#Why does everyone else get the privilege of moving on?

[littlefoxwithbighat]

.

#I am so so tired of having to endure everyone's stuff #I am so so tired of being a constant mediator for my family and for everyone in my life and never being able to dicuss my own worries #I am so so tired of having to endure all of the yelling and shouting and throwing and trying to remain calm and talk things out between my- #-family members when I just want to curl up in a ball in a woods somewhere far far away #I am so tired of always having to help everyone with their shit while barely handling my own #Im so tired of pretending everything at uni was fine and whenever I bring up the difficulties just getting told chin up!! #Like that's enough #Like you haven't seen me this close to falling apart #To not existing before #And still the second time around #All of the red flags showing #Nobody cares. Again #I'm so tired of it all #And all of the financial stress and the study stress and all of it #Why do I have to look out for and protect my family and mediate their arguments if they won't return the favour? #Why can't I call my friends and say please please I need help after years of calming them down in late night phone calls? #Why does everyone else get the privilege of moving on? #While I'm stuck with the mental struggles of being 15 and the worries of my 50+ year old parents and mid 20s sibling? #And it's fine. #It's FINE #I just wish for once in my life #Someone else could do all the mediating and endure all the shouting #And I could be somewhere else #Vent post #vent cw

[4ngel-inc]

⁎⁺˳✧༚ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖/ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ᡴꪫ

notes — i'm not much into valentine's day but i had to make this (probably v cliche, lol) post for my valentine's-loving babies !! also this is my first time writing for jouno, tecchou+ like 3 others so bear w / me pls :')) i just wanted to write something special for everyone's favs !!

warnings — fluff, suggestive, some dirty talk.

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 has never spent valentine's day with anyone, he isn't even aware of the holiday until you ask him to pick up your favorite snack on the way home from work one night and he notices there's a pink and red theme to the aisles—a quick google search tells him it's a "love" holiday, coming up quite soon actually, so he asks you what you'd like to do for it. you insist on brushing it off, saying it's a stupid holiday and a waste of money, but money certainly isn't an issue for him, and he was actually finding himself getting quite excited at the idea of doing something romantic for you, so he pulls through on the day of anyways and you come home to an apartment full of white roses. "umm, aku? what's this?" "hm?" he's sitting on the couch, surrounded by literally hundreds of roses as if it's just another tuesday, his head barely peeking over them, "oh, i thought you'd like them, is it alright? i can throw them away. . ." he nervously moves to grab some of the roses before you stop him, "no- no! i love them, actually." your voice softens, fingers tracing over one of the petals, "no one's ever done anything like this for me." he smiles at that, "so, you're pleased?" you pull him in for a kiss by his shirt lapel, and he blushes, "actually, i have little present for you, as well, why don't you relax on the couch and i'll show you?" as soon as your delicate fingers pop open the button of his pants, pulling them down around his ankles, aku realizes he definitely made the right choice in color—white roses symbolize purity, and there's nothing more pure than his love for you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 has gone on plenty of dates, had plenty of casual relationships—but being in a serious one makes him realize it's a privilege to make someone else happy, and he now jumps at the chance whenever he can. he's always been a romantic, but he goes all out on holidays, relishing the excuse to buy you pretty things and dote on you even more than usual. he's so silly, he always frowns when he realizes you aren't surprised he got you something—even though he always spoils you on holidays. "aww, you got me something, too? you didn't have to, princess, i thought we weren't celebrating this year!" he whines upon seeing the little gift bag hooked under your arm when you walk into your apartment, meanwhile there's a frilly pink apron tied around his waist, a spatula raised in his hand that's dripping red cake batter. "uh, you're one to talk, 'samu?" he looks around, "hm? this? i just wanted to do something nice for you, angel- i only decided this morning!" dazai knew he'd break the promise you two made to not celebrate, he was just excited to surprise you! but now you've gone and bought him a present too, and you don't even look surprised, he's so sad! "so, you're telling me the balloons, candy, roses, heart-shaped cake . . . weren't pre-planned?" you pull him in for a kiss, "it does smell good, though." he whines again, bringing a hand to his forehead for dramatic effect, "you know i'd never betray you like that, my darling angel! but is it really wrong to want to spoil my favorite person?" he's fake crying now, and you pepper kisses on his face until he stops, "mwah, no, not at all, 'samu- i can't wait to show you what i got for you!"

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 defaults to buying you expensive things, like flowers and jewelry—it's your first valentine's day together, and he wants nothing more than to make you feel special, to convey how much light you've brought into his life. all throughout the day, he's surprising you with gifts. you wake up to a shiny diamond necklace hidden under your pillow, "y'like it, doll? almost as pretty as you, my sweet girl." you exit the bathroom after brushing your teeth to a bouquet of red roses on your vanity table. he makes you dinner (ranked 6 out of 10 but he tried so hard), breaks out an expensive bottle of red wine to have with dessert (your favorite gourmet chocolate cake that he practically tries to hand feed to you), he rubs your feet, gives you kisses all throughout the day. after a while, you practically have to push him off of you, "chu, don't you think this is all a little, much?" he looks confused at that, "huh? i just wanted to make you feel special, you don't like it?" you frown before taking his hand, "it's just, i'd rather spend time with you just talking, or cuddling. . . i want to hear about your week and catch up like we always do. i don't need all the bells and whistles, i like our normal life." something clicks in his mind, and chuuya thinks he finally gets the whole valentine's day thing—it's a chance to spend time with the person he loves most in the world, it isn't about the material things. however, that doesn't stop you two from enjoying the countless boxes of chocolates he bought you that night, your feet kicked up on the coffee table as you two laugh and rant about work and whatever else comes to mind—it's the perfect way to end the night.

𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 isn't really into the frills or outward displays of affection that often come with valentine's day—he's a very private person, so he prefers something intimate just between you two. even though you assure him he doesn't have to do anything special, he finds a reason to celebrate anyways—because, as he puts it, "each day with you is a blessing, i'll take any opportunity to celebrate that, my love." he decides to take you on a walk that night as the sun is setting, and it's truly perfect the way you two just stroll along in a peaceful silence, eventually revisiting the place he'd first told you he loved you. "do you remember this place, dear?" "of course, yukichi, how could i forget?" you turn to him with tears in your eyes, and he smiles, pulling you close as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your hair—it's the first physical display of affection he's ever shown in public, but he's so overwhelmed by his emotions at that moment, he simply can't bear to not have his hands on you. "every day since then has been so wonderful, i'm lucky to wander through this journey of life with you." fukuzawa knows life with him isn't always easy, he's often busy, and you've told him sometimes you feel a little left out from that part of his life, but he tries his best to reassure you in moments like this—"i apologize for being distant at times, for being consumed with work, but please understand, i could never express how much you've changed my life for the better." fukuzawa isn't always the best with words, but there are times when his feelings just flow from his heart naturally, and almost always, those times are when he's with you.

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 has so much on his mind, he forgets about valentine's day completely—it just isn't even on his radar. he doesn't go out in public much, so naturally, he doesn't have anything to remind him, otherwise he would've done something for you, really! fyodor doesn't understand the significance of such holidays, or why people would celebrate something trivial and made-up, but he always tries to make you feel special, nonetheless. he knows holidays mean a lot to you, and though he can be distant, he truly cares about your happiness. however, this year, he simply had other things to focus on, and it slipped his mind entirely. he's usually quiet when working, and you didn't expect him to take the whole day off for you, but you're hurt when he hardly steps away from his desk at all that day, only visiting the kitchen to fetch his tea a few times and place a quick kiss to your forehead, "i'll be done soon, is that alright, my love?" "um, sure," you realize as the day goes on he isn't going to celebrate with you, so you decide to go out and have a nice dinner for yourself—a solo date. when you return, he looks a little confused, "where did you go, darling? i wanted to spend time together before bed." you roll your eyes, "it's valentine's, fyo, i took myself out to dinner." you feel bad for the attitude, but you can't deny you feel forgotten. his eyes widen before quickly softening again, "come here, please?" he kisses you, stroking your hair afterward as he gazes into your eyes apologetically, "it is my fault, i was focused on other things. but we can still make the night special, yes? let's go out, you look so beautiful, my one and only."

𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐔 values honesty, so he counts on you to tell him what you want, rather than guessing. he doesn't have time for games, and one thing he loves about you is how direct you are. however, the first year you're together, you make the unfortunate mistake of brushing it off when he asks you about valentine's day—you'd told him it was a stupid holiday, that you didn't want anything, but you were only being polite, you didn't want him to think he had to get you something, but you'd been eyeing the balloons and boxes of chocolates wrapped up with pretty velvet bows. you really wanted tecchou to do something for you, even if it was just something little, but when the day comes, hours go by and nothing happens. you wait all day for him to pull out a bouquet of roses or a box of chocolates, pretending that he'd forgotten just to trick you, but he never does. when he kisses you that night and falls asleep only minutes later, you slip quietly out of bed, sneaking out to the couch and burying your head in your hands—you feel lonely and unwanted, and you aren't even sure why. it's a stupid holiday, but you at least wanted something. "babe?" tecchou sounds sleepy and confused as he flicks the light on, "why are you out here?" "ah! sorry-" you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes, "it's nothing, i'm just being silly." he comes closer, sitting next to you and stroking your hair, "what is it? tell me, please." his eyes show nothing but kindness, and you exhale. "i was just hoping you'd do something for me for valentine's day, i know it's stupid, i told you i didn't want anything, it's just-" he interrupts you, "no- no, i should've known, it's my fault." it isn't, but you appreciate his apology—he's always been so patient with you. "tomorrow, babe, i'll make it up to you, k?" you smile at that, and he kisses you. "come back to bed, i miss you."

𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 was intent on buying you something expensive, but you'd insisted you didn't want that—after everything he does for you, the way he protects you and cares for you, you wanted to be the one to show him how valuable he is. you decide to stay in and make him a fancy dinner, instead of wasting money on a crowded restaurant where you'd probably get slow service anyways. you know everything jouno loves to eat, and you've worked so hard to perfect the recipes over the past few weeks, but after trying everything at least a few times, nothing is turning out right. "my love," he slides a hand around your waist, kissing your neck, "hmm, why don't we just order in? we're running out of time, i wanted to spend the night with you." you sigh, "ugh, 'm sorry, babe, i guess i'm not a good cook, after all. nothing is coming out right." he smiles, and you can't understand why he would be happy about this, but you soon understand when he places a hand on your chest, "i know you're anxious, dear, your heart is telling me so, but you don't need to do all of this for me, i just want you-" his last word is punctuated by a hand gently squeezing your hip. you know him well, and you can feel the way his body calls to you, "ha- is that all you want for valentine's day, babe?" he moves his hand further down, slender fingers toying with the waistband of your jeans. he nods before placing a gentle kiss on your skin, "let's order in, love- i'm sure we can make something happen before the pizza guy gets here, yeah?" you laugh and push him away playfully, "jouno! stop it, you're so silly."

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 is so sad when you walk into his office with a little heart-printed gift bag tucked under your arm. "huh? o-oh," he practically jumps from his desk and rushes over to you, "u-um, i was gonna get you something, sweetheart, i just haven't had time yet, i thought- m-maybe i'd give it to you tonight at dinner? it'll be bigger than that one, too, much bigger!" he's frantic, and you look a little confused, though he doesn't understand why. "wait, what?" sigma hates the feeling settling in his stomach, he hates the thought of losing you—it's unbearable, even. "it's just-" he responds, "someone gave you that present . . i'm a little disappointed, i wanted to give you something, but now you've already received a gift." his voice lowers in volume, gaze dropping to his hands, "i should've given you something sooner, i'm truly sorry." you're probably going to break up with him since he utterly failed at his first valentine's day with you, someone else has gone and swept you off your feet before he could! he braces himself for the words he's always dreaded most, the moment you tell him you're no longer interested in a relationship with him, but they never come. "babe, no-" your thumb brushes his cheek, soothing the burning heat on them, "i got this for you! for our first holiday together." your smile is so bright as you hand him the bag, but sigma can't even think of opening it as he places it on his desk wordlessly, grabbing your face and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss, "i-i thought i'd lost you, you're still mine?" you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands roam your body now, "i'm yours, sigma, and 'm so lucky that you're mine."

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 pulls out all the stops—he does all of the cliché stuff he's seen in romance movies, plus asks a few of the ADA members what he should do for you. you're the first person he's ever dated—the first person he's even opened up to since starting his new life away from the orphanage, and he just wants everything to be absolutely perfect for you. after receiving so much advice from dazai, yosano, and even ranpo, he decides he can't make up his mind—so he does a little of everything! he buys you flowers, tons of chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals (one of them so big he can barely fit it through the door of your apartment), and even tries to make you dinner. he burns the steaks and the "baked" potatoes come out of the oven still raw, but even so—the fact he tried so hard makes you melt into a puddle, though you're not sure where you're going to put all of this. "atsushi?! this is all for me?" you look bewildered, and he scratches the back of his head, "ah- is it that bad? i wasn't sure what to do, so i kiiiinda went a little overboard. maybe i missed the mark, though." you stop him before he can continue, "no! i love it, really. i just wasn't expecting. . so much." he's starting to feel a little self-conscious, but your lips on his soothe his doubts. "i really love it, babe. you didn't have to do all of this. i would've been happy just to fall asleep next to you. how was your day?" you brush your fingers against his cheek, and he relaxes a little, "ugh- stressful, honestly. i could hardly get that one through the door," he points to the massive stuffed bear towering over you two, and you both laugh.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 loves candy and sweets, so naturally, he loves valentine's day. you were expecting him to completely ignore your first valentine's day together, saying something like, "meh- i can eat chocolate any time i want, why's it have to be out of a heart-shaped box today?" however, he surprises you with an apartment full of sweets and baked goods on the day of. "ta da!" he pops up from behind the kitchen island when you stroll out of your bedroom that morning, rubbing your eyes as you realize what's before you. "ranpo? what's all this?" there are trays of pink, red, and white cookies and candy and pastries laid out on the marble countertops. "huh?" he pouts, "did you actually forget it's valentine's day today?" he laughs a little, "ah- it's no problem. i've got us covered!" as the day goes on, you start to wonder if ranpo is celebrating your love today, or just celebrating for himself. "uh- honey?" "yeah?" he looks away from the bowl of popcorn in front of him to glance over at you, and you smile a little—though you were hoping for a little more affection today, you can't deny how handsome he looks when he's enjoying one of his favorite treats. "hmm- nothing, d'you like the movie so far?" "eh- it's a little boring, i already figured out who the villain is, of course." you giggle, "of course, should we watch something else then?" he grabs the remote and flicks the tv off, putting the bowl down and turning to you, "actually, i wanted to tell you something." you aren't sure what to expect, but he continues before your mind wanders too far. "you know i'm not good at things like this, but. . ." he takes your hands in his, "i've very grateful to spend today with you, i hope it's made you happy as well."

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 never thought he'd feel enlightened from a relationship, rather than feeling tied down by it. as someone who values nothing more than freedom, he was quite wary of getting into a relationship—most he'd seen didn't seem all that fulfilling at all, nothing but arguments and tears and maybe a few sporadic moments of happiness here and there. however, you quickly teach him that that isn't the case at all—we're designed to love, and he gets that now, as his arms are wrapped tightly around you, the two of you lying on a blanket on the soft grass and looking up at the twinkling stars. "are you sure this is all you want to do today, my dear? it's valentine's day, after all." "mhmm," you snuggle into him, "this is where we had our f-" he cuts you off, "our first date, i remember it well, though it was daytime then." you laugh, "yes, it was summer and hot as hell—and you had me running all around this park trying to figure out your stupid scavenger hunt, i almost died!" he pouts at that, "aww, you never did figure out what was waiting for you at the end." you glance at him, finally tearing your eyes away from the beautiful night sky above you, "i love you, nikolai." he looks a little taken aback at the change in subject, but there's nothing he'd rather hear more than that coming from your lips. he sits up, and tugs on your arm for you to follow. you sit facing each other with your legs crossed, your face cradled in his hands, "i love you, too, my shining star. you're my love, my angel, my everything. thank you for showing me that love can be freeing." you start to cry, but he wipes your tears away quickly before jumping to his feet, "now then! shall we finish that scavenger hunt? i'm sure your prize is still out here somewhere!"

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊ #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #atsushi x reader #ranpo x reader #tecchou x reader #akutagawa x reader #fukuzawa x reader #nikolai x reader #jouno x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd headcanons

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY HOLLYDAZE!! More Lady Mo if possible!!! ✨

a continuation of 52 53 54 55 56 57

"I believe," Lan Wangji says severely, "that what my wife does or does not do is no one's concern but mine."

Xuanyu raises an eyebrow at that, which he ignores. He knows exactly what she thinks about his concern regarding her actions. She'd been irritated that he was upset she faced fierce corpses alone, of all things.

Jin Zixun pales, but he must have a high opinion of his own importance because he says, "For fuck's sake, you're being ridiculous. A year ago no one would have cared if she drunk herself to death and now she can't even have a little wine?"

Lan Wangji does not make the conscious decision to unsheathe his blade, but there it is gleaming in his hand.

Jiang Yanli is being pushed back into her seat by her husband while her son stares wide eyed.

There's some intense shuffling from the Lan section. Although he doesn't turn around, he does hear Jingyi and Sizhui whispering furiously. He wonders who is restraining who.

Jiang Cheng is standing with a hand on his sword and no one is going to any effort to restrain him at all. Li Shuchun, the only one that might have a chance of it, is leaning back to exchange money with another Jiang disciple.

"This is quite enough!" Jin Guangshan shouts. "What's this about? Sect Leader Lan-"

"Oh, be quiet Father," Xuanyu says, getting to her feet and stepping forward to grab his hand and shove his hand down. "What's with you today, Wangji? Put that away." She's very close and glaring at him, so he resheathes his sword.

"Jin Xuanyu!" Jin Guangshan thunders.

She rolls her eyes, turning to Jin Zixun. She punches his shoulder, a move that he dodges instantly. Which leaves him wide open when she grabs his sword off his hip, tosses it to Jin Guangyao, and then drops to kick his legs out from under him.

She pushes down on his shoulder, keeping him on his knees, and says, "Wangji, dear, would you hold him for me?"

She called him dear.

He steps to grab Jin Zixun's wrists, keeping him in place.

"What are you doing?" he howls. "You can't just-"

"You wanted to drink, right?" she asks then picks up a wine bottle with one hand and pinches his nose shut with the other.

He opens his mouth and Xuanyu pours wine down his throat. He can either drink or drown.

"Come on," she says cheerfully, "don't you want to drink to another fruitful year? Have some more!"

He drinks until he's coughing and sputtering, eyes glassy. Everyone just watches, but then again who is there to say anything? Jin Zixuan is keeping himself firmly in his own seat and Jin Guangshan and Madame Jin are just staring, probably more interested in watching everyone else's reaction then anything else.

"There," she says once the bottle is empty. "Feeling better?"

"You're crazy," he coughs.

Xuanyu's grin widens. "I am the legitimate daughter of Sect Leader Jin. I am the wife of Hanguang Jun. What I am is someone who is above you. You're lucky I don't have you whipped for your impudence. Isn't he, Father?"

Jin Guangyao has never once made a fuss about his status, afraid that what was easily given could be easily taken. Xuanyu clearly is, because her own status can't be revoked without making a mockery of the Jin's treaty with the Lan, and Jin Guangshan either reaffirms her rights and privileges as his daughter or risks lowering the authority of the son he does favor - Jin Zixuan.

Lan Wangji is suddenly grateful that Xuanyu hadn't been interested in manipulating him to her benefit.

Jin Guangshan is nearly purple in rage, but he gets out through clenched teeth, "Yes, Xuanyu. Of course."

"Why has the music stopped?" she asks the hall, giving Lan Wangji a look. He lets go of Jin Zixun and can't help the curl of amusement when he falls flat on his face. "This is a banquet, after all!"

The music starts up again and conversation slowly starts once more as Jin Zixun stumbles from the hall. He doesn't want to leave her side, but she's seated by Jin Guangyao once more and chatting about the schedule for tomorrow. Jin Guangyao seems supremely relaxed, which Lan Wangji is given to believe that means he's laughing on the inside.

He sits down next to his brother, waiting for the scolding he rightfully deserves.

"Wangji," Xichen says seriously. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think I love your wife."

He hides his smile behind his teacup.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #untamed

[momotorin]

no risk, no return

f1 driver!momo x f1 driver! reader au — fluff, angst if you squint

[keji sent a note!]: first of all, i've been in such a writing slump and this fic helped me to get out of it! i'm sorry if it took really long!!! here it is <3 ++ this is a series btw! @saiidahyunie here it is pookie i hope u have a blast reading it 🙏

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for most of her life, momo has only known what it feels like to win. born to one of the wealthiest families in japan, it's like opportunities come falling to her lap even if she didn't ask for it. but, there's one thing she pursued.

it's the thrilling, blazing speed of having to be in closed circuits— going around and around until you're flying, getting ahead of everyone else. it's a lavish, fun, and insanely challenging lifestyle.

momo thinks that she's everlasting in facing every single golden trophy that comes her way, and she'll do anything to take it.

for you, winning was a privilege. it was always something that not only you worked on.

you started racing because your dad enrolled you into a free session, and totally fell in love with karting. many years and sacrifices pass, but still, you're in love with the speed and the feeling of flying on the ground.

every golden medal and trophy is earned by you, the people who helped you and everyone else.

you'd do everything to win, as momo does too.

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on one rainy f2 race, it was either a hit or miss, and one move equates to a life.

“we can't continue this,” momo arugues, standing up.” “spa has been a killer, even when dry. do you want your lives to be at risk?”

you scoffed, “why, afraid to lose your points, hirai?” you looked at her and everyone agreed.

this was racing, and you know there were risks. with the advancement of technology in these fast cars, risks were lessened, and you're now confident that you could still fight. you just can't back down after being so competitive, fighting for the championship. if anything else, why the hell would hirai momo scour away from this?

“look,” momo sighs. “i just want safety. we all know it's not safe-”

you stood up now, looking at her with a fire in your eyes. “then go to the damn back of the grid if you wanna play safe?”

momo steps closer to you, looking at you straight into the eyes. “if you die tomorrow, i don't mind if you're head is flying off because of me. got it?”

you smiled, sinister and scary. “of course, hirai. my head would say hi and fall onto your lap, too.”

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“you guys are so damn funny.” sana laughs after you've woken up from your coma. she's been your number one friend since diapers, and this sport was one of the things she pulled you in with her. sana was the extrovert friend who always said hi to everyone else for you, and you couldn't take her more.

you sighed in defeat as momo was right. after the rise at eau rouge, and a blind spot, even blinder when raining at the turn in radillion; you were too busy that your attention shifted to the upcoming car that wanted to take over your position in that corner, that you missed the turn, and only you came to a huge spin, hitting the wall at almost 250 km/h. it was a miracle that you were still alive.

you know that the person in that upcoming car was pushing you to the limits, rightfully so in this sport, but you hope they know it isn't their fault. if anything, it was yours.

“momo won, by the way.” sana reminds as she fixes your blanket.

you scoffed, “yeah, right, of course she'd win.”

“all of this wouldn't happen if you just,” sana makes her hands into like two lips, making it kiss and showing you a demonstration. “you know…”

“sana,” you whined. “even over my dead body. no. never.”

sana laughed, “you'll eat your words someday, y/n.”

you dismissed as you rolled your eyes, “and i won’t be full of it because i’ll eat none.”

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[breaking] carrera scaglietti’s world champion, hirai momo moves to jyp shinhan racing team for the 2024 season.

your eyebrows creased into the middle of your forehead, your attention shifting away from the data after you've read the news. momo was through and through red, loud, powerful, rich— very much like the italian scaglietti team. why the hell would she choose to go to jyp?

“oh, that's crazy,” hyunnie takes a peek at your phone, very amused at what is happening. “maybe she fought with her teammate?” hyunnie wonders.

“i doubt,” you sarcastically say. there's a high chance that momo had a dispute with her teammate. but you doubt, her teammate was minatozaki sana, she could literally turn anyone her teammate if she wanted to. “but it's momo, so we never know.”

“right,” hyunnie just agrees with the statement, and proceeds reading the data of the wind tunnel for the new car. you two were checking data in the factory for the new season. “don't you think it's a bit stuck up in the middle?” hyunnie points out at the monitor, seeing the air flow ruin the aerodynamics. it was important for the development of the car, and you're glad that hyunnie was reliable to point it out.

after the first stream of the air through the front wing, it doesn't continue to flow the same to the front wheels, making it scattered which results in it being slower.

“soobin!” you call onto your lead engineer loudly, and he comes running with a couple of coffees in hand. “look, it's not going up the wheel,” both you and hyunnie pointed. “that's gonna cost at least a tenth of a second in the straights.”

“yeah, yeah,” soobin kindly hands your coffee and nods. “better front wheel wing, and a smoother air inlet to have a great slipstream.” he suggests, sitting down on his desktop and setting a new creation into reality. “hey, y/n, have you seen the news?”

hyunnie laughs, “trust me, y/n’s the first person who saw it.”

“really,” soobin condescends, still concentrating on his work. “you know, you'd see her a lot this season.”

“i know, don't worry,” you laughed. “i'm ready for it. it'll be a breeze beating her.”

[breaking] f2 champion y/n to gochiya skyline after being offered a 5 year contract.

“i thought she'll be in vantage?” momo sighs under her breath. they were in the middle of a break from a team photoshoot for the new season. momo throws her head back in a deep disappointment that can be felt across the room.

jihyo greets with a smile, both of their helmets in her hand. “what's that, champ?”

“news,” momo blatantly answered, shutting her phone down. “and just news.”

“i think i know,” jihyo says, having that little amused smile on her face. “it's y/n moving to a different team, no?”

momo just nods. she can't believe that this woman knew exactly what she was thinking.

jihyo chuckles, “well, it's nice to know that we have someone on the grid who can put up a fight.”

jihyo’s not wrong. momo dominated the last season, nearly winning all 24 races. 5 were won by her previous teammate, minatozaki sana, and 2 were won by jihyo in jyp shinhan.

well, it was no shocker to her after your coma, you'd make it to f1. as she said to herself, you were a champion, just like her. you fight like hell with your car, and you in this cup isn't any different.

but, in racing, there's only going to be a sole winner, although three people share the podium— there's always the sole, shining golden first place, and she can't give that up for you.

jihyo tapped momo's shoulder as the photographers came and called her. “c’mon, i think they need us back.”

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the next thing you know is that you're already starting the season. after long hours of development in the factory, it's finally set to be used in bahrain. this was nothing like your previous tiers of racing before, and it's something you've only seen from the surface level, but now that you're in it, you can't help but feel a little nervous.

it was a thursday, and the pit lane was full of people from the media. you spot your best friend from just a few meters from you, talking to her old teammate. from that scene alone, you know that momo's reason for leaving the scaglietti isn't a teammate thing.

“hey.” you greet sana as momo leaves to be interviewed by a sports channel.

“you look constipated,” sana holds down your shoulders, looking you in the eye, worried about your state of health. “you okay?”

“it's hot, dude,” you said, panting. “uh, anyw-”

“sana,” you saw momo come back from the interview, and she was already taking sana by the wrist. “let's go.”

“give me a minute,” you dismissed her, your palm outward to let her know that you were still talking to your best friend. “i’ll let you have her after we talk, okay?”

momo yanks at sana's arm in disapproval, making your best friend wince, “no, what the hell-”

sana was already angry at this point, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. “oh, come on!” she sighs. “okay, y/n, what is it.”

you smiled in confidence, “hyunnie invited the whole grid to a party tonight. well, as she calls it a party, but it's not the club type of thing, though. one last before the actual testing, you know, just to get everyone familiar with each other.”

momo stares and scoffs under her breath, “like we aren't tired of each other enough.”

“you have a choice in declining, though!” you smiled at sana, but you said it loudly that momo hears. “and yeah, drinks are on her, sana. you don't have to worry about that.”

“that's nice,” sana smiles. “um, i’ll get going now with grumpy pants number two here. i’ll catch up with you later, hm?”

“yeah, yeah.” you waved at sana, winking at her. “i’ll just text you the location!”

momo fakes gagging on her own spit at your reaction, “gross.”

“nah, you like it,” sana nudges at her as they walk back to their teams. “why the hell do you pretend to hate each other?”

“sana, you know i can’t pretend,” momo sighs. “if you're still convinced that we have some sexual tension going on… maybe you're blind i don't know, get your eyes checked.”

“you can pretend, i’ll give you that.” sana laughs, patting momo on the back. “but you're not too good at lying, are you?”

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the rookies all got on for the media interview for the day, which included you, and chou tzuyu, the newest addition of carrera scaglietti. you two were the newest addition to the grid, and you know tzuyu well that you know she could compete with you.

“um, hello y/n, hello tzuyu,” the reporter flashes a smile to the both of you, anticipating their question. “the grid has made some pretty solid adjustments following the data made from the practices. as two fairly experienced drivers, do you think that you have a shot at winning at least a grand prix for the year?”

“oh, that's,” tzuyu then smiles, finding the question to be quite expectant of their performance. “it's not impossible, but it will be really hard. as you said, the adjustments for the cars are huge. it will be very competitive, and we will race. but you also have to be a little considerate on the part that we've only been to f1 testing at least twice in our f2 careers, and tested just now, so it's a bit of a mix for us getting used to the feel of the car first, then winning.”

“exactly,” you follow. “although i think i've been through more testing than tzuyu, we're now driving in a completely different car from our teams. i don't wanna brag about the experiences that i have, sorry, tzuyu,” you comfortably tap her arm as you slightly bow with your head, showing your apologies for the little arrogant move. “but, it's pretty fair to say that i can and will compete. i can say that our car is competitive, and from the data, it could catch up to last year's scaglietti’s top speed. so, we're definitely putting up a fight.”

“thank you y/n, and thank you tzuyu,” the reporter smiles once more. “can i have a little request from the both of you to say something for the rest of the guys on the grid?”

tzuyu raises her hands in happiness and says, “let's all have some fun!”

“cute,” you cooed, but then, your face went serious afterwards. “there's no turning back for us now. no risk, no return, and i hope you know i'm fighting for the same thing you're fighting for. let's race!”

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the party was a quiet one, with only most of the women in the grid attending. it was held at a small speakeasy at a hotel, and hyunnie rented it all for the night. pretty impressive, as she was, well, quite occupied with your best friend.

you're left to mingle with a couple of guys from the other teams, saying and wishing well that you have a good time, clinking margheritas.

“hey,” mina, another gem from lagonda vantage, smiles as she makes her way to sit beside you on the bar table. “thank god you're here.”

you looked around to spot her teammate, “kazuha didn't come?”

“she's more of a…” mina then takes a sip of her wine. “couch potato.”

you nodded, understanding the preference of the real rookie, although you know that her teammate was your teammate last few years ago. “well, that's unavoidable,” you laughed, also taking a sip of your own drink. “um, how's everything in vantage?”

“same old, same old green car livery,” mina dismisses. “how's everything at skyline?”

“a whole lot of testing,” you exclaimed and sighed. “a whole lot more than vantage in f2. i'm so shocked to see them make me run a lap just because they read something wrong.”

“you don't get babied there anymore, aww,” mina cooed in sarcasm. “anyways, i know that the car is definitely in deep shit right now for us, so, it's good that you moved there.”

“hey, don't say that,” you deny. “but then, i don't think it's time for me to be a champion yet.”

“it's not you who'd determine that, though, stupid,” mina lightly budges at your arm. “it's the race that does, and you know damn well that you're beating the race even if it means to put a carbon fibre part in your skull.”

“i think everyone does,” you sigh, looking blankly at your drink. “we're not here for a good time. we're here simply to win.”

“jesus,” mina scoffed. “look, i'm doing all of these as a hobby. i’ve only seen a few people be like this with racing, and there's only two of them. you and momo. always talking about the same shit— i'm here to win. you think the same even if you don't get along and that kinda scares me.”

“what…?” you then stared blankly at her as she just nodded at affirmation.

“can i get a sazerac, please? and can you please add a little bit more of the lemon zest? thank you!” you heard a familiar voice order from your back, and mina just full on smiled at you.

mina just tapped your shoulder as she stood up with her drink, off to someone else, “there's your answer.”

you looked down at your own drink. it was a sazerac with a little bit more lemon zest. you think it's a good way to lessen the strongness of the bitters and the cognac.

“oh,” momo sighs deeply, knowing that you were beside her. “good evening, y/n.”

trying to be civil and playing it safe? “good evening too, hirai.” you reply with a smile as you take a sip of your drink. you saw the bartender finally completing hers and you watched her take a sip.

“look,” momo looks directly into your eyes— showing you the littlest, slightest scowl, but her ears tell a different story. it was beet red that you were a tiny bit afraid that all her blood was pumping only in that one part of her body. “i'm not trying to be friends, but,” momo sighs deeply, once more. “i hate being in front of newspapers and these people tell me that i have a bad attitude.”

you scoffed and took a sip of your drink, “what does that have to do with me?”

momo deeply sighs, completely facing you now. “you're the new shining thing. you have all the spotlight from all the media people, and you have their eyes, ears— literally everything locked on you the moment you're on track.”

“do i have to repeat that again, hirai?” you then looked at her once more, half scowling at her at this point. “what does that have to do with me?

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

momo thought about it until she tucked herself to her hotel bed. she doesn't know anymore.

she doesn't know if she'd feel guilty for treating you badly since that karting race when you were twelve, impeding her advancements to the scaglietti driver program that you rejected, that one overtake in the japan f4 cup, that one crash in f3, and your crash in f2. she has a list in her mind on how she hates and grieves your presence on how she was literally formed because you were beating her.

you sure know how to create warfare in momo's head. she couldn't sleep well that night.

“jesus fucking christ,” you tucked your pillows between both sides of your ear, trying not to hear the noises coming out of your teammate and bestfriend's room. “please stop, my god …”

more sounds came out of the other side, trying to make you uncomfortable in your bed.

the only way is to get out, so you went out of your room, still hearing them in the hallway until you reached the elevator.

you sighed, finally escaping from the noises and you pressed the button to the cool, high place, the top of the hotel. it was nice, windy, and the greenery spread all around, making you calm.

you went and took a rest on one of the padded benches, closing your head eyes but not fully sleeping.

you thought of how momo approached you, surprisingly a little friendlier, like she's really willing for a change. you really were no stranger to change, as you've been recreating and dying for yourself to create another version of you for another day, for other people to fit their needs and preferences.

you think about how adorable momo was when you were younger, karting— her hair held up by sanrio hair clips before she gets on her helmet, and she stomps after getting at the podium for a second place. you know she absolutely hates losing, but that's exactly why she hates you. you're the reminder of her loss, her guilt, and her dissatisfaction in everything.

you sighed as you took a look at the countless stars of the night sky, wishing that you two just grew together normally. like how you and sana did. momo was a constant in every step of your career too, she did well with sana, but how come that she didn't even spare her meaningful conversations with you? how come she can't share her victories with you? how come she didn't want to be in the same space with you yet continued to reach for her dream?

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

the next day was qualifying day, and you got up extra early. you savoured on your iced latte while reading some data gathered from the practices yesterday. then you suggested changes from your highlighted, printed out, tabbed fia rulebook (1, because you're a damn nerd; 2, you don't wanna break the rules; 3, you needed to beat their ass if ever they charge you for something ridiculous. it's better to be safe than sorry.)

the moment you changed into your race suit after a couple of interviews, you saw daehyun already suited up right in front of the garage, talking with her twin sister, dahyun.

“good morning guys,” you said to both of them from behind. they were watching the first few guys try out the track for practice already. “oh, good thing that you are both wearing your suits, or else i would have trouble telling you apart.”

“i'm taller though,” hyunnie mentions. “dahyun's a teeny tiny bit smaller.”

“shut up,” dahyun laughs. “anyways, goodluck to you two today,” dahyun gently pats her sister's shoulder and yours. she looks at you, “especially you, rookie.”

you smiled widely, “thanks.” you watched as dahyun waved goodbye before coming back to her team's garage. the integra team, where dahyun is at, is known for their humility and strength— and you're just so shocked at how dahyun contains all of it.

“how come you two don't fight?” you asked hyunnie as you went inside the garage.

“hm,” hyunnie smiles. “we fight only on track because we're sportspeople. not at home, not at parties, not at the dinner table since we're siblings and friends. the only time we got in a big fight was when dahyun crashed our father's car and drove crazy drunk.”

“people,” you repeat. “yeah…”

“you're blanking out, dude,” daehyun laughs, handing you over your gloves by hitting it playfully on your chest. “you go first, team orders.”

“ah, why,” you whined, removing the case of your helmet. “you go first, i was sleep deprived because of you!”

hyunnies eyes went wider, “what.”

“i’ll tell you later.” you teasingly showed her your tongue out then you put on your blue balaclava to cover your face, then your helmet.

you then went inside the car, and started it with the help of the crew getting your steering wheel. they checked everything from breaks, to temperature, to speed, to limits, to literally everything before they gave you the go signal to be on the track for testing.

a couple of teams had already completed their own session, and you were told that you could be sharing the track with scaglietti as they had 2 more laps left. there was no problem as the pace between this car and scaglietti was impressive, as your race engineer said through the radio that you'd gain a whole second after several laps.

“5 laps for you,” lewis, your amazing race engineer, says on the radio. “5 laps for you, y/n. pace increase in the first lap. pit lane exit cleared.”

“i understand, lewis,” you said at the radio, exiting the pitlane safely, starting your lap. “what's the fastest one here?”

“scaglietti's 1:31:23,” lewis clarifies as you make a turn. “it's set by chou.”

“great,” you chuckled, although lewis couldn't hear that on his end clearly as you were driving through your first sector. “what's my expected fastest?”

“1:29,” he says. “the car can push up to 1:29, y/n.”

“that's on medium tyres, right?” you clarified, as you know that on simulator, the car could run way more than 1:29, and it is on soft tires when you tried it out.

“we tested with kim last night and she said that her best lap time is 1:29 on mediums,” lewis says. “tyre degradation is minimal for the first sector, expect the tyres to be warmer on lap 2.”

you were already at the last turn of the first lap, and you throttle fully on the straight. you were focused in getting that 1:29, but the radio breaks out and says, “hirai from jyp is going to share the track with you for your last two laps,” lewis says. “hirai is going to share the track with you.”

“oh hell no,” you sighed under your breath, not even caring if your voice was heard through the radio or not (you surely hope that it wasn't, since the team records all radio for the duration of the races) “what's jyp’s predicted lap time?”

“1:32 on hards,” lewis clarifies on the radio. “that could be lower though, since it was driven by park on the data they've given.”

“oh,” you descend. “right, okay. i’ll try to make the lap time.”

“push as much as you want,” lewis says. “the car can take it.”

lewis wasn't wrong in any way, the car could take it. it was good and smooth on the corners, even on the hards, but there's a bright blue car, lined up with strips in chrome, flying by your side as you finish the lap.

“1:29:22,” lewis said over the radio once more. “box, box now, y/n. session finished.”

you sigh as you went to the pit lane, returning the car to its original place in your garage now that hyunnie was set to exit. you went out of the car, immediately taking off your helmet and the blue balaclava underneath.

“how’s the laps?” you asked your engineer, watching closely at the current world champion’s car gliding fastly on the track.

“it's as predicted, y/n,” he says. “the simulation did well at the temperature degradation as well, but be careful of the dirty air intake on the second sector during the actual race.”

“okay,” you also watch the car on the screen, it's a live feed from the ones in cable, and you see that momo is doing really well on the straights, gaining much more speed as much as you did (you assume). “how's hyunnie doing?”

“oh, well,” lewis looks at the other data board, and checks on with sebastian, hyunnie’s engineer. “you two are the same on the 1st and 3rd sectors, but kim is getting dirty air intake on the second sector as hirai’s ahead.”

you cursed under your breath, “fuck.” you're fucked. momo was a champion way before you stepped flat out on the pedal and worked your laps around. she's not in any less team than scaglietti, and you might just think that she just took all the talent out of jyp to set a stunning 1:28:12. A whole second in front of you.

that's something momo does. she's always been ahead.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

that leads you to a spot on the grid, front row, but it sure is annoying to see that smug face just show on screen as she puts on her helmet for the race. you saw her as you were reviewing the strategy for the race today.

but despite all the anger, you can't deny that momo was an attractive entity. underneath that bright pastel pink and purple helmet was a woman with such a strong will to win. that image of her plunging in the ice bath, only in her compression underwear pops in your head. (you saw it on their social media okay, it's not something to be guilty about.) but you wriggle your head side to side still, brushing off the thought.

a formation lap later, your heart beats a thousand times more, and your throat gets a little stuck as you see the same red lights that indicate the start. this was it. you are so ready to see it.

and finally, “lights out and away we go!”

it felt like you're in the right place, playing the right game as on the first corner, you nearly overtook momo. but she won't let you do that and didn't even break a sweat.

it was safe to say that you're given a little bit of caution since you are a rookie, same thing with tzuyu on fifth, as it was said that she was keeping the other positions captive in their states as she was conducting a drs train. pretty impressive defence, but what's more impressive is that momo's on her 17th lap out of 57, and she's not even bothering to box.

better late than sorry, you go to the pit lane to get your overly worn set of soft tires into medium ones, just like what you practised last time and set the fastest lap time.

in the 52nd lap of the race, you and momo were chasing each other, quite literally, as she was going wheel to wheel with you. it has been going on for a few couple of laps already, and momo's worried that if the cars could talk, they'd already be best friends.

“let her pass,” lewis commanded over the radio. “just a teeny tiny bit, y/n.”

you just hummed and braked late on the next turn, making momo purposefully go ahead. you sacrificed a few milliseconds to gain a whole couple of seconds to push the whole car in the straight sections, and approaching that turn in front of momo locked in your chance to be the future world champion for the season.

“fuck,” you hold onto the steering wheel ever so tightly as you turned, just grazing behind momo's tires, going ahead of her. “did i do it?”

“smoked a little but you're in p1,” lewis says. “p1 is secured, go flat out.”

you were handed the mic as you fitted your cap, “how does it feel like to be the first winner of the season?”

“ah,” you smiled. “of course i'm very thankful for the team, to daehyun who kept her place defending, and for lewis keeping me in check for the whole race. thank you for the gochiya skyline team for guiding me on this journey.”

“that’s such a great thing for you, y/n,” the interviewer complimented. “you had an amazing drive from the last laps that you encountered on the track. it was a genius and smart race. what more could we expect from you in the future?”

“some more great racing,” you chuckled. “and some more wins, maybe even a championship if the races let me.”

momo, on the other side, tried to put on a face— one that smiles, but you just know the side of her lip was twitching to frown and launch at you when you went up the podium and received your trophy and medal.

momo couldn't sleep that night.

she hates that she has to see that smug little smile on your face after you knew you won over her, she hates the way you pop the champagne gently, careful to not spray her so hard, and how your hand brushed on hers kindly when you said your little ‘congratulations’ in your soft voice.

she hates that you fill her head ever so dearly like she doesn't feel guilt when she sees you.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“what do you mean you heard us last night?” sana argues, laughing as you two made your way to the hotel elevator going to your floor. you had a couple of drinks with your best friend at the bar, and had a little celebration as well.

“sorry i have ears,” you jokingly plug your ears with your fingers. “you owe me those earplugs. i didn't know that you two were an … item.”

sana laughs. “what, you sincerely thought that i was fucking around with that jimmy choo model i told you?”

“i mean, she's hot,” you commented. “and definitely your type, so, who am i to question. but hyunnie?”

“yeah, why,” sana raised her eyebrow at you, suspecting. “she’s also hot and good at everything, especially in be-”

you rolled your eyes in sarcasm, “oh shut up,” you whined. “i don't need to know that.”

“hyunnie and i were talking about something last night,” sana laughs as you two go out of the elevator as you've reached your floor. “we kinda are still on that ‘y/n and momo would kiss someday’ agenda, but please hear me out,” she sighs, standing in front of you as she knows you'd deem it ridiculous and look at her with your eyes rolled upwards, showing your utter disgust. “we remembered momo literally smoked someone from vantage last year just because she didn't like them. that's why they played the villain card on her in the stupid documentary. but then, the guy's really just ass and mina complained about him too so, point valid…”

you looked at her, grounded her by holding her on her shoulders, “minatozaki, please tell me what you're trying to say.”

“yeah, right,” she then snaps back. “if she really didn't like you, she wouldn't even bother to save face or be civil with you. even though i was all up and cuddly with hyunnie last night, i saw you two. momo has never made a move like that because she doesn't like begging, and you know that too.”

“maybe she's just helping herself, you know,” you chuckled. “it's really not that deep.”

“you're so…” sana hits you lightly. “you've been so empathetic with me but how come you can't see through momo?”

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

you thought about that for days on end. how come you haven't seen through momo like you did with everyone else?

maybe it's the time, maybe it's the banter, or maybe, you're just too deep in thought when you're facing her. you're even so shocked when you realized just how self conscious you are around momo— you're hyper aware of how you look, if your clothes look decent, or if you smell good. like you're having a little crush.

it was already mid-season. you and momo were alternating from winning races. it was so funny because the fans say that you two give up each other's places so that you could create an alternating pattern, but that isn't really the case.

“ah, i'm really going crazy,” you sighed, finally taking a hit with your golf club after contemplating. you went out with jeongyeon, a fellow racer from the estrella racing team, and her teammate, nayeon. “i mean, you two know i've been doing really well, but i don't know. i can’t sleep and all.”

nayeon straight up laughs after taking a shot as well, the ball flying to the air, back to the ground, “sana was right, you are silly.”

you looked at them, puzzled as jeongyeon laughs with her wife, wrapping an arm around her waist. damn, they were even in sync leaning back as they laughed.

“you're just like her,” nayeon points to jeongyeon. “that's what she said exactly to me when she confessed.”

jeongyeon then finally stops throwing a laughing fit and puts a grounding hand on your shoulder, “maybe you two need a moment. like an actual talking moment. there's something to unpack between the two of you.”

you get antsy just thinking of it. maybe it was really something you needed, something you craved, but you just can't bring your mouth to say it.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

being in formula 1 isn't just about the racing, of course, it's also a lifestyle. now, you figured it isn't easy to get out of momo's sight. you basically have the same social circle, and every single break between races, there's got to be a time where you parked beside each other, sat close to each other, talked to a common person, got the same drink, and said the same things.

“you act like you can't see me.” momo laughs silently, taking a sip of her drink. it was a night before going off to the race, and surprisingly, you also live at the same compound as her, and you were itching to get a drink. that's why you're at the local bar.

“just didn't want to bother you,” you sighed, getting more comfortable on your barstool as you ordered another drink. “you told me that, right? you don't wanna be bothered.”

“on the race, yes,” she sighs. “what, you wanna race me here too?”

“oh, no,” you laughed, immediately dismissing the idea. “i can’t go home shitfaced. i still need to pack my things.”

“you really are a crammer,” she mentioned. you looked at her, quite puzzled at how she knew about it. “sana told me, you know.”

“what,” you then turned to her, meeting the pool of her deep dark brown eyes that matched her leather jacket. “why?”

“i- um-,” she scratched the back of her nape as you observed the slight tinge of red shading the back of her ear. “visited you, when you crashed.”

“oh,” you uttered, holding your breath under your tongue. “um, well, thank you.”

“no need,” momo chuckles. “i'm the one who needs to thank you.”

you asked, “why?”

“nothing.” she shyly looks away from you once more and takes a drink. “aren't you scared?”

you looked at her, seemingly shocked at the question, “of what?”

“crashing,” she mused. “we're off to belgium and i guess you're quite sca-”

“i am,” you claimed, smiling as you looked at her. “i'm scared that i might do one split second decision that could absolutely ruin the whole race, the whole season again.”

momo turns to you again, “you're not afraid of dying?”

“a little,” you take a sip of your whiskey as you contemplate. “i would be more worried about the people blaming themselves, though. some of them don't know that i'm thick skulled and i want to do everything including the risks,” you said. “that one in spa isn't yours, it never was, so never feel guilty about it now that you've seen me.”

her eyebrows clinched together in the middle of her forehead, and her lips turned into a mocking smirk, “what?”

“you know it,” you return the same smirk at her. “that's why you're trying to be nice, aren't you? that's why you're working your ass off trying to tell me about the weather when we're on track, trying to pair up with me in those silly little games that the marketing team says. momo, you don't need to deny. i don't want you to feel guilty for me.”

“who the hell are you to say that i feel guilty because of you?” she scoffed.

“you reek of it,” you held her wrist, making her look at you. “and i hate to see it. you weren't this cautious with me before, momo. i hate that you have to sacrifice your breaks, your speed, just because you don't want the same thing happening. i want you to fight.”

she catches the lump in her throat and gulps, the rim of her eyes threatening to spill the tears, “i can’t do that anymore.” she removed your hold on her wrist and ran away to the door of the bar.

you then leave several bills on the table, letting the bartender know that you're leaving too, and you chase momo, who was just running a few blocks away.

you then start your car, pulling up and honking the horn as you roll down your window. “hirai!” you called out.

she then stops on her tracks, sitting down at the nearby bench. her eyes were bloodshot in tears, and you immediately came to her, taking her in the car.

you swore under your breath as you pulled out a box of tissues in your glove compartment, handing it to her as you reached out for her seatbelt.

“i'm sorry,” you sighed as you continued to drive, and momo wipes off her tears. “i, um-”

“i know,” she chuckles. “you're guilty too, huh?”

“i guess it's just fair to say that,” you said. “mind telling me?”

“about what?”

“how you've been, since that day.”

“well,” she sighs. “guilty. like by a lot,” she laughs. “i shouldn't have let you. sana wanted to get you away from it but she was that much of a tolerator that she wouldn't mind crashing with you.”

“ah, well,” you paused for a while, greeting a red light as you thought. sana did talk to you about it, but she ended up getting upset with you as well before the race. “we actually fought.”

“oh,” she laughs again. “come to think of it, i should've collided with you during that practice, you know? that was a close call.”

you just nodded, it really was a close call as she was so aggressive with her drive that day.

“there's a lot we need to ponder on.” you sighed, lightening your grip on the steering wheel.

momo then looks at you, “wanna ditch the flight?”

that's how you ended up in momo's flat, playing mario kart and downing a couple cans of beer.

“no fair,” she pouts, seeing the result— it was wario who took the lead, and princess peach for the second. “i had the first place for like… most of the game!”

“it's all fair in mario kart,” you smirked as you stood up and looked at your watch. it was already 1:00am, and your flight to belgium with your team is at 3:00am. “i wish i could stay for longer but look,” you showed her the time on your wrist. “it’s a bit late.”

she then held your wrist, the one with the watch, seemingly not wanting you to leave just yet. “nice watch,” she laughs as she traces her fingers on the cold steel band of it. “it’s not late. come on, i didn't think you were this boring.” she then pulls you down again and hands you the blue nintendo switch remote. “just one more round.”

momo's one more round turned into two, to three, to four, and you didn't seem to mind the time anymore until you're bombarded with calls from your team manager.

“stay the night,” momo smiles as she takes the cans of beer with you to her trash can. “it's late anyway. plus, you won't catch that flight.”

“i know,” you laughed. “i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“no,” she insisted. “my bed is big enough.”

“alright,” you just nodded, as you were also getting caught on with sleep. “do you have like… a spare toothbrush though? i can't go to sleep with my mouth smelling like beer.”

“yeah,” she cackled and led you to her bathroom. “i keep these things if ever someone asks me to hand them over one.” she handed you a dental care set, complete with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a mouthwash in a small pouch.

“you're unbelievable,” your jaw dropped in just pure shock. you didn't know momo was this much of a girl scout. “you're ready for everything, huh.”

“of course,” she smiled. “just call me if you ever need anything else, hm?”

that night, you learned that: momo's a clean person and everything in her room was organised through and through, she likes to take the right side of the bed, and that she has trouble sleeping.

you've been lying on your side for what it seems like forever, and you don't even know why you can't sleep. you've shared beds with your friends for most of your life, most of them with the impeccable cuddle monster minatozaki sana, which you thought was the final boss when it comes to sharing beds.

but she says, “hey, aren't you asleep yet?”

“no, not yet,” you responded, still laying on your side. “i'm thinking of a good excuse.”

momo scoffed, “just don't. just tell them you'll book a direct flight to belgium.”

“that's rude.”

“it's not like they're gonna remove you out of the team,” she laughed. “if you really want it to be believable, try to lie. like your dog had an emergency or something.”

“i don't raise a dog on my own,” you then laughed and faced her side, surprised that she was also facing you. “they won't believe me.”

“then, tell them that you're with me.” she says.

“they're not going to believe that,” you grinned. “plus, i don't think that they'd take that as valid, you know.”

“then, what is?”

“i’d probably just tell them that i got something else to do.”

momo chuckles, “like what?”

“nintendo,” you laughed. “i mean, that's a valid enough reason, right?”

that's how you ended up with your limbs and arms tangled with momo's body.

you come to your senses as you feel a warm breath fanning your neck, and you slowly open your eyes into the morning light. you checked on your watch, surprisingly still there on your wrist, and it shocked you. it was already 12am.

it was 10:00 am, and yet the current world champion is cuddled up in her bed with you.

momo then grunts, stretching out her arms and legs but still keeping ahold of you by your wrist, and she opens her eyes, immediately dropping your hand and her hold.

“good morning?” you smiled.

“good morning,” she forces a smile back, immediately sitting down in nervousness? embarrassment? excitement? honestly, she doesn't know. she then clears her throat and asks, “slept well, rookie?”

“yeah, um,” you cleared your throat too and sat up, feeling the mattress beneath you. “you have a good bed.”

“you're lucky,” she stretches. “you're the first one to know that.”

what? “um,” you gulped. “sorry?”

“sana always slept on the couch when she comes over,” she chuckles. “i owe you breakfast, let's go.”

“and a flight,” you corrected and she nodded, making her way to her kitchen. “you'll cook?”

“of course,” she laughs, taking out some thickly sliced bacon, and some eggs. she saw you quite skeptical about her choice of breakfast, “why, would you like something else?”

“uh,” you thought for a little while. sliced bacon and eggs are exactly what you needed, but, “do you have some coffee?”

“yep,” she says. “if you'd be of some help, then you could make our coffee.”

you then nodded and she handed you over two mugs, getting ready for coffee as she heats a pan on her stove.

“ah, this is great,” momo says as she looks over her window, drinking her cup of coffee and eating her sandwich. “ever had a breakfast this great?”

“yeah,” you smiled. “in monaco, my hotel was just overviewing the whole city so…”

“i won that one though,” she teased. “how's the dnf?”

“awful,” you joked. “like really, it's my first race there and the engine suddenly fails me. that's pure unluckiness.”

“don't worry,” she comforts. “you'll stick around for a long, long time.”

“i know,” you chuckled. “unless i don't find the spark in it anymore.”

“same,” she then looks at you, bringing her cup of coffee down on her wooden table once more. “who do you think will win the race this week?”

you bat your eyelashes at her, “wanna bet?”

“oh, of course,” she laughs. “i’d bet $100 on you.”

“okay,” you then laughed too. “i’ll bet $200 on you, too.”

she looked at you, puzzled, “why?”

“you didn't say that i couldn't bet on you,” you sighed. “and based on the race status, you're ahead of me by several points, you won last week, then, it's just right for me to nominate you.”

she stretches her hand, “deal?”

and you shook it with yours, “deal.”

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“y/n,” daehyun, back at the hotel, looks you in the eyes and sits in front of you. “why the hell did you come with hirai momo, and even riding the same plane as hers? and she even took you to her private pl-”

“yes, i know, but please calm down,” you held her by the shoulders and made her a little grounded so you could talk to her. “we sorted things out,” you sighed. “and it went well. we stayed up all night playing nintendo, so i missed the flight and she let me stay.”

“she let you what?”

you looked at her, puzzled. “let me stay?”

“did you kiss?”

“no,” you dismissed. “that's weird.”

“ah, fuck,” she sighs. “really?”

“yes, really,” you said. “please don't be weird about it. she's trying to really change for the better, you know?”

she smiles and stood up, “yeah, alright, i get it,” she said. “lewis is so pissed with you though, good luck with that.”

hyunnie wasn't lying. your race engineer called you unprofessional the moment you step at the team garage for the day, but you sorted it out by saying you had to attend to something personal. (in this case, the personal was playing nintendo with the current world champion, but you didn't say that part because he didn't ask for it anymore.)

friday came and practices were on. you worried as it was your first race in this car with this weather— surprisingly cold and overly wet. the track was wet, the seat inside of the car was wet, and everything just slid. just like before your crash.

the fear creeps up through your veins, but it doesn't let you not hold onto the wheel. you raced, as promised and as dealt with in your bet with momo. you don't want to lose a couple of hundred dollars because of her.

it rained on the track heavily over the weekend. you successfully finished and secured a pole position for the sunday race, with momo taking place just behind you on the grid in third.

“44 laps, y/n, we're opting for a safe plan a,” lewis says over the radio. “keep your tires guarded and we'll do two stops if needed.”

“okay,” you said. “is the rain expected to worsen during the race?”

“not exactly,” lewis confirmed. “but expect it to seem a little heavier on laps 22 to 34, since the downpour is expected to be harder on those parts.”

“got it,” you said. “careful and fast.” you repeat to yourself until it was lights out.

two things were on your mind during the race: one, is that the rain will get worse and potentially knock people off the track so you're extra careful, and two, why was hirai momo so damn slow?

in lap 29, the rain started pouring harder, but you continued to lead. as expected, the tyres held on for longer as it wasn't that hot nor too slippery, and it feels as if you're just gliding on the ground.

“box, box.” lewis says on the radio, and you immediately put the button ‘okay’ to pit.

you enter the pit lane safely, but you saw a huge spin off just not so far away from the pit exit. it wasn't a crash (thankfully), but it was a spin-off causing drivers to pass by that leading driver.

“who's that?” you asked over the radio as you exited the pit lane safely.

“it was hirai,” lewis updated. “nothing too serious, no calls since she re-entered the track.”

“okay,” you said. your heart skipped a beat the moment you heard her name, but then, you're just glad that she's back on track. “am i still p1?”

“yes,” lewis confirms. “expected to keep p1 till the end of the race.”

you then wondered, “who's behind?”

“hirai,” lewis says over the radio. this is where it starts. “team ordered to switch. watch out for eau rouge.”

“got it.” you confirmed over the radio.

────────────────⋆⋅🏁⋅⋆───────────────

“what the hell, hirai?”

“don't what the hell at me,” she guilty hangs her head down, sitting with her legs apart at the cool down area. you didn't care if the cameras were on you, or if someone just came in, but you were so mad that you couldn't even get yourself to take the ‘1st’ cap on your head. “i was just trying to not cr-”

“please don't do this here,” sana, after successfully overtaking for the third place, mediates the hot headed arguments. “let's just get this done and go home, okay?”

“okay, sorry,” you stepped down from that attitude and fixed your cap on your head. “it's just tha-”

sana interferes as she pushes her pointer finger on your chest, “save it.”

this is the first time you've ever received a trophy where you felt awful. not because you were upset with a fellow driver, but because it feels like a repayment for guilt.

you went back to the hotel with a heavy heart even after celebrating with your team, but you still can't tuck away that feeling— one rooting from the unjustified move from hirai momo, breaking and not taking the chance to fight for the position that you had.

she was about to do an overtake just after the eau rouge, but she didn't even try to fight, causing her breaks to lock up, but she was quick to recover to second place. you think it's entirely stupid, yes, she doesn't want to crash into you, but then she did that without thinking of the other drivers behind her. you knew that there would be a significant lag to recover after locking up, which had you worried about that move.

momo: meet me here

📍tavern solo, stavelot

you: why would i?

momo: free drink?

you: i could buy one myself.

momo: i've got your hundred dollars and an explanation. isn't that enough?

that was the momo you know. never backing out even after saying no. on the way to the bar, it was cold, and your hands were nearly freezing when you saw momo at one of the tables, waiting patiently as she looked outside, two drinks ready on the table.

“hey,” you sighed, taking the seat in front of her. “was i late?”

“no,” she smiles. “i’m sorry,” she says. “i know you wanted to have a good race and i rui-”

“i understand,” you sighed once more, a little deeper as you sipped on the cocktail. “you just wanted us to be safe. i get it.”

“but still,” she refutes. “that's so unsportsmanlike from me.”

“well, yes,” you chuckled. “there's always a next race to catch.”

“i want you to fight even if it makes my head fly to your lap, y/n!” she suddenly screams, shocking you and other people in the pub.

“momo,” you suddenly went and held her by the shoulders to ground her. “i know it's upsetting but,” you said. “do you trust me?”

“um,” she thought for a while. “yeah…?”

“okay, great,” you chuckled. “you have your car with you?”

“no, my hotel's close by.”

“great,” you then held her wrist, dragging her outside of the pub. you were careful and stopped in front of your car, opening the door for her to sit down. “get inside.”

momo's just in shock. she's fine with trusting you, but, she's conflicted. for all she knows, you could've taken a blow on her stomach or something (it's definitely going to be or something) but she also knows that you're a good person.

she intently watched you as you went to the driver's side, carefully sitting and starting the engine. she realizes it wasn't her first time inside this car. you were known to take this car on cargo with the team's. it was a nissan r34 skyline, beautifully detailed in metallic blue (she thinks it's your favorite color), with a twin turbo inline six engine.

“well,” you say, clearing the air a little. momo can't hide the fact that she was tense. “do you need the ac to be a little higher?”

“no,” she hesitated. “actually, yes, please…”

“okay, if this helps you to relieve,” i sighed. “i'm gonna pay a visit to one of my old friends.”

“and…?”

“he owns a karting track,” you laughed, seeing momo sigh in relief. “if you thought i’d kill you, well, i should've done that way, way back.”

“why didn't you?”

“was there a valid reason?” you ridiculously say. “i mean, apart from anything else that we've been through, i don't hold any grudges from that.”

“well, okay,” she chuckled. “why take me there?”

“show me just how much you wanna beat me.”

“why?”

“i just wanna see,” you laughed. “and i told you. never feel guilty for what you've done before. give me all you've got, ‘kay?”

“okay.”

a few minutes (and a few awkward stares and silences) later, you've arrived at your friend's karting track. as expected, there were no other people who were karting as it was already past midnight, just the lights open, and a person with a towel covered on their face.

“mick,” you called out. “mick!”

“oh,” the guy quickly removed the towel, and immediately fixed his hair to look at you, processing what he was seeing. “oh! hey,” he stands, finally getting out of his desk and greets you with a hug. “been a while since i've seen you here. won the race?”

“definitely,” you smiled. “what have you been up to?”

“oh, you know,” he smiles. “someone's got to keep the place’s lights on.” he pointed at the lights of the karting track. he's runs it with his dad, who was also his mentor and a great mentor to other young racers as well.

“no i mean,” you said. “racing gigs.”

“wec, wrc, heck even indycar teams were calling me,” he sighs. “but i don't think i'm ready for that yet.” he confirms, looking to your left. “ms. hirai!” he comes over to shake her hand, happy as he can be. “i'm mick,” he introduced. “part owner of the track and y/n’s friend from vantage!”

“nice to meet you,” momo partly smiles. “you look familiar. have i met you somewhere?”

“oh, right,” he says, remembering the instances where he passes by momo. “we competed together in the junior karting series. i entered the formulas a year after you two though, so i think that's it?"

“oh, that explains why.” momo says, and you nod.

“okay,” you clasped your hands together, bringing the attention to yours. “i told you we'd race, right?”

“yup.” momo nodded.

“then,” you took her wrist again, now walking slowly towards the helmet and suit section. “gear up.”

momo then changes into a fitting racing suit as you do so too, and she puts on a pink helmet, while you put on a red helmet to match the suit.

mick guided you through the controls of the kart (even though you two were very much familiar with it already) as a precaution, and you two started a lap to determine who'd take the lead on the opening.

you were off to a good start, and momo was pushing hard as well, which was predicted. you wanted her to fight and she gave you exactly that.

not only did she lead that opening lap, but after 40 laps, she did dominate the hell out of you in the kart. you didn't think it was a whack, of course, she's still momo— 2 time world champion, three, possibly if she doesn't fuck it up (which is very unlikely, because she's just that good).

“oh, man,” you threw yourself onto the grass of the open spot between the track after your little session, breathing loudly as you sighed, taking the spot beside momo. she hands you over a cold bottle of water. “thanks,” you smiled in comfort, finally feeling the bottle's coldness as you finished the race. “feel better?”

“you bet,” she laughs. “how about you?”

“hm, feeling great,” you smiled, looking up at the stars. it wasn't any different from what you've seen from any part of the world, but it was a great sight to see. “wow…”

momo shot up her eyes to the sky as well, watching the clouds thread through it and the stars shining its familiar light.

“i have a weird question,” you say. “do you think there are other people much crazier than us when it comes to racing?”

“everyone on the track is,” momo laughs. “you just pay attention to the ones who you're really close with in competition.”

“hm, makes sense.” you then turn to her side, admiring her as she looks at the stars.

she turns to you, admiring your eyes and how it slowly droops to match your little pout, “you tired?”

“a bit.”

“rest,” she taps on her shoulder twice. “don't worry, i won't hit you in your sleep or something.”

still, you were suspicious. “you sure?”

she just nodded and pulled you to her side, slowly guiding your head to lean on her.

you laughed and just succumbed at her warmth as you wrapped your arms around her waist comfortably, the peach scent of her shampoo lacing you into a deep, peaceful and fulfilling nap.

[mick-ey schumi sent a photo]

mick: you two look cute…

you: shut it please

mick: you bet i won't

this is louvre worthy

you: ??? shut up

mick: told you, you bet i won't

sana was right

maybe you two should kiss

#momo #twice momo #momo imagines #momo fluff #momo angst #momo series #twice imagines #twice fluff #twice angst

[dawndelion-winery]

Hear Me Out

They try hint at their crush on you

Ft. Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone

Arlecchino:

She does it from the moment she confirms that her feelings for you are genuine and not just some passing fancy

Which means she's very serious about it and does take slight offence that you're not responding accordingly

Do you not like her back? Are you ignoring her hints to avoid hurting her feelings?

The definition of "please reject me so I can move on"

Is it because you heard the orphans calling her "mum" and got the wrong idea?

Please she's dying to know, she's been bringing you flowers like every other day

Lends you her jacket and hopes you forget to return it so she has an excuse to see you again

Columbina awkwardly patting her back when she stares into empty space in agony when you brush off yet another of her flirting attempts as being friendly

At some point she does ask you to just outright reject her so she can move on

Lowkey wants to go apeshit when she finds out you actually like her too and were just too nervous to flirt back

Capitano:

He has a good rep, so he hopes that improves his dateability in your eyes

He'll bring you cute trinkets he comes across from wherever he goes!!

Would also keep a matching piece for himself so he can imagine that y'all are dating

Also has someone help him take pictures of him should he ever go anywhere scenic and have it made into a sort of postcard for you

He wonders if you ever end up looking at him instead of the view (he hopes you do)

He subtly sneaks glances at you, but not so subtle so that there's a chance you'll catch him and possibly tell him that you're into him too

Ok in all honesty his flirting game probably sucks ass and he'd probably tell you your eyes are like his dog's as a compliment

Please just give him a chance his colleagues are getting sick of his silent brooding when you don't notice how he polished his helmet extra shiny just for you

Childe:

The most obvious of them all please he's clinging to you like he's obsessed

So many terrible jokes that aren't even jokes

"Wouldn't it be funny if we kissed- no? Not even once? Ok haha, no I'm not upset I was kidding."

Unlike Arlecchino, he knows rejection isn't going to make him move on

So he hovers like a dog off the streets that just picked you as its new master

Makes a point to tell you everything he succeeds at, even if it's mundane

Stuff like "hey I made really good waffles, I could cook for you y'know?" Or "Yeah I fixed that door all on my own I'm really handy around the house."

Like Capitano, he brings you trinkets

Unlike Capitano, they aren't always wholesome and may come from the people and monsters he beat up/killed

Brings them to you like a cat presenting their hunt

Dottore:

Makes synthetic human parts that are as identical to yours as possible and compliment them in front of you without telling you they're based on you

"What do you think about these eyes?"

"...yes, they're very...eye-like?"

"They're a lovely pair of eyes, wouldn't you agree? Look at how they-"

Yes, he absolutely will point out how they function to you. Yes, he thinks he's being romantic

So he doesn't get why you don't seem to catch on that he's into you

Did you not realise those were your organs he complimented?

In a way it gives him some weird satisfaction that he knows you more intimately than even you

But he does want you to realise eventually

So he'll walk up behind you under the guise of "monitoring your work" and inhale your scent like the lunatic he is (another trait of yours he'll make sure to remember)

Pantalone:

Isn't it obvious? He spoils you

He lets you use his wallet like a subscription trial

Enjoy it? Consider dating him to extend the privilege duration

He makes it very clear cut to you: he's into you, and he'll take care of you for as long as you're his beloved

He also makes his interest in you very clear to everyone else, so chances are, there's no one else who's dare approach you unless it's another harbinger

And be very clear on this: once you say yes to him, there's no backing out

Even before you start dating, he acts as though you already are

He wouldn't pressure you into anything you're uncomfortable with, but expect an arm around your waist to hold you close to him

Like I said, very clear cut, there's no way you could mistake his affection

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @ineshapanda

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #arlecchino #capitano #childe #tartaglia #dottore #pantalone #regrator #capitano x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #regrator x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #genshin capitano #genshin dottore #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin pantalone #genshin regrator #winery specials

[y-rhywbeth2]

Feel like Gortash has issues with those born into wealth and privilege. I seem to recall him commissioning a bust in honour of a dude who "made it" and then turned his nose up at the Patriar class.

Does he feel sorry for the poor? No, because if they lack the strength and will to claw their way out of their fate then they deserve to stay there in his world view. He ended up in the Hells as a child and he escaped, then he built himself from absolutely nothing in a world that had moved on without him, and became one of the most powerful people in the city. He was a literal nobody - the son of cobblers born into debt and poverty. If he can make it and you can't with all the advantages he didn't have, then that's a you problem.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't resent all these privileged fucks who would've looked down their noses at him and have never had to work a day of their life to get the wealth and power he had to literally claw his way out of Hell for.

And now he's a high ranking figure in an organisation that exploits the hell out of them and everyone else (ha.) - He's a Banite who learnt to trade favours and blackmail and manipulate and exploit in the Hells themselves. Joy. - but I'm sure he's really enjoying that.

Somehow he's "the poor are lazy and deserve to be poor" and "eat the rich" at the same time. The only people who are "deserving" are those like him who start with nothing, end up with less, and then grab the universe by the throat and make it bend to their will.

There's that dude with the bust in his office; Durge, who also started from fuck all (thanks Bhaal); and If he didn't genuinely delude himself that he did right by Karlach, she has at least proved herself "worthy" in his eyes by now. If only she'd stop whining(!) Why on earth could she be upset??

Boy, what a man he is...

#absolute garbage #can be compelling though #I'm sure this analysis has been done before but I still want to talk so #enver gortash #babbling #edgelord hours

[fuckmyskywalker]

"Stuffed." — Darth Vader.

— CW: 18+, smut! Cockbulge. Noncon. Objetification. Dirty talk. Vader has an 11 inch dick because I say so. Maybe he is OOC but I don't care. | Word Count: 0.8k (not proofread!)

— List of films! | Taglist.

“How does it feel?” He asks in that monotone, modulated voice of his. His gloved hand presses down on the bulge on your belly, using the other one to grip your hair and force your face to stare at his mask. 

“B–Big.” You sob, squirming and trying to move a single inch. His size already dwarfs you, but the size of his cock is a whole different story. Deep inside you, you swear to the Heavens it is touching your throat.

“That’s what a cocksleeve like yourself is made for.” Vader breathes out, his voice cold and emotionless as always. It has been an order to keep your Lord’s cock inside you, warm and still— that’s what he wants and that’s what you must do. “Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you like this.” You don’t in fact, you hate it— or at least you try to convince yourself you do. After receiving the same rough treatment daily you realized it… it can be better than death. Sometimes when Lord Vader is feeling benevolent, he will allow you to come but normally you aren’t allowed to. He can be nice when he wants to, of course; you just need to encounter him in a good mood (or a less bad mood) and not push his buttons. His cock isn’t nice, and it certainly doesn’t feel nice— reconstructed to be more practical than pleasurable, and too big to be enjoyable. Whatever sick enjoyment he gets from fucking you, you sure as well don’t share it. 

Your brain works automatically but your body seems to fight against it, either way, you speak: “I love your big cock inside me, M–My Lord,” It is better for you to comply than to even try and bargain. It will make everything end faster. “You fuck me so good. I appreciate the privilege of having your cock inside my pathetic whore pussy.” As a “reward” his fingers tighten on your hair, making you whimper in pain and arch your back, your walls clenching involuntarily around him. 

It is hateful how your body enjoys the brutal attention. Are you that touch-starved? Perhaps he is right. You are nothing more than a whore who enjoys being used. Vader says that all the time; why would he lie?... you are alive thanks to him anyway. If he keeps repeating how worthless and useless you are and he still fucks you almost daily there must be something that he sees in your that not everyone can see— and you should be grateful for that, right?

You wish he would call you something else than insults, other than condescending, mocking pet names, anything. Your mind longs for a single complement, even a small one would work. But you know you are in no place to ask for something, and he is there to remind you. You know, he is right. You are stupid enough to forget he can read your mind. “You are my little fucktoy. If everyone else tries to touch you, I will cut their hands off.” Vader’s modulator distorts his voice but you can detect the slight huskiness and unsteady breathing. You affect him at least in the slightest, at least your body still has something good.

“Keep crying,” Vader speaks, letting go of your hair to grab your ass roughly, even his hand groping your asscheek makes you feel tiny. He lifts his hips, making you feel like he is pushing his cock even further, pushing the air out of your lungs. “Each tear only fuels my need to destroy you.” Like always, his words are harsh, not bothering to hide the possessive underlying tones that make your heart clench painfully. This is your destiny until he gets bored of you.

But Vader isn’t sure if he is ever going to be able to get rid of you.

You are the only one he has encountered— or more like kidnapped, that managed to fit his whole cock inside of their body. So he has to give credit when it is due. Your sobs overpower his loud breathing, squirming over his lap at the painful feeling of being abused by his massive cock. “It hurts! P–Please, please, my Lord—” Despite your protests, Vader doesn’t stop. With every thrust the bugle appears and disappears, giving him that twirl of control and dominance over such a weak, miserable creature like you. 

“I know it hurts, but you are my plaything.” His frigid voice makes you cry louder, fat tears of despair falling down your cheeks. You try to move away but that invisible force that you hate so much keeps you impaled on his cock; moving in between your merged bodies to circle your neglected clit. Even a cruel being like Darth Vader knows that he has to keep you lubricated or it will start to hurt him. “I decide how much pain or pleasure you feel.”

This is your life. There’s no escape. It doesn’t matter who you were before this moment; now, you are nothing more than a toy. A toy that only exists to obey, cry, feel pain and keep a cock warm.

“Plus… you said you loved it.”

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#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023! #dart vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader #darth vader x reader smut #darth vader x y/n #darth vader fic #darth vader imagine #darth vader fanfic #dart vader x reader smut

[ch6douin]

I was inspired by pictures of cats on the aftermath of meeting their owners or random people who love cats with lipstick on. Imagine players in their world with their lil plush counterparts and one night after being given a little too much booze by demi characters are seeing their plush counterparts covered in lipstick marks. Player is seen with smeared lipstick the same shade.

Victor is fucking unsure of what to do. He’s hiding in his room, face pushed into his pillow. Laying on his stomach and swinging his feet. Victors plush is seen admiring its kiss marks. Also wick probably got a kiss mark on his forehead. Everyone but victor getting a kiss smh

Andrew is still reeling from spotting his plush self coated in lil kiss marks. They make eye contact. Andrews like “Huh?????” His plush counterpart says nothing but lowers its head almost bashfully.

Ganji is both sorta flattered but also probably one of the ones trying to figure out how to clean his plushie off. Not until after he’s done marking this down in his memory tho.

Emma has the same reaction as victor. But probably is seen skipping around holding her plushie self. Is in a good mood for remaining week.

Also i wanna add Demi witnessed all of this and had the time of her life. The mighty player being a very very affectionate and cuddly drunk is one thing she had not been prepared for but my god. Cutest thing ever. Only one of the survivors to be given a kiss on her forehead. Got some good cuddles too.

Freddy plush is only one to be unkissed. Freddy plush is seen to be bitter about this and has been a bully. Freddy acts like he dont care but it keeps him up at night. Fuck freddy. All my homies hate freddy.

Oh god that is so cute anon (all my homies hate freddy too)

The thought that you spared some time to pepper kisses on the soft material of plushies that resemble them makes some of them absolutely smitten. Are you trying to send them an indirect message? Does that mean that you...you wanna kiss them? Are these your hidden intentions?

Thanks to you, they cannot help but panic whenever they are alone with you. Some of them are pretty good at pretending not to, but Andrew for example? Every time you move towards him you can see the way he looks away and scowls in embarrassment. Yes, embarrassment, he is not mad at you surprisingly. And clueless you don't even know why some of them are acting so weird because you don't remember anything. Demi is happy with the outcome, she had the privilege of seeing you in a vulnerable state no one else ever did, and she got real kisses too.

"There you go. Run around or whatever you have in mind..." Ganji murmurs, messily stuffing his pocket with the washcloth he was just using as his plushie jumps from his lap and scurries away with enthusiasm, Ganji figures out that it is about to run around the manor looking for you out of all people. Even he didn't know why the plushie was so attached to you, it was squirming out of his lap just a few seconds ago, earning an annoyed grunt from Ganji who just wished to clean the evident lipstick marks from its grumpy face. Why did that thing like you more than himself? No matter how much he contemplates, nothing comes up to soothe his confusion.

Then, he is thinking of these kisses much to his dismay. How they were scattered over its chin, cheeks, eyebrows, nose...lips. And he knows that it was you because he decided to pay attention to you and let his eyes linger and there it was, the same tone of those goddamn lipstick marks. He knows that you pressed your soft lips all over the little bundle of energy and let it stumble its way back to him, so dizzy and lovesick. Lucky thing—no, he did NOT just think that. There is nothing else to do besides slumping on his chair with a sigh, hands running through his curly hair.

He doesn't want to let his guard down, however, it's so painful not to think of having you plopping your lips against his instead.

(that was supposed to be MEE bro)

#idvselfaware #self aware au #idv x reader #asks #identity v x reader #ganji gupta x reader

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4k

chapter summary: Tommy is trapped in the tedious routine of life that he desperately wants to get out of.

warnings: male masturbation, thoughts of piv and oral, big brother issues, it is heavily implied that tommy has PTSD, tommy being a victim of morning wood

a/n: sorry for the long wait everyone! This chapter was a challenge because I do not feel confident in writing third person at all so hopefully, this turned out the way I hoped that it would! Thank you to the love of my life @pedrito-friskito for beta-reading & editing 💖💖💖

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

Gunpowder. All he can smell is gunpowder. 

Tommy sinks into the dirt, wet soil filling his mouth, eyes, ears. He’s drowning, but no one is slowing down to help him. He hears screams and gunshots. He sees one of his friends falling lifeless to the ground. Tears flood his eyes. He claws at the dirt, pulling himself back up. 

But he still feels as if he’s sinking. 

A bomb. Tanks. More screams. More dead bodies. 

It’s humid. His uniform sticks to him like a second skin. Another flash. Screams. He hears Joel. Tommy freezes. Joel isn’t supposed to be here. Joel is supposed to be home safe. Joel. He misses Joel. Misses his big brother who’s been looking out for him all this time. 

Tommy turns to him. He sees him on the front line. He’s not supposed to be here—He’s not—

A bullet whistles in the air, cutting his ear. He falls down, screaming. Another one sinks into his stomach, his arm, his chest. He cries. He can’t move. His legs don’t work. 

He stares at Joel but only sees his back.

Tommy jolts up from the bed. Sweat clings to his skin, a chill settling in his spine. His heart flutters in his chest; it hurts, it hurts to breathe. It’s gray outside, an ugly color that makes everything look slightly dusty. His chest heaves and he places a hand on top of his heart. He still feels afraid. Nightmares are nothing new, he’s woken up from many. However, seeing Joel has left a bad taste in his mouth. 

He kicks at the sheets and places his feet firmly on the floor. His eyes move to the small notebook that collects dust on his bedside table. He’s been told to write down his nightmares, especially the vivid ones. But honestly, why write down the very things he wants to forget? That therapist had no idea what they were talking about. 

“Fuckin’ stupid,” he grumbles while reaching out and grabbing the notebook. He flicks through the empty pages, he’s written down only his name, nothing else. A broken sigh falls from his lips and he throws it to the bed. 

Tommy doesn’t need to check the time to know that it’s 7 AM. He heads to the bathroom, stripping himself quickly, stepping into the shower. Baths have never really been his thing. Staying in the same place for too long still agitates him, makes his skin crawl. 

The warm water hitting his skin, he sighs. He stands still, allowing himself to enjoy the privilege he didn’t have a couple of years ago. Water feels good, be it cold, be it warm. Water droplets trickle down his body, rinsing the sweat of the nightmare. His face is relaxed as he stands under the pour. His entire body is at ease. Tommy doesn’t do much until his hair is wet throughout, then he reaches for the shampoo. 

He needs to pick up Joel and Sarah. After dropping Sarah to school, he and Joel have to pick up some supplies. His mind wanders to last night. He’d spent most of the night with Joel’s neighbor. It was a pleasant time. Tommy knew that he liked you the first moment he laid his eyes on you. You have something sad about you, something sweet. You're both the easiest and hardest person to read. Tommy is never quite sure what you want. 

The only thing he’s sure of is that you need a friend. And hopefully, he’s good at it. 

He also wants to get a few things to make your space cozier. Maybe a bean bag? A nice calming color to paint the walls— a light lavender perhaps? He knows you like purple. He’ll need Joel’s help with a couple of things, but Tommy doubts he’ll say no; his brother is as worried as he is after all. Tommy rinses his hair and drags the loofa across his body. 

You worry him. 

When he slides the loofa between his legs, he thinks of you. Your smell, your body, your smile. Fucking everything about you, he wants. You're funny, talented, and have enough self deprecation that made him feel less alone in the world. He entertains the idea that you might be into him, but maybe that’s a hopeful dream. The day Tommy attempted to kiss you…your eyes never left him after that. You looked scared, almost. A look he wasn’t pleased to see. 

It was easy to slip into the playful younger brother role. That was what people expected of him. You’d even said it. “It’s character.” You would know; you were the youngest as well. 

A shudder crawls up Tommy’s spine and he looks down. The warm water beats against the back of his neck, trickling down his back. He’s hard. Not fully erect, but hard enough that smoothing the loofa over it makes a tiny gasp fall from his lips. He repeats the motion, then brings the loofa up to his chest. After the water washes away the suds and dirt, he hangs the loofa to wrap a hand around his cock. 

He gives it a firm squeeze, toes curling against the smooth surface of the tub. He really should get it over it and not let his mind wander. However, Tommy can’t help it. He thinks about that night, but instead of you looking at him with unsure eyes, you look at him with lust. He kisses you, slow and soft, slipping his tongue between those lips he admires so much and licks the inside of your mouth. 

Tommy’s palm catches against the head of his cock, smearing the gathered precum across his shaft. He treats you tender and soft in his mind, but to himself—in the present—his strokes are hard and fast. It’s a force of habit really. Not much time to pleasure yourself in the army. 

He shakes his head, breathing out heavily through his nose. He doesn’t want to think about that. Tommy focuses on you. How you would get on her knees, pull down his pants and swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock. You would have trouble taking the whole thing in, and he would help you through it. Whispering words of praise and encouragement as his hips stuttered forward, filling that pretty mouth inch by inch until you were swallowing him down. 

God, the sounds you would make for him, choking and moaning. Tommy’s thighs shake, cock throbbing beneath his palm. The skin above his stomach tingles, every muscle taut like a slingshot being pulled back, ready to take aim. 

“S-Shit.” He braces one hand against the slippery wall, eyes squeezed shut. The image of you on your knees fades into one more animalistic. He has you bent over the kitchen counter, fucking himself into you with the sink still running. 

His hips stutter into his own hand, his balls tight and full. In his mind, the drag of his cock makes your entire body quiver underneath, you beg him to move faster, harder. You're so fucking wet that he can’t hardly believe it, his cock dripping with your slick. 

Tommy comes with a cry, spurting onto the wall and spilling over his knuckles. He continues to stroke himself, albeit a bit softer now. His moans echo in the bathroom, most of it being drowned out by the running water. His eyes flutter closed, hips moving to meet his hand. It feels good. He’s missed feeling good. Feeling satisfied.

The pleasure continues to buzz in his veins, making him feel more alive than ever. Letting out one last breath, he moves away from the wall and allows the water to run down his chest, over his arms and hands. He’s a mess. That’s how he feels. 

And the worst part: he doesn’t feel like he can’t do anything about it. 

Tommy’s day begins. 

His eyes linger on her house as he drives past, parks in Joel’s driveway. Heading inside, he directly heads for the kitchen, where Sarah and Joel are already seated, eating. There’s music echoing from the radio, it’s been turned down but Tommy’s ears picks up on soft guitar. 

“What we havin’?” 

“Waffles and orange seeds, apparently,” Joel grumbles, eyes glued to Sarah, flicking a seed onto the table. “Would it kill you to be more careful with the juicer?” 

“Perhaps. Besides, you’re the one who insisted on freshly squeezed.” Sarah grins, a bit of waffle poking out from between her teeth. 

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll just get somethin’ on the drive.” 

“No wastin’ time flirtin’ with the cashier, we can’t be late.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes. How long has it been since he flirted? Two months, maybe more, and Joel still freaking reminds him of it. “I’ll be quick, promise.” 

Joel gives him a nod but Tommy’s positive he doesn’t believe him; he never does. To Joel, Tommy never grew up. He was still that same snot-nosed kid that constantly needed his big brother to fend off the bullies. Apparently, the news that Tommy is now a grown man never reached Joel, which more often than not makes Tommy’s blood boil. 

Both Sarah and Joel get up at the same time, Sarah takes her father’s plate and puts the dishes into the sink. Joel heads upstairs. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he mutters, sounding agitated. 

Tommy contemplates going outside to smoke until he gets back but when Joel says a sec, it really does mean a sec. Sarah picks up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, she looks exactly like her mother with her hair loose. 

“Can I ask something?” she asks, and Tommy cocks his head to the side, nodding. “Could you come to school with me next week?” 

Tommy furrows his brow, confusion filling his head, “What for?” 

“Miss Crawford asked us to bring a family member that influenced us to school,” she states, smiling. “So, naturally, I thought of you.” 

“You—” he shakes his head. “You thought of me?” 

“Who else?” Sarah chuckles. “You’ve been around since I was a baby, Uncle Tommy, of course, you influenced me.” 

Joel comes down the stairs with loud steps, which he thinks is a blessing because Tommy has no idea how to reply to Sarah. He’s touched, to say the least. Never in his life would he think someone as brilliant as Sarah would be influenced by him, in whatever that meant. Tommy’s still staring at Sarah when Joel arrives, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders. He gives Tommy a weird look. 

“What are you lookin’ at?” he asks, and Tommy just shrugs. 

“What’s with the jacket?” 

“It’s windy,” he grumbles. “I wanted to try somethin’ out.” 

Sarah snorts, “Really, Dad? Leather?” 

“Shut up and get your bag. We’re droppin’ you off first.” 

“Why do you always say that as if we do it differently every day?” 

“Just get your bag.” 

The drive goes as smoothly as it usually does. Tommy stops by the gas station; him picking up an apple fritter for himself, a black coffee for Joel (he always ends up eating half of whatever Tommy buys), and strawberry milk for his favorite — and only — niece. 

Only half of Joel’s black coffee remains by the time they stop by the school. The fritter now only crumbs on Tommy’s lap, and the strawberry milk box crushed and stuffed into Sarah’s backpack. She hops off, reminding Tommy of when he needs to get to school for her presentation, as she leaves. Joel shoots him a confused look. 

“Presentation?”

“Ah, nothing important,” he mutters, turning the steering wheel. “The teachers asked her to bring someone that influenced her.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” 

“It is.” 

There’s a minute brief of pause before Joel speaks again, “I need your help with work today—” 

“What?” 

Tommy fights the urge to hit the steering wheel, the insides of his palms itch for friction so he ends up just squeezing it instead. Joel sighs, head falling back, he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“M’sorry but there’s no way I can install the insulation on my own, you’re gonna need to help me.” 

“Joel, it’s my damn day off,” he grunts. “I have shit to do.” 

“Like?” 

“I wanted to check out some stuff I could buy for the room makeover— you know, the one I told you about?” 

Joel stills at his words, side-eyeing Tommy, and he sits up straighter. The younger Miller’s eyes are on the road but he can almost see a sad expression crossing the other’s face. He pushes the thoughts aside, he’s probably imagining it. 

“You were gonna do that today?” he asks, a strange warble to his voice. 

“Yeah.” 

“How ‘bout we get the things you need, then you help me? It won’t take long.” He swallows and rubs the pad of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. “And then you can go. It’ll take two hours tops,” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Tommy should know by now to take his brother’s promises with a grain of salt. 

Of course they end up working until her shift is over, which means Tommy has to go pick you up and drive you home—well, he doesn’t have to, but he enjoys doing it, and the coffee house is on his route back. Initially, Tommy had been hoping to get to your place before your shift ended so they could start brainstorming before they got home. 

The turn signal blinks and the truck rumbles as he waits to turn. He has all the stuff for the room in the back; not a lot, just some paint he thought she might enjoy and a bean bag chair he thought would make a comfy seat. 

Joel apologized a million times, then promised to help with the room but Tommy isn’t so sure he wants his brother’s help anymore. He’s had a sour taste in his mouth after the whole day. He feels gross with the way his shirt clings to his skin with seat, and he’s just tired. Tired of everything. 

The light turns green. 

“Fuckin’ finally.” 

He’s anxious, hurting, and fully believes he does not belong. No matter what he does it never feels like he’s going any good. It’s the same routine, the same thing over and over again, day in and day out. Nothing ever changes. The world is still shit. His hands are tied. At this point he’s not even sure he’s doing any good by his family. He’s on the road of perpetual doubt and nothing else. 

But all of that—the hurt, the boredom, the helplessness—all of it vanishes when he sees you. 

You're out on the curb, looking down at your toes as you roll back to stand on your heels. It is windy out, which might be why you're hugging herself, the ends of your coat fluttering. 

Tommy honks two times and your face lights up, and so does his chest. He feels his cheeks aching from how wide his smile is, he pops the door open from the inside, you hurl herself in with a sigh. 

“I’m definitely not wearing the right clothes for this weather,” you murmur, the truck moving as soon as you shut the door. “Thanks for picking me up. How was your day?” 

His smile falters then. “It was…not that great, I guess. Sorry I couldn’t come by before your shift finished. Joel needed me.” 

“Hey, it’s fine,” you answer. You playfully hit the back of your hand to the side of his thigh. “It’s just a room, we can get to it later.” 

“Or tonight,” he says, eyes moving to you. “It’s still early, we can empty the room at least. And I have some stuff in the back I got for you.” 

“You got stuff for me?” 

A yellow light switches to red. Tommy shouldn’t have looked at you then, shouldn’t have seen the sparkle in your eyes, the red softening your features. Your smile is tired but wide. His heart skips a beat, and suddenly his head is filled with the same images he thought of in the shower. 

Tommy swallows thickly, the turn of his head strained as his hands anxiously stroke the steering wheel. You don’t notice. 

“I did,” he answers, sounding a bit breathless, jutting his thumb towards the trunk. “Not a lot, some paint, a bean bag chair.” 

You look over your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You don’t like the bean chair?” 

“No, it’s not that,” you say slowly, the red turns green, he presses the gas. “I’m happy that you did. I just hate causing you trouble.” 

He laughs at that and shakes his head, he misses the way your eyebrows raise with surprise, “You could never be trouble,” he muses. “Not even if you tried.” 

The rest of the drive passes with pleasant conversation and you tell him that you're excited to spend Saturday night with Olivia. He smiles, nods, and jokingly asks if he can come and join girls' night. You punch his shoulder, saying that he can but he would have to wear a wig for the night. But despite the light conversation, Tommy feels incredibly antsy. An odd sensation of excitement eats at his stomach.

They carry the supplies and leave them in the living room, Tommy spots a blank canvas propped up on an easel as they head to the room. You follow him a minute later, both hands occupied with cold beer bottles and a bag of chips. 

“What color did you get?” you ask, handing him the bottle. 

“A very subtle lavender,” he adds. “At least that’s what the guy at the shop said, thought it would look nice.”  

“I love lavender.” 

“I thought you would,” he steps forward and looks around. “I guess we should start emptying the room.” 

The room has definitely seen better days. Every corner is thick with dust, the bookcase lined with more knick-knacks and photographs than books, more like a storage unit. He brings the cold bottle to his lips, picking up a picture from the middle shelf; a man and a woman on the beach, smiling, their toes dipped in the sand. You're next to him, cheek brushing against his shoulder. 

“My grandma and grandpa,” you explain. “I used to love that beach, we went almost every summer.” 

“Must’ve been fun.” 

“It was.” 

You take the picture and Tommy takes a gulp of his beer. He’s not good at handling others’ grief. He never knows what to do—hug them? Console them with words? Joel is much better at stuff like this. His older brother has a way about him that even if he does nothing, people still feel comforted. A gift, Tommy often thought. Joel, however, wouldn’t share the same sentiment. 

“Have you thought about what you want this room to be?” he asks, noticing a small-ish futon on the ground, pressed into the corner of the wall. 

“A studio would be nice. A space to paint, and read.” A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and Tommy’s stomach rolls. “Just a place to escape to basically.” 

“We all need someplace like that. You don’t need to feel bad about it.” 

You nod but Tommy is highly aware that his words have little effect. He takes another sip of his beer and puts it on the floor. You do the same, leaving him alone before returning with a few empty cardboard boxes. 

One by one, they fill the boxes, empty the room. Tommy asks about every object he touches; he asks for the attached memories, if you want to keep them or not. You don’t elaborate, just say keep or toss, keep or toss. As he places a book called New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology in the ‘keep’ box, he suddenly realizes why. He doesn’t like talking about the pain either. That notion for some reason resonates in him, he feels closer.

Maybe he should start. Not today, but someday. 

The night grows darker, the outside eerily silent. The light of the room tires his eyes and he takes a mental note to buy something better later on, something much softer preferably—

“You were in the military, right?” you suddenly ask, and a chill settles in his spine. “What branch were you in?” 

“Ah.” He balks for a second, then he remembers to breathe. “Marine Corps. Infantry.” 

She nods, humming at his answer. “My brother’s in the Marines.” 

He’d forgotten about your stepbrother, the question makes more sense now. “He still with ’em?” 

“Yeah, we don’t see much of each other but I miss him. He’s going to visit, at least that’s what he keeps telling me. You two should meet, talk it out,” 

Tommy chuckles at that, he wipes the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Talk it out?” 

“I don’t know.” you grin. “Share stories and stuff,” 

“I’d love to meet him.” He leans down and scoops his — now warm — beer bottle off the floor. Bravely, he takes a sip. You look around, pushing one of the boxes with your foot. 

“We’re almost done.” you fall to the futon, crossing your legs as you shimmy back into the wall. “Let’s rest a sec. Sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

When he sits, your head falls on top of his shoulder. Both of them stare at the empty bookcase, the wallpaper now looking more worn out, torn at the edges. 

“I worry about my brother,” you mutter. “How does Joel deal with all the worrying? Any ideas?” 

A chuckle vibrates in the back of his throat. “Joel ain’t worrying about me. You’ll have to ask someone else, sweetheart.” 

“Believe me, he does worry about you,” you answer as if stating the most obvious. “You’re his little brother; he’s always going to be worried about you.” 

The room falls silent after that. Tommy has no idea what to say to that, his chest feels heavy, his breathing nearly nonexistent, while your breathing is slow, steady. Your head is still on his shoulder. He’s highly aware that you're about to sleep. Your limbs go slack, eyes fluttering closed. Tommy slowly turns his head toward you, it takes everything in him not to brush his lips across your forehead. 

“You should go to bed,” he murmurs. “Come on, now. I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Much to his surprise, you stir and shake your head. “Too tired,” you slur, voice thick with sleep. “Let’s just stay here. What does it matter?” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

He slowly lays you down on to the futon, quickly following suit after switching the lights off. When he lays down, he’s uncomfortable. There’s nothing to cover himself with, the door is wide open, the dark hall taunting him. He can’t sleep. But of course, Tommy can’t tell you that. You're already cuddled into a ball, your back turned to him as soft snores begin to slip out your lips. 

Tommy listens. That’s all he can do. 

The dark taunts him.

Tommy wakes up with a buzz coming from his pocket. He blinks himself awake, he smells you first, then remembers where he is. His one arm is tucked under you while the other hangs loosely over your bare waist. 

Tommy’s eyes go wide, panic flooding his heart. You're so close, body pressed up against his. He fights the urge to clear his throat, and the urge to come closer. He’s absolutely horrified when you move, your backside brushing up against his cock. 

Shit. He’s hard as a rock. Fucking hell.

The buzz gets louder with every passing second. Tommy carefully peels himself away. As he lays on his back, he adjust himself so his situation isn’t totally obvious. With a silent groan, he tugs his phone out of his jeans and presses it to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Tommy,” Joel’s modulated voice echoes. “Where the hell are you? We’re late.” 

He groans, you're starting to wake up as well, a small moan falling from her lips. 

“Sorry,” Tommy answers. “I’m next door. I’ll be right there.” 

A moment of awkward silence is felt through the phone. Tommy’s eyebrows knit together; what the hell is that all about? 

“A’right,” Joel finally says. “Don’t keep me waitin’.” 

The line cuts off.

Another day begins. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[ph-cutie]

hi everyone i finally have something complete to say on a thing that has been annoying me for ages. the infamous evrart container crane lines

so first just off my chest the seemingly most common interpretation of this claim ive seen is that he literally just hasnt gone outside in however many years and that the crane is all hes got but i just. dont believe that

dont get me wrong i DO believe him when he says hes disabled, zero doubt about that, just not that he lives in a wooden crate with no way out. leo talks a lot about the twins' travel habits and says that ev leaves at 10PM every night, evrart himself expresses interest in hobbies like fishing (theres a fishing rod just chilling in the corner), roy claims that evrart showed up at the pawn shop uninvited multiple times etcetc. maybe the container gets moved within the harbor just to kinda shorten travels...? but like he goes out at least occasionally i think thats undeniable

i dont think whether or not the crane exists really matters though, im more interested in the first statement. i think he's speaking less about his actual life situation and more about the fact that he doesnt *have* to go out. as he says, he doesnt personally witness brutalities, he has the luxury of staying in a container. i think he truly sees it that way and i understand why. he's a martinaise man and has experienced hardship, but being half the union boss is still a sheltered life, complete with a safe and cushy workspace to spend most of his time in. the people not bound to martinaise (joyce villedrouin) leave after the tribunal/in general and everyone else just has to keep going as usual no matter what, except for evrart, who does a secret third thing: barricading himself alone in the harbor until further notice. there is a literal split between him and everyone else. hes undeniably in a privileged position and i think this line is just an admission of that, the crane is simply an additional Vrart Game that i frankly dont care to solve. ok bye (runs into the bushes)

#and again like yeah no shit he IS disabled and likely cant move around much. but the container ALSO represents privilege #like theres layers here #disco elysium #evrart claire #e #blogging about a bloke most intimidating ordeal known to man

[saintchaser]

since people are asking for them, here are my unpopular marauders opinions

(note, and i mean this in the most serious way: please, for the love of god, if you don't agree, just scroll. there is no reason to cause drama over some unpopular opinions of some random tumblr user just because you don't agree with me.)

remus is my least favorite character. don't get me wrong, i love him to bits, he's just the least intriguing to me. he's the character we've been given most of; not only that, i find sirius and james' character, as well as peter's (and his betrayal), as far more interesting

i don't really like jegulus for the same reason as remus; the dynamic is interesting, there is a lot to work with there, including the death eater and order member dynamic, but i just find some ships as more interesting

most of the characters are written as super one-dimensional and therefore i do not like most fandom characterizations which is a crucial point, to me, in whether i read the fic. i like fics in which the characters are written as real people, with human emotions and flaws, and not some qualities thrown together

some wolfstar shippers are pretty much the most annoying people in fandom (coming from a wolfstar shipper). shipping the only consistent ship in this fandom does not make you inherently better than everyone else, and just because someone else splits wolfstar for other ships dynamics does not mean anything

the black sisters and the evans sisters, if written well, can be more interesting than the black brothers and i don't think we talk enough about them (i also find the black brothers are really interesting, and i need more fics in which the intensity of these dynamics are explored)

i dislike the main characterization of regulus in fandom, being a huge fan of morally grey regulus. however, each with their own characterization, and i'm no one to judge next. i find him to be a very interesting character, however, and i like fics that dive deeper into his character

people who ship jegulus and hate lily for no reason need to chill; furthermore, people who hate mary and lily for "getting in the way" of their mlm ships are... i'm not going to comment on this, but you probably know what i mean

"stan bambi" comments on snape videos are really annoying because the very same way we don't like (and sometimes get aggressive) over snape lovers attacking the characters we like, why are we doing that to other people?

i need more peter-centered fics, and i do not like him only being a sidekick or ignored. also, mary is also a very interesting character, and i don't think we credit her enough for it

dorlene > wolfstar

the girls are far more interesting than people make them out to be and i NEED an atyd-like fic (long canon compliant etc) from their povs. it's not a want, it's a need, and i might just write it myself, because i think that a fic like that has a lot of potential

dorcas is morally grey and i need more fics in which that is a thing

this might be my most unpopular opinion but i prefer lily to regulus; i find them both to be very interesting characters, but i find myself more drawn to lily

pretty privilege is REAL in this fandom. bet that if peter and snape were conventionally attractive, they would be as loved as evan, barty, and regulus

i do not see sirius as transfem but why do people have to be so pressed about this hc. lif you don't see it, shut up, move on with your day, and let people who see it do their thing; this fandom is TOO pressed about other people's hcs

i kind of dislike fanon james because they strip him of all humanity and emotions, and make him a ray of walking sunshine with no issues (hence my essay on it, which you can read here)

james would choose sirius over regulus any day

#there might be more but i might not be remembering it right now #once again!!! please leave me alone if you don't like my opinions!!!! i am open to civil conversation but if you want to fight please don't #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans #mary macdonald #regulus black #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #severus snape #wolfstar #dorlene #marauders era unpopular opinions #marauders era opinions #feel free to join in with your unpopular opinions too

[luveline]

rockstar! remus where reader is lost in her mind maybe insecure and she's been a bit cold/distant cause she think this can't last but remus is not going anywhere he will always reach for her

thank you for your request, I love the idea!!! ♥︎ fem!reader

Remus does the weirdest of things. He's always been weird in his charming, awful way. You're rightfully obsessed with him, as are millions of others, but you're privileged to say you're the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Baby, baby," he sings under his breath, playing with your hands held aloft above his face, "let me sleep on it."

"No more Journey," you murmur tiredly.

"It's by Meat Loaf, my love."

You're more embarrassed than you should be for getting it wrong. Remus definitely doesn't care. You wouldn't normally, because everyone messes stuff up like that all the time. Like, every second of the day. But Remus is a rockstar, his band plays arguably some of the best modern rock of the decade, and he's a classic rock nerd. He knows every lyric Jim Steinman's ever written, hence his impromptu yet extremely accurate rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

And you're getting more and more aware of the differences between you.

"Shall I sing you something else?" he asks.

You love how he's dropped into this properness. "You may."

He sits up and wobbles with the tour bus. He always gives you this apologetic look when it happens, like he's sorry the roads are rough. It's exactly the kind of thing he'd feel sorry for, and it makes you wanna kiss him. "Turbulence," he jokes.

He starts to sing one of his favourites, Smoke on the Water. He's moved your hands to his lap, where he drums his thumbs against your knuckles haphazardly. You don't have a clue what he's up to, why he's decided to distract you like this. Well... maybe you do. You aren't good at hiding your feelings. He's waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He'll likely wait all night.

"I owe you an apology," you say quietly.

He beams at you. It's disconcerting. "For what?"

Being distant. You can't make yourself say it so you don't say anything, but you do turn your hands in his so you can squeeze the tips of his fingers. His calluses are rough, but his hands are sweet. He spreads his fingers and intertwines them with yours, eyebrows wagging at you.

"Do you want me to guess?"

"No," you say, "I don't want you to guess, baby."

"I love the way you say that." He's being genuine. It's excruciating in its earnestness. "You have a nice voice."

"So you tell me."

"So I tell you."

He doesn't seem particularly worried about his owed apology, tugging you forward so he can steal a kiss, another, firm pecks that don't quite line up with your lips. You don't manage to kiss back the first time, but the second is good. You turn your head into his and your eyes close, your hands vying for his waist even as they're locked with his. He fights back, hands pushing against yours, an impasse of squeezing.

"I yield," you mumble, trying not to giggle in panic as your knuckles twinge.

He laughs into your mouth and follows you backward, smiles squished together, his weight shifting. He moves onto his thigh and you know he's gonna climb on top of you if you let him. You want to let him.

You duck your head. "I really do need to talk to you."

"Sorry," he says, sitting back. "I wasn't trying to- Well, I was trying derail you. Not because I don't want to hear it." He cups your cheek for a split-second. "You're hard not to kiss, you know?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

He goes shy, eyes falling to your hands, one pair still clinging. "'Cause I mean it?" he suggests carefully.

"I've been... quiet. And not as nice to you as you deserve."

He livens up. "Dove, I know touring's been hard on you. I'm not expecting you to be happy all the time here. You're here for me, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices to come. None of that is lost on me."

Sacrifices? Had you made sacrifices? Not nearly as many as he seemingly thinks. "Remus," you say. "Don't do that, for a second. Don't be so nice."

"I just don't think you should be sorry. Or feel guilty."

It's very Remus to make excuses for things that aren't his fault, and even more for him to tell you that you shouldn't be sorry. You climb up on your knees and take his face into your hands, head swimming with perspective. Remus could've returned your coldness with his own, but he'd simply laid his head down in your lap and serenaded you, played with your fingers, pressed absent kisses into your torso. And now, when you're trying to say sorry, he's extending an olive branch. He's reaching out for you.

His hands curl around your hips.

"I'm sorry I've been weird," you say, enunciating each word purposefully. "It's- I really- I love you, Remus. And I love that you love me. And I keep waiting for you to realise it won't work, but you don't, and you're so," — his smile grows so wide you can't help but smile in return, joy warping your words and making them all sticky — "lovely. You're lovely. I don't know what to do with you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asks quietly.

"I can't stand you."

"That's not what you were saying at all," he says.

He looks so pretty. Remus doesn't get how fucking pretty he is, his light brown hair, his long eyelashes, his always-tired nonchalance. You follow the scar that strikes through his right eyebrow and over his nose with your eyes, and you kiss the end of it with vigour.

"No," you admit into his skin, giving him a badly placed, damp little kiss. "What I was gonna say is worse. Kind of shit you shouldn't say sober."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

You giggle voraciously and sit back on your haunches, hands falling to his biceps. He folds his arms back to squeeze your hands again. "Scamp."

"What decade is this?" he asks. "'Scamp'. That's done it, actually. Pack your suitcase, I'm leaving you at the next services."

You're so startled you burst into genuine, ugly laughter. You can't make any sense of it, and before you know it you're pressing your face into his chest and gripping his t-shirt.

"Fucker," you say as he laughs the same, his big hands braceleting your elbows. "Fuck you. I'm leaving you at the services."

"In that case, we'll split a room in the Premier? S'fucking extortionate pricing these days."

More awful laughter, keening and high-pitched and stupid happy. Being with someone like him will always be hard and a little bit scary, but Remus makes it worth it.

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #the marauders fanfic #the marauders imagine #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader hurt/comfort #rockstar!au #rockstar!remus #rockstar!remus lupin #bassist!remus #the marauders

[danikamariewrites]

Okay sweet!

I cannot get the idea of Elain with a "Scary Guard Dog" Girlfriend out of my head 😂 like an assassin or something (totally inspired by the tik toks)

I've just really been in an Elain mood lately

Scary Girlfriend Privileges

Elain x reader

A/n: I love Elain with scary guard dog gf that has heart eyes for her! I loved writing this and I love writing for Elain I wish more ppl apreciated her

Warnings:

You were one of Azriel’s spies but after an injury that took you far too long to recover from you decided to retire

But retirement didn’t sit well with you

You asked Rhys if there was literally anything else you could do a group you could join to serve the court with

That’s when he introduced you to Nesta who immediately took you in as a Valkyrie

You liked this group of females. They made you stronger and better

Plus it was nice to have friends that you could be close with

You had met most of the IC in the two months since you became a Valkyrie but you had yet to be introduced to the 2nd Archeron sister

You had seen her garden and heard the way everyone talked about her with love and kindness which made you very curious about her

Sitting in the kitchen of the House of Wind with Nesta, Gwyn, and Em you enjoy tea and gossip

You’ve loosened up since leaving the spy days behind. Learning not to be so serious all the time has been nice

Voices floated into the room from down the hall. One was Rhys but you couldn’t place the other female’s voice, Feyre maybe?

When the new guests came into view everything metered away and Elain seemed to glow brightest, like she was meant to be the center of attention

You froze staring at her with wide heart eyes

You were so distracted that when Rhys introduced her to you, you didn’t even hear anything

You just held your hand out and smiled like an idiot as her soft palm embraced yours

Gwyn and Em teased you endlessly about your crush on Elain

When you finally decided to do something about it it was months later

The two of you started hanging out casually just getting to know each other

One night Elain made the first move. She quickly leaned over on the couch and kissed you

When she drew back her face was nervous and unsure. You leaned forward, faces inches apart, whispering, “Can we do that again?”

You spent the rest of the night making out and even cuddled in her bed

Now you’ve been dating for well over a year and it’s hilarious to see you two next to each other

While she wears her pretty pink dresses (which you adore) you wear all black or other dark colors

Elain likes to take you shopping to see if you’ll get out of your comfort zone and you indulge her

She does like when you wear all black when you’re out and about. She’s noticed the oddest thing, people usually give you a wide berth on the street and in stores

Elain has watched males who seem to want to approach her think twice after spotting you and your unforgiving stare and run away

Even on the rare night out she only dances with friends. Strangers used to come up to her all the time which is why she avoided clubs

Elain loves that you’re like her guard dog

You’re mean to others but are a sweetheart to her

Never in a million years would she tell you to stop either

She’s never felt safer than with you. It’s like a new found freedom

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #elain archeron x you #elain x you #elain archeron x reader #elain acosf #elain x reader #elain headcanon #elain archeron #elain acotar

[fandsart]

To Be Friends

I’ve exaggerated some of Nancy’s negative character traits slightly in this story, but it’s also for the sake of her developing past them.

Robin usually sits alone, as sad as that is. It’s whatever; she’s comfortable with it. She can usually get some reading done without any interruptions. But it’s the first day back at school since they took down Vecna, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Nancy sits across from her. They smile at each other, a little stiff without a common goal they’re trying to work for.

“You packed a lunch today,” Nancy states awkwardly.

“Actually Steve made this for me. He always dotes more after, uh… notable events. Sometimes it’s just a particularly bad nightmare. One time Dustin popped a bike tire and Steve bought him a helmet after it was fixed. He gets spikes in paranoia when he’s reminded how easily things can go wrong.”

“That does sound like him. You should try dating him.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Is that a real suggestion?”

“Oh! No, I just mean that he doted on me all the time when he was dating me.”

“Yeah, he’s a real sap.”

There’s a lull in the conversation before Nancy speaks up again. “It is surprising you aren’t a couple. You’re both very attractive.”

“Uh… so? I mean, thank you? I mean… I’m not interested. He’s not my type.”

Nancy hums. “Don’t worry. I understand.”

“You… do?”

“I actually have dated Steve. It probably would have been smarter to be friends first. You’re smart that way.”

“... Thank you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure you’re well aware of the bullet you dodged.”

Robin chuckles uncomfortably. “Maybe? I guess that depends on what exactly you’re referring to.”

“You said yourself he tends to dote. It’s so much more extreme when he’s dating you. I don’t need to use his jacket for the one minute walk from the school to the car. I don’t need him opening doors for me. I can do that myself.”

“Uh-huh…” Robin says, trying to keep her eyes from squinting.

“And he gets so clingy. And emotional. I swear sometimes it was more like he wanted me to be his mom than his girlfriend, which is honestly so privileged. He cut off his friends for me, so it became my job to comfort him about it?”

“He was friends with them for a long time, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. He’d kind of just cut off all his other friends,” she tries to joke.

“They were assholes,” Nancy says, maintaining seriousness. “He shouldn’t have been so caught up on them.”

“If he didn’t realize just how shitty they were until you, then he must have had a lot of good experiences with them too. A lot to be conflicted about.” She knows this is the case, because Steve’s talked to her about it too.

“He shouldn’t have been friends with them in the first place.”

“So why did you date Steve for so long? Like a year, right? If he was such a shitty boyfriend? You shouldn’t have been dating in the first place?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because Steve was popular. Everyone loves him, but the only other person I thought might want me was too preoccupied to look at me. I waited a month with nothing. Can you really blame me for wanting to feel wanted and liked after my best friend died?”

“No, but I can blame you for using that as your excuse while apparently hating anything he did because he wanted and liked you. You literally started your complaints about how doting he can be.”

“What, like you don’t think it’s annoying?” And Robin knows what she means by that, but ‘annoying’ would never be the word she would use to describe it. Just… overwhelming sometimes. But understandable. “Besides, that was more of a pet peeve. You were the one who brought that up. There’s a reason I moved my complaints to him crying over his positive choices.”

And that startles Robin a bit. “He actually cried over it?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “It was a hyperbolic idiom. But my point remains. Everyone loves him, but he was just upset that those two assholes didn’t anymore.”

“If everyone loves him why did no one turn up?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You say everyone loves him like he could have anyone, but you were all he had after Tommy and Carol immediately turned on him for pushing back one time.”

“You know what, that’s another thing. Why even be upset that someone who was willing to turn on you that quickly, did?”

“Well under that logic Steve should hate you then, shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, is that what this is about? Fine, go shoot your shot. I’m sure he’d love to have you. But don’t come crawling to me when he becomes too much for you.” With that she gets up from the table and sits at a newly vacant table.

Robin’s never ditched school before, but now she wants nothing more than to bike over to family video and hug her favorite person.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

She manages to talk herself out of skipping. She only had 2 and a half hours of school left after lunch, and none of the classes left were her best. Steve would take his break to pick her up anyway, so why put in the effort to bike all of the way there? Still, she has such a hard time concentrating on the last classes.

When she finally gets out, Steve is already parked in his usual spot, and she plops down into the seat.

“Bad day?” Steve asks.

“You know how you were hoping we could have some kind of outing with Nancy and Jonathan before the latter has to go back to California?”

“Yeah?”

“Scratch that. We’re not doing it.”

“What happened?”

She hesitates. She doesn’t want to be the one to tell him, but she also isn’t going to keep this from him. “Nancy told me that she didn’t like dating you, basically.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that.”

“And what, you're just ok with hanging out with her now?”

“I mean, it’s not her fault. She tried to like it. It’s not her fault she didn’t.”

“But it is her fault for not telling you how she felt about it. Let you think everything was fine. That’s leading you on.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not like she was trying to do that. And it’s not like hanging out with her now would involve any kind of hope that we’d get back together. She didn’t like me as a boyfriend, but we can still be friends.”

“How do you know she likes you as a friend? If she lied to you about liking you as a boyfriend.”

“We should get to work before my break is up,” he says, putting the car into gear.

They don’t talk about it after that. They don’t talk much at all for the rest of the day.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Robin doesn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria after that, not wanting to deal with Nancy again. She doesn’t necessarily know that Nancy would try to start up that conversation again, but even just seeing her in the hall sours her mood a bit, so she doesn’t need to be dealing with that.

So she’s sitting in an empty classroom eating lunch when Nancy finds her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Robin glares. “Is this not mutually beneficial?”

Nancy sighs. “Look,” she starts as she sits in the seat beside Robin, “I’m not great at taking criticism. I’m a very defensive person. I’m not good at admitting when I’m wrong, but… I was, so…”

“So…” Robin prompts.

“So you were right. I just… needed to sit on all the points for a while before I could calm down enough to actually consider them.”

“Ok. But what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m… apologizing?”

“For what?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but answers anyway. “For snapping at you, and not listening to what you were trying to tell me.”

“Ok. So what about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to apologize to him too?”

“For fighting with you?” She lets out a confused breathy laugh. “I know you guys are close but is that necessary?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Nancy blinks a few times before jolting a little. “Oh! I was too focused on- yeah, I should. It’s just been so long I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Do you want to be friends with Steve?”

“What do you mean?”

“He still respects you, and wants to reconnect after… everything. I don’t want you to let him drag you to hang outs because it’s easier than denying a simple request, then blowing up at him about it later. Again. I don’t know if he’d come back from it a second time.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Nancy sighs. “If I want to be friends with him. I feel like… he carries an association… The whole year I was with him I was in mourning, and we only reconnected recently because of, as you worded it, ‘recent events.’ I just… every time I’ve been with him in one way or another… something bad was going on. I feel like being friends with him would just leave me on edge all the time.”

“Make sure he knows that then.” She picks up her now empty lunch tray and moves to leave the room.

“Wait, Robin!”

“Yeah?” she stops by the doorway.

“Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t know… But we can be more than not friends.”

“Yeah… I’d want to be more than ‘not friends’ with Steve too.”

“Make sure he knows.”

“Yeah…”

We never really see how Nancy responds to being wrong, because she’s never written to be. My headcanon for how she responds to it is that she gets really pissed, but after sitting on it for a long time she has a hard time denying when there’s an imbalance. She’s logical enough to know what’s right, but she’s stubborn, and bias towards her own perspective, so things like this do need to get pointed out to her and it takes her a while to come around.

#platonic stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #anti ronance #fanfic #ficlet #stranger things #fandsart

[susitseart]

Holding.

Hands with you.

Means me more than life. Means me more than the whole wide world.

And I'm not even kidding or exaggerating.

For when we lonely ones find someone else in this lonely world. Someone who understands us and whom we want to understand. Someone we really want to share everything we have with. So what else would we need from life? In that moment, when we are lucky enough to get to share small moments with the other who is so dear to us.

What else do we need?

Nothing at all.

Small moments of happiness. They are ones that we don't always even notice. Because life moves forward in a hurry, and we move along with it. That's why we don't always even notice individual glimpses of light. Not from midst of our darkness.

That's why we don't always remember even our loved one who came to walk by our side.

Small moments of happiness are good at merging into our lives. To turn into something that is taken for granted.

But if we stop and think what kind of reason of wonder it truly is. When we've got someone we love in our lives.

When we learn to recognize the warmth the other. To know what kind the other feels like.

When we get to hold each other's hands.

Even for a moment.

When you really think about it, aren't those wonders, those little moments of happiness, more than just dim glimpses along our life?

They are more. For actually our lives does not consist of big moments, but of millions and millions small moments. And if we are able to notice those little moments of happiness. To live in the moment and in the momentary feeling of happiness. With the one we love. Then we might realize how lucky we are.

Because we are able to love. Because we are loved.

That's why we need nothing at all. Not from life itself and not from the world.

Because it's precisely those small moments of happiness that allow us to create our own world. Where, for a moment, we get to be with that other we love. With whom we are privileged to share the same soul and heart.

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

Does small moments of happiness make you forget the world?

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

As the story goes, small moments of happiness sometimes take me away. They make me forget the world whenever some part of me allows it. Allows me to be happy even for a moment. To just to enjoy how the other's hand feels like.

On this so-called day of love, many of us are lucky enough to hold someone's hand. But then again, some people don't have anyone to hold their hand with. At least not in the sense in which this day of love wants to mean it.

Therefore, this story should not be taken only as if it is intended only for those who have a loved one. No. This story. Reminder. Is for everyone. For those who have someone to share small moments of happiness with. For those who are lonely in this world.

For everyone who needs a reminder that small moments of happiness exist and will exist. For each of us. Even if we don't always see it. Even if we don't believe it.

That's why I hope those who have someone are happy. That's why I hope that those who feel they need it will find someone with whom they share the same soul and heart.

I hope that today has been a day of wonder and happiness for everyone. One way or another.

Happy Valentine's Day to all you friends 🐺💜🩷

#art #wolf art #wolf #artists on tumblr #valentines day #love #emotional #mental health awareness #deep thoughts #romantic

[sbk-zgvlt]

hey. hey. hey sebek zigvolt lover. pokes you. i have a scenario for you. (i want to cause you psychic damage)

for once, the neighborhood kids invite (INVITE!!!) little sebek out to play. he doesn't understand why they suddenly want to play with him, but his family can see how he's physically vibrating with the prospect and encourage him.

it's a trick.

they do play with him for a little while, all to convince him to 'play' a game that includes a large boulder that's split into a small crevice at the bottom. the littlest of the group squeezes through the rock and dares him to go next, what, isn’t he a fae? (if only he could realize the malice in her tone.) of course he can! sebek flattens himself down to his stomach and begins to pull himself through. he gets stuck. when he realizes he can't move forward or backward, the children laugh. he's not a fae. after all, his father is a human! to think he actually believed he was worth their time. their giggles fade as they run off, sebek still trapped under the rock.

nightime arrives. and it's so, so cold. he stopped wailing for anyone to come and help him hours ago, drowning in what the other kids told him. but he sees a light! bobbing! in the distance! he cries out again his desperation, voice hoarse. the voice that calls back makes his blood run cold.

..it's his father. clearly having simply thrown a jacket and armed himself with a lantern. he's the only one in the family who needs a piddly LANTERN, because he is human. he can't see in the dark like everyone else can. sebek does a total 180, shouting his heart out that he doesn't need to be saved by a HUMAN. especially not be the human who is the reason he's trapped right now. if only his father were any other man, if only he were a fae, he wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. the comments roll off of his father, who's only priority is saving him, but he can't. he can't. he's too weak and too scared of possibly harming sebek in the process.

sebeks mother arrives soon after. she's the one to save him, even if his father was the one who located him initially. when he's freed, he clings to her, spilling his feelings about how scared he was, how cold, how mean the other children were so openly, so freely, something he would never do with his father. all his father can do is gently stroke his hair, because any further than that would close sebek off to him again.

.....after that incident, sebek rarely leaves the house again. the next time he walks out of the front door with so much excitement is with the company of his grandfather, boasting about someone special he has the privilege of meeting.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU/pos

AUGHHH I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO ADD ONTO THIS THIS IS PERFECT

Sebek blaming his father for getting him into that situation because SURELY the others wouldve let him play with them, wouldve helped him out from under the rock if he didnt have his nasty human fathers blood inside of him. Surely.

And how he immediately opens up to his mother!!! Esme does her best to soothe Sebek, whose tears never seem to end, while she casts a concerned look from time to time towards Lidaeus, who looks lost even as he gently strokes Sebek's hair

Both of them mustve been worried to DEATH, and Lidaeus was horrified to find Sebek trapped under the rock, but he couldnt do anything. He was helpless. Just like right now, when he couldnt even comfort his very own son.

I wonder what its like for Lidaeus Zigvolt, to know that you've damned your child to a life where he would never be accepted to either side. Too different, too similar to the other, too much and too little.

I wonder what it's like for Lidaeus Zigvolt to know that he will never be enough for his son, the same way Sebek will never be enough to the people around him

#twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek twisted wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #my asks!