wanted to let me love you and take care of you. I wanted to do the same for how you did for me.”

“Now I’ll never get that chance. Just know now looking in the face of death. I wasn’t afraid. I thought of you.”

Way down inside of me

Darlin', I have only one desire

And that one desire is you

And I know

Nobody else ain't gonna do

I've lost all ambition

For worldly acclaim

I just want to be the one you love

And with your admission

That you feel the same

I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of

Believe me

“Watching the sun rise made me think of our first kiss.”

“The way you turned pink and you wouldn’t look at me for 3 days.”

“And when you allowed me to see you at your most vulnerable moments.”

“I cherished all those memories.”

“I Will Always Love You Simon Riley.”

“To protect you Simon, I’m willing to set the World On Fire To Keep Your Fragile Heart Safe.”

“I won the battle of love. These past few days have driven me crazy. I love you more then you know.”

“Until We Meet Again”

-(y/n)

Reading the tattered letter Ghost rushed outside to find König and the team that was with (y/n).

With all the rage and sadness that built inside his chest he collapsed before König. Hyperventilating and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Unable to get a small sentence out he pounded his fist on the ground yelling in pain.

“König tell me she’s alive and that she’s coming back! Tell me she’s on her way back and this is a lie!”

König broke down in tears shaking his head. Collapsing to his knees holding his head his hands he sobbed. The guilt of leaving her behind ate away at him since he returned. Everyone from her team couldn’t look at Ghost. They all avoided their gaze.

Price and Soap rushed out to find König and Ghost on the ground crying.

“Why did she go? Why? I should’ve been with her?”

“König why didn’t you save her?!”

“Simon is was a Suicide Mission.”

“She volunteered to go. She didn’t know she wasn’t gonna come back. König and her team didn’t know. Looking over her paperwork this was order by Shepherd.”

“He sent her to her death and he’s on the run now.”

Picking himself off the ground he pushed past Soap who tried talking to him. Walking back to his room he closed the door sitting down on the bed laying down hoping this was a nightmare.

Closing his eyes hoping this was a nightmare that plagued him every night.

Waking up a few hours later looking at his phone hoping to see a missed call or message from (y/n). Dialing her number it went straight to voicemail. Hearing her voice and giggle. Made his heart break.

Walking outside he stared at the Sunrise. Looking at her tattered letter. Tears flowing down his face. Removing his mask he sob uncontrollably. The last thing she saw was the sunrise.

[sporco-filth]

The second part of the story about Lee going from neat freak to slob.

Synopsis: A dramatic change in Lee's life gives him the freedom to be a slob and so Bob proceeds to be his guide to this new world

In the following month, Lee's office was a flurry of activity and the constant stress of work meant he was often too busy to do his usual errands and chores to the same level of astute perfection he had usually maintained. One night, after a long, tiring day at work, he returned home famished. He opened the fridge, the pantry, the cupboards, but all he could find was an apple, a few slices of wholemeal bread and a carrot: hardly anything to make a meal out of. He'd been so caught up at work he'd forgotten to buy more groceries. Looking at the clock, which by now read 10:12PM, he knew he couldn't muster the energy to go shopping and cook now. Either he ate his meagre scraps or…

Just because the house was devoid of his healthy fare didn't mean there wasn't any food around. Bob had his stocks of junk food and he always said Lee was welcome to have any of it if he wanted, not that Lee ever took Bob up on his offer. Lee looked around and stumbled on a frozen pizza. Normally he'd never look twice at something like that, but he was starving and his stomach gurgled in hunger. He heated it up and before long he was tucking into the cheesy, greasy, meaty mess. It was delicious, so much so that he found himself devouring the whole thing. He sat back in his chair, stifling a burp and pardoning himself, he patted his belly. It was ever so slightly distended. He imagined what it might be like if it was so much larger, a real gut, but he knew that although he enjoyed his fantasies, they were just fantasies.

Just then, Bob walked in. He had been out with his mates that evening and stumbled upon Lee rubbing his abdomen in front of an empty plate. "I can see you had a nice meal," he said with a smile and Lee quickly pulled his hand away from his stomach and started to tidy up. "I was just really busy in the office," Lee explained, flustered. "I didn't have time to buy any more groceries; I hope you don't mind if I helped myself to some of your things." "That's all right," Bob replied, not at all fussed. "I'm just glad to see you loosening up a bit. I hoped I'd have a positive influence on you." Lee smiled embarrassedly, face reddening slightly. "It's just this one time, I'll go buy more of my usual food tomorrow." "If you say so." Bob gave him a knowing look, as if he was sure this wouldn't be the last time, but didn't say any more and headed off to his room. Lee washed his plate and put it away. He wondered, what if he did let loose a bit? What would the harm be in that? But the rational part of his mind steered him away from that sort of thought and he prepared himself for bed as meticulously as ever, Bob's comments merely adding to his resolve to maintain his lifestyle in this den of excess and slothfulness.

In the days that followed, Lee returned to his fit, clean and healthy lifestyle with renewed ardour, cleaning and exercising almost twice as much as he usually did. He even went back to making his bed. But things at work were getting more and more stressful and he soon found himself worn out from all the internal and external pressures. "Mr Ngyuen, I'm sure you know that sleeping on the job is not acceptable!" "Wah?!" Lee was jolted awake from his exhaustion-induced daydreaming and saw his boss standing imperiously over him. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he said in a hasty apology. "I didn't mean to I just–" "You were just sleeping," his boss finished, shaking his head. "Listen, Mr Ngyuen, you know how tough business has been in the last few months, right?" Lee nodded slowly, concerned about where this might be heading. "I've heard talk," he said in a nervous voice, "of there being some cuts…" His boss nodded solemnly. "Don't tell the others, though. I don't want any panic. I'm warning you, Mr Ngyuen, because I'm afraid that if you don't manage to lift your game, you might be one of the ones to go." Lee was wide-eyed, he wasn't sure what to say. "B-but I've been working here for years! You can't just fire me! Where would I go? What would I do?" His boss gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid that lately you've become a liability to the company: your past success hasn't translated into future success. There'll be some sort of compensation, of course. We have plans in place for this sort of situation…" Lee stopped paying attention. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

He went home that night dejected and anxious. He sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, not sure what to do. Just then, Bob entered from his bedroom. He'd never seen Lee, a man who seemed to have everything perfectly in order and under control, in such a state: shirt rumpled, tie loose, hair messed up and bags under his eyes. "What's the matter?" Bob asked, genuinely worried. "You know how I told you there were rumours they were going to lay off some people at work? Well, my boss told me today that I'm… likely…" Lee didn't want to say it aloud. "To be fired?" Lee nodded. "Man, that's tough…" "Yeah," Lee sighed. "They said if I manage to improve my performance they might keep me, but I got the sense the decision was already made." He looked up at Bob. "I'm not sure what to do. There's no one hiring so if I lose this I'll be out of a job for who knows how long. I can't lose my job, I just can't…" Bob watched as he slumped over the table in despair. "Don't worry mate, I'll be happy to help you out as much as you need until you're back on your feet." Lee looked up. "How?" Bob smiled. "I might not look it, but I'm actually pretty well-off." "Really?" "Yeah." "But I never see you work or anything." "And how do you imagine I manage to live like that?" "But where did you get the money? And what's your definition of 'well-off', if you don't mind me asking." "I've accrued it over the years in a variety of ways: property, investments, crazy business schemes, even a bit I managed to score in gambling. I also inherited a fair bit from my relatives. I don't quite keep a close eye on my funds, but it's more than enough for me to enjoy my life as I please." Lee was rather shocked. "You really don't mind helping me out?" "It's nothing, Lee. We're friends now, you and I." Lee was relieved. It was as if all the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, smiling at last. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you." "It's nothing," Bob said with a shrug.

Lee tried his hardest at work but nonetheless he received the news he had dreaded. Even if he was prepared for it and had a back-up plan, he couldn't shake the sense of failure that it brought. He entered the apartment and dropped his work stuff in his room. Bob saw him on his way out. "It happened?" Lee was still numb from the shock and could only nod. "Here, sit with me in the lounge and relax, just forget about it." Lee was too rattled to think about his reasons against this and followed Bob to the living room. He sat down in the same armchair as he had during the 'challenge', not even bothering to dust away the detritus that was already on it. The empty wrappers and dropped crumbs crinkled and crunched under his weight. As he began to get into the show on TV, Bob handed him a beer. "Here, it might help take your mind off things." Lee accepted it. He largely abstained from alcohol and had never really gotten drunk before, so wasn't one to drink much, but he felt like now was an occasion that merited a stiff drink. One beer turned into two which was followed by a third and soon Lee found himself forgetting about all the uptight rules that dictated his life. Bob opened a packet of chips which he proffered to Lee and which he accepted. He hadn't eaten in a while and the salty, oily chips looked appetising. He grabbed a handful and munched away; they were delicious. So savoury and crunchy and moreish. Eventually he found his hand touching the bottom of the empty packet and dropped it onto the floor and wiped the grease off on his shirt, not caring about mess in his inebriated state. He took another swig of his beer and let out a sizeable burp. "I'm still kinda hungry," he said. "I'd better get something ready for dinner." "Relax," Bob said. "I'll order us a pizza. If you're worried about your diet stuff, it's only just this once." Lee ceded and went back to watching TV. Relax, he told himself. You can have some fun for once. He glanced down at himself and noticed he was still dressed for work; how could he get relaxed like this? He pulled off his tie and threw it away. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, dusting off the chip crumbs that had accumulated on it, and got rid of it. Finally, he unzipped his pants and kicked them off, leaving himself in only his underwear. He felt so liberated and unrestrained. Bob glanced over. "I see you're getting comfortable." Lee blushed slightly in embarrassment, forgetting he wasn't alone. "It's fine, do you think I mind? I spend most of my time in my underwear, after all." Lee nodded and eventually managed to relax again.

Soon the pizza arrived, the scent of it filling the air and making Lee's stomach growl. Bob had ordered two large pizzas and he tossed one to Lee. He opened it up; it looked like the biggest, unhealthiest, most overindulgent thing he could imagine. "I'm not sure I should, or can, eat all of this," Lee remarked. "Just eat as much as you want," Bob replied. "But from what I can see, you could do with a bit of meat on your bones." Lee looked at his taut stomach with its washboard abs. This was the culmination of years and years of hard work and dedication, but was it really all that worth it? Was it really all he wanted? He looked over to Bob, who was digging into his pizza, and at his belly. It was so round, so soft, so flabby and jiggly. Imagine having a gut like that. It'd be like having a comfy pillow all the time that you can wobble and play with. What are abs good for? Lee looked enviously at Bob's chubby love handles and bum, his soft moobs and thick thighs. He knew he wanted that.

Did he, though? Maybe it was just the beer making his mind foggy. He shook the thoughts from his head and started eating his pizza. He only managed half of it before he was full. Bob offered him another beer and the two watched TV late into the night.

The next morning, Lee woke up in the armchair. He was still only in his undies and surrounded by the remnants of the night before. The TV was still on and Bob was still sleeping away on the couch. He looked at the time on the clock and saw it was after seven. He needed to get to work! Wait… work… Lee remembered the events of yesterday, he was now unemployed. Still, he should get up for his daily run. He tried to get up quickly, but was hit by a wave of pain in his head. He looked down at the coffee table to see a fair amount of beer bottles and wondered how many of them were his. Noticing that there was a similar, albeit larger, pile beside Bob, he concluded they were, likely, all his. This must be what it feels like to get a hangover, he thought. He sighed and caught a whiff of his breath; it stank. He realised he didn't brush his teeth the night before, which meant he hadn't showered either. He took a quick sniff of his armpit and smelt the odour of sweat beginning to develop. I should freshen up, he thought. It'll help me clear my head. But then Lee felt a pang of hunger. He was never the type to do anything before having first eaten breakfast, but he was hardly in the right state of mind to prepare anything. He was out of muesli so would need to make something if he wanted a healthy, filling breakfast. Maybe eggs on toast, but that'd be a lot of messing around with the eggs. Smashed avo? No, they were out of avocado too… Out of the corner if his eye, Lee noticed the leftover pizza from the night before. It was cold, but in his hungover state it still looked pretty appetising, and most importantly it looked filling. Lee grabbed a slice and began munching away. Here I am, he thought. Unemployed, unwashed, hungover, in my undies, surrounded with trash, having woken up on the couch and eating cold pizza from last night for breakfast. Instead of being repulsed by the idea, he felt oddly turned on by it. He had no responsibilities, no one to impress. Perhaps Bob was right, maybe it wouldn't hurt to let himself go a bit. He felt an itch around his groin. Usually he'd be too polite to scratch down there, but in the spirit of his new lifestyle he let himself. It felt good. He grabbed another slice of pizza and picked up the remote, flicking idly through the channels. I think I could get used to this. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and got comfy. Really used to this.

A little while later, Bob stirred and woke up from his slumber to see Lee idly watching TV. "Shouldn't you be off on one of your jogs by now?" he asked, glancing at the clock. Lee gave a nervous smile, like a kid excited to dive into the deep end but unsure if it was safe. "I'm thinking I might… maybe, like, let myself go, a little…" Bob wasn't sure he heard that right. "As in, stop exercising and stuff?" Lee nodded. "I think it might be fun…" Bob didn't understand. "But you keep going on about being healthy and fit… I know I said I didn't get it and was hoping you'd come around, but I didn't think it would actually happen." Lee grinned. "Well, I think I've wanted it for a while, I think it's why I decided to move in here, but I couldn't find the courage to actually do it. Losing my job, I'm free now. I can do what I like and just, you know, relax a bit." Bob smiled. "Well then, in that case why don't I take you through the basics of being a slob?" Lee could hardly wait.

"Now," explained Bob, "there are five main food groups–" "Carbohydrates, fruit, dairy, protein and vegetables," Lee proudly recited. "No," said Bob. "At least, not for a slob. They are: fatty, sugary, salty, carbs and meat. Anything else is tasteless fodder and empty vitamins. Now, the rule of thumb is if you want it, eat it. If you really wanted to eat vegetables," he said the word with disgust, "you can, but I don't see why when there's so much other tastier food to eat." Lee nodded. "Next up is hygiene," Bob continued. "Only wash if absolutely necessary. Be proud of your stink. When it comes to cleaning the house, don't. Why bother if it just gets dirty again?" "OK, cool," the thought of being coated in grime and living in a tip titillated Lee. "What else should I know?" "The general rule for everything is if you feel like it, do it, and if you don't, don't. You wanna stay up all night playing video games? Go ahead! Want to eat nothing but doughnuts for a day? Who's stopping you? Can't be bothered exercising? Stay in bed all day." Lee imagined this. A life of utter laziness where he let his desires take control. "This sounds amazing," he breathed in awe. "It's a sweet life," Bob agreed.

That afternoon, while Bob had gone out for a bit, Lee was laid out on the couch in his undies playing video games when his stomach growled. He paused the game and got up to see what was available. Looking through the junk food filled kitchen, he had trouble deciding what to eat; it all looked so tasty. Then he noticed a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Out of habit, he looked at the clock: five fifteen, too close to dinner for snacking. Then Lee remembered Bob's advice and went with his gut. He plonked himself back down on the couch and began to stuff his face with the rich, sweet cake. He didn't even bother with cutlery, just scooping handful after handful into his mouth. He moaned in delight; it was so delicious. How had he forbidden himself from this for so long? Even when he started to feel full, Lee pressed on, his stomach wanting more and more. Eventually he finished it all. He rubbed his sore stomach which was by now pretty bloated, the chocolate on his fingers smearing over his body. He let out a burp and sighed with contentment. He thought about going back to his game, but the stuffing had made him sleepy so he took a nap instead. He woke up to the sound of the door and was the scent of food which made his stomach start burbling again. Bob had arrived and with him he had brought dinner. "Hey Lee," he called out. "You hungry? I got McDonald's." He went over to the couch to find Lee sleepy-eyed and chocolate-coated. Lee smiled bashfully, looking down at his messy state. "I had a cake a little while ago," he yawned. Bob was a bit befuddled. "The cake on the counter?" "Yeah." "The whole thing?" "Yeah, sorry… I was kinda hungry…" Bob grinned. "Don't apologise, I just didn't think you had it in you. I'm impressed, good job." Lee smiled back. "Thanks." "If you ate so much before, I'm not sure you have room for more." Lee got up quickly. "I can eat," he said, not wanting to miss out. Bob chuckled at his enthusiasm and tossed him his bag of food. Lee looked inside and pulled out his burger. "You know," he said, looking at it. "I don't think I've ever had McDonald's before." "Really?" "Maybe the chips or something, but not a burger." "Well, you've been missing out." Bob took a bite out of his. "They're great," he said, mouth full. "Try it!" Lee took a bite, the greasy meat filling his mouth and sending his taste buds into a frenzy. He ate with vigour and soon he was sitting back, belly full and sipping his soft drink. "I've never really drunk soft drink either," he said, enjoying the sugary rush and the sensation of bubbles on his tongue." "I don't know how you've lived all these years like this…" Bob replied in awe tinged with disbelief. "Neither do I," Lee said. He felt the bubbles rise up from his stomach and opened his mouth wide. A large belch escaped his lips. "Wow, I think that's the biggest burp I've ever done." He was rather chuffed with himself when Bob let loose an even larger one. Lee was impressed, if a bit put to shame. "Belching is an art form," Bob explained. "It takes practice. You need to know how to properly shape the mouth to really amplify it." "Can you teach me?" Bob shook his head. "That's like going to Pavorroti and saying 'teach me to sing like you'. I'm afraid I can't help you, Lee, this is something you need to learn on your own. Master it, perfect it, and one day you might be as good as me." Lee nodded to this sage advice, still sucking on his straw. "I'll do my best."

[trannyradfem]

I seriously can't fucking believe the people on this website sometimes I swear to fucking GOD ugh.

I was visiting my grandpa in hospice!! grieving... Sometimes, a block is just a block. and not about you.

Like, please! For your own sake, even. Don't take them that personally. There is no shortage of people who disagree with me on this site, and I'm open to discussion, but I don't have the resources to fully entertain discource with every single person I interact with. Especially as this blog surprisingly grows more popular than any blog I've ever had. I did NOT see that coming. It's absolutely nothing personal.

If you're fighty about it, or I see other comments by you-- after I've interacted-- that indicate you're going to be hateful or cruel back at me, then yeah, I probably will block you. And honestly I feel more validated in my block after being shown said person saying "no debate is a TRA tactic" and "TRA trolls infiltrating radblr" when describing what I did. It's dehumanizing, acting like we can't possibly be genuine. So no, I don't want to interact with you. I do not genuinely have the energy for that.

Do the same-- curate your internet experience more, seriously, it has such a positive impact on your online experiences, and in no way waters down your radfem beliefs. sometimes posts and threads are just not worth ur time. And there is genuinely research out there on how the things you view and scroll on social media drastically influence the way you think and feel in very subtle ways that can compound over time. Seeing shit you vehemently disagree with that upsets you to that extent on repeat would have a negative impact on anyone's psyche.

Activism should be much more than just Tumblr anyways, yes?

Anyways. For anyone who's followed me, some venty updates under the cut. Sorry I haven't been around or checking notifications. I keep telling myself that I'm going to check every single one of them because I truly do appreciate the interactions and love talking with y'all, but lately I've been stretched thin and on heavy pain meds most of the time. And it's been months, even years for some of you, and the list just keeps growing longer.

I don't know when I'll get better, and it's scary. I've been sick and getting sicker for a long time now, and a lot of it is indeed from the childhood abuse and what they did to my body. But there's things happening that those factors doesn't explain, and given what I know about how the nervous system works, it might not be a great diagnosis. I love y'all and hope y'all forgive me for not being active on here. If I somehow recover I will be more responsive, promise.

I've become wheelchair bound, I'm out of work on medical leave, and every single day I feel like I'm fucking dying from my back spasms. My docs don't know what's wrong with me and I'm fucking terrified for my life after this election. My friend's parent tried to strangle her and we're trying to move her into our place to get her out of there. I have the equivalent of a full semester of revamped medical coding content to learn before I return to work. I'm not ready to lose Papa.

I have. So fucking much on my plate. I am. so tired. vhhbvghn. and I'm running out of money and my debt is catching up to me. I feel so fucking stupid now for buying a vacation plan back when I was healthier because holy shit I can't even leave the house now. The monthly payments are suffocating being out of work.

I worked so hard to build my credit score I'm so scared to lose everything I've worked so hard for. I want to be a doctor so badly, I'm already a licensed professional!! But you can't get hired as a doctor if your credit score is fucked!!! You can't get housing if your credit score is fucked... If I ever had to go back to homeless sex work I think I'd just kill myself. I don't want that, I'm not a suicidal teen anymore, like. FUCK. I want to do something meaningful with my life, I want to make this world a better place.

Today, after picking my brain on my career and the ideas I have to fix the medical industrial complex, a doctor told me I have more experience (wrt how the medical system works from several different angles) than most DOCTORS have and I was stunned. Like I squealed out a "thank you..!" and just clammed up.

That meant so fucking much to me. I feel like I have so much potential and being disabled and sick is just so fucking frustrating. Like holy fuck I'm on the right track, there are doctors that barely know me who are impressed with the very little I've been able to accomplish. Like, I gotta keep pushing forward, surviving wasn't all for naught. It's a bit of hope for me.

My nerve ablation is coming up soon, I can't wait. It's been 7 long years of that compression fracture bullshit. I'm so ready to be able to stand and exercise again.

[my-mt-heart]

hi, Mt. This might cause some negative energy and I'm sorry, but I hope its still okay to write this to you. If you can't post, that's okay too. As much as I love Caryl and Melissa, I think I have to walk away. Fandom has always been too intense for me, so I like to stay hidden, but I like reading all the articles and following along on filming. Everything about S1 was making me uncomfortable. Daryl was being weird a lot of times and the things the producers kept saying, I kept wanting to argue with. I thought now that S1 is over and Melissa is announced, things would be a lot better. I do like all the photos of Melissa and I liked the little trailer we got, but something about this show feels very wrong. You talked about a lot of the things I noticed on my own, the way it still feels like Daryl is the most important and Carol doesn't mean as much because she's not in the title. That's just an example. I hate that. And I hate that the producers are making that feeling worse every chance they get. Zabel, he just makes me mad because his way of explaining Daryl and now Carol sounds like he's just ranting and sometimes doesn't make any sense. I don't think Daryl can make deep relationships that quickly for example. But Norman and Greg Nicotero, what they say sounds worse to me. Some people aren't going to like me saying this and I don't mean to cause you any trouble since it's your tumblr. The way they insult Melissa sometimes and hurt the fans to make us seem unimportant or dumb, it makes me feel like I'm in another abusive relationship and that's what I need to get away from. I thought about just staying off the internet and watching the show, but their behavior makes me worry about the show too. I believe you about them refusing a new showrunner who's a woman and it's not just because you said it. It's because it fits with past things they've done. Norman admitted getting rid of Angela Kang and then they hired Zabel who is a white man just like them. I won't be able to take it if Caryl's relationship is ruined. I didn't have much when I was young, including love. I was trapped in the same cycle for a long time. Watching Caryl gave me a lot of hope because they were similar to me and I wanted them to be together to know some happiness is still possible even if life has been so hard. Maybe they will, but it's not worth all this suffering in the meantime. I don't think I'll find characters like them again, but I'll find something that makes me feel joy every day, not misery and anger. Thank you for listening and for making me feel not so alone for a while. Thank you to Melissa McBride for being so talented and lovely. I wanted to be able to thank Norman too. I'm just too hurt right now, but Daryl will still have a special place in my heart right beside Carol as it should be.

***I'm including a trigger warning here and kindly asking anyone who reads to please be respectful of this anon's experiences***

Anon, you don't have to apologize. It's always bothered me when we assign each other a "negative" or "positive" disposition when in reality it's perfectly human to form nuanced opinions. Last year wasn't kind to Caryl fans at all, so seeing Melissa filming again and seeing bts photos of Caryl again felt like the first warm day after a brutal winter (to quote my favorite podcast hosts 🤪❤️). I think every single one of us wants to hold onto that feeling. I'm happy for those who are succeeding. We deserve to finally look forward to the Daryl and Carol show we were promised.

That being said, I also empathize with those who are having a difficult time holding on. I am one of those people myself. One day it feels like we're getting something exciting, like the first Caryl photos let's say, and the next we're getting dumped on. Case in point, an actor who isn't even on the show taking the opportunity to call Caryl's/Carol's fans toxic and using Melissa's return to self-promote. Or how about another actor using sexist language to attack the same fans because he didn't like the criticism the show was getting. Or the showrunner teasing another ship with zero regard for a significant portion of his soon-to-be audience (Caryl fans). It’s all very discouraging, especially when the intervals in between the bad PR get shorter and shorter.

As for the male EPs’ off-putting behavior, you aren’t the first person to describe it to me the way you did, far from it, which is just to say you aren’t alone. Thank you for sharing a little bit about yourself even though it couldn’t have been easy. I’ll share that when I was growing up, the men in my life would often display an urgent need to be in control, to let everyone know they were the boss and what they said goes. Tracking this show has definitely brought up a lot of the anxiety I thought I’d dealt with already, that Daryl helped me deal with when I first started watching TWD, so I completely understand where you're coming from.

The show we were promised in 2020 was a Daryl and Carol show. Theoretically, now that Melissa is back, it should be a Daryl and Carol show again. That’s what Melissa signed on for and her EP title is supposed to be equal to Norman’s. But Norman, Nicotero, and AMC are not honoring that. You already mentioned the title, so I’ll use another example. Norman said S2 is Carol’s story before amending to Carol and Daryl stories paralleling each other. Either way, why is his character the only one on the clapperboard? Where’s Carol? In that tiny plane?

These may seem like non-issues on the surface, but as I've talked about before, people working on the show can use them as cues to establish a chain of command different from what's in contracts. The male EPs can use them to drown out Melissa's voice in instances of disagreement. The showrunner is a big one. How about directors? Are they all white men again? Who's deciding that? And how can that be the only perspective we're getting if S2 is centered around a heavily-nuanced female character, a mother, a survivor of domestic abuse, a frequent target of misogyny and ageism on SM ? Melissa's input is highly valuable. I'm in no way diminishing that or suggesting she's helpless, but she needs to be shown all the professional courtesy she deserves, as an equal. If fans are seeing evidence to the contrary, and we absolutely can see that, it undermines the narrative we've been invested in all this time: Carol beating the odds over and over again, proving her worth, and becoming a leader.

I'm really sorry that you're feeling mistreated by a show you used as a source of comfort. It's not how things are supposed to work. There should be no gaslighting, no sexist name-calling, no playing into your fears, no insulting your intelligence, no making you feel unheard. Explicit canon is something that needs to happen, but it won't take away the discomfort you're feeling unless we can get someone else in a position of power to push for Caryl, Carol, and the Daryl we know, with Melissa. That's honestly what I'm waiting to see at this point. AMC needs to make big changes. In the meantime, please take care of yourself, anon. Your wellbeing comes first.

[suspiciousmindsxo]

I love you and I love your blog! I hope you have the most awesome of days and know how much you are appreciated! People are touched by your presence! You are a gift to this planet! Keep going, and stay strong! You are so valuable! May your positivity return to you in abundance! You are strong than you know! You can do, and conquer anything! Your beauty is infinite! All you desire is on its way! Things will work out, and in your favor! Each new day is a new chance to improve, grow, reflect and thrive. Believe in yourself! Know your worth! Own the incredible person you are! Be proud of yourself, who you are, and all your accomplishments! Smile lovely! You deserve nothing short of the absolute best! Have a wonderful day, and keep the positive energy going! Do something special for yourself! Even if it’s something someone else would see as insignificant. Pass the light, hope, love, and kindness onto others-even just giving a compliment, reaching out to another, a smile, a message, a note, anything! You are such a positive light, and to spread it is an inspiration! Thank you for everything love! Have a wonderful day!

Oh my God,Stop it.🥺🥺 This made my whole entire day. You have no idea at all. I hope the same for you! I'm just at a loss for words. I appreciate you so dang much!🥺🥺 I'm so glad that you love my blog. I strive to make it the very best I can.

[behindthewox]

Hello,

It’s Aly here, previously the Ads Leader. I was made aware of a post here through a friend who sent it to me, and though my initial intention was to remain silent, I feel compelled to address some inaccuracies being spread about me.

Firstly, I'm taken aback by the level of disrespect and the audacity of some comments made here by individuals evidently lacking firsthand knowledge of the situations they critique. If you work as a Social Media lead as it seems you mentioned, and are discontent with your role in creating content for ads, I encourage open communication rather than resorting to public disparagement.

It's disheartening to witness such negativity and toxicity.

For context, I’m Aly, a 24-year-old working tirelessly in a hotel, including weekends, often taking on extra shifts to manage living expenses in an expensive locale. Alongside this, I volunteered my expertise in marketing to help Dan and the community grow their sites, asking nothing in return but hoping to make a positive impact. I didn’t gain anything from this, it was done purely out of kindness, generosity and freely. Your welcome.

My role of Ad Lead was not really official position but a voluntary effort to help out in addition of my site jobs. My aim was to support and guide, not to shoulder the entire burden of content creation—that responsibility falls to the SoMe Leads of each sites. If you don’t like creating social media content for your site, then perhaps you’re in the wrong position. It’s literally what you signed up for while applying.

Now, I’m no magician. It’s essential to understand that effective advertising hinges on quality content, which is why I provided resources to aid in this area. As for advertising efforts, we operated within a budget, doing our best to maximize the impact of our campaigns. The variable success across different campaigns is a natural outcome, influenced by numerous factors beyond any single individual’s control.

Anyways, the criticism lodged anonymously fails to recognize the humanity and good intentions of those working to support the WoX community. I loved working behind the scenes with Dan, Lessa and the wumps who do SO much. I've found great joy in collaborating with many of you as well and hope we can move forward with mutual respect and understanding.

Let’s not forget that this is a game, most of us are doing this for fun, and freely. Because we love the sites, we love writing, and we want to have a nice escape from reality.

Think I’ve said everything I wanted, now I’m going to put my energy into things that really matter. Maybe you should do the same!

Wishing everyone a wonderful day, Aly.

There's some good points here, and I appreciate the response.

WoX should be a hobby, something we do for fun because it's what we want to do and enjoy doing. It's a positive thing in life, and an important one at that. And it's important to keep it that way.

In order to keep it that way, no one should be burdened with more than they are willing and able to take on. The demands shouldn't be higher than what the average person would be willing and able to do. A system that relies on ambitious and generous volunteers that constantly dedicate that extra hour and goes that extra mile, that is not a sustainable nor reliable system. That is a system that will inevitably fail.

[hellishjoel]

hi kylee!

i’m back with another “gentle reminders” ask. it goes in line with one of my personal goals this year of trying to work on my kindness and how i show that kindness to others.

the beginning of a new year is always a bit tough for many people, for many reasons but at the scale of the fandom, i have noticed some negativity starting to spread. maybe it’s bound to happen on any social media but i always considered tumblr to be different, to be over the kind of discourse you could find on other apps. this place has been a true haven for many of us and i would like to keep it that way, so i thought, as a way to counterbalance this negativity, i could compensate with a nice message for one of the driving forces in the fandom: our dear writers.

i would like to begin by saying thank you.  thank you for dedicating your time, your energy, your love and sharing pieces of yourself with us. the fandom wouldn’t be what it is without you: just like a body needs a brain or a heart to function properly, fandoms need writers like they need others contributing. thank you for offering diversity, engaging with different tropes and characters to reach as many readers as possible. i will admit, some things proposed are not my cup of tea but i know they can be enjoyed by others, the same way some of my favorite fics wouldn’t necessarily attract others. so thank you for giving a chance to everyone to find what they enjoy, to discover, to learn, to cry, to laugh, to love and to be able to do so in an open, safe space. thank you for interacting with us as well. thank you for responding to our questions, sharing snippets when we get impatient, teasing us with your new ideas and making life a little more fun and exciting every day. and of course, thank you for doing all of this for free. for expecting so little in return when you give us so much.

now a few things i want you to remember: 

although we’re all thankful for having access to your art, your first fan should be yourself. write what you enjoy, write that self-indulgent fic, write your favorite trope, an improbable duo or crossover because you’ve always wanted to. do it for yourself. in the same way, have fun with it. writing is a hobby, it’s not your job, it’s not supposed to be a chore. so do what makes you happy. don’t worry about updating fics, about being slow, about posting too much or too little. some things might take time, some might need an hour to be posted but in the end, they all matter just the same. they’re worth being read and cherished and we will appreciate them. whether you have thousands of notes or barely a few hundreds, you have your place here. you’re still an amazing writer, you’re still an artist regardless of the stats. 

whether i've had time to binge-read your stories or just discovered you. thank you. i love you. i’m grateful for you. i see and appreciate your work. your efforts. you.  i’m sorry if you’ve ever been received with negativity but i hope this can make up for some of it.  you deserve nothing but kindness and appreciation and i hope you know how much you matter here.

sending you all my love,

anna 💗

hi anna,

reading this felt like a really sweet letter and your message touches my heart. this is a good reminder that people like you make being part of this fandom so incredibly special and I appreciate you taking the time to write something so incredibly personal and filled with gratitude to spread positivity, it means the world not to just me, but all of us writers.

knowing that our hobby brings so many people joy and creates a safe space for readers is the most rewarding thing, it's what we all want to achieve.

sending you back all my love and gratitude, anna, thank you for taking the time to write this and send to your favorite writers, I'm genuinely so grateful!

all my love,

kylee

[be-side-my-self]

Geez, just bc someone doesn't share the same view as you on a character dynamic, doesn't mean they're automatically a bad person. What the hell does "I hope you'll understand emotions one day" even has to do with that person not being a fan of your favourite ship? That was so uncalled for. Way to make people hate your ship even more.

Very well...

First of all "someone" and I came to an understanding. We talked about it and everything is fine. I am thankful for her reaching out to me! And I'm sorry that her posting will be used as an example. But this is not about her which is why I'll use they/them to talk about this random "hater" I'll use in this post as well as a general "you" for them.

Let's get started.

So, should I have reacted to the post at all? Maybe not (but something positive came out of it so I'm even a bit glad). Did I let my emotions show? Of course (I was in a very bad mood that does not excuse it though). Could I have said all I wanted to say better? Oh certainly.

Because now I have to explain what I meant.

But first let‘s pull out the complete quote instead of just what you decided to focus on, anon.

Hate is a strong word for a fictional ship… I hope you’ll understand emotions one day and then understand the different nuisance that can be read between Travis and Laura beside them being enemies or maybe partner in crime.

"I hope you’ll understand emotions one day" has nothing to do with a person not being a fan of "my ship". But it has all to do with the fact that they mentioned to hate one of "my ships" but then in the comments when people agree with them suddenly turns around and try to soften the blow. Which is understandable!

But that is what happened on that post. And it's okay to not like a ship. I agree with that. I have ships that I dispise. I steer away from them because there is no sense in attacking them. I would especially not compare them to "my ship" and tag it with the tag that is only for the enemy ship so the fans will see "the hate". Even if I didn't mean it. Even if it was just a joke. Humor is different for everyone as is taste. But not everyone is aware of that, not everyone understands how tumblr and fandom work so maybe pointing it out is a way to learn?

But certainly in a calmer way than I chose.

Now the reason why I said HATE is a strong word is very simple. I used to use it a lot, feel it a lot until I read Maskerade by Terry Pratchett and did some more growing up.

“But that was just it - hate was exactly the right word. Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is just love with its back turned.”

If you really hate something you'll return to it and you'll obsess about it. You'll go through everything about it just to make fun of it. It's also part jealousy and it will certainly burn up your energy and time. Let me quote Bender.

"Bender knows love, and love doesn't share itself with the world. Love is suspicious, love is needy, love is fearful, love is greedy."

I don't think that this quote is true for love. And the first part is not true for hate either because hate does share itself with the world. But the second sentence? That is hate. Suspicious, needy, fearful, greedy.

Anyway, all I know is my life got better after I started to understand this pattern. I tried to stop myself from hating. I still indulge in things I dislike but more out of curiosity and because I want to understand. Also I'm only human (and I guess a masochist). Emotions are a part of me and spite belongs there.

What is even worse about hating is that, you'll invite other people to hate along your side even if that is not your intention.

Because that too happened on the post.

You say you hate something and people will flock to it and agree with you in your hate. It happened on the post too.

"I love Ship A/B but I hate Ship C/D"

All comments and reactions (mine included) were about the hate of ship C/D.

And that is fucking scary! But as you make your bed, you must lie on it.

Wouldn't it be so much better if people joined together in their love for ship A/B?

And this is what I meant! You have to understand emotions, your own and those of others, to become a better person! To enjoy your fandom!

And that is not only true for fandom! It is true for every aspects of life!

Leave out the hate!

And this is not some new wave bullshit or some neurotypical love-life-laugh philosophy. This is a pattern you can see again and again and it will always be true.

I won't say no matter how *positive uwu* you are you won't not have to fight battles! But you can avoid them if you don't focus on stuff you hate! If you don't focus on stuff that makes you suffer!

Avoid! Block! Ignore! Not always your battle!

I know it's fucking hard to change your ways! But so worth it!

Like this fucking comment? What does it give you, anon?

While you, anon, was annoyed about me being annoyed about the post the whole thing already was solved in the background.

All you, anon, get now is a philosophical rant about focusing your energy on things you love and that trying not to hate on things is more healthy for your mind, dear anon.

Your battlecry ask has been uncalled for, anon!

As for people hating even more on "MY SHIP" because of this comment that I made on a post with a total of 44 notes, not one coming from my blog... I don't think that my reaction will add to the antis miserable hate any more.

They made up their mind. The two characters of "my ship" hate(1) each other and that is the only correct way to see it and everyone who sees it different is a sick fuck who deserves to fucking die or get jailed away for their thought crimes of shipping two adult fictive people.

I still hope for them that they manage to leave the hate behind themselves and learn an important aspect that now comes as another lesson.

Any interaction between two characters (or real people) can be seen as either romantic or platonic (or anything in between) depending on the own preference.

And that is even more true with games where you can make a decision as the player!

It's like with ink pictures. Everyone might see something different depending on your experiences, emotional state and hopes for the future.

I hope you have a great day, anon and that you learned something.

--

(1) which is one of the reasons why the fuck. Because hate has a very special pull close to love as established before.

[the-void-and-the-mirror]

Estrangement doesn't need a map

I ended up talking about my parents recently. Both of my parents I keep far and away at any given time. My dad stopped talking to me a few years ago, and it's the best gift he ever gave me. I will never talk to him again. My dad is absolutely irredeemable, he's never even going to try to grow. My mother I've gone low contact with. In my mother, I've always seen the potential for growth, try to lead her to it, only for my dad to hiss in her ear what she should believe and have her come back and argue with me. She's passive aggressive, doesn't "like to be corrected", and will only give dramatic apologies that paint her like a victim. "Sorry I'm not perfect," "I didn't abuse you!" and just never realising she's the problem. And I had a talk about an article I'd read this morning about estranged parents and how they don't know how they can be estranged when their kids tell them why. And it all so resonated. It's here if you want to read it: https://www.issendai.com/psychology/estrangement/missing-missing-reasons.html I struggle a lot with trying to reassociate with my mom, because she wants a relationship and is trying to reach out. My sister has said that my mom is trying to be a better person, but it is baby steps. My sister supports me burning that bridge if I so desire, as well. I've had long talks with people I can trust and who understand my trauma and pain, and that I see my mother as nothing but an emotional exhaustion. She's an energy vampire who has never tried to understand me, and I'm tired just thinking about engaging with her. Anytime I've said why I don't like my mother to her face, it ends in an argument. My sister tells my mother why I don't like her, and it's suddenly apologies. And I know my sister is a blunt person and probably told her directly my reasons, probably even more direct than I am. So the fact that I can't tell my mother why I don't like her and get the same reaction my sister does is another sting that just adds itself to the mess. But this time, I was talking with my boyfriend. How I just stand here staring, "Do I burn this bridge or not?" It would probably cost me less sanity points to just burn it." And while it's hard for me to make the final step to cut my mother out, I probably should, because every time I get a little text from her, I just hate it. And I've started giving minimalist replies. I don't tell her I love her back anymore, because it just feels like an obligation I don't want to return those words. When she tells me my dad loves me, I want to call her out on her lies. And nothing they say will fix the years of abuse, and nothing I say will make them realise what they've done.

My boyfriend told me he supports me in burning that bridge with my mother, but he also told me something I never thought of. He said I don't have to do anything at all. If she grows, she'll grow. But if she doesn't, then oh well. He said it like this: "You don't have to cross the bridge, or burn it. You can just walk away from it, and come back if you ever want to."

And it was enlightening, that I don't have to hope anymore, secretly hoping that what I know will never come somehow miraculously does. I don't have to do anything at all. I can simply let it be. And if one day, I decide my mother's efforts are worth rewarding, I can come back. And for anyone who is in the same position I am; where it is hard to connect but also hard to let go, I wanted to share that insight with you as well. You don't have to burn that bridge, you don't have to do anything at all. You don't have to force yourself to reconnect with someone that hurt you. You can simply keep your distance and watch. And if you decide that someday that change is worth reaching out with, you can go ahead and cross that bridge then. But also know you are never obligated to, either. Someone else's efforts does not mean that you have to give them a reward in return. After all, they've taken so much from you already. Let them show you if they have grown and changed, and even if you decide they are still not worth your energy, your time, your love, it's okay. It's okay to just let it go. And know that no matter which you choose, none of it is your blame to accept. It is you taking care of yourself, and you are allowed to have that.

[blackboxtheatrecrew]

🐾🍀🧵

Hello hello! This was sent to me for a system ask game. I have saved this in my drafts for a rainy day when I felt my blog needed more positivity. Thanks for sending this ask and waiting so patiently for a response :D I can't find the original game anymore sadly but I did put in what all the emojis went ahead of time, thankfully!

~~

🐾 Is your system mostly human or inhuman members? Somewhere in between?

I would honestly say it definitely feels like close to a 50/50 balance of human and nonhuman members, but the actual numbers might say differently. We have many different types of folks here, and while there's a lot of non-humans, but a good deal of human folk here as well. There's also some who's connection with humanity is blurry. It's nice to have all these different perspectives up here.

🍀 Do any system members practice a religion or belief system? What about spirituality?

It's funny you should ask that, as we had a member go through questioning her religious beliefs lately. We are collectively ex-Christian, and a lot of us are atheists or eclectic witches. This system member in question was considering returning to Christianity. While we support/supported her journey, I'm glad she concluded she didn't want to return to the church or Christianity, as we have trauma related to that religion.

Some spiritualities that stand out to me is TT:Miyurn and 🐛Gamzee, as they have the same source and more or less the same religion, but one of them has left the Church of the Mirthful Messiahs while the other hasn't, which makes how they actually practice their faith different and interesting. TT:Miyurn (before he went dormant(?)) would paint for the Mirthful Messiahs, while 🐛Gamzee, to my knowledge, is a lot more comfortable with internal expressions of devotion. 📍Rose is another member here with an unconventional faith, as she worships the horrorterrors in exchange for his dark powers. He used to leave offerings and things to charge in pitch blackness. It's very interesting to me&

Overall, we do try to give system members the space to practice their spiritual beliefs if that's what they want.

🧵 How does your system handle the body's / vessel's appearance? Does everyone dress the same, or is there a broad range of styles?

I'd say whoever dresses us generally gets the say in what we wear, lol. It used to be up to the host, and then he tried to get more input from others, and now we don't really have a host anymore, so it's kind of a free-for-all. We generally dress alt and have a lot of fandom things we like to wear. When we dress, it feels more like dressing a singletsona rather than ourselves if that makes sense. Internally our fashion senses vary, but I'm glad it hasn't made dressing too much of an issue-- aside from when some clothing choices of some system members sometimes make others dysphoric. Oops.

Admittedly, it would be nice to dress more that feels like us individually, but that unfortunately takes a lot of time, energy and money that we don't have. We have been thinking about getting personalized Kandi bracelets that we would swap based on who's fronting. I hope we get to make that idea a reality at some point :]

Side note: I just remembered a few system members here used to wear wigs that looked more like their hair in system, and one of us had a favorite pair of shades that I think he felt a lot more like himself when he wore them. We don't really do things like that anymore and cope with the body being different in other ways. Idk if that's a good or bad thing, kinda miss it. We're more functional than we used to be, but sometimes some of it feels like at the cost of being able to express ourselves :/ something to think about, I guess. I hope that we as a system can find our way to expressing ourselves in a healthy way while keeping all the other progress we've made since those days.

~~~

Thanks so much for the questions! If I still had the system ask meme link, I'd put it here in case anyone else wants to ask us something. Since I can't find it though, i may just reblog another one later d:

🪳Maker (& 🧨Tate(?))

[cheesus-doodles]

Bonten Mikey + Taiyaki

Valentine’s Day Shorts

Masterlist | Valentine's Shorts List

i got so much more that i want to write i'm so swamped ;-; warning for slight angst for this one, its a little scene from my Going Home AU

"I don't want it," Mikey repeated as firmly as his hoarse throat would allow, abyss eyes fixed on the same empty beige wall of the infirmary.

The Bonten second-in-command was persistent, his pleading voice cutting through the still air. "Mikey, please, you haven't had anything to eat all day-"

The usually mouthwatering smell of taiyaki only brought on a sudden flood of memories, and with it, a familiar pain in his chest and a curl in his gut that Mikey could have sworn had long been numbed with time. For fuck's sake, he was the boss of the most heinous crime syndicate in all of Japan, overseeing an ever increasing number unspeakable evils with each passing day.

And yet, being offered his favourite treat today, of all days; it was as good as a slap to his face, a mockery of you slipping through his fingers again. Enough to make him feel. You had, after all, always been the one to make taiyaki for him on Valentine’s Day before your disappearance twelve years ago, and had promised to do so after your sudden and miraculous return to him twelve years later. But he couldn’t stop it from happening again, couldn’t stop you from vanishing from his arms once more.

"Fuck off,” was all Mikey could muster the strength to mumble, shifting slightly in a bid to seek an ever elusive comfort. Without you, his world was meaningless. Why couldn’t he be just left alone to stew in his misery?

Sanzu, however, wasn’t that easily dissuaded, the pink-haired man on his knees for the umpteenth time this week, piercing green eyes turned down at the cold blue tiles that lined the infirmary floor. And the prone position wouldn’t have worked on the Bonten boss, like it had failed to do so many times before, if not for those magic words. "I used her recipe," the other mumbled into the ground; softly, tauntingly.

The room fell silent as time came to a crawl, the sound of every breath heavy in the tense tranquility as Mikey contemplated those words. He knew the delinquent-turned-yakuza dared not to interrupt lest he be sent away, and so he allowed his pestilent right hand man to continue to stew without the bliss of drugs to tide him over. One tormenting minute after another, before he finally made up his mind, the sheets under him shuffling slightly as he turned.

“Fine.” A single word, and Sanzu rocketed up from his knees, wasting no time in pressing the fish-shaped cake into his beloved king’s outstretched hand. Yet for all the hope shining in those green eyes, eagerly waiting as the the tail of the taiyaki was nibbled at, the taste that flooded his mouth was a far cry from the ideal in his mind.

It couldn't even wash out the lingering smell of bleach from his nose. The sweet fragance that he remembered coating his tongue as he bit into your handmade taiyakis was missing.

Throwing the rest back at the mob of pink hair peaking over the edge of his bed, Mikey agonizingly turned back to face the wall, the moment of effort having taken every ounce of energy he had left. "It doesn't taste like hers."

He should have known better then to expect any different, the bitter thought like a stab through his chest as he heard the slowly fading footsteps of Sanzu exiting the infirmary; it would never be the same as yours.

[tunamiya]

Jie Jie what are the postgraduate programmes are you considering? Curious curious mei MEI online hahaha and

OH MY GOD JIE JIE I SAW YOUR TAGS AND I'M SO HAPPY AND EXCITED FOR YOU THAT YOUR FEELINGS ARE REQUITED AND IT'S SUCH AN AMAZING THING?? THEY (BOY) BETTER CHERISH YOU AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL HEART AND TAKING IT SLOW BEFORE THE NEXT STAGE AND AFTER ALL THE COMPLICATIONS ARE SOLVED if you do take it to the next stage I mean *coughs*

Also jie jie I'm watching power of love tomorrow and I'm so excited!!! Funny part is that the one accompanying me is someone I used to like in hs (and according to friends it was mutual? But boy ended up rejecting my confession HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA good for him tbh) and this would be the first time we're meeting in 3? 4? Years BUT IM SO EXCITED TO SEE THE BOYS ON THE BIG SCREEN their visuals will definitely be amazing but because I only bought the tickets last night the best seats were all taken and I'm only free tomorrow to watch the movie🥲 so kinda both sad and disappointed yet very excited to see the boys on the big screen

Oo boy this was a long ask kinda mimics (is that the word) how I'm really really talkative irl

Chiauuuu

For my postgraduate study I'm gonna apply for data science, but I'm thinking whether to do it at local or overseas, there are so many factors to consider, short terms and long terms

IKR!! IT'S AWESOME! knowing that the feelings are mutual TT chiauuuu 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you so so much 😭😭😭 you're so sweet and kind *hold your hand* I swear I'm gonna protect you at all cost

DAGGSHDHD your ex crush!!! what do you mean by good for him afsghdhdf chiau IT'S HIS LOSS!!! I'm sure you two are on good terms now cause it's been a long time! and it's great to able to keep him as your friend rather than foe right!! So happy for ya THE BETTER ARE YET TO COME CHIAU I know you're going to meet someone in the future who's right to keep up with you who're kind and warm hearted!!! ❤️❤️❤️

AND OMGGGG I was late to it but how's the movie!!! It's so fun right!!! They just being seventeen again gahshdjdd did you bring along your carat bong? 👀 I couldn't get the best seat too, I got the one in the very corner but for the boys, it's okay 😭😭😭 I hope you'd a great time watching it! 💕💕

[ptergwen]

" i'm not letting you sleep on the couch. come on. get under the blankets. " with peter please!

always

w/c: 1,718

warnings: like one swear and a suggestive joke

a/n: apparently my days of writing short and sweet blurbs are over because this goes on forever? lmfao damn but seriously i hope u enjoy <3

-

as fate would have it, you’ve been best friends with peter parker for almost your entire life. he came to your rescue when you got stuck on the slide during your first day of kindergarten, and that’s when everything fell into place. you two took turns hosting play dates and grew a bond that could never break.

it’s withstood all the obstacles that are thrown your ways, even peter’s top secret identity that you weren’t supposed to find out about. peter once left the spidey suit in a pile of dirty laundry by accident, and you saw it. he actually made you spit shake on you keeping his double life to yourself. that was gross, but you did it for him.

you’d do anything for him. he’d do the same, honestly more, for you. you love each other unconditionally. not only as friends, as much more than either of you have the guts to admit. there’s a decade of history between you to prove it.

so, while you and peter sit shoulder to shoulder on your couch watching freaky friday, you each mentally pray the other will make a move.

“if you could switch bodies with anyone for a day, who would it be?” peter wonders, a smirk pulling at his lips. “wow, how thought provoking. i wonder how you came up with that,” you sarcastically comment. he rolls his eyes, still smiling nevertheless. “just answer the question.”

you look from the tv to peter and return his smile. “um, i dunno... you.” not pleased, peter scrunches his nose up. “me? why me?” your response is a shrug.

he shifts his legs around on the cushion, body now turned so it’s facing you.

“that’s so boring. you already know everything there is to know about me, y/n/n,” peter reprimands, poking your side lightly. “pick somebody else.” you elbow his arm with a scowl. “no, i pick you. i’ll always pick you.”

peter’s heart starts to beat a bit faster upon hearing you say that. he feels his cheeks getting hot, so he turns back towards the tv before you notice. you observe the shift in energy and quickly change the topic.

“there’s a whole bunch of cool shit you can do. like, i wanna be able to climb walls,” you propose and grab the bowl of popcorn on your coffee table. peter steals a handful, tossing it up and catching it in his mouth. “it’s not as fun as it looks, being spider-man. you couldn’t last a day.”

your eyes narrowed, you throw a piece of popcorn at peter’s chest. “is that a challenge, spidey?” he flicks the popcorn off his t-shirt and back in the bowl. “nuh uh. after seeing the things i have, i don’t want you anywhere near the superhero life.”

his arm slings around your back and draws you into his side. that counts as a move, you choose to believe. you lay your head on his shoulder, biting down on your lip to suppress a grin. peter rests his cheek against the top of your head.

the two of you refocus your attention to the movie, all warm and cuddly.

at some point between mean girls and jennifer’s body, you both pass out. you wake up first, to end credits and peter fast asleep on you.

you’ve switched positions so peter is laying on your shoulder with his face nuzzled into the side of your neck. his curls tickle your cheek, soft breaths leaving his lips which are dangerously close to your skin.

he seems so peaceful, you’re tempted to let him stay like this. however, you’d rather not spend the night on the couch when your perfectly good bed is mere feet away.

“pete,” you whisper, to which you receive a light snore as a response. dork. grabbing the remote, you hit pause on the movie. “peter,” you try again and louder. he stirs a bit this time, yet remains mostly unfazed.

your hand tangles in his messy locks and brushes them off his forehead. you continue to weave your fingers through his hair, peter pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

crap, did he just…

peter suddenly shoots up in his spot, practically giving himself whiplash as he does so. you wince while he blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

“what time is it?” he speaks lower than usual.

are you supposed to ignore what just happened? peter was disoriented from waking up only seconds ago, sure. but, he kissed you.

“uh…” you trail off, checking your phone. he’s not going to like what you have to say. “shit, it’s a little after three.” peter gasps and shakes some cookie crumbs off his shirt. “in the morning? oh my god, may is gonna freak! she’s probably freaking already.”

you sigh. “she’s always freaking.” hopping off the couch, peter collects both your garbage. “for good reason, y/n! i mean, her nephew is literally me! i don’t make things easy.” he shuffles into your kitchen and heads to the trash can.

peter is a nervous cleaner, though you wouldn’t expect it from the state he keeps his room in.

“i’d freak all the time if i was my aunt, too,” he grumbles to himself.

you can’t help but be endeared by his mini rant because it’s just so him. oh, you’ve got it bad for this boy.

“the one time we branch out and do movie night at your place, this is what we get,” peter complains while flopping down next to you, carrying his sneakers. “i should go before may reports me as missing… again.”

your brows knitted together, you grab his hand to stop him from tying his shoelaces. he glances up at you with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

“i get it, but you can’t be swinging around the city at this hour. just stay here, peter,” you softly suggest. peter realizes you haven’t let go of his hand yet, and he doesn’t want you to. a shy smile pulls at his lips. “uh, i guess i could. maybe it’ll give may some time to calm down.”

his fingers play around with yours. “would… would your parents be cool with it, though?” you look back towards their room, where the door is shut. they’re surely asleep by now. “what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“this is a terrible idea,” peter groans and hides his face in your shoulder. he lets out a quiet yawn, arms curling around your middle. “but, i’m too tired to fight you on it.”

every time peter touches you, you swear you’re going to combust.

“good,” you pat the top of his head lightly. “it’s way past our bedtime, so shall we?” peter stretches out his body, laying on the arm of the couch. “we shall. goodnight, y/n.”

you push at his chest before he drifts off for real. “what are you doing?” he rolls onto his back with a frown. “what do you mean? i’m sleeping, as per your orders.” you’re in love with a dummy. you lightheartedly shake your head at him. “no, i’m not letting you sleep on the couch. come with me.”

you haul yourself off the cushion and hold out a hand for peter. he’s confused, but takes it. once he gets to his feet, you begin leading him to your room.

“where are we going?” he questions. “you’ll see,” you shortly reply.

peter then recognizes the familiar wallpaper adorning the hall he’s walked down so many times. his breath catches in his throat.

are you two sharing your bed for the night?

“right this way,” you push open your bedroom door, stepping inside. peter hesitantly follows in after. he closes the door behind you, nerves clear on his face and in his actions as you make your way to your bed.

with a reassuring grin, you smooth your fingers over your comforter. “come on, get under the blankets.” peter stands stiff in the middle of your room. “what? i… you want me to… are- are you sure?”

“positive. i don’t bite, unless you’re into that,” you joke, partially. peter’s face flushes, hands digging into the pockets of his sweatpants. “well, duh. i- i just, don’t want you to be uncomfortable or whatever.”

your playful demeanor becomes more serious. “i’m never uncomfortable with you, pete. you make me feel the safest.”

“oh… okay. yeah, okay,” peter nods a couple times and pads the short distance to your bed. this is the moment he’s been waiting for.

he slips in next to you, confidence slightly boosted as he drapes your comforter over himself. taking initiative this time, peter faces you and hugs you close until your chests are flush against each other’s. his arms stay around your middle, your own hooking around his neck.

he’s enveloped in you and snuggled up in your bed. it doesn’t get any better than this.

“thanks for letting me stay,” peter rasps, searching for your eyes. they sparkle under the moonlight. “anytime, you know that.” you drag your nails across the back of his neck soothingly. his fingers trace over your hip. goosebumps pop up everywhere on your skin.

“i love you, y/n. really, really love you. i have for so long, but i wasn’t sure how to tell you. but… i needed to,” peter finally admits. there’s a beat of silence while you process his confession. “i’m happy you did ‘cuz i love you, too,” you laugh out, peter exhaling the biggest breath of relief.

a goofy smile overtakes his features, his hands squeezing at your hips. “you do? woah… wow. we’re in love, huh? always wanted to say that.” you giggle and cup both his cheeks, which are a deep shade of pink. “i thought you could tell. by the way, now would be a good time to kiss me again.”

peter leans into your palm and quirks an eyebrow. “i didn’t think you caught the first one.” your lips ghost over his from the small space between you two. “don’t underestimate me.” tilting your chin up, peter runs his thumb along your jawline. “never.”

his lips collide with yours in a kiss that’s been years in the making and completely worthwhile.

it turns out that movie night at your place wasn’t such a bust, after all.