#about my life and how really really sad it is

[chrzzboo]

(Un)forgettable Birthday

Summary: You've never been a fan of your own birthday but that changes thanks to a certain F1 driver.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

Note: I'm back from the death 🤪 I know it's been a while and i deeply apologize for it 🙏 but school has been a mess with deadlines everywhere. to make it up to y'all I'm back with a new fic. Enjoy!

Loud music drilling into my eardrums, colorfull lights decorating the place and people’s chatter filling the room. I’m currently at my close friend’s Kika’s birthday party, accompanied by my boyfriend Lando. Speaking of him I don’t know where that guy is but he’s probably doing Lando things somewhere so I couldn’t care less. Right now I’m talking with a few of my friends and the birthday girl herself.

“Wauw Kika you planned this party so well!” “Yes, honestly one of the best ones I’ve been to in a while!” Was heard from Carmen and her sister. Kika smiled “I know right! All thanks to Pierre he helped me plan most of it!” I smiled seeing her happy. “You’re very lucky Kika!”

We continued chatting spilling the tea that we hadn’t told each other yet and were just joking around as well.

I was feeling so comfortable until the topic of birthdays came to light again.

“Y/n your birthday is in a couple of days, what are the plans?” I started moving around a bit uncomfortably on my feet before replying. “Euhm I don’t know birthdays aren’t really my thing.” All the girls looked at me with frowns on their faces. “What do you mean? Celebrating your birthday is one of the most important things in your life!”. I looked at her not very convinced. “I mean it’s just like any other day it’s not like I’ve ever celebrated it. It’s just a normal day for me tbh.” The girls looked at me with a sad smile before Carmen broke the silence. “At the end of the day it’s your birthday so it’s up to you what you do.” I smiled at her thanking her for understanding me.

I quickly changed the subject because it was making me kinda uncomfortable since I don’t like it when other people feel bad for me. So we carried on talking and without noticing that Lando had heard everything despite the loud music.

~~~

Later that night Lando had found his way back to me and we were currently enjoying each others company. Lando had his arms wrapped around my waist from the back while I rested my head on his chest enjoying the vibe around me. Lando kept thinking back about your words from earlier it all makes sense now. Because every single time he had asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday you declined it stating that you were too busy with work. He shook of those thoughts and decided to bring it up again.

“Are you enjoying yourself love?” I looked at him smiling. “Very much!” Lando hums meanwhile trying to figure out how to ask you about your birthday.

“Babe question but don’t get angry please”. I look at him confused “Baby what did you do?” Now fully turning to face him. He pulls me closer and holds me tighter.

“Nothing nothing don’t worry about it! But first promise!” I roll my eyes at him. “Alright I promise!” “Babe say: I promise I won’t get mad at you!” I looked at him annoyed “Lando!” “Alright alright” he took a hold of my hands and started speaking again. “What do you want for your birthday?” I sigh looking at him. “I told you already my birthday is just like any other day so I don’t need anything.”

Well that’s kinda a lie the only truth is that I don’t need a gift from him since I don’t like him spending money on me. But to be honest I’ve never had a birthday party or anyone caring about it. When I was younger my parents didn’t pay attention to me at all so why would they even bother giving me a nice birthday. At uni people only congratulated me with their words nothing much and the same goes to my work colleagues. So that’s why I always told people I didn’t like my birthday simply because I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve never had the birthday experience everyone else had before.

“Babe I don’t know who put those words in your head but you’re important and so is your birthday! I mean we’ve got to celebrate the day that my amazing sexy gorgeous girlfriend was born.” I laughed at his words “I appreciate that love but there’s more to that than a simple birthday party.”

Lando looked at me confused before I decided to tell him the truth. He looked at me with wide eyes. He knew that my bond with my parents wasn’t the best but forgetting about their child’s birthday was something he didn't understand.

“Anyways we’re at a party we have to enjoy our selfs and not mop around.” Before he could reply to me I was swept away by one of my friends to go and get some drinks.

Lando kept staring at me watching me disappear in the crowd. “Yo bro what are you doing here all alone? People are gonna think you’re a weirdo or sum staring at everyone like that.” Was heard from his bestfriend max.

Lando stared at max for a few seconds before getting an idea. “I want to throw a surprise birthday party for y/n” Max looked at him confused. “Birthday party? Doesn’t y/n hate them?” “Well yeah but there was a reason for that and all I know is that we can heal her inner child with throwing a birthday party for her. So are you gonna help me?”

Max looked at him surprised, he knew that you two had an amazing relationship but he didn’t expect Lando to do this much for you.

“Alright bro I will but stop staring at me with that creepy smile as if you sitting here alone wasn’t already creepy enough.”

~~~

The following days Lando kept himself busy with all the arrangements for your birthday. Even though he was busy with his work he always found a gap to fix stuff for your birthday surprise.

Currently he was at home on the phone with Max deciding the last few things to finish off the secret birthday party.

“Alright so you have the invitations ready right?” Lando asked his best friend. “Of course all we have to do is sent them out without y/n noticing.” Lando hums “Yeah exactly we have to be extremely careful because y/n always finds out about the smallest things.”

He laughs remembering one time he had planned a surprise date but it was all ruined because you had figured it out, all because you heard him make a reservation on the phone for a restaurant.

“Alright Max send me the invites and I will send them out.” “What invites?” Lando looked at you nervously. “Euhm Max I will call you back.”

Without letting him reply Lando hung up the phone. “Oh baby you’re back early?” You looked at him confused “what do you mean ? I always come back around this time?” Lando gulped hoping you didn’t hear the entire conversation. “But answer me Lando what invites were you talking about.” Lando looks around trying to find an excuse. “Euhm a friend of Max needed invitations and he asked me where I had gotten mine done from my party last year.”

You look at him not very convinced but decided to let it slide. “Okey… anyways let’s go eat I’m starving.” Lando sighs in relief happy that you fell for his lie. “Alright baby you go first I will come right after.”

Later that night laying in bed Lando was occupied by his phone. “Babe can you put that phone down for a second and give me attention please.”

Lando looked at me for a second and quickly turned back to his phone. “One second babe this is important” “But that’s what you’ve been saying all day long.” Without sparing a glance at me Lando replied with a quick “Please baby I will give you all my attention after this.”

Suddenly his phone starts ringing and he goes out of the room to take it but not without quickly kissing my forehead. I huff and turn to the other side to sleep.

The next day when I woke up Lando was nowhere to be seen, so I figured that he went to the gym.

Getting up I went to wash up and get ready for the day. While I was getting ready I got a sudden thought. It’s kinda weird how Lando went from bugging me about my birthday to radio silence in a few days. I brushed it off figuring it was probably because he’s so occupied with racing and all.

Going into the kitchen to make some breakfast for myself, the calendar on the board in kitchen caught my eye. Checking the date I got a little sad knowing that it’s my birthday tomorrow.

“Honestly I would sell my kidney to be able to skip tomorrow.” (Dramatic much innit) Sighing I go back to what I was doing.

The next day I woke up without Lando next to me again. I hoped that he would’ve stayed a bit longer in bed to wish me at least a happy birthday.

“Maybe he left a message or something.” I grab my phone but I see nothing. Only a few congratulations from my co-workers and friends but that’s it. Not even from my own boyfriend.

I’m used to be disappointed on my birthday but even then when my boyfriend would congratulate me it would make me a bit less sad but I guess today is going to be full of disappointment. I got out of bed to get ready for the day.

While I was making breakfast I got a text from Kika.

I smile at her message. At first I wanted to decline her offer but then I thought about the fact that my own boyfriend didn’t do shit for my birthday so why not.

“This is the least I could do to get that birthday feeling I guess.” Sighing to myself I reply to her and started to get ready.

~~~

“There she is the beautiful birthday girl.” Kika immediately engulfs me in a hug followed by the rest of the girls.

“Hey why do you look so sad girly cheer up it’s your birthday!” I looked at here with a forced smile deciding not to tell her the truth about Lando and all that.

“Nothing nothing let’s go bestie your wallet needs to spent some money on me.” I smirk winking at her. She gives me a fake angry huff but it's quickly replaced with a laugh since she can’t stay serious for a moment. “Alright girly let’s go!”

~~~

I was having an amazing time but I kept checking my phone with hopes for a message from my boyfriend. But every time I was met with disappointment. I didn’t want the girls to question it so I put on a fake smile and carried on with the lunch date.

“Alright girls it was a nice lunch but I have to go.” “NO!” Kika yelled panicked making me confused.

“Euhm you can’t leave yet we have to get you a cake first girly.” She looked quite nervous.

“You know that you don’t have to right.” I looked at her with suspicion. “Euhm.. I know but we wanted to so let’s go!”

And with that I was pulled into Kika’s car heading to what I assumed was a bakery.

“Francesca we’ve been driving for a while now how far is this bakery actually?”

I stared to get annoyed because we had been on the road for half an hour now and the rest of the girls that were with us during lunch also disappeared but I was too annoyed to even ask about them.

“We’re here girl calm your tits yeah.” I stepped out of the car but I was met with a big building. Looking at Kika confused I decided to ask her about this.

“Girl I ain’t no baker or anything but this is for sure no bakery.” She looked at me sheepishly. “Doesn’t matter girl let’s go in.”

Before I could even reply she dragged me in. The place was dark but I could tell that it was big.

“Kika what in the world is this?” Without saying anything to me she pushed me forward. And before I could question her even more the lights suddenly turned on.

“SURPRISE!!!”

I was shocked I stood there frozen trying to process everything. Everyone that I knew was there: my friends, family, colleagues and most importantly my boyfriend.

I was pulled out of my shocked state by Lando pulling me into him. “Happy birthday beautiful you deserve all of this.” I couldn't contain my emotions and soon the tears started pouring down my face.

“You did all of this?” I looked at him still shocked. He smiled and wiped my tears away.

“Of course baby like I said before you deserve it.” “I thought you forgot.” I tell him with new tears pooling in my eyes.

“I could never baby I’ve been planning this all week long, I told you we had to celebrate the day my sexy and gorgeous girl was born.”

I smile at him slightly pushing his shoulder laughing at his words. I pull him by his collar and connect our lips together.

“Thank you so much Lan this means the world to me.” Before he could reply Kika came in between us.

“Girl c'mon we have to celebrate properly you can eat each other’s faces later.” She winks. “C’mon beautiful let’s enjoy this day.” I smile taking his hand. For the first time in my life I enjoyed my own birthday.

~~~

I had a blast we danced, sang, drank and I even got presents! This day was simply amazing but also a bit overwhelming so I went to get some fresh air outside.

“Here you’re birthday girl, I was looking for you beautiful. What are you doing here alone?”

I smile a the voice of my boyfriend. “I wanted a bit of fresh air it was all a bit too overwhelming.”

He smiled sitting down next me. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer to his chest.

“I understand pretty girl, but you deserve all of this you know?.” He said kissing the top of my head. “It’s just nice to finally have a real birthday. Thank you so much baby.” “Of course beautiful today is all about you and I just wanted to show you that you also matter.”

I smile looking up at him. “Thank you handsome for making this an unforgettable birthday. I love you.” He smiles grabbing my face with both of his hands and joining our lips together. “I love you too baby.”

He gives me one more kiss before standing up. “Let’s go back inside pretty girl, and enjoy the rest of your special day.” He holds his hand out for me to take. With our fingers laced together we head back inside.

It’s safe to say that for the first time in my life my birthday felt like an actual birthday and all it took was an amazing man that drives cars for a living to fulfill my wish.

The end.

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando fanfic #lando f1 #f1 fluff #f1 fic #Spotify

[emacrow]

So you know the movie Ponyo

What I'm really trying to ask is do you know the mother and the father are like a little thing where the mother looks like an epic Sea Goddess cuz she is and he looks like a sad sickly old man

I'm just imagine that Klarion and Danny

Like Danny looks like an epic beautiful star Death god powerful in the way he moves but it's subtle like he's slowly comforting you to death

And Klarion looks like a crazy witch boy with a cat who look like he's out right feral and about to throw a pipe bomb at you just because he can

I'm just imagining what happens is Young/Dark Justice is worried about Klarion he's been gone for a while and they're wondering what he's planning I imagine they're surprised when they see him with a Lazarus pit

It's a specially surprising when electric entity sticks their head out of the Lazarus pit and starts talking to Klarion as the JLD and YJL hide there waiting for Klarion into demand help our power they watch this being completely start flirting with Klarion

I imagine Klarion and Danny's conversation going like this

Danny: Hello there my amazing chaos what have you came to talk to me about this time

He puts his hands up to pick up Klarion and bring him closer to his face

Klarion: It's that stupid Doctor Fate it's like he doesn't understand too much balance can ruin the order of the world I might love chaos but that would cause a chaos I couldn't even control

Klarion sits down and Danny's hands rubbing his head on one of Danny's fingers as comfort

Danny: Oh my love I could always talk to him and get him to try slow it down a bit if that's what you need

Danny's face turns into one of concern as he says that slowly starting to move around in the bigger than normal Lazarus pit that Klarion found for him

Klarion: No starlight me and Teekl have that old fart handled how about you tell me about your day instead did you find any more stars how is the balance between life and death doing for you

Danny puts him back down as a twinkle goes in to his eyes as he lays down in Lazarus water slowly starting to swim around as he say

Danny: oh Klarion life and death has been amazing and there's a new Star nursery that I found out there it's just wonderful

After Danny says that he pauses for a moment and presents to go underneath the water he comes out looking smaller with white hair and still wearing the same clothing he was wearing when he was larger surprising Klarion by grabbing his hands

Danny: oh Klarion my dear I have an idea how about we let Dr.Fate have what he wants for once in his miserable life let him have order without the balance that he needs that should show him that he needs you should it not

Klarion takes a second to think through It after he does he grabs Danny's hands right back

Klarion: that's an amazing idea Danny I'll stay with you in the infinite realms let's see how Dr Fate work without chaos helping him keep the balance

After that Danny kisses Klarion on the cheek using the the Lazarus pits to take him and Klarion to somewhere called the infinite realms

I'm sorry this is my first time really writing out Klarion I don't know how to write out characters that well I hope it was good that is what I really like is YJ and JLD was just reacting to this conversation since like the plan was listen and find information

You bet damn right that Dr Fate would have trouble keeping the balance, and would probably have the justice league trying to find Klarion because he thinks he up to something but in reality Klarion is in the middle of deep space, playing around with the stars as Danny is molding and feeding the baby star nursery to build a new universe in the making.

Dani is probably with him doing looping loops playing with star dust while Dan beat up any asteroids that had bad bacteria and let some of the good meteorites in that has good bacteria, and frozen water inside of them.

By the the time Justice league figured it out, probably the Green lantern, Hal. He probably gobsmacked and godsmacked straight back where he came form accidentally by Danny's star fueled cape.

#i give answers #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #danny is the ghost king #danny has a space core #klarion

[leclercsainzz]

Can I request a reader x wolff one please? where reader and non f1 male were the ultimate couple, so it came as a shock when they broke up. With many people being sad about their split, since they seemed perfect for each other. However recent rumors have surfaced that maybe she might be seeing toto, which causes quite a stir among fans, who are now speculating about the potential new relationship?

NEW ROMANTICS

PARINGS: toto wolff x fem!reader

TYPE: social media au

yourusername

liked by jaredpadalecki, lewishamilton and 567,738 others

yourusername: @vanityfair oscar date night

view 4,748 comments

genpadalecki: 😍 stunning as always!

↳ yourusername: i love youuu 😘

user: can jensen fight?!??

user: MOTHER OMG

user: where’s jen?

user: stunning 😍

user: she does NOT age, i swear 😩

misha: 😃

↳ user: castiel energy frr

user: did jensen go with her??!?

user: mom where’s dad?!???

user: she’s soooo mother, omgg 😍

user: @jensenackles can you fight, bro?

user: lewis, what are you doing here?!?? 👀

user: the definition of MOTHER

user: has anyone noticed jensen hasn’t liked/comment?

↳ user: what are you insinuating??!? 🙄

↳ user: haven’t seen them together for quite a while, actually

↳ user: obviously they won’t be out in public 24/7

user: kindly step on me 😩

user: did her and jensen break up or something?!? 😭😭

user: anyone else noticed the mercedes boys in the likes?

user: 😍😍 gorgeous!

user: jensen’s one lucky ass mf 😩

user: waiting for jensen’s comment and like

user: ATE and left NO CRUMBS

sofiavergara: 😍 wow

user: mother is mothering 😍

user: why are ppl saying her and dad are broken up?!!?

user: 😍😍😍😍 goddess

jensenackles

liked by jaredpadalecki, misha and 788,825 others

jensenackles: a little bts of yesterday’s photo shoot

view 5,736 comments

user: the man that you are, oml 😮‍💨

user: the fact that yn’s getting this everyday 😭😭

user: they’re still together right?!!??

jaredpadecki: 😘

user: so fine

user: apparently he might be single again sooooo 😏

user: he’s fine and he knows it

user: WHAT A MAN 😍😍

↳ user: indeed 😩

user: are yn and jensen still together?!??!??

↳ user: of course, why wouldn’t they be?!?

↳ user: there’s been rumors going on about them breaking up

↳ user: they better not be true 😭 wtf

user: why are people saying jensen and yn broke up??!?

user: father of my kids (im kidding) (im not)

user: aged like fine wineeeee 😮‍💨

↳ user: he gets sexier each year 😍

user: SEXIEST MAN ALIVE

user: @yourusername is so luckyyy

↳ user: supposedly, they broke up 🤷🏻‍♀️

↳ user: sAy SIKE RN

user: how can i get his attention? 😩

user: another day another slay

user: finest man ever 🥵

user: that’s my dean winchester

user: i need to know if mom and dad are still together or not

↳ user: girl, frrr 😭😭 it’s been weeks

user: where’s yn??!?? she hasn’t liked nor commented 🤨

user: sirrrrrr 😍

user: so sexyyyy of him

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, evalongoria and 600,839 others

yourusername: life lately

view 5,746 comments

user: YN A MERCEDES FAN?!!??!???

| liked by yourusername

user: is thAt toto wolff?!??

user: gorgeous 😍

user: missing dad hours 😓

↳ user: we’re ALL going through it right now:’(

user: mercedes?! lewis liking all her post?!? tell me u all see it?

↳ user: we all see it, i assure you 👀

genpadalecki: gorgg 😍

↳ yourusername: ❤️

mercedesamgf1: thanks for coming, pretty lady 😘

↳ user: ADMIN?!!??? WHAT IS THIS?!!?

↳ user: lewis is definitely behind all this, i just know it

user: WHERE’S JENSEN???? 😭😭😭

user: lewis is great and all but jensen?!!?!?

user: can we talk about toto’s back? 😩

↳ user: she really got the best angle

user: who got you smiling like that? 🤨

user: the most beautiful woman ever, i swear

ruthie_connell: 😍😍😍 beautiful!

user: get back with jensen, please 🙏🏼

user: please tell me you’re dining with dad in the 5th slide

user: your beauty is unreal 😩

user: wait— who’s lewis?!!?

↳ user: formula one driver

↳ user: 8x world champion

↳ user: 7* but okay 🙄

user: mother 😍

user: yn being a mercedes fan is everything to me

user: mad i didn’t see her at the race 😭😭

yourusername

liked by realmarksheppard, pierregasly and 679,738 others

yourusername: 💗

tagged: @genpadalecki

view 4,846 comments

user: tHAT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE LEWIS?

user: who is that?!??

jaredpadalecki: @genpadalecki 😍

↳ yourusername: our wife’s gorgeous, isn’t she, moose?

↳ user: nOt moose 😭

user: that ain’t lewis?!??

user: i’m just going to pretend that’s jensen for my sake

user: missing jensen:((((

user: her friendship with gen is everything

user: gen and yn are the female version of sam and dean

feliciadays: beautiful ladies 😍

user: and everyone thought it was that hamilton guy LMAO

user: still not over her and jensen 😭😭 they were perfect

user: MOM, WE WANT DAD BACK 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

user: anyone else think that looks like toto wolff??

↳ user: tHat’s what i Said!

misha: thanks for the invite btw 🙂

lewishamilton: 👀

↳ user: sIR, wHAT DO YOU KNOW?!??!?

↳ user: mind sharing with us??

carmenmmundt: 😍😍😍 gorggg

user: IS SHE DATING TOTO?!!?!????

user: lewis AND george liked? 👀

↳ user: even gasly’s nosy ass liked

↳ user: that’s why his forehead so big 😭 he knows it allllll

user: her side profile, omg 😍😍

user: he definitely screams toto wolff

user: idk who this wolff guy is but i want jensen back

user: her and jensen were supposed to be endgame 😭😭

user: ngl but her and toto would definitely make a cute couple

user: i love how everyone just assumes she’s with toto now

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, sofiavergara and 687,863 others

yourusername: ft a small photo dump

view 6,527 comments

user: THAT BACK LOOKS SO FAMILIAR

user: tHat’s TOTO OMG

user: toto?!?!?? 😮

genpadalecki: my loveeee 😍

↳ yourusername: 😘 love yaaa, girlfriend

user: oooh to be yn

user: ynjensen is really over 😞😞

user: toto, that’s a nice back you’ve got;)

user: toto’s one lucky mf

user: I MISS JENSEN 😭😭😭

user: yn, babe, this ain’t you, get back with dad

user: that’s a hot back

user: lordddddddd 😍

user: TOTO?!!??

user: mother 😍

user: IS THAT TOTO, OMG?!??

↳ user: yessss

lewishamilton: 👀

user: ariana (lewis) what are you doing here?

georgerussell63: nice back there, mate

comment has been deleted

user: we saw thAt comment george

user: toto is so fine omg 😩

user: my man is so fine

user: her side profile is everything

user: oNE CHANCE, YN, PLEASE 🙏🏼

user: toto’s soo lucky huh? 😭😭

user: did anyone else see george’s comment?!?!?

↳ user: what comment???

user: MOM MOM MOM MOM

user: you cannot tell me that isn’t toto

user: his back bro 🥵

user: what about jensen???? 😭😭😭

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 678,629 others

yourusername: life lately <33

view 6,510 comments

user: “life lately” and post THE TOTO WOLFF?!! 😮

user: bitcH OMG

user: yn pulls the hottest men ever 😩

↳ user: nah frr — first jensen now toto??

user: idk if i want to be yn or be with her

user: can i be your sugar baby?

mercedesamgf1: finest couple ever! 😮‍💨

↳ user: admin— you’re so real for this omg

↳ user: admin knows what’s up

user: can toto fight?

↳ user: can’t fight for a championship that’s for sure

mercedesamgf1: the boss says you’re gorgeous

↳ user: GIVE THIS PERSON A RAISE FOR THEIR HARD WORK

genpadalecki: wifeee 😍

↳ yourusername: love yaaaaa 🫦

user: nooo, i miss jensen 😭😭

user: i KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

user: okay but how did toto bag her??? like come on

user: gorgeous ladyyy 😍

ruthie_connell: 😍😍😍

user: nOt pierre being in the likes

↳ user: loves the gossip lmao

jensenackles: @misha @jaredpadalecki told you

↳ user: DAD?!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!

↳ user: told them what?!!?

↳ yourusername: 😭 leave me alone, i love my chocolate

↳ jaredpadalecki: it’s always the chocolate

↳ genpadecki: chocolate is addicting okay

user: JENSEN COMMENTED?!???

↳ user: glad to know they ended on good terms 😩

user: yn, you’re sooo gorgeous

user: the woman that you are, omggg 😍

user: mother frrr

user: they make such a hot couple

user: yntoto 😮‍💨

user: i just need to know you and jensen are still friends

↳ yourusername: always <3

lewishamilton: gorgeous - toto wolff

lewishamilton: i don’t have instagram - toto wolff

↳ yourusername: text me, love 😘

↳ user: please this is so cute

user: nOt the sign off by toto himself 😭😭

christianhorner: 🫡

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jared padalecki #supernatural #spn #f1 instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 #au instagram #toto wolff fanfic #formula 1 social media au #formula one x reader #mercedes amg f1 #f1 imagine #f1 #formula one x yn #formula 1 x reader #f1 fics #toto wolff x y/n #f1 x female reader #instagram au #formula one #social media au #formula 1 imagine

[poppyflower-22]

His Girl.

Part 1

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. I've had this in my head for a while and while I write on Wattpad normally, I'm taking a brake because of some nasty things said to me about my writing.

2020

Lando was on another high from another podium that weekend in Australia. He was at the bar ordering another drink, when he looked across the bar, he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

She was wearing a short black dress. Her makeup and hair were just right, and she was wearing a silver chain necklace. She was sipping a Vodka Cruiser. Not a care in the world.

He thanks the bartender and makes his way over to her. He sat down bedside her. She didn't even give him a glance.

"Not interested." She spoke. And God Lando fell in love her voice. It was British. But her voice was so soft.

Lando clocked an eyebrow, "I didn't even say anything." He chuckled.

She sighed and turned to look at him. "You were going to hit on me and hoped I would end up in your bed by the end of the night. No?" She bluntly spoke with her eye raised.

Lando just stared at her in aww. Because maybe that was the case but not now. He could tell she was interesting person already. There was a spark in her eyes, of mystery and fun. She interested him very much. "Okay maybe your right." He smirked at her. "But how about I just buy you another drink?" He asked.

She wouldn't say it out loud, but he was handsome. "Fine." She sighed and Lando flagged down the bartender. The bartender gave her a nod as he left to get her drink.

"So, what's your name, love?" He asked turning his seat to face her.

She copied him. He was interesting. Mostly when she said no, the guy would walk away or start being aggressive. But not him. "Bonnie." She smiled.

"No last name?" He asked with a curious look. He watched as she brushed her black hair out her face and smiled at him.

"Salvatore." She reposed with a small smile. "Yours mystery man?" She asked taking a sip of her drink.

"Lando. Lando Norris." He spoke. He watched as she studied him.

"The formal one race driver?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Lando nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Did you watch the race?" he couldn't but ask.

Bonnie shook her head, "Oh no, my father loved F1." She smiled. She loved her father and talking about wasn't a sad thing. Despite the life they lived.

"Oh sorry."

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago." She reassured him with a hand on his hand. "But he was a Ferrari fan." She teased knowing he is a McLaren driver.

"Oh." He teased placing his hand on his heart. "Not Ferrari." They both laughed. Bonnie's hand was till on his and Lando started cresting without knowing. "Who's your favorite team?" He couldn't help but ask.

Bonnie smirked, "Red Bull." She told and watched with a beaming smile as he fakes a hurt look.

"Now that hurts. Right here." He spoke in fake sadness as he pointed to his heart. They both giggled with each other. "I'll get you to change your team at the end of the night." He boldly told her.

Bonnie shook her head with a smile. "Tell me something about you. No race talk. I can tell you don't want to talk about it." She said to him.

Lando chuckled, that was right he didn't want to talk about his driving right now. He wanted to know this girl right in front of him.

"I hate sea food." He told her and couldn't help but wrinklie his noes up at the thought of it.

Bonnie chuckled. She liked it. Not her favorite but she could have in curtain things. "Really. Why?" She rested her elbow on the bar and her chin rested in her hand to look at him.

Lando shook his head, "Just don't. Don't like the texture." He explained. "Do you?"

She hummed. "I can have it in curtain things, But not all the time." She told him and took a sip of her drink.

"Tell me something about yourself." Lando spoke as he watched her.

"I can speak Five languages." She smirked and watched his eyes widen.

"Wow. What are they?'

"Dunch, French, Russian, Latin and Japanese." She smiled

Lando leaned back in aww. "Wow I can't even learn a new language. Never mind five." He spoke impressed. She kept getting better to him.

She was everything he ever wanted in a girl. And not in a cocky way. in a more, he has found the one for him way. She was witty and he could just tell that she would be fun to have around.

Bonnie shrugged, "I was a homeschooled kid. My father was traveling everywhere, and I guess I just picked it up." She told him.

"You might need to come with me to my racers, you can be my spokesperson." He teased. Bonnie chuckled.

"Let's not get ahead of our self-Mr. Norris." She teased with a smirk. Their hands were still together.

Lando giggled with her. He watched in aww as she giggled. "Your very beautiful." He couldn't help but blurt out.

Bonnie blushed. She never blushed. She looked down and when she looked up Lando was smiling at her. Not smirking at her, like he was happy with his comment. No, he smiles like he was admiring her and her beauty.

And he was.

"You're not bad." She shot back with a smile. And it widened as she saw him blush.

They both sat there with blushing cheeks. That night they talked all night. They had found themselves at ease with each other. It was easy to just talk and not be judged.

Bonnie couldn't help but be attracted to him. And not just by his looks but by how he talked about his family. His hobbies and generally. He was the life of the party but deep inside there was a whole different side to him.

Lando was in love by the end of the night. He had found she was a businesswoman, running her own company and traveled for work. He had found her easy to talk to. He had found she had a poodle dog and loved him more than anything.

That night they had formed a connection that would make and break them. For better and for worse.

But no matter the outcome maybe love can overcome it all. After all, if you love someone you love all of them or not at all.

This is going to be a short series. You can request other things as well.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris #lando norris fluff #dark lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x fem!driver #f1 x oc #oc x character

[zyonsay]

Begrijp je me? JOOST KLEIN

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You get home to discover an upset Joost.

Reader: Genderneutral

Warnings: Mention of struggling with mental health, sadness BUT theres comfort!

Now playing: 'Antwoord" by Joost Klein

AN: Hi guys! I had this idea a few days ago, never got around to writing it tho. Assignments are kicking my ass and im knee deep in a psychiosis. This one is relatively short (1k words) but more self indulgent! Love yall, take care <3

#Justice for Joost

A dark, heavy blanket was already draped over the city. Your job often required you to work late evenings, which was unfortunate but in your current situation not avoidable. Together with the support of a good friend, you had already sent out a few job applications some time ago, but nothing has come out of that yet.

Ik moest wachten, wachten, wachten op een antwoord

Your shoes quietly clacked on the wet sidewalk. The stars shone brightly but were also accompanied by heavy rain. Sighing tiredly, you pulled your hood further over your head, as if it would do anything against the water drops being catapulted right into your visage. Maybe it was time to take out your bike from the garage again.

Keek in de spiegel, zag de vraag en het antwoord

The water crawled up your jeans slowly but surely, having reached your calves already. The wet fabric slapping against your leg was a sensory nightmare, you were cursing every single inch you’d have to walk till arriving at your apartment building.

Ik moest wachten, wachten, wachten op een antwoord

With hurried steps you raced up the staircase. Number 2.06, Number 2.06. A content and slightly exhausted huff escaped you as the three black numbers finally graced your field of view.

Dans met de duivel, die heeft mij allang door

Your keys rattled as you locked the door. Usually there’d be a salt lamp lit on the coffee table in the living room, but this evening everything was dark and quiet. Not that it was usually loud, but it felt almost like the life was drained out of the apartment.

Maar we blijven grinden tot het einde

That was until you heard a quiet sniffling sound. You discarded your soaking wet shoes along with your equally wet socks at the front door. Like a bloodhound you tracked down where the source of the noises came from. But you barely had to walk out from the hallway to find a huddled up Joost on the sofa.

Ik woonde in Katwijk, dat was lijden

You quickly rushed to his side, slinging your arms around the heap of blankets, under which there was a man hidden. Somewhere. With gentle hands you stripped down the blankets, revealing your teary-eyed boyfriend. His eyes were reddened and glossed over with tears. As much as he tried hiding it, you picked up on the light quiver of his lips and the sniffling from his nose.

Ze willen niet kijken naar de feiten, spijtig

“Come here.” His arms slid around your torso, holding you close. You nestled your face into the mess of blonde hair atop his head. “I’m here.”, you pressed a sweet peck against his forehead, while holding him in your arms.

Maar ik blijf mezelf te allen tijde, begrijp je me?

Joost had been struggling with his mental health for a while now. From time to time, he’d get really bad. In moments like this he needed you the most. Your embrace for sure didn’t fix his problems, but they sure made it feel more conquerable. You knew how helpless one can feel, how you want to be isolated while craving love, how you hate everything but don’t want to.

Begrijp je me?

Joost pressed closer to you, tears now flowing again. You squeezed him, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs to. “How about I make us some tea?”, you rubbed his back in smooth, slow motions. His hum was muffled by your own figure. Joost loosened his hold on you, his blue eyes searching yours. Your hands cupped his face while you left sweet kisses along his forehead, cheeks and finally the tip of his nose. “I’ll need to get those pants off first though.” He looked down at the soaked jeans and grimaced in a disgusted manner. A sigh of relief left you as you slipped the fabric off, leaving you in your underpants. Joost tangled his fingers in yours and you pull him towards the kitchen.

Begrijp je me?

The kettle whistled a distant song, while you once again wrapped Joost in an embrace against the counter. Two cups stood on the surface, both with a tea bag inside. One of them had one sugar cube, the other had two and a half.

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet ?

The blonds heart seemed to beat with yours, he inhaled your scent. Besides your usual cologne you smelled like… you. He huffed contently. The light on the kettle died down and you broke the hug to pour the steaming water into the cups. While your front was turned towards the cups, Joost had found the opportunity to cling to your back. Your warmth, your scent, everything about you was calming to him. Some people need etheric oils to feel at ease, but you were like his own substance. He was addicted to you, your emotions and your words.

Begrijp je me?

You turned around in his arms, smiling at him. God, how he loved that smile. “Wanna talk about it?” He shook his head, “I’m too exhausted. Maybe tomorrow.” He lazily smiled at you, inching closer to your face and then pressing a sweet, short peck to your lips.

Begrijp je me?

“Alright.”, you offered him another loving kiss. “Let’s just enjoy this tea and then head to bed, sounds like a plan?” He still had his signature smile all over his face, his dimples showing and his eyes lighting up again. He loves how you get him, how you understand him in every way.

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet?

#welcome to zyons rubber room #justice for joost #joost klein #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #joostice #x fem #x female reader #male x male #male x reader #x fem!reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral y/n #x y/n #y/n #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #stand with joost #europapa #joost klein x male reader #joost klein x you

[heavenlymorals]

Arthur Morgan's Depression

(Warning: Spoilers for RDR2 and mental health issues)

Arthur Morgan is depressed. Yes, I know the writers haven't exactly come out and said that he is depressed, but it does not take a genius to see that Arthur Morgan is a man who deals with many demons and monsters. Arthur Morgan has some sort of functional depression, and it is shown in many ways. In many missions, he seems downtrodden and sad, but he goes along with it anyway because what else can you do? He talks about himself in such a degrading manner in the mirror, and not just in a way that we all do sometimes, but in a way that invokes actual hatred of himself.

He thinks he's ugly when he's a conventionally attractive man. He thinks he's dumb when he's very witty and smart. He gets knocked down for his intelligence a lot by both Dutch and Hosea (we, as a fandom, need to stop pretending that Hosea is perfect because he really isn't). I know that dudes generally joke like that a lot, but those two aren't his “friends”; they are quite literally his father figures. It's different. His journal is filled with self-doubt, pain, and a general apathetic outlook on life.

But as I was playing “A Quiet Time,” one interaction between Lenny and Arthur stood out to me.

“Why ain't you never married?”

“'Cause no one will have me.”

In the context of this mission, I think this was written as an “oh damn” kinda joke, something out of left field to make the player laugh. But after thinking about it more, I realized something.

If you guys follow my posts, then you probably know that I love to interpret things from a sociocultural perspective—so let's do that.

Now, this is an obvious reference to Mary and how she rejected him in the end for Barry Linton to keep her family satisfied. It might also allude to Eliza or other female love interests that Arthur might've had at some point.

But it may also be a nod to the culture of 19th century America and what it entailed for men.

Arthur isn't married at 36 years old. Men were expected to be married generally by their twenties. He has no children or legacy—the only one he did have died years ago. He doesn't have property or a home—he's always on the move with the gang (given how defensive he got with that woman he picks up to go to Lagras, it's probably a point of insecurity). He has no respectable profession—he should've had an honest career by now.

He hopes that Dutch will get his shit together and have them put their outlaw ways behind them, but Dutch literally cannot, and Arthur is the one feeling the burn for it. He has missed so many milestones that he “should've” reached by this point, yet he is still doing the same thing he was doing since he was a young teen.

He can't bring himself to leave Dutch either, as he feels like he has a debt to pay to the man (“I gotta try! I owe him that, at least.”) that can never be paid.

And that has to fucking hurt. You already hate yourself on the outside by thinking you're hideous. You hate yourself on the inside because you think you're dumb. You feel unaccomplished, like a damn loser. And on top of all of that? You can't bring yourself to let go of all the factors that make you feel that way because “they're family” and “they need you.”

You're trapped, and everything feels awful. I'd be depressed too.

It might also be another reason why Arthur is jealous and angry at John. He has a wife, he has a child, he doesn't feel particularly obligated to the gang (hence leaving for a year), he has a chance to do better, and he just doesn't care. He's reached so many milestones that Arthur misses not because he wants them, but out of pure luck, and I'm sure Arthur feels bitter about it.

It's just sad, man.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #depression #mental health #story analysis #character analysis

[queerbuckleys]

i made a short post here referring to my own experiences and wanted to expand on it, you can reblog both of these posts btw. I am only writing this all down because the way some of you have spoken about chris and his decision very much bothers me. trust when i tell you i do not want to completely lay out my trauma on the internet for all of you to read, but if it makes one of you understand why this works, why it is important, then it will have been worth it to me.

When I was 12 my father was diagnosed with frontal temporal dementia. the adults in my family and his doctors decided that it was best for him to be moved to a a full time care facility. The next year, and after hearing, seeing, and understanding my father's condition and where it would go, I, at thirteen years old, made the decision to say goodbye to him, that I did not want to hear about what levels of deterioration he had reached. I wanted to remember him as he was when he remembered me, and all the adventures and fun things we did together.

I made that decision. I made it because it was easier than watching him deteriorate, forget who his sister, his brother, my brother, my mother, and me. And I knew that at twelve and thirteen. It was never a decision I ever thought I would have to make, it wasn't a decision I should've had to make.

Now, the important part, over the next few years my decision was questioned and ignored by the adults in my life and even my brother, some of the questioning I can understand now that I am older, but it should have never reached the level it did. My aunt and uncle would openly discuss his condition over dinner when he came to visit, and I would run away to the restaurant bathroom and cry my eyes out until my mom came to get me. I was forced into visiting him in his care home, which ended with it causing far more harm than good. Only then was my decision somewhat respected, it took me being retraumatized for it to be taken seriously.

Despite all of that, I do not regret that decision.

I can't know how I would be different if none of that happened. But at this point in my live, eleven years and some therapy later, I am fairly certain I would be less traumatized, carry less resentment and anger, if maybe my mom had spoken up at those dinners and made arrangements to get updates without me next to her trying to enjoy my pizza. Had I not had to see my own father forget my name and then have some sort of mini medical emergency. Had my brother heard me in a way only a sibling could.

So, yes, Christopher at thirteen made a indefinite and truly most likely temporary decision to remove himself from an environment where he doesn't fully trust his sole and primary caregiver. He knows his dad loves him, Eddie made that so clear. And it could really be 5 minutes, 5 days, 5 weeks, and so on and so forth until Christopher is ready to come home. And him knowing that Eddie respected his decision and loves him no matter what is what is going to make that time shorter. If he had walked out with his father begging him to stay, to forgive him before he was ready, the chances of him coming back would in my opinion would be far slimmer than the circumstances under which he did leave.

with that i leave you this, "yeah people go away. and it's sad. and it hurts. but you know, not everyone goes away forever. sometimes they come back. and as much as we miss them, that's how happy we are to see them again."

#like i feel like i had to take my lived experience and put it out there cause i think it is rare that it is relevant like this #and many of you are posting from a place of idk what but its not that #sorry if this feels tmi or something idk #also this way of dealing with things is encoded in his dna from both sides #and this is truly the safest way he can do that #and some of you are acting like phones do not exists ffs #911 abc #911 spoilers #i might regret this or whatever #ok to rb #i said this to amelia in a text but tbh this kind of respect toward chris from eddie is just as important to me as bi buck #and i guess if i am the only one that feels that way or you can understand why after this...then well i cannot help you #anyway back to my hiatus ig

[effortandmore]

isn't this more beautiful | knj x f!reader

summary: you meet namjoon by accident. you fall for him without noticing. he slips in and out of your life at will, and you let him. but as you get closer, you start to wonder if he’ll always feel lonely, even with you by his side. or, a small story told out of order about time, loneliness, and knowing (or not) what we deserve

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, angst, a lil fluff/hopeful ending

au: this is idolverse

warnings/tags: this is told asynchronously, so please know these little vignettes are not in chronological order. namjoon is a mess, but so is reader. she's an artist so there's one cliche on board already. they probably should talk more about important things but neither of them like feelings. smoking, drinking, smut, including unprotected sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, maybe like… mention of belly bulge kink, cumplay (kind of)

word count: ~6700

a/n: this is for the bts x beatles across the btuniverse collab hosted by my dearest @ugh-yoongi who also checked this for vibes. so did @the-boy-meets-evil in its early stages - thank you both!! banner + borders from @hobeemin (thank you so much!!!!). my member was namjoon (obv) and my song was eleanor rigby. idk how it really shows up in here except through vibes lol

you can find everything i write on ao3

Namjoon talks in unanswerable questions. He calls you at hours the owls don’t even see, talks quietly even though you’re not sure who he’s afraid of disturbing.

“Do you remember Bageundae?”

“Of course I do.”

“If you pressed your body against one side of the rock, and I pressed mine to the other, could you feel me?”

What you want to say: go to sleep, Namjoonie.

What you say instead: “I can always feel you.”

“Always is a funny word,” he replies. “Maybe worse than never.”

“Maybe?”

“You never know,” he says, and you can hear the sad smile he wears even from your desk across the ocean. 

Sometimes, when people give the retelling of how they meet their “person,” it’s all sparks and fireworks and floods and worlds being turned upside down. 

That’s not how you met Namjoon. 

You met him softly.

You met him in a lazy river current and not a waterfall.

You met him like Sunday morning sunshine sneaking through cracks in defeated curtains.

You met him and the woodwind orchestra blew a quiet processional before the brass joined in much later.

You met him with a whisper. Literally. 

“This is one of my favorites,” he said, a stranger whispering beside you. He wasn’t even talking to you—you remember being pretty sure about that. Just announcing it as an affirmation to himself and you happened to be there to be the unintentional recipient. 

Now, you know it’s probably a foreshadowing of your whole relationship. 

Then, you said, “It’s a misconception that you have to whisper in a museum. It’s not a library.” 

Namjoon didn’t even give you the sitcom satisfaction of arguing with you about it. Just gave you an affronted side eye and huffed under his breath. Crossed his arms over his chest and planted himself further into the floor, staring at the Chung Sang Hwa in front of you. 

To yourself, you rolled your eyes. It was almost like he was determined to outwait you, that there would be some satisfaction in it for him if you left for the next work on the wall before he did. 

He didn’t know (yet) that you were as or more stubborn than he was. So, you both waited. You didn’t even know what you were waiting for, just that neither of you wanted to lose. 

(And now look at you.)

It was near closing time on a weekday, and all of the special exhibits were crowded earlier, but the permanent collections were easy to be alone in. You were almost wishing someone else would walk in. Minutes passed, neither of you moved. In your periphery, you saw Namjoon stealing glances at you when he (presumably) thought you wouldn’t notice. 

Finally, “This isn’t going to be some naver post later, is it?” 

You were annoyed, not blind. You knew exactly who he was (or did you, you wonder now)—everyone in this country knew, his picture plastered over billboards and bus stops. 

“Which story? BTS RM, weirdly stubborn art jerk, won’t walk away from painting first? Or, BTS RM casually checked me out at a gallery when he thought I wasn’t looking?” You didn’t look over at him, just raised your eyebrow in a challenge. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“So, you prefer the ‘jerk’ narrative?”

“I prefer to be left alone.” 

And you still don’t know why you said what you said after that, as you turned to face him for the first time since he walked up next to you. “You probably don’t get that very often. Alone time.”

Namjoon looked back at you then, and it still wasn’t butterflies or choruses of angels. Instead, he just looked surprised and a little sad. “I don’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” you replied. And you found that you meant it.

“Do you ever wonder,” Namjoon said, and again, you didn’t know if it was to you or to himself, “how it is you can be surrounded by people and still feel profoundly lonely?”

You hadn’t. But you still thought you understood what he meant. “No, but it makes sense that you would.”

Namjoon laughed then, maybe a little bitter, maybe just nervous. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” he said. 

“And yet…”

“And yet,” he agreed with a small nod. 

The two of you were quiet again then, but not in a stand-off anymore. Behind you, you knew his manager was fidgeting, worrying that something was off. That you’d reveal yourself to be some sort of wild stalker or obsessed fan. 

“It’s not personal,” Namjoon offered, like he could already read your mind. 

“I know,” you conceded. 

You started to walk away, ready to see a different painting, ready to not feel like you were doing something wrong by incidentally being in the same room as someone famous, when Namjoon stopped you. “He wanted to paint heartbeats, to give them a language, to let people see what all the emotions that fuel our hearts would look like,” he said. “Do you think it worked?”

Next to this person that you didn’t know but somehow you thought you might understand anyway, you nodded.

Next to Namjoon in a room so quiet you were sure you could hear the steady thrum of your heartbeat (or his, or both beating at the same time), you nodded.

Next to him, who you didn’t yet know would become Him, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said gracelessly. 

“Can you see it?” Namjoon asked. 

“Which one?” you countered.

He shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Aren’t love and hate and pain and pleasure all the same at the end of the day?”

Eventually, he will teach you that they are.

It starts with phone calls.

(Sometimes it seems it might end with one, too.)

Namjoon speaks like the shallow pools of blended color on a painter’s well-loved palate. There is no certainty. He uses gray words like “sometimes,” and purple ones like “maybe,” and the soft peach “don’t you think?” 

“Morning, Namjoon-ssi,” you hum into the air, hoping you’re close enough to the microphone that you don’t have to shout. 

“What if we were in Florence?” he asks in return. 

“Then I would still be asleep, or you would be getting smothered with a pillow for waking me up.”

He laughs, not the bright one you know he saves for when there’s an audience, but a small one that bubbles up from his chest with a deep timbre. “So, in Florence, you and I are in bed together?” 

You sigh into your (not Italian) pillow. 

“Good morning,” he adds. “Can we speak informally?”

Your sigh turns into a smile you hadn’t asked for. “Yeah.”

“Good.” 

You’ve been speaking for weeks. Namjoon is busy, you are not (at least, not in the same way, not to the same magnitude). You make a space for him in your life with much less consideration than you usually use with others. Or, maybe he just takes it. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he asks. 

“Same thing as all the other weekends.” 

“Can I watch this time?” 

“It’s boring.” 

Namjoon pauses. “Does it bore you?” 

“No, it’s what I love.” 

“Then,” he says, in what you think is probably his typical fashion (at least with you, it is), “I think I might find it easy to love, too.” 

“Oh, Namjoonie,” you tease, “I’m starting to think you find everything easy to love.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. This is a thing you’ve noticed about him. He’s serious in a flash. He’s jokes and teasing and talking to you about what ifs and what nots until suddenly he is very determined that he should say something meaningful. Or very convinced that you have. 

“I want to,” he says. “I want my heart to be more full than my mind. It’s hard.” 

“I know,” you say, even though for you, it’s not. 

“I’m glad you don’t,” he says earnestly.

“Come see me on Saturday,” you say, deflecting. You can do this for him, you think. You haven’t seen him since the museum, but you’ve seen the pastel splashes of his words, the geometric lines of his heart, the post-modern dilemma he thinks he carries down deep. You’ve seen the important things, so you know you can give him the distraction he doesn’t know he needs. 

“I think I will.” 

You hang up in black and white. 

Namjoon fucks like a surrealist. Shifts your body until you’re still recognizable in the mirror, but fundamentally different, too. 

Pulls your hips up too high: Ernst. 

Makes butterflies soar out of your mouth, gusty with your labored breath: Magritte. 

Fucks you cross-eyed, spit dripping hourglass slow from your lips: Dali. 

You thought he would be a talker, like he is on the phone. Thought he’d try and work through the freightliner of thoughts steaming through his brain. But Namjoon is all breath and whispers and sighs and moans and fragments of the pretty words he used to get you like this: bent over your worktable, chest smeared into cadmium red and titanium white. He talks, but it's oil paint instead of watercolor this time: thick and precise. 

“Fuck, you look perfect like this,” he says, voice a little dreamy, slapping another pink-paint handprint onto your ass. You’re never going to get it scrubbed off your skin.

It makes you laugh, breathy and high. 

You came first (and second) on his tongue. Told you to keep painting while he got underneath you, pretty on his knees, honest and plain telling you he wanted you.

“Want to see what art tastes like,” he said, cotton soft breath on your thigh. 

“Silly,” you replied. “Does anyone fall for lines like that?”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t want you to fall. I told you to keep standing.” He’s smug when he licks across your core, startling you. 

It went like that until your hand was shaking and the thick outlines around nameless figures on the canvas shook with you. 

“Pretty painter, taste as good as you look,” he paused to say. You moaned when he fucked his tongue into you, clenched around it, wanted to be greedy, wanted more, wanted everything. “Sound even better,” he added, chin slick, eyes sparkling. 

After you came, he didn’t stop. When your paintbrush fell to the ground, he doubled his efforts, two fingers sliding inside of you while he sucked your sensitive clit between his lips. “Come on, baby,” he said, “I know you have another one for me.” 

Your hand gripped his hair instead of your brush, you chased the overstimulation instead of wriggling away. It felt right, somehow, to just take what you want, and Namjoon didn’t seem to mind. Moaned into your cunt when you fucked his face, holding him in place while your hips moved. A muffled, “fuck, please baby,” into your skin when you pulled his hair just to see what it would feel like. Lips curved into a grin when you rocked against him through your second orgasm. 

And now, he reaps the benefits of his efforts. You’re pliant beneath him, fucked out and pleased, easy and eager as he slides his thick cock in and out. You watch him carefully in the mirror, you see his focus on where he thrusts inside of you, his awe when you clench around him and pull him just a little farther in. You see him grin when he slaps you, telling you he knows you’re watching, asking if you want more. “A greedy little thing,” he breathes. “Think you want more? Think you want me to fuck you harder, want my cock in you so deep you can feel it in your stomach?”

You feel stupid with it, nodding in agreement, mouth open and drooling onto your worktable while he fucks you to a third orgasm. 

“You fuck me so good. Such a big dick, gonna feel you all week, Namjoonah.” 

“You should paint this,” he says, slowing his thrusts. “No one’s ever looked as good as you do taking my cock.” 

“No one?” you ask, suddenly a little desperate for the praise.

Namjoon bends to kiss the back of your neck, lets his lips mark a pathway down your spine that his fingertips follow. He’s so deep inside of you, hips grinding slow against your skin. When he reaches your waist, he grips and pulls you into him even closer. 

The space between you (barely there to begin with) bends to his will: Carrington. 

“Nobody, baby,” he whispers his first certainty to you, fingertips teasing between your thighs now, careful where you’re still too sensitive, but wordlessly asking you to give in, to give more. 

“I’ll give you anything,” you say in response to a question you don’t think he’ll ask as he starts to circle your clit, pulls almost all the way out of you and fucks back in harder than before.

“You’ll take even more,” he says, and he comes inside of you, hips stuttering unsure, a bassline under the clear melody of his words. 

Lazy, you lie face up together on discarded canvas, forgotten starting points of ideas you hadn’t intended to complete. Unabashed, you have a knee up so your thighs don’t tack together with the mess you’ve made. Namjoon talks about nothing, blows smoke in halos above your heads and offers you the cigarette careful between his long fingers. You don’t smoke, but you hold it anyway, watching him, carding the fingers of your free hand through his hair as he stares at his cum leaking out of you, catches it on the tender part of your thigh and wipes swirls and squares onto the canvas around you. 

He finishes the thoughts you began before you even knew him.

“Tell me a story,” you whisper roughly into the air, hoping he can hear you through your shitty phone microphone. 

It’s early, that sacred pre-dawn you save for yourself (and now, somehow, for him)  and you’ve woken up from a shitty sleep and a worse dream and couldn’t stop yourself from calling him back when you saw you’d already missed a call from him. 

“It’s late, baby.” 

You let out a puff of breath, Namjoon laughs almost silently at you. 

“Please?”

“You don’t like books,” he says, almost a tease. It’s true. You like them conceptually, but you told him you don’t feel like you have the patience sometimes. That you want to give them energy you don’t have.

“But I like stories.” 

“FIne.” Even his sigh is fond. You like him like this so much—easy, willing, teasing but still giving in eventually. 

You fall asleep fast, the first words you hear are the last. “Once upon a time…” When you wake up, you have messages from him. A whole lot of them, a whole story written out in your Katalk chat. A love story, sort of, one where they’re star-crossed and destined but always just a little too far apart. It ends with a “maybe” instead of a “happily ever after.” You don’t even let yourself think about that too much—it’s perfectly him—a little drama for the sake of it, a little sadness to make the joy feel better.

Your world is tiny. A firefly in a sky full of bold, bright stars. It is you, in your studio, alone. It is you with your friends, it is you getting a cat so you have someone to talk to when your friends aren’t around. 

For Namjoon, it expands. A firefly to a star to a burning red giant. 

Still, it feels small when you’re inside of it. It’s you with your friends, it’s you with Namjoon in your studio, it’s Namjoon gently stroking your cat’s fur while he talks to himself and you paint. 

It’s difficult to describe, but when you’re with him, you either have his full attention to the extent it’s overwhelming, or he seemingly pays no attention to you or what you’re doing. Just works on whatever he’s working on while you paint, speaking to you because he knows you won’t answer. 

On one of the nights when you’re together (but not at all), you finally ask. He’d let himself in around two in the morning and kissed the top of your head before he put headphones in and stuck his face into his notebook on the other side of the room. He likes to sit by the window so he can crack it open and blow his smoke out of it instead of into the room. 

“Why’d you come tonight?” 

“I wanted to be near you.” 

“I don’t think you’ve even looked at me.” It’s not an accusation, just an observation. You like that Namjoon will know the difference, you like that he’s hard to offend, and doesn't mind when you speak plainly. Gives you plain answers in return (usually). You stick the small paint brush you’ve been using sideways in your mouth and grab a larger one.

“Baby, you’re all I can see lately,” he says, staring at the trails of smoke curling around the outside of the window pane. 

You laugh around the red-tipped paint brush you’re biting down on, a pause for the cadmium to add a little white to the edges. Namjoon looks over then, snaps a picture of you with your eyes crinkled and your head thrown back, red oil threatening to drip like blood. 

“Beautiful,” he says, looking at the picture before he goes back to writing.

There are more phone calls every time he travels for work. It’s the same routine. He texts you a photo of something he’s seen that he liked, and when you respond, whether it’s five minutes later or five hours, he asks if he can call you. 

Sometimes they’re quiet, simple recountings of the things that have happened in his day or are about to happen in the next (timezone dependent), sometimes they’re ranting about the industry and the pressure and how he never thought about time until he realized he was running out of it. Sometimes he’s worked up in a different way, wants to see your face in pixelated halos while he comes on his own stomach, alone in a hotel room far away. 

All of this, you let him take. It’s not completely sacrificial, by any means. You like to hear him talk, better than any podcast you’ve ever heard. You like to know what he sees—he’s touched parts of the globe you could only dream about seeing. You like that he never makes it complicated. 

Never promises to take you there one day, never says he wishes you were with him.

You’ve been fucking in secret for a while when Namjoon wants you to meet his friends. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because I want you to see me, too,” he says. Simple and complicated at the same time. You’re afraid to ask why again, not sure if you want to know the answer. This is sex. It’s incredible sex that happens far more often than you thought he’d be able to make time for. 

He shows up at your studio at odd hours of the morning (or is it still night?) and talks to you about all the frivolous things while you take each other apart. Rambles about Murakami while he fucks you, tells you about a Youngkuk he saw while you swallow his dick. Naked and sprawled amongst your paint and mess and half-done work leaning against the walls, he tells you a little about his work, too. Asks you about a painting he’d seen you working on—diligently adding splashes of blue, tells you about a song he wants to do the same thing to somehow. Asks you uselessly if color and sound are the same thing if you think about them too hard.

They are. It’s a thing you both know that you don’t think many others do. It’s one thing he’s sure about. You think he only likes you because you’re sure about it, too. 

It’s incredible sex and pretty good conversations that happen at what most people probably think are strange times, but it’s not more than that. You can’t afford to get your heart confused, and he can’t afford to give you anything other than exactly what he’s giving. 

(He can’t afford to give you what he does, but he tells you there’s no reward without risk. 

“Am I the reward, then?” you tease. 

Namjoon never answers you.)

But you don’t tell him no. You think this is a bargain you can make with your heart, you can ask it for temperance while you do this thing he wants, you can meet the people who are truly important to him without convincing yourself you’re counted amongst them. You can try, anyway.

So, on a rooftop in Hannam-dong, you sip whisky with a photographer friend of Namjoon’s while he stands behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, and alternates between sucking bruises into your neck and smoke into his lungs. 

“How’d you meet?” the photographer asks. 

“Hoam,” Namjoon replies into your skin. “She picked a fight.”

You laugh, he laughs, the photographer laughs. It’s carefree and light—your laugh, your thoughts, your skin under Namjoon’s wandering lips. Your heart is holding up its end of the deal, you don’t feel anything but pleased to be there, pleased to have his attention again (still). 

“Our Namjoonie likes a challenge,” his friend says. 

“Our Namjoonie is a challenge,” you tease.

Namjoon nips at the thin skin between your neck and shoulder in retaliation (or to prove your point, you’re not sure). You yelp, turn in his arms, see him smirking before he goes to take another drag. Swiftly, you pluck the cigarette out from between his lips, stamping it out on the cement. 

“Baby,” he whines, looking down where the cigarette is brown and white dust under your sneaker. 

“Better things to do with your mouth,” you retort, pressing up onto your tiptoes and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. 

His mouth is ashy and yours tastes like peet, you’re sure. It’s filthy and a little cheap even though the cigarettes and the whisky and the lip balm he always wears were all expensive. Namjoon kisses like he does everything else: completely single-minded, treating the soft curves where your mouths meet as if they’re the edges of the world. 

You walk him a step back until he’s flush against the wall and lean into him again, pressing your bodies together hard and your lips together plush. He’s hard in his joggers and it’s every last piece of self-control you have to not sneak your hand under his waistband and tease him until he’s leaking and begging to get inside you. 

It wouldn’t take much. 

Takes a lot out of you to not drop to your knees and choke on his cock where everyone can see, where everyone would know for sure for sure for certain that he’s chosen you for this for now for some reason. To not make him moan around your name while he comes down your throat, a different kind of concert. 

Your hands stay in appropriate places while your lips beg for more. 

He was right, something he said the first time you hooked up: you are greedy for him. But he’s just as bad for you, begging in your ear for you to let him take you home, for you to let him fuck you right here so everyone knows you’re his (right now, in only this way, for some reason that neither of you are willing to speak into existence). 

You give in, no cares about who sees, it’s safe here with friends who would never betray him. You feel ever weightless against his body, whispering, “Yes, come on Joonie,” you say. “Need your cock. Need you.” 

(Briefly, it occurs to you that those sentences mean two completely different things, that they’re both true, and that either it’s Namjoon choosing to ignore the odd, heavy weight of the second one or you both are.)

You’re halfway out the door before you remember you were in the middle of a conversation. 

You don’t notice his friends whispering. 

You don’t notice his manager rolling his eyes. 

You don’t notice the way Namjoon looks at you when he knows you’re not looking back.

And you surely don’t let yourself notice that both of you want more than you’re willing to give in return.

“Can you come over?” he asks, but it doesn’t quite come out like a question. 

“I’m working, maybe a different time?” 

It’s abundantly clear he hadn’t expected you to say no. He’s silent on the other end of the line for a moment before he lets out an aborted sigh. 

“You can work whenever you want.”

Before you realize he’s serious, you laugh. “Yeah, and now is when I want to. You know how it is to get inspired.” 

Namjoon huffs. “I’d still make time for you.” 

It’s almost more absurd than the sentence before it. First, you know from firsthand experience that he wouldn’t, not really. Your “relationship”—or whatever you’re (not) calling it—revolves almost entirely around his schedule. And that’s fine with you, usually. It was expected, anyway. You don’t exactly drop everything to see him, but you haven’t been the best at keeping plans with the other people in your life, either. You don’t blame him for it, it’s just how things are, and it’s your own fault (at least partially) for bailing on your friends to “chase dick” as they so delicately put it. The second point is that you wouldn’t ask him to. If you don’t ask him to change for you, if you don’t need him to bend, then you never have to stop to ask yourself what the two of you are even doing. 

As the static of the connection is drawn out like a fermata with neither of you willing to break it, you wonder if this is your panoply, the armor you don, one of the ways you’ve been protecting your own heart without realizing it. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say, repeating it to yourself, admitting it to him. 

“I know,” Namjoon agrees, but he sounds disappointed instead of conciliatory. 

“I have to go.” 

“Sure,” he says quietly before he ends the call. “Let me know when you have time.”

Namjoon is obsessed with time. 

How much is left. 

How much has passed. 

How much until the next thing. 

How much he’s wasted. 

You think this is because he puts a deadline to his regret, says things like, “It’s been a year, I can’t worry about it anymore.” 

It’s hard not to wonder what schedule he’s given whatever this thing is between you. Are you still regrettable? Is there a space between regrettable and forgettable you can build shelter in? 

It makes him fill his time. He’s always doing something, likes to feel productive. Holds himself to an unspoken standard that you’re not even sure he could articulate if he needed to. He gets antsy when he has to relax, twitches and fidgets and fills the space with words. 

Sometimes, after sex when you’re quiet and lax and content to just sit with him, he uses the time to write. He sits tall up in your bed and holds his notebook above your head where it rests in his lap. He says you help him organize his thoughts, says having you to bounce things off of gives him clarity, says you think of words like colors like he does and you know how he likes to paint. Says he gets his best work done in this time in between pleasure and sleep. 

He hums to himself while he writes—you don’t even know if he knows he does it. Sometimes, it wakes you up from where you didn’t know you’d fallen asleep on top of him. 

“Is it morning yet?” you slur, still mostly asleep. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispers when you stir. “We’ve got time.” 

You don’t break up, because there’s nothing tangible to break. It’s a quiet thing, without dramatics, but oh how you grieve. 

It’s not linear. You’re not in a predictable pattern of feeling. One morning he doesn’t call, and you don’t even notice, but another makes you sob quietly in the corner of your studio, curled up under the window where he used to sit, like you can fuse yourself with the ghost of him. 

There are days when it’s easier, days when it’s difficult. When you mourn the way the curve of his bicep felt under your fingertips or the future you never considered until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

(You still don’t know if it ever was an option, but that’s the tricky thing—you can grieve for the things you had and also for those you didn’t. No one can stop you, Namjoon’s not there to pull you back to reality. He was never very good at that anyway.)

Some days, you wonder if he grieves, too. It would be easy to read interviews and read into things, it would be easy to assume every word, look, gesture is a window into his mind, but you try not to do that to yourself, try not to do it to him. 

At four in the morning on a Saturday, when days without him have long turned into weeks, you mindlessly scroll through your phone, idly wondering what he might be doing at this time when he used to be with you.

“The quiet hours are all for us,” he would whisper into your skin, no distractions, no demands. 

Those hours are infinitely louder in your mind without him there. So, you distract yourself, you look at every app and you get lost in reels and tiktoks and tweets and then you go back to instagram to see his story is updated. And you think twice before you do it, but you still click on it, curious and heartbroken and a little bit hoping he’s not already found someone new to spend daybreak with. 

It’s just a song, an old one, a sad one. Text he added in small font across the bottom: 

“Grief is love persevering,” he says.

In your corner, under the window, you cry over the silly quote for the both of you.

“Do you know about alpine sunflowers?” 

You laugh as you put your phone on speaker and set it down next to you. You’re not laughing at him, and he knows it—you’re full of a particular fondness you only feel for him, one you especially feel when he’s thousands of miles away, busier than busy and running on no sleep, but still calling you to bullshit. 

“No, tell me about them.” 

“Okay,” he says, voice pitched up, a little excited, like he’s sitting up straighter and getting ready to tell you something wonderful. “So, they only grow high up in the alpine tundra. The Swiss Alps, the Rockies, you know what I mean?” 

“What about the French Alps?” you tease.

Namjoon huffs. “There too, jagiya, but you’re missing the point.” 

“Okay, make me see it, then.” 

“I will if you’ll stop teasing.” 

You do stop, not because he’s making an impeccable argument, but because he’s always going somewhere with things like this, and without realizing it, you’ve stumbled into a reality where you’d follow him anywhere. 

“They grow slowly. ‘Cause of the snow and the subzero temperatures and the fact that there’s just not much up there for them. They take their time, you see?”

You’re starting to, your paintbrush dipping into a dusty yellow to test in a small corner of your canvas. You nod, forgetting he’s not there in the room with you, that you should speak if you actually want to answer him. He doesn’t care if you do or not, you know, not until he gets to the punchline, and sometimes not even then. 

On the other end of the line, you hear him suck in a breath before he continues. “They save up everything: the sunlight and the water and they hoard it all. They're selfish little things, baby. Just these spindly stalks of nothing sucking up everything good out of the Earth.”

“Hmm,” you murmur so he knows you’re with him. 

“But then, and this is the best part, then one day, after ten fucking years if you can believe that—after ten years do you know what happens?”

“Climate change?”

Namjoon ignores you now in favor of finishing his story. It’s fair enough, you suppose. “They bloom. Big and beautiful, brighter than all the other sunflowers like an explosion of little suns across the mountains.”

“That sounds beautiful,” you reply. 

And you know what Namjoon is thinking. That their beauty comes at a cost, that he hasn’t quite untangled yet whether he loves those stupid flowers for taking what they need and becoming something incredible or if he despises them for waiting so long to do it, for keeping something so lovely to themselves. It’s not what he says, though. As you paint something that might be tangling green vines of selfish sunflowers across gesso, he surprises you. 

“I wonder if in all relationships, someone is the sunflower and someone is the mountain.”

You can’t help but pause, because he might be right. One of you might take something from the other to become more beautiful, one of you might give up everything to be made more whole by the other, if even for a moment. 

“Maybe they are,” you agree. 

“You know what happens after the alpine sunflower blooms?” he asks, voice softer now, more tired as night turns into morning where he is. 

“What happens, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon sighs into the phone, the mood has changed since he called you—and this isn’t unusual. He can be ebullient and he’s gorgeous when he’s happy and carefree, but it changes quickly sometimes depending on the circumstances, depending on how much he’s let himself think, how much time he’s spent alone. 

“They die. They do all of that and they work hard for so long, and then they’re gone.” 

Carefully, you ask, “You want to be the mountain, then?” 

In the background, you can hear the rustle of sheets and the careful clacking of his glasses hitting the bedside table. He yawns, and you can picture the way he’s rubbing his palms over his face, pulling his shirt off before he dives all the way under the duvet, probably taking advantage of being alone to take up all the space he possibly can in the big hotel bed. He sounds half-asleep and sad when he finally answers you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” You put your brush down, stare at the small mess you’ve made. 

“The mountain has it worse, she can only watch them go.”

He is everywhere, even when he’s not. 

There are the obvious things: the ads with his face, the gum and coffee and candy with his picture on them, the music, his lyrics, playing in cafes and bars and pages and pages of his songs in every noraebang. 

There are the private things, too. The reminders that are just for you.

You see him in the way the leaves change: reliable but not predictable. 

You smell him after it rains, when you pass by cafes and smoking rooms and when you take the train to Yeosu just to remember the way the saltwater can make the air sting. You hear him every time you hear the train sail into the station at Yongsan and when you hear the river gently shove against its banks. 

It’s a couple months after you meet him, and along that river, you walk a less-loved path. With all the words you know, you explain all that to a friend, one you’ve known a long time, who doesn’t know who you’re talking about as you try to describe the person who’s taken up all of your time and attention lately. 

Because you can’t tell her anything about him, you tell her these things instead and you hope it’s enough for her to understand. 

And maybe she does, maybe better than you do. 

“Does that make sense?” you ask. “It’s hard to explain how much he is.” 

“To you,” she says. “He’s that much to you.” 

You hadn’t even considered that he wasn’t all of those things to everyone. It never even crossed your mind. It’s probably apparent that you’re mulling it over, trying to true it up with how you feel. 

She shrugs with one shoulder and smiles, brings a finger up to smooth the wrinkle in your brow.  “Don’t think about it too hard, yeah? Love is supposed to be simple.” 

Those two words had always each seemed so big to you, to carry so much power on their own. It’s the first time you let yourself consider putting the words Namjoon and Love in the same sentence. 

And in that moment, you know that if Namjoon is the changing leaf, you are the one that falls.

“Do you love me?” you ask—afraid to know the answer, more afraid of never knowing. You stare at unfinished bunches of sunflowers and handprints of pink and white borders that never got filled in. All of it undone, all of it paused. Abstracts in stop-motion waiting for… him to come back? You to get your shit together? Inspiration? What’s the difference, anyway, you think while you wait for him to speak. 

He doesn’t answer right away, hums a little, clicks his tongue, things you can sense more than you can hear. It’s a rude way to start a phone call, especially when you haven’t spoken in a long time, especially when you’re not each other's to love. 

Not anymore. 

Not that you know if you ever were. 

You need to know, you think. Questioning whether all of it even mattered is making you worse off than thinking it didn’t. Listening to him tell foreign interviewers he’s had a rough year, lost something great, was finding it hard to trust—himself, others—you, your brain supplies… it’s making you feel a little wild, a little reckless. 

One drink past good decisions, you call, and when he answers unexpectedly, you forgo “hello” for “do you love me?” 

You wait, expecting exasperation, complication, maybe a long and drawn out description of how maybe people can never know if they’re in love, if they have the capacity to love completely. 

And then he surprises you. 

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding soft and a little scared and more definitive than you’ve ever heard him. “You know that.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply. Not to be argumentative, but because it’s true. Because you love him and you want him to be happy and you know he’ll never get it right if he thinks what he gave you was enough. 

“I don’t think I knew then, either,” he concedes. “But I wish I had. I do now.” 

“I miss you.” 

“I know. But you did then, too.” 

The laugh you let out is wry and wet with your tears, the ones you’re shedding for the you that did miss him even then, even when he was by your side, even when he was buried inside of you. “I’m lonely,” is what you say, too honest. 

“I know. I am, too.” 

There’s nothing to say to that, you think. Maybe this is where it really ends, a torn-open wound for both of you—you’ll paint it all in vivid acrylics, probably never finish it just to be ironic. And then Namjoon adds, “Can I come over?”

You reply quickly, a taste of his own medicine. “Maybe,” you say. 

You should have never left, you mean. 

He laughs then, watercolor yellow and orange joy dripping over the phone line. It’s bright and hopeful—you listen to him shrugging on a jacket and swearing out a curse when he runs into his dresser, rushing to get to you, scrambling for time—and it makes you decide that for once, with him by your side, you might finish the picture.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #rm smut #rm fluff #rm angst #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #kvanity #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

[sefinaa]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞; 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.❞

A message from your inner child

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This is a tarot card reading. I recommend letting your inner child, that kid's voice of yours, to pick the pile(s) for you.

Normal intuitive readings: @sefinaa

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Pile I

Knight of cups

Dear myself,

Sometimes, I wonder why you allow other people to step on us. I know you have this dream to be the best and to have all the riches in the world. But how can you have those riches if you are a doormat? Do you remember when you told me once that we would travel the world and find all that we could see? Sometimes we would act like pirates so we could find those riches. But we never did it. Instead, we allowed others to step on us and steal our gold. Do you think it’s still worth it for that to happen? I don't want to keep doing this and seeing you hurt each time. I do not deserve it, and you are aware of this, so why keep doing it to yourself? Can we just stop it already and find what we are looking for? Let's make a map again and find our treasure. The treasure you have to find is through healing this time. It’s going to be a long journey, but I think it’s worth the hunt! Maybe you will get lost and feel scared at times, but that’s what a journey is all about, right? To defeat the sea creatures and the stormy nights, to find the gold and the ladies, or maybe a fun time this time.. (I hear your inner child laughing at this stereotypical joke), and to find the best souvenirs and companionship like a parrot! Or maybe this time we have some really good friends that value us.. Because I'm genuinely tired now. So please, if you cannot do it for yourself, please do it for me and let go of these people. Let's find our people for once, because I'm tired. 

Thank you, myself!!!

Seeeeeee you soon! (And I see them smiling so brightly that the sun would be jealous).

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Pile II

Reversed nine of wands, and ten of wands

Hi hi hiiiiii,

How are you today? I hope you’re okay.. But I know you’re sad today. Mommy hurt us again, right? Or maybe it was daddy, I am not sure anymore; they’re always hurting us either way, so maybe it doesn't matter. Sometimes we think we don't have any power in this world, but we do. I am so tired of life sometimes, but those are your thoughts, aren’t they? I am not tired of life because I have you in my life. Actually, I am blessed to have someone so strong by my side. It makes me so happy to know that despite the hardship we face, we keep going because we believe there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel. But guess what! There is, and I know that everything seems rocky right now. Because I am with you, right around the corner.. Pssst, I am in your heart, protecting you as much as I can. But sometimes it’s hard to keep carrying the boulder over my shoulder, so maybe instead you could protect me? For once, start to protect yourself when others hurt us. We can’t always allow others to hurt us; we have to defend ourselves. And while it may be difficult, if we truly believe in ourselves (channeling a determined face with your inner child), we will be able to beat them! (I see your inner child roaring and acting like they’re going into a war riding a horse, and they’re a commander in a kid's body). But seriously.. we could do it if we wanted to. So dear me.. Keep going forward, keep striving forward, so when we get to that light, we get to see the people who hurt us, crawl, and beg to allow them into our world. But do not let them in because this is our reward for fighting so hard, and I do not want them there, kay? 

We have to be our own warriors, or else we will get stepped over, and I really, really, reallllllyyyyyyy can’t have that, and you know that I can't. We are deserving of the best in the whole wide west, or is it east? Actually, wait, forget that. Let’s just take all the sides like the avatar and defeat them all, because I really want to see you when you make it to the light with a smile on your face!

Bye!

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Pile III

Reversed ten of pentacles, seven of swords, and reversed ace of wands.

I heard a big sigh from them.

Hello. So we meet again, huh? How many fucking pick a card piles are you going to pick only to ignore those messages because it’s not what you want? Why do you have a stick up your ass? You keep making the same mistakes, and I am so tired of it! (I hear them yelling loudly). Each time there is a problem coming to us, you run away, not because you’re scared but because you don't want to deal with the consequences. You can’t keep being a dick to someone and expect them not to retaliate. You know people nowadays aren’t stupid, so we can’t keep manipulating someone; people will find out the truth eventually. So stop being a dumbass and heal your trauma. And you can say, ‘’hey! Why are you being so mean to me, or she’s being harsh.’’ But at the end of the day, we aren’t a cookie either. We aren’t good people, you know. I don't like your behavior one bit. If you keep acting like a player, we will become fucking bankrupt, and no (more yelling and it’s getting louder), not with money, dumbwit! With people, for god’s sake, with people! I keep telling you not to make a bad choice because it’s gonna fuck you up, but do you listen? NO. START LISTENING TO ME. I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU!

(more sighing, and I hear them screaming to release their anger). 

Look, I'm really trying with you. I am not sure how to get it through your thick skull, but you need to stop acting and playing with other people's emotions. You have to LET GO and be kind to other people with sincerity. Yeah, I know we are fucked in the head; I get it. After all, I am you, but we haven't gained anything from this. Our life has been the same. It’s like reliving the same life, and I'm so sick of it. Let’s just move forward for once and deal with the consequences. You have the green light now, so here is your sign. You like melons, right? Get something with melon flavor, eat it, and tell yourself, "Fuck it, I am going to be myself, and that is all." Don't look back and just fucking do it already. Let me see OURSELVES happy for once.

Thanks,

Your inner child. (They are giving you a cheeky grin and a thumbs up).

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Pile IV

Queen of wands, the magician, (reversed) nine of swords, and the world.

When I look at the stars, I get very excited. I get to see all the little stars out in our world; maybe everyone sees them too.. Or they're too busy with their electronics.. I'm not sure.. But when I look at them, I become really excited, and I feel like the world isn't out to get me anymore. Sometimes.. all the time.. all the time. You're always on your phone, and you won't do anything for us or for me. You won't go hiking or camping like you used to. You won't read, you won't write, and you won't play fun games to reconnect with me anymore. You're always lost on your phone scrolling through Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook; I'm getting really tired of it. Please stop being so absorbed in the electronic world and become engrossed with me. I miss you, I miss you, and I miss when we did fun things for ourselves and truly valued ourselves. I can't deal with you hurting me and not using your passions to find happiness in this dreadful world. It makes me sad that I am not your top priority anymore.. Why do you pick that phone over me? Why do you focus on other people instead of me? Why don't you—why can’t you just be (your pronoun) again? Please, please, please—all the pleases in the world. I will even wish on a shooting star!

Just be back in the present moment, and please, please.. Just be with me instead. Okay? I need you to focus on us again, and I need you to see the world again and explore. I can't have you hurt me again��doing the things YOU don't even like; it's not worth it. Let's go have fun and explore all we can in the world before our time is up. Do you really want to be on your deathbed regretting the hardships and not transforming them into good opportunities for growth and change in our lives? Or would you rather be genuinely okay with doing absolutely nothing, using that phone, and lazing around in bed? Because right now, it sounds okay to you.. But when we get older, we are going to regret it, and I don't want you to do it anymore, okay? I really, really need you to stop. 

Thanks,

Your (name)’s inner child

(Your pile is very rocky. I struggled to channel your energy and kept questioning my deck. And I was struggling to be myself throughout writing your pile. Which means you doubt yourself way too much and put on masks from left to right. Of course, I cannot tell you to stop since it takes time to heal from that, but from my experiences, I have learned some things. People don’t like you based on how fun you are; they like you for your presence. Your presence is lost atm, instead of going further in that direction, learn from your past and what you have to heal with. Right now, you need to heal by loving your authentic self and removing doubts from your mind. Remember, everyone is completely different from one another, and choosing yourself is ideal rather than allowing yourself to be lost as you keep wearing different masks. It’s completely okay to be anxious during social situations, but try to remind yourself that being yourself is okay. Making mistakes is part of growth, and rejection is redirection. When you get rejected, that situation or person isn’t meant to be in your life, and a beautiful opportunity will come along. It has to because it wouldn't make sense if it didn’t).

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Pile V

(Reversed) eight of pentacles, ten of pentacles, and (reversed) ten of wands.

Right off the bat, all I hear is, ‘’why do you ignore me so much for those who fuck with us like a chew toy?”

Hi, hello, hellooo?? Is anyone there? Oh, for fuck sake, as expected, because you always ignore me and don't hear me out. You think other people who treat us fucking badly are good for us, but they aren’t. They aren't worth our time, and yet you keep letting them run you over like you are nothing. Do you honestly think that’s okay? It shouldn't be allowed, because I am not having it. And you shouldn't either. (a lot of sassy and angry energy right now). I have seen you go from the sweetest angel in the entire fucking world to a complete jackass in seconds (exaggeration), because of what exactly? Peer pressure and influence. When did we come to the point and be like, ‘’yeah, this is a good idea? I should FOLLOW ALONG OTHER FUCKING PEOPLE AND NOT OUR OWN? Who said that was a good idea? No one. ’’Fucking hell, you're probably ignoring this, leaving not to see this because it’s too harsh for your ego, or getting mad. Stop that, and just accept the truth. I need you, yeah, you. I need you to listen to me for once and go back to being the real you instead of wearing all of these masks because of peer pressure. I know it’s hard; believe me, I know I am you AFTER ALL, but can't you just imagine I am there with you? And you and I are playing ball; we are playing something that we used to like—can you just imagine that?—and you are taking care of yourself and me because, after all, I am you. Just imagine WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE FOR YOU TO—HEY LISTEN. Thank you. As I was saying, can you just imagine leaving those people who don't serve you well and focusing on us? I know being alone is scary; I get that, but for our growth to heal, we need to let go of those bastards, because how can you heal with toxicity in your face 24/7? And don't fucking smoke and ruin your body. Stop the drugs; it’s not worth it. Yeah, stop thinking about cigarettes like it's a cool aesthetic; you want to fuck your body for that pressure and regret it with tears in your eyes later in life—a fucked and damaged body because of peer pressure? I am not fucking having it. Screw those people that hurt you, screw everything that is fucking with you, and for once, listen to me through this message and heal me so you can feel SAFE ONCE MORE.

(There was a lot of sassy, unappreciated, frustrated, and angry energy. A lot of you are ignoring how you feel and pushing them aside with an alcoholic beverage or in an empty bottle (visualization). A lot of you seem to have forgotten who you once were due to pressure from those around you. Since letting go and cutting ties with those who keep us company can be challenging, I recommend that you learn to enjoy your own presence and figure out what your boundaries and morals are as your own person. Not other people. And, also, learn to appreciate what makes you who you are. So, it's okay to have flaws, but it's important to take accountability for those flaws. For example, y manipulated their friend because they wanted something. Now, it is y's responsibility to apologize to their friend and accept what they did. And then used that past experience for their future when it comes to wanting something without being irrational. And y should also accept what they did and understand who they want to be while forgiving themselves in the process instead of hurting themselves. Because I believe we should heal ourselves and apologize to ourselves for the wrongdoing we do, even if we cannot earn someone's forgiveness. Having peace and respect for ourselves, even for the mistakes we made, is okay, because how can you heal if you keep sabotaging yourself for hurting or causing a mistake? There would be no healing from that). 

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Pile VI

Seven of wands and (reversed) two of pentacles. 

My love!! Hi!!! How are you today?! I hope you are okay. I’m struggling right now, though! :(.

Right now, we are lost in who we are. We went through so much pain and stress, and our justice isn’t coming to us, and we are becoming obsessed with the thought, ‘’when is it coming?’’ and I know the obsession is the only thing keeping you safe, but I need you to realize you’re stressing us out. It’s affecting us, not them. Life is a test, but life is there to help and guide us. We need to be patient for our justice to come, and I know it’s hard, I know. But we need to take care of ourselves for the time being. Can we listen to our comfort songs again? I’m really missing her voice right now. Can we talk to our loved ones again like old times? I don't want to keep pushing them away because I’m hurting. We don't deserve to hurt our friends who care for us; we will regret it. It’s not worth hurting those who care for us. I think it’s important that we prioritize ourselves for the time being, as life gives us the justice we deserve and for the people that hurt us.. Well, I’m sure life will be on our side this time.

And if things become harder, then talk to me through a mediation video. I want to be there to support and love you. I know I’m the kid version of you, and sometimes you think children aren’t intelligent (because of the feminine figure in our lives and their fucked up views), but I promise you, I am very intelligent to help you! I know the struggle you are facing, and you aren’t alone because I am here with you. Right by your side, till death do us part, and you can think of me as your companionship, but can I be a small pig? I love pigs a lot! You can imagine carrying a small pig or a stuffed animal version of the pig—of me! This sounds so exciting (giggles). Off topic now; I have to go back to the topic! (The energy is scattered, so you may be overthinking a lot). I want you to even do ‘’higher self meditation’ and speak with them. They know more than us, and they will be there to guide us—after all, it’s our future selves, right? So why would they harm us? It makes no sense. And please stop overthinking everything; nothing bad can happen to us because we deserve the best! I hope one day you can see that too, and when we get our justice, because we will, I hope that we can finally smile like old times when we ate at the beach with daddy.. I hope we can do that again, but at his grave.. this time. 

(I see them smiling softly and hugging an imaginary version of you. Then they wave goodbye to you and disappear, but a beautiful yellow light surrounds the atmosphere, giving me sunshine and happy vibes).

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#pick a card #psychic readings #pick a photo #pac #tarot reading #divination #tarot #spirituality #pick a picture #pac reading #collective reading #daily tarot #tarot cards #tarotcommunity #free tarot #intuition #tarot witch #tarotdaily #18+ tarot #free tarot readings #tarot community #channeled message #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #tarot deck #tarot readers of tumblr #witches of tumblr #general reading #witchy #witch community

[kitkats-and-kittens]

I know stan culture is a huge part of fandom and while yes, sometimes I find it annoying it doesn’t really hurt anyone, so I find it okay.

That said I need words with Percy Jackson and Tim Drake stans, because I am sick and tired 😭😭.

I was scrolling through the Will Solace tag because he is my baby and I will defend him for life and obviously as consequence I see a lot of artwork about the battle of Manhattan and all the angst that comes along with it.

I don’t usually see people blaming Percy for Michael’s death which is fine cause it absolutely wasn’t Percy’s fault, even if I personally don’t believe a 12 year old would be mature enough to see it that way.

Still, I saw a post talking about how sad it was that Will got dragged away to heal Annabeth and couldn’t help the Apollo Cabin search for his bother. It was mostly going into detail about how he might feel responsible for not being there when most of his siblings died.

And I thought wow, that’s really angsty and then I went to the comments and the first thing I saw was a Percy Jackson fan saying it’s not Percy’s fault and Will should get over it because it’s war and shit happens.

Like hello? That is a 12 year old??? No one’s saying it was Percy’s fault, but how the hell do you expect a literal 12 year old to get over his brothers death seconds after it happened?!?!

And again in Dc comics.

This happens way too often, but specially in that one scene where Damian finds out Tim has him on like this hit list-contingency plan thing and obviously he gets upset, because he sees it as Tim still punishing him over something he is trying really hard to redeem himself for.

And then I look at the comments and someone’s going.

Well Damian shouldn’t be upset, his actions have consequences and he was the one that broke into Tim’s computer. He shouldn’t get mad.

He’s 10???? Have you met children? Have you met a 10 year old?? They call you names and bully you but the moment you turn it back on them they start crying. Why? Cause they’re 10!

I don’t understand the disconnect some people have when trying to understand children. Like hasn’t everybody been a child? They aren’t mature enough to handle big emotions and nuanced situations cause they don’t have a frontal lobe yet.

I really don’t understand how anyone can get mad at the child character for not being ‘mature enough’ to handle a situation and it drives me insane.

#percy jackson #batfam #damian wayne #apollo #pjo #dc #will solace #tim drake #a bit of a rant #anti stans #these are children? please

[creativewritersposts]

bad person - Matt Rempe

summary; Matt Rempe x reader

Matt didn't react perfectly to a fan and thinks he's a bad person. Which he's not.

warning(s); maybe grammar errors, fluff!!, insecurity

author's note; I'm definitely too bored I'm sorry for spamming with so many fics 💀 I'm hyped to share this one with you. It's my favorite so far! 🥹

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

"you look beautiful", Matt grins at you, you only can rise your eyebrow. "What did you do?", is your reply. You're doing laundry and definitely not looking beautiful. "Can I tell you a secret?", he plays with his fingers. You look at him, "sure, honey". He's a soft soul so you know it's important for him. "Do you think I'm a good guy?", he's intimidated. "Of course!", you put down the socks and giving him your full attention.

"I don't feel like that", he whispers, head hanging down. "oh baby", you rub his back and put your chin on his shoulder. "You're a golden retriever, why would you think that way?", comforting him.

He quietly huffs, you can see he's pensive. "I ignored a fan", he is sad. "i bet it wasn't on purpose, honey", you kiss his neck. "doesn't mean you're a bad person, Matt", you smile. Your chest feels heavy because it hurts to see how Matt thinks about himself, which is not true.

"She told the whole tumblr fandom I'm rude", he drops his back to the front. "you're on Tumblr?", you re-ask him. "I know you have a hockey blog but I really don't care. I'm disgusted about myself right now",he looks frustrated. He is frustrated. "Matt look at me", you force him lovely to look into your face. "You're the best thing that ever happened in my life and you're definitely not a bad person. You were like a dad for your sister, you love your family, you're very nice to your fans and you're a good hockey player!", you tell him. "If i wouldn't be rude this girl would be happy", he argues with a whiny voice crack. "You're the nicest person ever. One fan yelled at you and you hugged him", remembering him from his past actions.

"Do you want me to talk with her?", you pet his cheek. Every time you look at him you're speechless how someone can look so perfect. "No", Matt shakes his head and stands up. "I'll make dinner", he gives you a fake smile.

"Don't feel bad because you're a living human", you get worried. It's something he learned in his childhood; 'I have to be strong'. It's not like his mom preached him, he's just very protective. It's his instinct.

"I should change myself to be a better person", he speaks out his mind, "why should you change?", you're confused. He's a living teddy bear and you would know if he's a bad person.

"to be a better person", he takes the pan and his smile doesn't reach his eyes, it's a sad smile.

"You're already enough", you hug him tight. He replies your hug and his head falls down in your neck. "I feel overwhelmed, you know", he bites his teeth together, angry about himself. "some players ask fans to show them their boobs, you're definitely not a bad person!", you answer your directly mind. "I need to be a role model", he whines. "Your sister is a very nice person and you're also this lovely like her. She adores you. Kids adore you fighting like a tiger", you giggle about these GIF's of bloody Matt on ice. "why are you giggling?", he asks confused. "Nothing ", you giggle again. "You think about these fight GIF's about me you posted on Tumblr", he gets ironic.

"Noo", your voice is playful. "Your caption was 'delicious'", a smirk escapes his mouth. "We won't talk about this one right now", you wink. "You can tell me when I'm the hottest player!", he pretends to be a diva. "I'll not, that's weird".

"babe after reading your things on your blog nothing is weird anymore", he kisses your forehead.

#matt rempe blurb #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey fluff #hockey x reader

[sakuraspoke]

crying is crucial // papa emeritus iv x gn!reader

summary: after trying to keep your emotions under control, you finally break down. copia finds you & tries to comfort you in your pain.

tags/details: sfw. 960 words. angst & emotional hurt/comfort, reader is depressed - their past hurt is alluded to but not detailed. it's basically just copia being a soft, loving angel & knowing exactly what to say.

full transparency - i wrote this during a recent low, after a conversation with a friend, as an attempt to express what i wish someone (namely copia) would say to me in a moment like this. hopefully it resonates in some way & brings some comfort if you need it 🖤

dedicated to sweetest one @conjuring-ghouls for being my ✨ test reader ✨ and really encouraging me. thank you for talking me out of my comfort zone, friend.

a big thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers & to @foxybouquet whose brilliant italian masterlist is incredibly informative & has taught me so many precious new words.

You hadn't cried like this in a long time.

It wasn't unusual for you to feel down. Depression was something you'd lived with for as long as you could remember, but for the most part you managed to keep it at arm's length and not let it rule your life.

Today, though... Today was different.

You don't know what triggered it exactly. All you know is that since you woke up this morning, you had been haunted by that familiar lump in your throat, that burning sensation behind your eyes, the telltale signs of lingering sadness ready to spill over, and just tried to stave it off long enough to get through the day. Until, curled in a ball on your bed that night, you let it happen. You let the sobs come and the tears fall, soaking the side of your face and the pillow underneath you.

And that's how he finds you.

"Darling," you hear Copia call from the hallway, "Where are you amo-"

Shit. You hadn't heard him come in.

He knew you struggled, he knew about the anxiety and the sadness that lived somewhere within you, but he'd never witnessed you in this state. And while everything in you is screaming to not let him see you so broken... you can't move. The sadness weighs you down like an anvil in your chest and you remain where you are, pulling your legs in tighter to yourself as if to become smaller. To disappear.

"Amore?" he says quietly as he steps into the room, softly gasping when he spots you, your body wracked by sobs. He's quickly at your side, trying to disguise the panic in his voice as he asks, "What is it?"

You can only sniffle in response. Your words evading you.

"Oh, amore..." he whispers. You feel his weight shift on the bed as he lays down beside you, brushing your hair from your face and gently encouraging you to look at him. "Please... Talk to me."

You take his gloved hand and hold it against your cheek, still silent, just focusing on the feeling of him while you gather yourself. You can't quite manage to look at him yet, but after a few quiet moments you speak.

"I've just been thinking about how... hard it's all been..." you tell him, your voice slightly hoarse.

"How hard what has been, tesoro?" Copia softly encourages, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"My... life," you say between shallow breaths. "Sometimes... sometimes I wonder why... why all these bad things have... happened and I just..."

Oh no. It's happening. What was left of any kind of composure is gone. Your chest heaves and you begin to choke on your sobs as you try to explain yourself.

"It feels like i-it should be... easy by n-ow. People tell me I'm so strong and... I a-am but... I don't want to... h-have to be... all the ti-ime..."

Copia just listens, offering a gentle shhhh when your tears overcome your words again, pulling your body closer to his and laying your head on his chest. You stay like that for a little while, with him gently stroking your face, your arms, your hair, as you try to follow the soft pattern of his breathing to calm your own.

"We all need to cry sometimes, amore mio," he offers gently, breaking the silence. "It's... You see, cuoricino, I could sit here for hours and tell you how strong you are, how capable and bright you are. I could tell you over and over again how well you're doing, or how I admire you... and all of these things are true, sì? But, sometimes..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes what you really need to hear is, 'That's right. Those things weren't fair, and you are allowed to cry about it'. In fact, you need to cry about it. È cruciale!" he states, the sing-song inflection in his final word breaking through the fog and making you giggle.

But then you really take his words in, overwhelmed by the warmth with which he speaks to you and, as hard as you try to keep it together, you can't help but break down again.

With this Copia sits up slightly, and wordlessly guides your legs over his so he can cradle you properly. He feels your pain so acutely that it makes his heart ache, but he knows he needs to be steady for you right now.

"I'm here," he tells you, his voice shaking slightly, immediately betraying his intended steadiness. "I've got you... This is okay. You're okay... You're okay," he whispers, rocking you gently. "You are strong, amore. Of course you are strong... But you don't need to think about that right now. All you need to do is sit here with me, and let yourself feel what you feel."

So you do. Safe in the arms of your Papa, you let yourself feel. When another wave of sobs overwhelms you, Copia just holds you tighter and continues to rock you against his body. The voice in the back of your mind telling you that you don't deserve this love threatens to rear its ugly head but right now you're too far away to hear it. Not even the loudest, ugliest corners of your insecurity are a match for the peace you feel with him.

You're not sure how long you're there for, but Copia never stops holding you. The physical crash after such an intensely emotional episode hits you hard and you feel your body becoming heavier, imploring yourself to just go to sleep and draw a line under this day. Just as you are drifting off, you hear him quietly repeat himself.

"I've got you. You're okay."

#1 hour later: editing bc i messed up on ao3 and got the word count wrong :') #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #fuck ok #DID IT #v nervous because i haven't posted any writing in YEARS #i used to post [redacted] ~oneshots~ all the time back in the day #alas i am now an Overthinker™ #impulsively posted it on ao3 before i had the chance to chicken out #but that was enough putting myself out there for one week #(ao3 linked in title) #papa emeritus iv #copia

[heybank]

just a lil jj x reader drabble i had floating around in my brain. might make it a series if enough people like it 💜

cw: mentions of abuse

the thing about living on kildare island is that it's not that big. everyone knows everyone even if you don't want to. with you living on the cut, you've become very aware of jj maybank and his rowdy group of friends.

you and pope are acquaintances because you both were in the math club together before the club was cancelled due to lack of funding. you don't hang out much outside of class but if you see him, you're not shy to say hello.

kiara intimidates you because, and you'll never say this out loud, she's a kook no matter how hard she tries to prove she's not. she may be a nice person but she is spoiled and privileged in a way kids on the cut will never experience.

john b is kind, always willing to help people who might need it. you've spoken to him a few times at previous boneyard keggers and you've even helped him with his english essay once but you wouldn't say you're friends.

lastly, there's jj. he is an enigma to you. you're actually his neighbour so you've heard and sometimes seen what he deals with on a daily basis. you don't pity him though, you just feel empathetic because your life is pretty similar.

mean parent who is never happy with what you do no matter how hard you try, working odd jobs to make rent because said mean parent is too fucked up on whatever illicit substance they're snorting that week to bother going to work. the physical stuff isn't as bad for you only because your mom isn't as strong and she's easier to subdue when she gets in her rages but nevertheless, you understand him.

the jokes he makes to hide the sadness in his watercolour eyes. the sarcasm to change the subject to anything other than his seemingly never ending bruises. the difference between you two though is that you don't really have friends.

if you asked the pogues about you however; their response would probably be "who?" or "ohhh her!" not because you're quiet and keep to yourself, it's just because nothing about you is memorable. you're a plain jane, guys don't take a second look at your and girls don't see you as competition.

you wish things were different but this is how it's always been and you've grown used to this being your status quo.

which is why when jj comes up to you one night at a party, drink in hand, flirty smile on his face and asked you on a date, your world flipped upside down.

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x oc #my headcanons #kiara carrera #john b routledge #outerbanks fic #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine

[blacclotusss]

No Pain

My thoughts and opinions on IWTV s02e03: No Pain

Talamasca

This whole scene with the Talamasca agent did confuse me for a bit. It threw me off when he began acting as if he were talking on the phone, but I was definitely locked into it. He's the RJ sending Daniel things as he's talking with Armand and I want to know what he knows and how Daniel will use it in this situation. I need to know what his role will be in unpacking all of whatever is going to come out in the end. 

Lestat & Armand's Relationship

Dumpster fire, just as I thought. I can see the appeal of it and the way Armand showcased his power was everything to me. Him knocking and turning Lestat every way but loose was hilarious, but I always love seeing Lestat lose. I called it a dumpster fire because you could kind of tell that it wasn't anything deeper than the lust they had for each other, at least in the way Armand told it. There seems to be a lot of omission on Armand's part and I wish I could search his brain to see exactly what it was he left out. Maybe as the season goes on, we'll see more of what's inside that head and underneath that mysterious exterior.  

Louis and Armand's First Dates

In the words of Johnny Gill: My. My. My. The way this date took so many twists and turns I could hardly keep up. Firstly, it was fun to see their little banter about the blocking of thoughts. Even when it got a bit intense with Armand clocking every time Louis thought about that man, it wasn't too crazy and we were able to see them reel it back in. Louis mentions letting Armand in instead of allowing his thoughts to spill and I want to know if Louis even trusts Armand that much to allow that if he could block his thoughts. But, the real kicker was when the two stopped to talk by the river. Flirty Louis is one of my favorite facets of the man and he was laying it on thick. Everything from the way the words rolled off of his tongue to the head movements to the accent was pure perfection. And the way he walked up into Armand's space as if he were going to kiss him...chef's kiss on everyone's part. I loved the way Armand was taken aback, yet intrigued, with Louis' responses as well.  

Now, the intensity of the date in the little bar was through the roof. I'm still wondering why Louis is calling himself a whore for being out with other men. I know there's a reason, but I can't get my thoughts together on it. Maybe someone can help me out with that. Is it him still feeling attached to this man as his first real love? Is it the pain and brokenness coming through? Is it guilt for killing his love and leaving him back home? And the way Armand picks his brain apart and gets him to confess his relationship with Lestat was really something. It's pretty sad to see Louis' thoughts, feelings, and pain affect him like this. He deserves some happiness.  

Claudia Talking About Bruce

Wow. This woman has been through so damn much in her life it's baffling. In season one, we see Louis omit the details of her assault so we didn't know the severity of it. Here, we still don't have gruesome detail (thank God) but to just think about the fact that she was not only assaulted once, but multiple times and kept under the floorboards by him. Do you know how insane that is? To not know when it'll ever stop. When they'll get tired of your "gloomy faces"? Every person Claudia has encountered has done her wrong. Every. Single. One. And that including Louis as well because he didn't even have to have her turned in the first place. I know the coven is going to put her through it even more than they already have, but I'll save that for later. Oh how I wish she could live her life the way she wants with no one in her way or trying to put her in a box. 

Armand Choosing Love

Oh these two. THESE TWO. Every scene with them has my stomach doing flips. Firstly, can we talk about that tunnel scene? It's a scene that should put fear in your heart for Louis, but it's simply a build up for their first kiss in my opinion. Louis is ready to die and he's preparing himself for it while Armand stands behind him like an ominous being running his fingers through his curls and down the back of his neck. It just sends shivers down your spine in the best way. "You walked me home?" "Did I?" Please! The little moment the two share before Armand walks up to him...whew. I don't know if Armand is telling the truth about being hurt (I have an inclination that he is), I'd like to think he is, but the wavering in both of their voices hit me in the chest. The kiss?! Resuscitate me, immediately! The caresses on the face and the way Armand pulls him back in each time! I had to fan myself each time I watched it (yes, I watched it numerous times and no, it's not weird.) Just when you think it's over, Louis invites the man upstairs and I need to see the tape! But, Armand choosing love and choosing something for himself definitely opens the door for the coven to do as they please with Claudia since Maitre isn't doing his job and this frightens me.  

Claudia and Her Role in the Coven

Were they hazing my girl in this episode?! All this for a speck of a spot in this coven? Electric chair just for that. And as soon as Claudia thinks she's in and has met her people, they betray her by making her play a little girl...and for 50 years at that. She's been trying to get out of this "little girl" role for the longest and now she's stuck. I can't imagine the way she's feeling about this. And we also see Armand getting involved with her physically, which...oh boy. It's just a hot mess all around. I now see what Armand meant when he said his name was in those pages and why he wouldn't want them seen. Some part of me is still being delusional about her fate. Maybe she will survive and live her life the way she planned (yes, I know this is not reality.)  

#interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #vampterview #louis de pointe du lac #claudia iwtv #the vampire armand #lestat de lioncourt #daniel molloy #talamasca #the vampire claudia #the vampire louis #iwtv

[pennylanefics]

Spirit - Seth Jarvis

a/n: this one gets a little angsty for a moment bc insecure and scared jarvy hurts my heart and i need it more in my life. anyways enjoy as always <3

summary: you and seth decorate his place for halloween

word count: ~1.8k

“Absolutely not,” Seth grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. You sigh and cross your own arms, copying him in a grumpy manner.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s one night. Why decorate the entire house and porch for one day?”

“Halloween is the entire month of October, Jarvy, for your information. Everyone knows that. Plus it’ll be a fun little bonding moment, don’t you think?”

You were trying to convince Seth to let you decorate his house for Halloween, as it is a few days into October and you were really getting into the spirit already. While you didn’t exactly officially live together just yet, you were at his place more than you were at your own, so it was pretty much like you lived there.

When he was on road trips during the season, you stayed there to take care of things and keep it clean, plus his bed was very comfortable and you loved being surrounded by the scent of him, curling up in his sheets late at night when you miss him.

After a bit more thinking and convincing from your side, he agrees, and seeing how ecstatic you were with just the thought of doing this with him, it suddenly became worth it; his main goal is to make you happy, and he was glad to be fulfilling that with this request.

“Well, let’s go shopping for decorations!” You jump up from the couch, rushing to put your shoes on. Seth laughs while shaking his head, standing with you to grab his keys and slide his shoes on.

Following a trip to Target and a restaurant for dinner, you return home with all the bags of decorations you splurged on, realizing you may have gone slightly overboard with it all.

“We’ll start working on the outside tomorrow, tonight we can put some decorations up in here,” you say, Seth dropping his share of bags on the floor next to the coffee table. “I think they’re all mixed in, so let’s separate them.”

You start removing things one by one from the bags on the dining room table, remembering things that you forgot you even put in the cart. Seth holds up a plastic skeleton of what appeared to be a bear.

“Babe, what the hell is this?” He wonders, examining it.

“I thought it was cute. It’s like a teddy bear but it’s a skeletal form. I also got a shark,” you say, pulling another skeleton out of the bag, “and a duck.” You slyly smile as you pull the third animal out of the bag. Seth stares at you blankly, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Why?”

“Because they’re funny. Sharks don’t have bones and I just thought the duck was cute. Plus they’re not just Halloween decorations, they can be kept up year round.”

“Yeah, if people want to think we’re weirdos.” Sighing, your hands drop to the table, pausing taking things out.

“Why are you being so sour about this? I thought you said it would be fun,” you say, your voice dropping, along with your shoulders.

Upon hearing the sadness in your tone, Seth’s eyes shoot up at you and he immediately feels bad. He steps over to you and wraps you up in a hug, kissing along your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right. I uh, I’m not sure why I’m acting like this, but I promise I want to do this with you. I’ve never really set up for Halloween like this, it’s always been I’ve just gone to parties to celebrate and wore a dumbass costume. I’ve never had a place of my own to decorate and think about these kinds of things, so I guess it’s just…new.”

“Is it me? Is it because it seems like I’m trying to move myself in prematurely or take over your house? Because I don’t want you to think I’d be that way. I know my boundaries, but I thought it would be fun, so-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, switching positions to cradle your face in his hands, his eyes burning into yours. “That is not what I think at all. I promise. If anything, I want you to move in officially because I love having you here.” He sighs as he chooses his words carefully.

“I think…deep down, I know things are changing and it scares me,” he continues, averting his eyes away from yours for a moment as he speaks. His tone is filled with shame and regret.

“Like…what?” You gulp nervously, staring up at him. Your hands shake ever so slightly against his wrists, where you held on to keep his hands glued to your face.

“Like, things are serious between us and…decorating for a holiday, in a home that we practically live in together, it’s…scary. I have always been terrified of settling down with someone, and now that it’s happening, I don’t…I don’t want to ruin it because…it’s perfect.” He chokes back tears as he describes his feelings. Your heart aches in your chest at his confession, not expecting the conversation to take a turn like this.

“Oh, Jarv,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to caress his forearms comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, believe me, I get it. And if this is too fast for you, we don’t have to do anything for Halloween. We can put all these decorations into storage for next year, if you’re okay with that.”

“I want to decorate, baby. I do. I guess I wasn’t expecting it and I haven’t had time to prepare.” You nod along to his words, ideas wracking your brain.

“Why don’t we wait, then? We can wait closer to Halloween to put things up or until you’re ready, or not even put anything up at all. I want you to feel safe and secure, Seth.” He nods and takes a breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Can we wait till after the season starts, and after I get back from our first road trip? That’s about a couple weeks away, I think that time will help,” he replies shyly. You nod, his hands still on your face, which at this point was a way to keep him grounded.

“Of course. I’ll keep everything in the bags in the office while you’re gone. And if you get back and don’t want to do anything, don’t be afraid to tell me, alright?”

He nods at your words and kisses you hard, full of passion and love.

“Thank you,” he breathes out against your lips, his voice dropping a few decibels. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jarvy. You deserve to express your thoughts anf feelings just as much as I do, and I never want to rush you for something that you’re not ready for, even as simple as decorating for a holiday.”

He kisses you again and continues to hold you to his chest, your hands gently running up and down his back to soothe him.

In the coming weeks, hockey season starts with a whirlwind. You gave Seth some space while he prepared for it all, going to his first home game of the season to cheer him on. Even when he was away for their first trip to Colorado to face the Avalanche, you were watching the game on TV, watching intensely as he plays his heart out.

Once the excitement of the new season starting settled in and everyone was finding their groove, Seth felt far more relaxed and conscious to have that talk with you, now that he’s returning home from their road trip.

He flew in from Texas late at night, getting in at around three in the morning. You were already fast asleep and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you up. But seeing as he didn’t feel tired, he put his plan into action after quickly showering.

Quietly, he took all the bags from the office, filled with the decorations you bought weeks ago, and laid everything out on the dining room table, separating it between outdoor and indoor. By the time he was finished, it was nearing five in the morning, so he finally decided to try and get some sleep.

In the morning, you found yourself wrapped up in Seth’s arms, smiling as you take in the sight of his exhausted face, his long eyelashes resting against his soft cheeks that you love to kiss. Yawning, you carefully escape his grasp and walk out to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, when something catches your eye.

The dining room table was covered with all the things you and Seth bought earlier in the month. Your jaw drops in wonder, your gaze running over everything.

“Want to decorate today?” Seth suddenly appears behind you, startling you. He laughs at your reaction and whispers a soft, “sorry” to you for scaring you.

“Did you do all this?”

“Yeah. I got home early this morning and I wasn’t tired so I set everything out. I feel ready, so let’s do it.”

“Really?” You gasp, your eyes filling with excitement.

“Hell yeah. I’ll start on breakfast if you want to make a plan on what we should do with everything.”

So, that’s what you and Seth did for the remainder of the day. Inside, you hung up paper bats all over, along with some fake cobwebs and cute little pumpkin and ghost items around. It wasn’t a lot, but it did set the tone for the holiday quite well.

The weather today was crisp and cool, a perfect temperature to set things up in. Seth stands on a step stool while you hold the string of pumpkin lights to hang them up around the porch, plugging them in to the exterior electricity. Stepping back to admire your work, you smile, feeling everything coming along nicely.

You also set up a projection light to show different Halloween objects and colors onto the house, a popular item as of late. Seth hangs up a few ghost figures on either side of the porch while you place a few fake tombstones with puns on them in the yard.

When everything is done and finished, Seth stands on the sidewalk with his arm around your waist, admiring how spooky your home looks.

“Move in with me,” Seth asks, although it’s more of a light demand. You gaze up at him and smile softly. “I want you to live with me, in our home.”

“Of course I will, Jarvy,” you beam, kissing him a couple times.

“Good. So, now all we need is candy to hand out on Halloween night, which is thankfully an off day for us. I get to spend it with my girl for our first holiday together in our new home.” You giggle and hide your face in his chest, hearing that he wants to spend the night with you instead of going out with the guys.

“Just wait until we get to decorate for Christmas,” you comment, raising your head to look up at him.

“Oh baby, I truly can’t wait, it’s going to be the best.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#seth jarvis #seth jarvis imagines #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #seth jarvis fanfic #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[urpaperboy]

Desolation

A YV Fan Au created by me !! Mateo/urpaperboy !! :)

Hi !! So I made these doodles on the whiteboard that @itsargyle made and got going on here rn and well people were interested in me talking about it so here I am !!

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Welcome to Desolation, A Steampunk styled YV Fan AU !!

The Term Desolation means - a state of complete emptiness or destruction or anguished misery or loneliness.

This was fan product I created back in 2021 and have and continued growing along side a couple of my friends in the YV community, and while although I haven’t written anything about it, I know how both the story begins and ends. So let’s talk about that !!

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The Plot

Everyone has their beginnings, middles, and ends. Everyone's beginnings either start bright or tragic. In this story, we follow the life of Seth, one whose beginnings started both bright and tragic and ended bright and tragic too. Seth is the so called “proud inventor” of the town, ones who inventions are beloved by many people around him, including Alphonse, which Seth has grown to love and care for and hopes to have a future with. But when tragedy strikes amongst the two, it sends Seth down a path of Desolation. But to keep his beloveds memory alive, he invents what can only be his greatest creation and the possible escape from his grief. But with that, comes a price, that the two of them must face and pay with in Blood and Tears, and possibly Oil too.

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The Characters

Seth

- Seth in this AU of mine is the main protagonist of the story. He’s an inventor !! Again, the “proud inventor” of the town he lives in. He has made many things for everyone and even owns a small shop in the town where people can view what he is creating just by looking through a window. Although most see him as a bit of a weird person for focusing their life to the inventions, the entire town loves him !! He has made himself quite a popular one in the town. But of course, he faces his own struggles and grievances, especially now that he knows the man he fell in love with, is now gone. But with the creation of his biggest invention ever, he hopes that maybe his broken heart can be healed and made anew, but unfortunately not everyone gets that.

Alphonse/A.I.phonse

- Alphonse is technically a protagonist too but not in the way you expect. For the first few parts of the story he runs a small business of selling sugars and sweets, which is actually running very well. And (and this is completely obvious) he has a rather close relationship with Seth (hehe crush moment), but unfortunately, his story comes to an end. But when tragedy strikes, something new blooms.

Meet A.I.phonse, A Robot created in Seth’s image in the hopes to keep a small resemblance of Alphonse alive, sounds a bit psycho but I promise it’s not. Throughout the story, he is there to help Seth Process his Grief, and help him attempt to continue with His Life. He learns like a newborn child in the world, he learns about life and other things. But as he grows, the realization of existence begins to become his biggest question.

Finn/Jack

Finn and Jack are one of the closest friends Seth. They are the one who help him out whenever Alphonse can’t. Finn has his flower shop which Jack works in too. When Alphonse dies, The Two boys make it their goal to at least keep Seth happy, although it is rather difficult considering Alphonse literally dies in Seth’s Arms so it was a rather traumatic experience and definitely difficult to try and keep someone happy after that. But although the challenge is difficult, they keep trying, because who wants to see their friend sad?

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These are the other characters that are in the story but can’t really write much about at the moment

- Charlie

- Derek (he’s obviously a the antagonist)

- Jessie

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That’s currently what I can share so far !! I’ll post a character line up of all the characters when I fix them up and actually do it soooo yeah !!

If you have any questions for me about this AU, my inbox is open, I’d be happy to answer these questions !!

- Mateo ⭐️

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice jack #yuurivoice charlie #yuurivoice derek #yuurivoice jessie #yuurivoice au #mateo thots #mateo au #yv: desolation #desolation au