#fic: you know me too well

[shaarlslec]

you know me too well

part 2: the core memories of your relationship, the present

part 3: seeing him for the first time after your break-up, promises of the future

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

words: 6200 ish (hold on, this is going to have another part for sure);

warnings: full angst for most of this part (imagine breaking up with daniel??); daniel driving for mclaren; smut (just a tinsy bit);

masterlist

Breaking up with Daniel Ricciardo, the days and nights that followed and your meet-up four years ago.

THE BREAK-UP

Every love story ends in tragedy if you wait long enough. 

Your relationship with Daniel was never perfect and you neither claimed it to be – and yet tabloids did so. You broke up with him once he got his McLaren seat and left Renault after another two excruciating years of you two being together while Daniel drove for Red bull. You despised the title of being a WAG for the entirety of your relationship. The only thing you have always wanted was to be Danny’s girl and with no intention whatsoever to be called yet another girlfriend of a high-profile sportsmen. 

You wanted to make it work – you tried so hard to make it everything work out until the end. And yet, in between Daniel’s races and you building your own career back in Perth, calls eventually stopped and texts went dry, and everything went downhill from there ending your four-year relationship way ahead of its time and without you two even realizing that the rupture cannot be fixed giving the circumstances: distance and priorities.  

The last four months of your relationship were horrendous as you were living two completely different lives that happened to meet occasionally when Daniel was back home at times you were not away from there. You were the one to put a hard stop on it not bearing any longer the coldness coming from Daniel being in his head all the time trying to prove his point as being worthy of the McLaren seat instead of letting you support him as you always had done before no matter how hard the times were wearing the dark blue suit or the bright black and yellow one. 

“I am sorry, I will not be home for Christmas this year. There is an event in Paris for which I have been booked.” You told him over the phone in one of the rare times Daniel managed to pick up due to the different time-zones, “It is a huge deal offered by a large fashion company and it will help with my portfolio a lot.” You explained, nervously pressing your fingers down to your lap, “I am so sorry Danny, I should have told you weeks ago about it and I—” 

Daniel interrupted you at the end of the call, “It is fine Y/N.” He breathed, and you could pretty much figure out that he was drained yet again by something that happened back in Woking just judging by the way Daniel breathed into the phone, “I do not really want to go home this year for holidays anyways, I need a break from anything and anyone familiar right now.” He then added with another heavy sigh, “I must go back into the meeting room. Text you later, alright?” Daniel finished, and you basically felt the curl into your stomach tightening. 

You knew he will not text you later and that he will be probably beating himself over whatever was going on back in the McLaren HQs without telling you shit about what an awful day he had no matter how much you insisted for him to open to you again just as he did back when you were together-together. You took a full breath of fresh air in; Daniel was not even faking an interest in asking you about your gig in Paris, and as selfish as it sounded – you wanted him to care about you more than McLaren.  

“This is not working anymore Daniel.” You blared the words out after a long pause from both you and Danny, “We both know that you will not text me back tonight and that you will regret it in the morning, you have not texted me back in days Daniel.” You paused, not wanting to continue anymore with the blaming speech when you knew you had your wrongs too in your relationship, “I know that you know it too.” You then spoke with a touching smile on your face waiting for Danny’s response while your neck went dry being hanged by a non-existent crown of thorns.

Your boyfriend’s breath was cut right in an instant, but Daniel managed to relearn how to breathe again after your tears rolled down your face and the runny nose along with the soft sobs were heard in the call, “Please don’t.” Daniel shortly managed to speak in a shaky tone knowing that you were crying at the other end, “Please do not let us break-up over the phone during a random Thursday afternoon, Y/N.” Danny pleased, and you exactly pictured how the man’s face looked at that moment and how all his facial expressions softened in nostalgia and sadness at once.

“You just said you need a break from anyone and anything familiar – I am giving you an out Daniel.” You continued in a sharp tone, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you talked and trying to calm that beating heart of your from jumping down the hills. 

Daniel’s fingers tightened around the phone while on the other hand they tensed together in a fist, “Let’s talk about this after your gig in Paris, text me the details about it and I will fly to you.”

The promise has been kept and weeks later after barely managing to make time to call each other, Daniel flew to Paris and you two had two amazing remaining days together of your relationship. You barely talked about how the relationship was not working anymore the first time when you saw each other after months of not meeting, instead you just choose to laugh at all his silly jokes while Daniel chose to hold you as tight as he still could during what was your last waking-up together morning. 

Arms holding you dearly as your head rested on the man’s chest, your fingers running above Daniel’s arm tattoos as your glare was fixed on Daniel’s fingers nervously playing with the bed sheets in between his knuckles. You knew Daniel, oh you knew him too well – and you knew exactly what was going through your boyfriend’s mind right then, believing that he knew what was going through yours as well. You stood in silence next to each other while both of you understood that that was your last time doing so. 

“I am so sorry.” Daniel whispered into your ear, taking your hand in his and placing them on his beating chest so you could feel how his heart stopped for a split of a moment there as he spoke the words, “I will crowdedly take your out.” He then said, hardly pressing his mouth on the top of your head. 

Closing your eyes as you felt Daniel’s warmth engulfing you whole, you sensed how the world shuttered for a while in one arm tightening around you and a heartfelt kiss instead of words. There was not a need for them, anyway.

You saw the end coming weeks ago, but now as you lived it you wished for you and Daniel to have meet sooner or later – not when your ambitions were higher than the present. 

“I know.” You whispered back, looking up at him just to meet the sadness eyes you ever saw glaring at you back, “I am so sorry too.” You spoke, gently pressing your lips on Daniel’s for one last bittersweet clash of mouths.

So no, you did not break on a Thursday afternoon over the phone, but you did break-up on a Sunday morning almost naked in the same bed you spent your last night together in a withdrawn city from the one you met.

You stood like that for a while not saying anything after saying sorry as if you wanted to prolong a moment you knew you were not coming back to.

“Not to be insensitive or anything Danny,” You managed to speak after a sob, “But I am quite hungry.” You chuckled after you cleaned your dry neck with a cough, “Let’s go grab a bite before your flight.” You spoke, trying to unglue your body from Daniel’s but being pulled in closer in the process by his arm still gripped around you. 

“Five more minutes and we will go.” Daniel spoke with his eyes closed, “I just need five more minutes of this, please.” He then pleaded, chest heavily lifting in a breath followed by a deep sigh. 

Wrapping your arm around him too and closing your eyes to enjoy the last remaining minutes within the man’s throbbing chest and aching body, you stood there until Daniel was ready to let you go and now not just for a couple of days or months -- but for the remaining of your days.

Five minutes more were not enough for him, four-years were not enough for him – he would have held you for longer than eternity holds.

And yet, reality clocked in faster than dreams as it usually does, and Daniel had to leave you again for good this time alone in Paris.    

THE DAYS AND NIGHTS THAT FOLLOWED

Mature break-ups suck, and they do suck especially when you still carry love for each other within those aching hearts of yours. You looked for affection in all the wrong places after Daniel left – and that did nothing good for you. Daniel sunk in into work with a team that did not do him justice – and that did nothing good for him.

Deciding to stay friends was one of the options, but how can you stay friends with someone you love too deeply to call them simply “my friend” instead of “my loved one”. For the following couple of months, you used to reply to Daniel’s Instagram stories, and he was more than edger to reply to yours too.

And yet, all the messages were dry, impersonal and way to fabricated to sound real when you read them out loud. 

Congrats on your points, congrats on your new gig, congrats on your sister’s wedding, congrats of your brother becoming a father, happy birthday darling, happy birthday honey, happy holidays to your friends and family.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – all of them were not real. You both hated them, and yet you both keep sending them. You just wanted to talk to each other – that was all.

You missed late-night conversations; you missed doing make-up on him and he missed hearing you laugh at all his corny jokes. Oh, how much Daniel missed your laughs. And oh, how much you missed him making you giggle. No one managed to do it anymore for you, you laughed out of politeness at every corny pick-up line you received, and Daniel cracked jokes just to stay sane as he boosted his ego that he is still the funniest out of the group – but for whom was he trying this hard to be funny if it was not for you? It was meaningless, all meaningless for both of you.

And yet, you kept the appearances.

You seemed happy; you seemed like you moved on from each other. You got your new rebound boyfriend in one of the bars in Perth that you and Daniel used to frequent together back when you were together, and he followed your example not that very much later after you posted your first picture together with your new conquest. 

The only difference is that Daniel did not post anything on his socials, he just fucked around every single girl was keen on fucking him – most girls were. Could you blame them? It was Daniel Ricciardo after all. None of them satisfied your ex-boyfriend enough, and he even moaned your name twice or thrice while on random girls he met after yet another failed race with McLaren.

In one of the nights when that happened, when Daniel was drunk enough to moan your name instead of the girl’s he was laying with in the same bad – he selfishly called you after midnight in desperate need of hearing your voice. Daniel wanted to hear from you, no matter where you were at that time or who you were with.

It was your very first call after the break-up in Paris, and your shaky fingers picked up the phone from the nightstand once you saw the ID caller while your heart heart sunk at Danny's name came in full on your screen instead of his nickname since you changed him back in Daniel Ricciardo on your phone.

“Danny?” You answered with a trembling just woken-up tone as it was just morning to you back in Perth while Daniel tried to sober up to properly talk to you without sounding like a fool. 

“Oh fuck you for still calling me Danny.” Ricciardo spoke as soon as he heard your morning voice that turned him on in ways he could not explain, “No sorry – I did not meant to sound like that I just –” He paused, looking down at himself barely clothed standing alone on a high-bar chair in the kitchen while the girl he just fucked was deep asleep back in the bedroom of the hotel’s room, “I missed your voice Y/N.” He then breathed, “I missed your voce so much.” He repeated, breaking down slowly as he muttered the words. 

You froze, and yet you could not tell that you missed Daniel’s voice too as you looked over your shoulder to see your current boyfriend quietly asleep next to you. It would not have been fair for him; the new man was extremely clueless about your whole relationship with Ricciardo. You never mentioned him to anyone after you broke-up, let alone to the man you were currently sleeping with.  

“Daniel,” You corrected yourself, not wanting to cause even more damage to the one listening at the end of the call, “This is not the best time to call, I am not alone.” You honestly confessed as you rose from the bed to put your robe on and go on the balcony to light a cigarette. 

“I know, I know.” Daniel spoke, hearing you lighting up the cig that stood so right in between your lips that your ex-boyfriend remembered the taste of so vividly and peacefully on his own, “I saw the pictures, you got yourself a pretty good-looking new man.” He then sarcastically spoke, “Look I just –” He then breathed heavily letting you know that he was on the verge of breaking completely down, “I just called to know that you are alright.” Daniel continued, “I am not worried about where you where or with who you are sleeping with, I was just thinking about you.” Your ex-boyfriend then continued, and you knew judging by his now calm tone and the words used that Daniel was completely honest. 

You took a deep smoke in, “I am fine.” You lied after exhaling all out at once, tightening the robe around your waist to not let the butterflies out, “What about you? Are you okay?” You asked him, watching over the city getting slowly up – the city where you and Daniel felt in love in. 

Daniel clenched his jaw, “I am now.” He then replied, “Hearing from you made me fine.” He continued with muscles tensed up within his body, “I know is stupid that I am whining about hearing your voice when while we were a thing, I was the one who was not picking up the phone but – fuck.” He then paused after yet another heavy sigh, “No one knows me like you do Y/N, and I had a couple of hard days at work, and I want to tell you all about them, but I know that I lost my privileges in doing so.” Daniel spoke, heart throbbing while the voice shook in between the lines. 

“It is fine Daniel.” You replied, taking a seat down on the hard concrete floor of your boyfriend’s balcony, “You can tell me all about it – I always wanted nothing more but you talking to me all about it.” You confessed, watching your cigarette smoke itself as you placed in in the ashtray. 

“It is not right.” Daniel replied at the other end of the call, “I disrespect you too much in our relationship, who am I do the same now?” He then asked, more for himself than for you to hear, “I am glad that you picked up the call, I am glad that I got to hear your voice – I will be satisfied with just that.” He then spoke, “I cannot do the whole remining-friends-with you-thing.” 

Your heart sunk, and you knew that Daniel was pretty much aware of your reply that followed, “Neither do I.” You replied, taking back the cigarette from the ashtray to light it up again. 

The call ended with both of you saying “goodbye” for what you thought is going to be your last time. You turned back to your new boyfriend bedroom where you found him as you left. You tucked in your blanket still next to the man who was not Daniel, wide-awake and with your thoughts running to your-boyfriend who was at the other end of the world getting yet another bottle of whisky to open not caring about the girl sleeping in the other room. You cried silently for a while covering your mouth, while Daniel drowned his sorrow in the end of a glass.  

The replies stopped after your call, and you learned with time how to live without each other. You both managed to get through it while looking for unfamiliar warmth, but occasionally you found yourselves staring at photos or watching clips on your phone that brought you straight back up to the very first time you met having it documented – the first wedding of one of your mutual friends that you have ever attended separately and yet managed to go home together that happened more than four and a half years ago. 

THE MEET-UP

“You keep saying that you will never get married Y/N, but what if you do fall in love with someone and they propose to you in the most romantic setting you can picture?” The bride had asked half-drunk and half-irritated of you just commenting that weddings are just mere methods to cash-in rapidly a large sum of money from your family and friends. 

You chuckled, clicking your champagne with hers, “I will say no, and we will break up – and that is that.” You simply spoke, chocking the glass of champagne down to your throat in an instant, “Look, I am extremely happy for you and what’s-his-name, all I am saying is that I generally am against organizing a large event just for people to bring you money as a form of celebrating your love.” You added, leaning on the wall behind you as you took yet another glass of champagne from the waiter crossing in between your little group of what seemed to be a high-school reunion since everybody that listened to your argument with the bride were your ex-classmates.

She rolled her eyes, “I know that I cannot change your mind. You have been like this since high school!” The bride added, “Rejecting any type of attachment from every single one of the guys that liked you fearing that you might actually end up liking them enough to marry them.” She added, shooting straight fires at you just because you were not agreeing with her position when it came to the traditional norms of a relationship. 

Your eyes widened in shock, and then your expression softened with yet another laugh, “Fine, fine.” You paused, mockingly surrendering yourself by lifting both arms in the air and spilling the remining of the liquid outside the glass in the process, “Blame me for not wanting to follow relationship advice gaslighting myself that the love of my life is to be found in the permitter of our high-school.”  You continued, rolling your eyes in the same sassy way as your ex-classmate just to add even more sparks to the fire. 

“I married my high-school sweetheart.” One of your other ex-colleagues spoke in an outraged tone after she heard what you just said. 

Somehow you unintentionally offended two of your ex-classmates after just a couple of champagne glasses, and that was your signal that you had to get the hell out of the group before you indulge in even more alcohol and say nasty thing that they do not agree with.

“Good for you darling.” You spoke as you faked the most annoying smile you were not even aware you were capable of until then, “I will go and get some more booze, see you around.” You spoke, making your not-so-subtle exit possible.  

That was where you met Daniel – at the bar. You ordered yet another shot of tequila while he was patting his shoulder with a napkin right behind you. 

“One for me as well.” Ricciardo spoke as he pointed to your shot, “Tequila, right?” He then asked you, leaning on the bar with his elbow and quickly scanning you from head to toes within a split of a second. 

You nodded, “Not the best, not the worst.” You answered as you took your shot from the bar’s table as you glanced back at the very handsome stranger next to you who you somehow recognized from somewhere, “But it does the trick.” You continued, waiting for the bartender to pour the liquid into Riccardo’s shot glass too.  

“Let’s hope it does, because the champagne is not doing it.” Daniel then spoke, pointing to the shoulder he just patted. 

And that is when you realized where you recognized him from – he was standing at the table next to you minutes earlier, “Oh my god.” You gasped, “Did I do that?” You added, watching the darkened stain on the man shoulder that you just spilled champagne on during your heated-up conversation, “I am so sorry.” You added, hand on your chest and all that. 

The handsome stranger chuckled, Daniel knew that right away that you were not sorry and just trying to be polite, “Do not worry – that kind of conversation would have made me spill my drink as well.” He then spoke, clicking his shot glass with yours as he threw you a cheeky wink letting you know that he heard your comments towards the bride. 

As your cheeks reddened, you smiled back to him and Daniel swore that his heart skipped a beat right then, “So, I guess you are not from the bride’s side?” He then asked, “She does not seem that friendly with you, and neither where those girls around you.” Daniel then argued, asking for two additional shots after you agreed with a nod to his hand gesturing to the empty glasses.

Your face slightly crooked, “I guess you can say that I am from the bride’s side although we are clearly not friends – I did her make-up and the bridesmaids.” You answered while nervously tapping your fingers on the table, “We were in high-school together.” You explained, clasping your hands together at your back as you saw him noticing your anxious tapping, “What about you?” You then asked, “Handsome stranger that I am so sorry I spilled my drink on.” 

Daniel’s face widened in the brightest smile you have ever seen receiving a compliment, “I am from what’s-his-face part.” He then laughed, “Michael, the groom.” He explained, handing his hand in the air for you shake, “Daniel, please to meet you, gorgeous stranger that unintentionally spilled her drink on my shoulder.” Ricciardo introduced himself, and that was exactly the moment when it clicked for you from where exactly you knew him and not just from the table next to you. You were talking with that driver that Perth was so extremely proud off – Daniel Ricciardo from Red Bull.

“Y/N.” You replied after being starstruck for a second there but intentionally decided to play it like a fool, “Well Daniel from Michael’s side, I think we are just becoming drinking buddies at this already boring wedding.” You then added after a firm shake of hands, one that you somewhat knew you were going to remember forever. 

“Well Y/N who hates weddings somehow from the bride’s side, I think you are right with the drinking-buddy pairing.” Daniel then replied with a pristine chuckle, handing you the second tequila shot that easily went down to your throats at the same time, “And yet, I must disagree with the boringness, this party is just getting started.” He then replied, handing you his hand to hold signaling to the dancing floor. 

You hesitated for a second to claps your hand with Daniel’s, and yet there was something withing the dark hazel eyes of the curly-haired stranger that drove you to cave into Daniel’s invitation.

Daniel took dancing to a whole another level that night, and you followed suit. It was for the first time in forever when you danced your ass off at an event – especially a wedding you were not even excited to attend to being with. And yet, Daniel made everything easy from the very start.

In between shots of tequila and long drinks, Ricciardo took the role of your dancing coach serious alongside with the drinking-buddy role. You had a blast with the man you knew nothing about minutes ago – you clicked right from the start. Daniel was the soul and life of the party, and he took you into his world after you loosen yourself into his steady arms. 

“It is okay if I touch you here?” Daniel asked as the Latino tunes were replaced by slow songs and his hands went from the air to your waist, being determined to dance with the gorgeous stranger he met at the bar for the whole evening. 

You nodded as you wrapped both hands around the handsome stranger, “As long as you guide me, yes.” You spoke, titling your head at the side, “I suck at slow-dancing.” You confessed while Daniel was comfortably placing his hands in the curves of your waist as if they always had been belonged there as a cover of “wings” was playing in the background.

“I do think you are pretty good to it.” Daniel then commented, leaning into your ears so that he could whisper the words for you and only you to hear, “See, weddings are not that awful – you found a pretty good dancing and drinking partner here.” Daniel then spoke, glaring at your pleading eyes for more than just a mere touch of your waist. 

You laughed once again at the Daniel’s words, “I think I made myself misunderstood back there, I have not said that weddings are purely evilly and awful – I just do not believe that your love should be celebrated through weddings from which you get a whole amount of money.” You explained yourself, trying to match Daniel’s steps on the rhythm of the song, “I know for sure that I will not be doing that.” You then add, “If I ever find somebody in the future.” You spoke as you saw the confused expression on Daniel’s face worrying that he is dancing with a taken woman, “I am very much very single right now.” You clearly spoke, giving him all the permission to continue with the sweet nothings spoken into your ears.

“That is good to know.” Daniel replied as he got even closer to you as soon as you permitted him to do so, “Do you think that Michael and his girlfriend organized this wedding just for the money part?” Do you not think that they truly love each other and that was enough for them to do so?” He then continued, looking down at you as he spoke the words to watch your expressions softened from up close as you spotted the couple you were talking about right over Daniel’s shoulder dancing next to you. 

 “To be truly honest with you as I the tequila just got me,” You paused as you threw a tongue-tied laugh into the play, “I just do not feel that I will love somebody enough to want to marry them, that’s all.” You ended, glancing over Daniel’s shoulder to watch the bride and the groom slowly dancing on the song as they dearly looked in each other eyes as they mouthed the words you were never brave enough to speak out loud to someone: I love you.

“Life might surprise you.” Daniel spoke after a long pause during which he shortly glanced at his friend and girlfriend, “Like it surprised them too.” He then continued after switching his focus right back at you, “Michael told me years ago that he will never see himself getting married and look at him now!” He happily spoke, tightening his fingers around the fabric of your dress. 

You looked up to the handsome stranger that you learned the name of and whose name would linger for many years to come on your mouth, “Let’s hope that you are right, I am not much of a hopeless romantic as you seem to be.” You replied as the song ended, and your moment was interrupted by the wedding MC who announced that the single dance of the bride and groom followed.

“Oh God,” You softly chuckled as you went on the side of the dancefloor watching Daniel almost tearing up while the bride and groom dance begun, “I was right just now, you are a hopeless romantic.” You added, handing him a napkin that you picked from the bar earlier and hid in the pockets of your dress.

Daniel giggled back at you, “Is that a bad thing?” He then replied, taking the napkin from your hand to wipe his face, “Should I be a pessimist just like you?” He then asked, placing the napkin into the pockets of his own pants. 

You declined with a nod, “Just please do not tell me that you are that type of person who believes that love will always bring you joy, excitement, smiles, stomach butterflies and sweet shivers down to your spine.” You spoke as you looked at your newest friend watching the two newly-leads dancing in the middle of the room.  

“Oh no.” Daniel shortly replied, “Love will also bring you excruciating pain, blame, sadness, despair, hurt – lots of them.” The man then paused to switch his attention from the bride and groom to you already staring at him, “It will also bring you the power to overcome them all.” He then added, giving you one of his bright smiles again. 

You pondered Daniel’s words for a while after you replied with a short huff of approval, although you half-hearted believed them. Up to that point you had not experienced a long-term committed relationship, due to the fear of every single word Daniel displayed that night. 

You kept your heart away from the pain, blame, sadness, despair and hurt while you also sacred it from joy, excitement, smiles, and stomach butterflies. Not anymore, you thought as you eyed him watching you back.

There was an incurable romantic standing next to you hitting for the entire evening on you, and somewhat in between the lines of his words you truly genuinely believed that Daniel was honest with every single one of his opinions when it came to love.

You could have not been that stupid to say no when Daniel asked you if you wanted to get out of there together right before the party ended, you would have been the one to ask him anyway if he would not have proposed it to you first – there was something in the way your bodies glued for the entire evening on the dancefloor that made you utterly crazy for more than just public touches.

You entered your apartment, and it took Daniel exactly two and a half seconds to glue you on the hall’s wall and cup your face into a kiss that was built on the tension between your bodies glued on the dancefloor earlier that night.

It left you breathless as you knew it will, the handsome stranger was even more striking in the dim lights of your hall, and then your kitchen where he took your body up from the ground and placed it on the kitchen counter with him being fully in between your legs before you could even open perfectly for him. 

The chuckles did not stop, you smiled as you kissed him while unbuttoning his perfectly ironed white shirt. Daniel unbuckled his tie on his own as the man mouth went on your neck placing deeply pressed kisses on your skin followed by bites and groans into your ears as one of your hands went underneath Daniel’s shirt to find its own way into his suit pants. 

“Wait.” Daniel stopped, departing from you inches enough to look at your face, “Are you sure about this?” He then foolishly asked while your hand was already cupping his balls within your fingers to play with them, “We had quite a few drinks and I really do not want you to feel any pressure in –” 

You stopped him from talking while you wrapped the other hand around his neck and glued him back to your body, “Look,” You paused, hand slowly gripping on his already hard dick, “You asking for consent is the hottest thing that a man has ever done before, but I am one hundred percent sure that I want you to fuck me on this very counter.” You replied with a sly smirk as you unbuckled the man’s pants and got them half down Daniel’s thighs, “Please?” You shortly pouted looking directly at him as you begged, driving him now completely crazy for you.

Daniel listened to your pleadings, oh Daniel listened so damn well. Taking your neck into one of his hands as you arched your back, the incurable romantic took your underwear off with the other hand that was more than edger to insert two of the fingers inside you just for a little tease of what had to come next. 

“Oh damn Danny.” You moaned before biting the man’s lower lip as he swirled inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You continued, basically singing music for the handsome not-anymore-stranger inside of you fully now after minutes of teasing your clint with the tips of his fingers, knowing exactly when to stop and when to go rough.  

Daniel moved then back and forth, back and forth, stopping once in a while to give you the pleasure of positing your legs and body just as you liked while the man’s mouth was on yours the entire time. Nails jabbed into the man’s neck, Daniel glued to your body as he listened to all your orders of going faster, deeper, harder, and then gentler, smoother, and softer to offer you a change to take proper breaths in between the wet hungry kisses for more than just skin, for more than just groans and moans.  You guided him to the bedroom where you gave him the show for the night standing on top of him, allowing Daniel to bite, cup and lick your breasts as you were doing the work for him.

Riding him slowly you leaned down on him as he leaned back into your bed, and you could swear that you never felt hands that hurryingly to caress your back as you were kissing the man’s neck, shoulders, and chest leaving wet traces all over Daniel’s skin. There was more than just sex, and you knew that right then and there. No one you just fucked before embraced you that tightly and wanted you that close to them. There were traces of what will become love in between the touches, kissed and bites. 

After what seemed hours of discovering each other’s kinks and pleasures, you laid with him by your side breathless and senseless. Your heads were spinning completely, and it was not just the alcohol. You looked at each other in the darkness of the room, and yet Daniel knew exactly where to place his hands to hug you, and your head fits its perfect spot at the man’s chest. 

“I never heard somebody calling me Danny and to sound this beautiful.” Daniel spoke, pressing a quick peak on the top of your forehead as he played with your ruffled hair resting on your shoulders, “Please continue to do so.” He then asked, placing yet another kiss behind your ear as he whispered the words, “Not just continue, but never stop in doing so.” The handsome man in your bed warned in a funny tone, and you promised to yourself that you will listen to whatever Danny pleases from now on. 

You felt asleep thinking about the fact that life really surprised you that evening, but you had no idea back then that it will continue to surprise you with him for the following four years after that that – if you could only turn back time you wished for this awful force called life to tell you that surprises might not the joyful kind with a happy end.

Y/N from four years ago had no idea through what type of a suffering she would have to go through when the man in within whose arms she peacefully slept in calls her after midnight while she is in bed with another men and he is fucking another woman.

Daniel from four years ago had no idea through what type of a grief he would find himself into when alone in a kitchen far away from the one he loved but failed into keeping by his side.

Damn, life – what did you do with them?

What went wrong from the moment you shared tequila shots to your break-up in Paris? That is the question you still not managed to find an answer for, although it has been there all along in front of your eyes: life and its surprises.

#felt cute might delete it later type of fic #but i like how it somehow turned out #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #mclaren #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #ricciardo x you #riccardo x y/n #f1 x y/n #fic: you know me too well #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 #danny ric #ric3

[mediumgayitalian]

“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

next

#love love love everyone knowing nicos crush including will himself and nico just continues to refuse to acknowledge it #so so funny to me #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #solangelo #pre solangelo #pining nico di angelo #whipped nico di angelo #down bad nico di angelo #hijinks and shenanigans #longpost #my writing #fic #you know you’re up too late when you hear your dad starting to get ready for work 🤡🤡 well shit

[paunchsalazar]

keep thinking about Scott and Wallace going back to their apartment for the first time since his presumed death (because I think even if they’re going to try and be a couple no way he’s moving in with Ramona after one date and an encounter with their future selves) even if his death might’ve gotten him out of their lease. actually.. now that he’s back… he probably needs to pay rent…

all his stuff is still there, except for the jacket, some clothes are still on the floor (because Wallace hasn’t really been home all that much, okay!) his toothbrush is still in the cup on the sink.. they have accidentally used each other’s so many times anyway, why throw it out…

getting ready for bed and getting into their shared futon.. was it always this small? can’t believe Wallace ends up living in a huge mansion and that Scott is still crashing at his place…

#the futon is tiny but it felt so big #Idk if Scott would ask about Todd being obsessed with Wallace but I want him to… #just like yeah he kept asking me questions about like what shampoo you use and stuff… #and Wallace does not elaborate on Todd wearing the Scott wig the entire time… #I wrote a fic outline in my notebook but I can’t deal with that rn… #debated pov too much… I feel like Wallace knows what it was like to be without Scott but he also hides so much… hmm #wallace wells #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim takes off #scollace

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

#yes this is a bruce appreciation post #am i biased? yes. am i right that he has these features? also yes. #hes actually a very attractive person. hes got all the right features for it #plus hes smart (some medical knowledge) is really loyal strong-willed and patient #he puts up with kudo SO much #from being bossed around to taking home yoichis brother to whatever the heck kudo made him do to figure out OFA's transfer properties..... #i didnt think much of bruce originally #then i started doing resistance fic stuff and now hes a fave #hes a little blorbo #that i throw in terrible situations for my own entertainment #used his scary smile for comedy purposes #like when he made a kid cry once. or when a meta child was afraid of him so they bit him #has patience to deal with kudo and co. but also. has enough bite to snark them. is how i like writing him #oh? background character? well lemme just *picks him up* EXPAND ON THAT- #fic stuff: he tries making a good impression on a girl and kudo is ruining it immediately #he doesnt know what to do because the two always banter #kudo: fuck you #oc: fuck me yourself you coward #he sees through a rose-lens that kudo is trying to rip off his face #appeciation kinda turned analysis in general #bruce #kudo #yoichi shigaraki #bnha #mha #spoilers #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #NOT YOICHIS BROTHER. i meant Yoichi / AFO's brother in a prev tag up there but theres too much tags i dont wanna rewrite to fix that #(image limit and tag limit)

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)

#my ârt #crush depth #crush depth spoilers #fnaf #tw blood #tw drowning #idk how many others apply #anyways this is midnight crow coming out of the shadow realm to scream at you #first of all a cs ramble is on the way I'm still recovering from that fic too #im biting you naff im biting you so dang hard #I don't even know much about iron lung besides watching a play through but damn do you make me want to know more #just. where do I even start. the atmosphere is established so well and even though there was such a small space to work with I FELT it #I felt the claustrophobia I felt the walls and the console and the single dim lightbulb as my only solace in this death trap #the THOUGHTS #poor yn had so much time to just get lost in their head and spiral pretty much constantly #the dread. the constant overhanging dread of knowing there's a 99% chance they're not getting out of there alive and at this point #they just want to accept it and let it end bc there's hardly anything to go back to if they live #naff. look at me. reading some parts made my chest actually tighten with dread. it was so well done. #this poor human just buried in existential horror and just wanting it to end in a slightly less painful way #and the unknowable beings trapped outside who absolutely REFUSE to let that happen #god those eldritch fish were trying their hardest but just couldn't get in #yn was trapped inside while they were trapped outside and I just #I am EXPLODING the more I think about it #thinking about when they thought they were drowning and tried to breathe again #wanting to die but still having that instinct to survive #asking to be ripped apart but still cherishing their last breath of air #I'm shaking you I'm shaking you I'm dying on the floor #ough. #I'll never mentally recover from this and I want you to know I genuinely get inspired by your writing #this has been midnight crow ramblings. I just hit the tag limit. have a lovely night.

[wishluc]

Floyd likes the expressions you make around him.

He likes the unrestrained grin on your face when he brings you a glass of the Mostro Lounge's new exclusive drink, and the shy smile when he slinks up to your side and casually puts his arm around you. He likes the dumbfounded look you have when you walk into your room to find him sprawled across your bed with his face in your pillow, and the hesitant turn of your lips when he confesses to you just how much he likes you.

And he's content with everything he's seen, the lopsided smiles, the bashful glances, the irritated sighs and everything else you've had to offer.

But his favorite is undoubtedly the faces you make when you get scared.

Funnily enough, it's a simple game of hide and seek, where he volunteered to be the seeker in, that helps him realize this.

He's not sure who asked for it or how it started, but all the students staying in NRC over the break were starting to get restless, and somehow that lead to a game being started. Initially, he thought to mess with some underclassmen, but something about you caught his eye, and his first prey was picked. He doesn't care for how the game begun, anymore—all he does care about now, though, is you, and the way your footsteps sound as you scurry away from him. At first, he only listens for the thud that echoes when you bump into a door, and your shoes landing on the ground as you hoist yourself over an obstacle, but soon he takes notice of your frantic panting and the curses you mutter under your breath (It makes him smile, it does, seeing such a cute creature like you lose your mind over a silly game). As he stalks closer to you, slowly cornering you into an inescapable point behind a closet door, he can feel his own heart pick up, eagerly anticipating your next moves.

And oh, nothing could prepare him for this.

You look lovely, he thinks, eyes widened and a thin sheen of sweat on your face and neck. Your shaky exhale and clenched hands, your pounding heartbeat and the fear that practically radiates of you. You're so delectable like this, but Floyd's afraid a comment about eating you up at this time may cause you to explode in terror.

Floyd's own eyes are narrowed on you, and slightly shaken by his silent staring, you decide to break the silence first.

"Floyd!" your following laugh is forced, though he could hardly care, "you nearly scared the life out of me."

No, that wasn't nearly as bad as he wanted, none of the screaming, trembling fingers or teary-eyed pleading, he'd hoped for, but Floyd doesn't tell you this. He grins in response, all teeth and malice—after all, he's never been one to back down from a challenge.

And he can't help but be curious—what other adorable expressions are you hiding from him?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#[You're telling me /you/ wouldn't want yan bf Floyd?! #[Is he gonna kill you? Or Does he just want to play? Half the fun's in not knowing] #[I was supposed to post a Malleus fic today but...it's not going too well so here I bring you Floyd ♡ Actually one of my favorite TWST guys #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x you #twst x you #yandere twsi x you #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #cw yandere #twst. 🌀 #floyd. 🌀 #asa.writes. 🌀 #drabble. 🌀

[furby-scoops]

Steve is looking at his phone like, "Didn't I block him"🤨🤔

#originally i was going to have Billy's name saved in Steve’s phone as “Billy do NOT answer” but changed it last minute #harringrove #steve: didnt i block him🤔 #full disclosure i saw this message on tiktok and immediately was like “you know what psycho would actually send this to someone?” billy. #st: billy hargrove #Billy Hargrove #sometimes i tell myself “is this TOO cringy?” and then i say nvm idc and post it anyway #also reminds me of a fic im working on #also you know damn well Billy picked his own contact picture for Steve’s phone🙄 #long tags #furby-cult

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

#im talking about griffith btw #guts i feel i get intuitively - maybe because i have some personality traits in common with him #and we get more about his life concretely told to us in canon. so he is a bit easier to pin down as a character and feel attached to for me #but whenever i was reading the manga i just kept wanting more insight about griffith's actions and feelings #like ok yeah its fun to have mysterious antagonists and suspense /tension etc but its also fun to feel like you deeply understand them too #and i felt like that was a bit missing from him for me in canon #so reading about him in analysis and fics is the most fun for me rn #he always felt kinda half unreal to me- which maybe was the point of him - but i wanted a bit more about his childhood or something? #and wished we had more stuff explicitly from his pov in the story to read or explanation about his transformation or wtv #and now he's so much more closed off to me even than he was in the golden age. i keep waiting for him to explain stuff and he does not #ANYWAYS all this rambling to say some people out there are very good at interpreting him and making his like. insecurities #more obvious to me bc i didnt really get that side of him from canon intuitively well #also im really enjoying reading the first few berserk fics ive read #there may not be a ton of them out there but there is def writing talent in the fandom #i'll share some recs once i'm done sifting through most of what's out there to read #also (not to tie everything back to death note but it IS my home fandom after all) #i feel griffith is obvs the more light-like character here and L maybe a bit guts-like? but unlike berserk in death note #light is the one you get to know best and L is the mysterious / unreal one you don't get a lot of concrete insight into #and in the DN fandom I can read the more mysterious character intuitively but had to warm up to the less mysterious one instead #and the mystery of L makes sense to me and doesnt bug me as much due to like - he HAS to hide a lot about himself or else he will die lol #so some similarities there but also some opposite feels as well #berserk spoilers #p

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmpshipping #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #i hesitate to put main character tags bc it's shipping content but i think we're all p much okay with that?? we chill??? we chill thumbsup #my fics #ficlet #anyway would you believe me if i told you this took me a week to write. hhourgh. #i'll prolly make small edits as time goes by if i dont scrap this version entirely. #i really like it rn but we'll see how i feel abt it in like a couple hours or a day. the sheer number of times ive rewritten this hhhhh. #this little character/relationship study is primarily for me to try to work them out in my head. #so if this doesnt quite hit the exact vibe you know why. #im still getting acquainted w missa's character but i gotta start somewhere ya know #i didnt actually get to explore missa's feelings of inferiority as much as i wanted to but thats bc i found trying to tackle that As Well- #-as everything else saddled the fic/setting w too many Things and made it cumbersome and muddied the story being told. #so another time perhaps. #anyway i adore them. beloveds.

[nostalgia-tblr]

"are people not into that?" i ask, after posting my weird niche shit to the internet, despite knowing it to be weird niche shit.

#jsyk sylkius or anything adjacent to it does not “Do Numbers” in any way and i observed this some time ago #i assume that's the “rival ships” element at work but who knows really #that sort of thing is like femslash in that everyone approves of it but nobody actually reads or writes it #but who would have thought sylvie beating loki with a stick would not bring in droves of readers???! shocking twist there! #& i don't consider sifki a rarepair but my rarepair standards are VERY strict like if there's >5 fics a pairing is basically mainstream #chasing popularity would annoy me though & i just don't have the mental spoons to try writing stuff i wouldn't personally read #yeah i *could* put my blorbos to work in a coffee shop but what cost to my own enjoyment levels? AT WHAT COST FANGELA??? #you can't please everyone so you may as well just please yourself and if anyone else likes it you've found some fellow freaks so yay #i don't mean please yourself in a wanking sense. though feel free to do that too it probably counts as a cardio workout idk. #BUT ANYWAY #fic related #ps i am v glad there's the “warning: loki” tag because i think/hope it acts as a filter for 'he did nothing wrong in his life ever' types #who are Valid & etc obviously but i write my morally grey characters to be morally grey and the tag might help avoid conflict #though tbh i write almost every character to be morally grey in some way so i can't claim to have left my comfort zone here #(i'm not joking when i say the 1987-89 run of Dr Who shaped my entire future fannish life from a young and apparently v impressionable age)

[shaarlslec]

you know me too well 

part 1: the break-up, the days and nights that followed, the meet-up

part 2: the core memories of your relationship, the present

paring: daniel riccardo x reader

words: 6440

warnings: angst in the first part, short physical fight scene (daniel is not involved), monza 22, mentions of drinking/throwing up and blood;

masterlist

Seeing Daniel for the very first time after your break-up, getting in a fight for him and promises of the future.

THE “FRIENDS” THING

Staying friends with your ex is never a good thing, why the hell would you and Daniel think that you amongst all the people that have ever been through a break-up while still deeply loving each other can prove that wrong? None of you thought that through. The thrill of you two being in the same room together after months of not talking nor seeing each other was too high to be ignored and you became rapidly unaware of how much of a bad decision was to agree in being sat at the same table close next to each other.

Oh, so very close that your knees touched underneath the table. And no, it was not because the said table was too crowded and there was not enough physical space; it was very much because both of you craved for even the slightest touch from the other but was not daring to say a word. 

Daniel made you laugh like in the good old times with silly ass jokes and impressions for the first couple of hours spent together and then you filled the time by gossiping all the couples that you were not getting well together while you two yourselves were a couple. For a minute there it felt like you and Danny could really make the whole friends thing work, until it came to dancing together on slow songs yet again like the very first time when your bodies stood this close many years ago. 

“So many people in here!” You exclaimed in awe as you quickly scanned the packed dance floor while your hands were awkwardly finding their spot again around Danny’s neck while he was searching for rightfully his on your waist. 

Being that close to each other made your heart flutter, but not in the way that it did for the very first time you two shared a dancefloor. It ached with sorrow and grief, and with the unsaid deeply desire of the emotional distance in between the two of you to be shattered by all the good you did to each other during those four years. Instead, the hammer was molded in the coldness of your past months together and in that bittersweet feeling of holding each other stringently glued back in Paris. Your bodies moved awkwardly alongside with the dawdling rhythm of the song played, and yet they knew each other too well not to fit right into the other. 

Your ex-boyfriend agreed with a nod, “Have you ever pictured us getting married?” Daniel suddenly asked after a short turn of head into the room, “Because I did.” He then continued after a short, parched gulp that you almost felt in your stomach, “It would have not been filled with this many people, maybe somewhere far away from Perth and with only our close family and friends.” He then spoke, glared fixed on your teary eyes as the words kept coming from between his lips. 

You took a short breath in, “It would have been simple and private, and we would have worn those silly outfits that we bought in Vegas.” You added, both thinking about that one time two years ago when you got way too drunk to stay sane in Vegas and decided to get falsely married in one of the casinos after buying cheap tacky Halloween costumes of a bride and groom to be that stood loose on both of your complexions, “I thought about it, yes.” You answered, letting yet another sigh to escape from deep in your lungs. 

“Those would have been indeed funny.” Danny laughed, and yet you recognized right away that he was putting an act again in front of you. 

Daniel was not amused, and neither were you. You comforted him by replying with a short fake smile, “Have you ever questioned why we have never done it?” You inquired, lights dimming as the song was about to switch with yet another slow one, “Why we have never talked about us getting married before?” You breathed, tiptoeing on your feet to reach the closeness of Daniel’s mouth not wanting for the people dancing around you to hear such a private talk. 

The chest of your ex-boyfriend lifted in an instant, you were being too close to him which allowed Danny to take in your full scent. It drove Daniel utterly crazy, and that was because he has not felt the scent of home in a long time, and now he was holding you into both of his hands unable to taste it but being just lured in with just the fragrance of what once was completely his. 

“Were not weddings for you just a quick way to earn easy money?” He then replied, being unable to think about a proper answer in the situation given and only managing to comeback with yet another question. 

“You changed my mind in many prospects during the time when we were together, you would have changed my mind with this one too.” You responded, getting back fully on your feet now as you needed to restrain the immense urge of not kissing him right then and there. 

Danny was not the only one who missed home, you missed him too – dearly and deeply so, “Don’t do this to me Y/N.” Daniel softly spoke, tightening you even closer into his grip as he pushed your bodies together for his head to now lay in the curve between your neck and shoulder, “Don’t make me think again of what it could have been.” He then breathed into your left ear making your entire body swiftly tremble with his words, “I’ve done it to myself many months after our break-up.” Danny shortly inhaled the last of his mutters, allowing him to fully take in your scent before departing again from you, “I was right, I cannot do the whole “friends” thing with you.” 

You took a step back as well from him, “Neither do I.” You replied, watching your hand that had unconsciously taken Danny into yours, as if your bodies were not ready to let go yet no matter your intentions of doing so. You took a breath in as your fingers swiped away from Daniel’s while the song ended, being replaced by the MC’s voice announcing the bride and groom dance. 

Daniel was the first one to go, leaving you yet again alone while he went straight to the bar where he met the guy from earlier that first asked him about you at the beginning of the evening. 

“I need to drink.” Daniel firmly spoke as he looked at his friend, “No matter what, no matter how much.” He then added, “Just pour something in the glass.” He added, signaling to the barman and watching his friend being surprised by the man’s quick act. 

“Are you alright?” The man then asked, patting Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Not even a bit, not even at all.” Your ex-boyfriend confessed, not daring to take yet another glare over his shoulder to watch you go in the furthest away corner from him and the bar. 

MY PERSON

Daniel’s coping mechanism turned out to be alcohol for that night, and he indulged in it heavily and quickly after you two decided to split once again. You decided to leave the wedding early a little bit over midnight, there was no point in staying any longer in a place where you witnessed from afar Daniel getting wasted and knowing that you going to him to try and stop him will only do worse.

You rapidly said your goodbyes to the people that matter and stormed out of the room right away as you searched for a car to take you out from that hell of a night. 

And yet, on your way-out Daniel’s name stopped you. The name was not spoken from the mouths of your mutual friends, but from people you were not even acquitted with. A group of men smoking cigars outside, talking shit about your ex-boyfriend without knowing that you were involved with him as you waited next to them for the cab to arrive. You tried to ignore them at first, and yet your blood boiled every single time they mentioned him.  

“Have you seen the McLaren driver inside? The Daniel Riccardo guy? Man, that guy is extremely wasted, getting kicked out of the team seems to have affected him.” One of them spoke as he laughed, “I saw him knocking out a few glasses earlier, look I even took a video of it!” He enthusiastically spoke, and your ears widened in surprise. Fuck, you knew that will go on the internet minutes after you leave. 

The video played, and you quickly peaked into the men’s direction. They were all laughing at Daniel for stumbling on his drunken feet and bumping shoulders with one of the waitresses, “Oh shit, sorry!” The voice of your ex-boyfriend being clearly heard on the recording. 

“Man, and they say famous people have it all together.” Another one commented, and that was what made one your fists clench while you were cancelling your drive, “Twitter is going to love this one!” The man giggled, and that was your exact cue to mingle with people wanting to mess Daniel up. 

“Having fun, boys?” You asked them, fully turning into their direction as you took few steps towards them, “Was bullying in high-school not enough for you three?” You asked them, looking straight into their confused faces as you snatched the man’s phone from his hands, not even thinking about the consequences of your actions. 

You went through the stranger’s phone as they were still perplexed by your actions, completely deleting the video from the man’s phone quickly enough before he dared to snatch it back from your hands. 

“What the fuck was that?” The owner of the phone shouted back at you, while the other two of his friends went in all defensive mode by stepping ahead in front of you and him with a quick move ready to shield the immensely imbecile that dreadfully looked at you, “Who the fuck are you to touch my phone?” He then yelled even loudly, making the other people that were out for a cig to turn their necks around to witness the whole scene. 

“Someone who does not tolerate high-school behavior from grown-ass adults.” You replied as you twitched both of your eyebrows and crossed your arms at your chest, “Do you have any other videos?” You asked, one of your tensed veins almost bursting on the top of your forehead. 

The man doubtfully laughed at you, “Oh,” He then paused, looking from head to toes at your figure, “I understand now.” He then said with yet another annoying giggle, “You are one of his bitches, I heard that famous people do have loyal bitches.” He then commented, taking a step aside from his two bulldog friends to put two of his fingers at the top of your chin which you slapped right away leaving him all hanging, “Oh, look at this one!” He argued again, “She bites.” He then added with a weird fetish smug slapped on his idiotic face, “Do you bite Riccardo too rather than kissing his ass?” 

You chuckled, “Just say you are jealous of him then since you seem to not have any bitches to either bite or kiss your ass, and then delete all the videos you have of him from tonight.” You demanded, not moving an inch from your initial spot, and not letting him get his glare away from yours seeing him getting all frustrated and nervous in your presence as you accidentally touched a very sensitive spot for the stranger in front of you: him not getting any bitches. 

Your comment infuriated the man even more, and now his hand quickly snatched into your hair at the back of your neck as the man pushed you closer to him to look you outrageously in the eyes once more, “I am not a Formula 1 driver, but I pay well if you want to do me the same services as you do for him.”

The rest of the people that were outside staring at the whole scene gathered around you as soon as the man dared to touch the strings of your hair, and even the douchebag’s friends told him to stop and not create a scene. One person pushed his shoulders back, telling him to stay put and get away from you. All of them wanted to help, shouting at him or either pulling him from you and yet the man’s grip was forcefully enthralled in your hair and for split of a second it reminded you of that one silly fight you had in high school with one of your classmates that dared to touch you in the same way. Thinking about that scene, you acted just as you did back then due to your pushed nerves as you were feeling the man’s stinky breath on your face – you used all your force to smack the stranger’s forehead with yours after muttering the warning “get your hands out off right now.”

The heads smacking happened fast, too quick for him to even notice the bridge of his nose being quickly broken by your head. The hand went away from your hair as he stepped away from you, and your head which was already dizzy enough from the drinks now became even heavier and instantly you felt the metallic taste of blood engulfing your mouth – you had broken your nose too. 

“What the f—” The man shouted, touching his wobbly nose and right away jumping on his feet into your direction caught up in anger as he wanted to fight you back thinking about throwing a punch into your direction. 

The people around him stopped at the right time, and yet the shouting and the yelling of profanities towards you were not stopped even minutes later when the police was called due to the incontrollable behavior of the man that was stubborn enough to push all the people around him to get a hold of you.

You perplexed look at the whole scene, touching your chin that was now stained in blood coming from one of your nostrils. Oh fuck, you just physical hit someone for speaking ill of your ex-boyfriend.  

The police’s car came minutes after the man’s friends succeeded in calming him down, but right when the cops went outside from their car he started again to point into your direction and whining about being head bumped by a girl.

You said nothing but laughed at him, your head was too light-headed to fully comprehend what he was saying or complaining about. 

You were both taken at the nearest police station to give statements minutes later, and things seemed to be calmed down quite a notch when you were seated next to each other in front of three policemen who looked down at you like to children who got in a fight in a kindergarten’s playground. 

“Ok, so what exactly happened?” One of them boreally spoke, “You wanted to punch the lady, and the lady punched you back?” He asked, switching his glare from you to the stranger. 

You took a breath in, “It was self-defense, and I did not punch him.” You laughed as you were receiving wet napkins from one of the other policemen to wipe your face, “Imagine if I did.” You mockingly spoke as you took a quick glare to his much worse broken nose than yours. 

“You gripped her hair, right?” The interrogator asked, looking at the now puppy-face eyed man next to you far different from the one not even half an hour ago. 

“I did not want to—” 

The shaky voice of the man was harshly interrupted by a pair of hurried steps entering the room you two were questioned into.

You turned your necks, and that is when you spotted Daniel’s widened and worried eyes on you, “Jesus fuck Y/N.” Danny then loudly spoke after taking a short breath of air into his lungs as his chest lifted down in relief, “What the fuck happened?” He spoke, rapidly getting on his knees next to you to gently cup your face into his hands to better look of the masterpiece you managed to provoke to your own nose while fighting with that idiot, “He did that?” He then dreadfully spoke, glaring at the scaredy cat next to you. 

Touching one of Daniel’s shoulders for the man not to straightly jump at your newest enemy’s neck in front of the three policemen who were amusingly witnessing the entire scene, you shook your head in denial and whispered the words “I did that” pointing to both yours and the man’s noses.

Daniel had heard minutes after the car police took you at the station that you got into an argument with someone, and without even thinking about it twice or asking someone who saw the whole event unfold before their eyes, Daniel called a car and went straight away to the place you were at. The man’s heart raced fast, much faster than the car he was in. It sobered him up right away – knowing that you were in trouble.

Indubitably so, Daniel imagined the worst-case scenario and once your ex-boyfriend saw your bloody nose and the stains on your dress, something within him unleashed and there was nothing more that he wanted to do rather than smashing that moron’s face even harder that it already was.

And yet, your touch and short smile calmed him down. You were good, and you were safe. Yes, with a bit of a broken nose and a light-weighted head. And yet, you were able to smile and crack jokes still – Daniel was satisfied with just that instead of throwing a punch himself at the face of the man standing next to you. 

The policemen demanded Daniel to stay outside until you amicably solved your little dispute with the man. You stood for another whole ten to twenty minutes in the room, and you both ended up being fined with a small amount of money for disturbing the public space after it was shown that the man you head-bumped had his record already stained by other public assaults after getting drunk at parties and other events. 

“I will agree with leaving it just like this if he deletes all the vides from this night from his phone and proves us that he did so.” You dead-serious spoke with your hands at your chest, watching him already being submissive of you and germanely deleting all the footage from the wedding – even the ones in which Daniel was not the main character of. 

Your ex-boyfriend was briefed on how the whole situation played out before he found out that you got in a fight as he was patiently waiting for you outside the police station by one of the witnesses. Once Danny saw you getting out of the doors, the man’s arms tightly embraced you without any warning and you were too tired to even try and resist the man’s hug. 

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” Daniel asked you after he took your chin in one of his hands to push your head back to better see what happened to your nose, “Does it hurt?” Daniel then added, gently using his fingers to remove any remining sign of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

You declined with a light shake, “Not anymore, they had someone look at us when we first arrived here. I am fine, they told me I just need to rest and go for a check-up within two days or so.” You added with your head back, not feeling any pain rather than the aching of Daniel’s palm on your neck with his fingers touching your skin, “You should have seen the other guy up close.” You proudly grinned, “I smacked him really good.” You added with a giggle, now watching Daniel worryingly staring in your eyes back. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Your ex-boyfriend inquired, letting both of his hands to rest now on your shoulders as you both breathed into each other and into the night’s cold scent. 

“You are my person, Danny.” You shortly answered, knowing well that Danny was aware of why you picked a fight to being with, “I will have your back no matter what.” You added, leaning your forehead on Daniel’s for a moment of comfort and relief.

Daniel took a deep breath in with his eyes closed, your scent again so close to him – and you so fragile inches away from his own vulnerable self. 

Staying friends was not an option, you already figured that on your own. And yet, being each other’s person, whatever that meant, seemed to work perfectly for you too.

It was a gray area for both of you, somewhere in between the love of your life and best friend, somewhere in between soulmates and the ones that got away. 

“You are my person too, Y/N.” Daniel replied as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your forehead, “But please don’t ever do something as stupid as getting in a fight for me.” Your ex-boyfriend then giggled, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders as a sign of “let’s get you home”. 

“Oh, come on now Danny,” You teased with a laugh, “You would have done much more than what I did if the roles were inverted.” You added, picturing the scenario in which someone would speak ill of you in front of Danny. 

“You are right.” He then spoke, walking at your side while calling a driver to pick both of you up, “I would have broken more than just a nose.” He then added, throwing you one of his cheeky winks that you missed so much, “You still know me too well.”

MONZA THEN AND NOW

Daniel took you home after you allowed him to do so, wanting to know that you were all alright and there was no need for you to be carried to the emergency room.

You cleaned yourself up while Daniel threw up next to you in the bathroom, all the alcohol finally margining into his insides after hours of him wanting to play it cool.

The whole scene seemed too familiar for both of you not to speak about it. You, cleaning your dress from red stains, and him throwing up next to you. 

“This feels like Monza last year.” You bluntly spoke, gently patting the man’s back as his head was full into your toilet, “Remember when I stained my dress with wine?” You called, gently stroking the man’s curls. 

Daniel’s head went up as well as his entire body searching for the sink now rather than the toilet, and after the man went to quickly wash his mouth and brush his teeth borrowing one of your spare toothbrushes, Danny replied with a short nod of approval while drying his face with one of your towels.

Looking at him using your personal belongings as if they were his own, seeing him in your space again as if he knew how to navigate it all, managed to bring you back to the time when you only knew happiness and love within the man’s presence – to a time that you both wanted to return to. 

“When I drank way too much for my own good and I ended up throwing in the hotel’s bathroom while you were rubbing my back?” Daniel then laughed, “Of course I do remember it all.”  

Back then your relationship with Daniel was shaky and yet you were both still lingering on the feeling that you can make it work after spending the whole summer break before Monza together during which you thought Daniel loosen up a little about the whole racing with McLaren situation. The irony of the situation was that spending time with you, and you getting his mind from racing was the main reason why Daniel Ricciardo aced the Italian race weekend although you were not there to see him as you were booked for yet another fashion event. 

When Daniel won back in 2021 at Monza, the man’s whole attitude towards you switched in an instant. Your then boyfriend was not answering his phone prior to the race weekend, but right after that race was won with a beautifully 1-2 finally having something tangible to prove that he was worthy of being back on the podium, Daniel called you to immediately book a flight to Italy to celebrate the win with him before he had to be in yet another city far away from you. You had missed the race using work as an excuse, and yet part of the excuse was based on the fact that you were not enjoying being in the paddock anymore after Daniel got his seat at McLaren, and also because you thought that Daniel was too caught up in wanting people from the team to see him winning the race rather than caring if you attend it or not.

You had to work too that weekend and in the week that followed for another fashion magazine this time, and yet you switched your schedule around so you can at least attend the afterparty of the race. You were happy for him, thrilled even. You knew that Daniel was truly happy only when he stood on that damn podium, and you felt completely helpless in knowing that you were never able to give him the same feeling. 

You were expecting him to pull a Monaco 2018, you wanted him to be as happy for the McLaren win as he was for Red bull. And yet, that night felt very much very different from the one that happened three years prior. Hell, the celebration was not even that good as getting a podium with Renault was.

Daniel acted crazy and all over the place, drinking too much again, and spending the whole night in the company of his colleagues rather than in yours.

You were unrightfully jealous, as you were even bothered to attend the race in the first place and yet you were not understanding why Daniel made such a fuss in bringing you to Monza if he was not actually going to spend time with you? 

Somewhere after three am you decided that you wanted to go back to the hotel room alone if Daniel was not willing to join, “I am tired Danny, and I smell like a winery.” You cried then back to him pointing to your wine-stained dress due to Daniel’s drunk clumsiness from when you shortly danced together – accidentally spilling drinks on each other seemed to be one of your things too. 

Daniel agreed for you two to leave after minutes in which you begged him to do so, not wanting to see him taking any shots as he faked smiles and accepted congratulations from random people in the pub. It was all a façade, and you read right through it and yet decided not to shatter Daniel’s reality that night. You wanted him to enjoy the end of the weekend as much as he could, but Daniel too was aware of the fakeness of it all. 

“Do you think they like me now, Y/N?” Daniel asked you after throwing all the alcohol up as you rubbed the man’s back after you cleaned your dress, “Do you think they think that I am a good driver now?” He then asked while you two ended up staying on the bathroom’s floor leaned on one of the walls as you worryingly looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.  

“Does it matter this much to you?” You had inquired after a long pause, taking one of Daniel’s hands in yours to gently squeeze, “If they like you or not? If they think that you are a good driver or not?” 

Your boyfriend’s head leaned into your shoulder, “I won for them, they have to extent my contract now.” Daniel then spoke, completely ignoring your two questions as the man’s eyes closed for him to fall slowly yet surely asleep next to you. 

Getting the wet curls out of your boyfriend’s face you had realized then that the extension of his contract was all that mattered to him in that timeline, and no matter how much you wanted to get his mind off McLaren there was no way for him to seek for your guidance rather than his team.

You were not priority number one anymore, and it would have been selfish for you to want the spot back when you were caught up in your work too.

You leaned your head on Daniel too, thinking about the moment you two will break-up due to your differences and with your heart aching in knowing that Daniel was doubtless thought about the same thing too. 

“I was a dick to you back then, right?” Present Daniel now spoke, snatching both of you right away from that moment, “I thought you were going to break up with me after summer break, and the mere reason for which I wanted you at that party was for you to see that I can still win races, that I can still be the man you felt in love with and perhaps that would have changed your mind.” Daniel confessed in full regret, finding himself in the same position as years ago with his back glued to one of the bathroom’s walls and you taking a seat next to him, “And yet all I did was to push you away more.” He then added, the imagines of that party back in Italy flashing before his eyes, and the way in which he decided not to answer your question although hearing them very well.  

“I would have loved you even if you were not to win any race ever.” You spoke, gently cupping one of his hands into yours and locking eyes for the thousandth time that night with your ex-boyfriend, “You have never been that Daniel Ricciardo to me, just Danny.” You added, rubbing one of his thumbs with yours as you softly giggled. 

That was enough for Danny to kiss you, that was enough for Danny to not restrain the urge of melting into you as he did all evening and all night. You were taken aback at first by the sudden move, and yet you would have been a liar not to admit that you craved this moment to arrive from the very first time you laid eyes on him at the bar.

You caved in, and the kiss was almost as perfect as you remember all your kisses to be. Gentle, soft, and yet unapologizing arousing something deep buried inside both – unknown lust, burning desire, and your weird sense of competing in whoever has the best teasing methods. 

For Daniel it was shortly departing from your mouth not even an inch away to make you want more of him, to crave more of your lips clasping and yet not getting what you wanted right away by Danny’s insane trick of making you wait for a split of a second before kissing again, while for you was slightly moaning into the man’s mouth to drive him more, to make him plead for more than just your lips being bonded together.  

The ‘almost’ part was that piercing feeling into your face bone structure once your noses squeezed together due to your closeness, and that was when you both remembered that you crushed your nose not even hours ago.

You were the one to break the kiss, “Auch, now it does hurt.” You whimpered, touching the tip of your nose just to check if it was still in place, “I think it is a good idea to go and check tomorrow.” You spoke, cracking a laugh in between all the whining. 

Days had passed after your kiss and sleeping together in the same bed engulfed in each other’s bodies, as you were then too tired to even think about kissing some more let alone have sex.

In all honesty you missed more sharing that kind of intimacy with Daniel rather than tearing apart each other’s clothes, and he did that too. You have not spoken about the kiss in the following days as he went away for Italy, and you stayed back in Perth booking a flight for the Monza race. You found yourself in standing in the McLaren accommodation in the paddock during the Italian weekend, as Daniel insisted for you to get a pass. 

It felt weird at first, to see and to relearn the names of everyone there – while everyone around you were asking the same question as you two: were you and Daniel getting back together? You were not able to answer the question, and you were trying to avoid it as much as possible as you stood with your hands clasped together at your chest praying for the race to go well for him. 

Daniel needed this, you thought he needed this. After the announcement of him leaving and all the tensed relations you witnessed in the paddock, you knew that a good place for him was what he would have needed to get through the remining races in the best shape possible.

It did not happen, unfortunately. When you saw the orange car stuck near the wall, you knew that Danny must have been feeling miserable as soon as you heard his engineer telling him to turn the car fully off due to him losing engine. You swore underneath your breath, fucking McLaren.

“Are you alright bud?” You asked him as soon as you spotted him getting back into the garage, watching his eyes brighten as soon as he met yours.

You were expecting him to be deeply sad, heavily disappointment of how the race ended for him knowing very much how much he fought for the win of last year. And yet, coming straight to hold you in a tight embrace, Daniel’s smile was as huge as ever without any sight of him beating himself over what happened on the track. 

“I am now.” He then spoke, whispering the words into your ear as the embrace lasted for everyone to witness your closeness, “What about I finish all these goddamn interviews and we go for a nice dinner somewhere around here?” He then asked, taking both your hands into his to kiss the back of them. 

You smiled, “What is this? Redemption for last year?” You inquired, hearing the PR manager hurrying Daniel to go. 

“For starters.” Daniel winked, “I cannot redeem myself with only one dinner for all the bad I had caused.”  He then explained, completely ignoring the people hurrying him to finish his sentences. 

“It is a good start.” You spoke nuzzling your now completely healed nose, wrapping both of your hands around the man’s neck, “I have a few things to redeem myself for as well.” You added, giving a quick peak on Daniel’s lips with yours, “Go on now, they are waiting for you.”  

That evening was as whimsical all your evenings were when alone. You talked about everything that had been going on with each other in the past year that you had not briefed yet and everything went back to normal as it should have had.

Daniel told you that he was considering a sabbatical year after the end of the season, and you told him that your plans of climbing the social ladder in the fashion word as a make-up artist had been paused for this time being after your break-up with Daniel. 

“I want to open my own salon back home.” You confessed, your hands childishly held together on the top of your table as you ate your pasta, “All the traveling and the party scene of those people are not for me.” You added, watching Daniel’s grin enlarged on the man’s face knowing that that meant at least one year not spend apart from you, “Thank you for helping me figure that.” You breathed, thinking about that one big fight of yours that was a turning point of your career as well as your relationship with him. 

“Oh, at least one year of me seeing you whenever I please and how I please back in Perth?” Daniel inquired pulling a fake eyeroll in front of you, “How can I possibly survive that?” Your not-anymore-ex-boyfriend sarcastically intoned, making you instantaneously giggling in the Italian restaurant, “I have missed this the most.” Daniel confessed as he has heard your laugh. 

“Me too.” You instantly reciprocated, tightening your grip around the man’s hand as hard as you could. 

For a moment in time – it was you and Danny again. It was just you and him, holding hands and laughing at dinner thinking about what is to come for both of you, and about all the ways in which you can built your relationship back.

It looked promising, staying with him back in your hometown where you first met and fell in love with looked promising, and that was everything you both wished for and due to that – you made it happen. 

Daniel moved back to Perth completely, taking a break for all the years that did not do him good in racing. You opened your salon, and Daniel was there for you to witness and to help in all the processes. Your boyfriend would often joke about how he was now a staying-at-home boyfriend while you were doing all the work to keep the house together. It did not bother him; Danny would have much preferred that rather than struggling with a racing team that did not do him justice.

Therefore, not much longer after you were back together for good this time, Daniel asked you to marry him, and you undoubtedly and utterly shouted the biggest “yes” just as you yelled the words “I love you” back to him at Monaco.

You had your tiny private wedding one year later and yes, you wore those silly outfits that you bought back in Vegas. 

“Are we sure of this?” Daniel asked you the night before the wedding, teasing you as you were laying naked next to him with your hand raise up at the celling admiring your wedding ring for the millionth time. 

“One hundred percent sure.” You teased back, taking both of you back to the first night you met right before pressing your lips against him for as long as eternity held for both of you. 

#i love how this turned out #fic: you know me too well #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 fiction #f1 x you #formula 1

[clowningaroundmars]

heeyyy yaaalllll

so i was thinking to myself, i love punkflower. i really do.

what if there was a hobie in miles' universe and he didnt have to do the whole long distance relationship across dimensions thing, though? just keep his lil secret crush on spiderpunk a secret and keep it pushing, only to literally bump into his own hobie brown in 1610 one day?

wouldnt that be cool, guys?

wouldnt it? :)

wouldnt :) it :) be :) so :) cool? :) and so cute too?

:)

Miles was late.

It was his first day back, the very beginning of his junior year at Visions Academy and he was late. God damn.

His parents were really gonna kill him this time, no doubt about it. There weren't even any good Spiderman excuses he could use to weasel his way out of getting into trouble this time! He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that his chemistry teacher for this year wasn't a total hardass like last year's English teacher.

Maybe he could make up some dumb excuse this time, try to wriggle his way into the professor's good graces with some blatant lie. Anyways, whose dumb idea was it to put him in a class so damn far from the entrance doors so early in the mor--

BRRRRRRING!

Miles tore around a corner just as the final bell rang throughout the mostly-empty hallways, inciting panic in his chest and making him nearly launch himself down another hallway just to get to his class.

In his haste, he nearly knocked over a very tall and very... familiar looking person that happened to be in Miles' trajectory. Luckily, bodies didn't end up colliding but the shock of having a person fly so quickly into their line of sight shocked the both of them into skidding to a sudden stop.

The tall person ended up dropping a textbook and what seemed like an enormous packet of papers, because sheets scattered absolutely everywhere, almost like snow.

Ugh. Of course.

They both stared down at the mess in the middle of the hallway floor for a beat.

Then, Miles exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Aw man, I-I'm sorry! I just uh... here, lemme just--"

They both bent down to quickly scoop up the papers as Miles stuttered and spoke a hundred miles a minute, trying to apologize for the heart-stopping scare he caused. Just as Miles shuffled the papers together in his hands, he finally looked up at the unlucky student he almost football-tackled first thing in the morning... and nearly dropped the papers onto the floor again.

Kneeled right in front of him with papers and a textbook tucked under a skinny arm, long fingers nervously plucking up what was left of the rest of the packet, was none other than... Hobie Brown.

Oh. God.

This Hobie didn't seem to be Miles' Hobie, though.

(Miles' temperature rose a bit as he quickly thought: wait, my Hobie? That's not right, either.)

Instead of large freeform locs that tapered off like wicks, he was sporting long uniform locs that were piled up high in a loose ponytail on his head, most likely due to the school policy that stated boys needed to have hair above the nape of their neck. Miles kinda wondered about that policy, if he ever decided to grow out his hair; would pulling his hair up be enough? Or would they police his hair length and force him to cut it all off?

Well, turns out the answer was literally right in front of him. Another shock to the system right after the first one.

That was Miles' excuse, really. It was just so dang early in the morning and he really really wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth and basically shouted "Hobie?!"

It honest to god sounded like it echoed in the hallway.

He slapped a hand over his mouth, immediately chastising himself for the stupid mistake he made, mentally kicking himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! He wasn't supposed to know this guy obviously, they hadn't even met in their dimension yet!

Hobie, for his part, didn't seem perturbed by this at all though. He took the papers from Miles' hands and straightened himself back up to his full height, offering a hand so that Miles could stand up too.

He shrugged shyly and hid behind a couple locs that happened to fall back into his face, holding the books and papers closer to his chest.

"Uhmmn yeah, sorry. I-I'm runnin' late to my first class so I can't really give any autographs right now. Maybe later... if we see each other, ok?"

Miles blinked owlishly. Did he just say... autographs?

And wait a minute... was this Hobie... American?

Miles' poor little sleep-deprived mind was being blown again and again. He really didn't know if he was ever going to recover from this.

Hobie started to back up and walk away so Miles held his hands up to stop him. "Wait wait wait, autographs? I'm not uh-- sorry, this is weird," he laughed, rubbing his neck. "Nah, man. That's cool. I don't really want any autographs. Are you uh-- are you famous, actually?"

It was this Hobie's turn to blink owlishly now, hesitating a bit. A non-pierced eyebrow was raised as he said, "I... I kinda am...?"

He turned and pointed out the giant window of the hallway that they happened to be standing by, and Miles craned his neck to peer outside.

It smacked him right in the face once his eyes landed on it: a giant billboard fixed atop a neighboring building that depicted Hobie Brown in a luxurious-looking perfume ad. He sported the same locs as he did in real life, wearing shiny-looking makeup and giving the viewer the fiercest, smokiest look Miles has ever seen from a model in a hot minute. He was clutching deep purple satin, wrapped in it, basking in it. A single perfume bottle with a deep purple bow on the neck was photoshopped next to him, matching the overall vibe of the ad.

Miles was rooted to the spot, absolutely gobsmacked. How in the world did he miss that?!

Distantly, a small echo of a conversation he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago floated up from a memory. "I was briefly a runway model" pulsed in his neural pathways for a quick second.

Slowly, the gears started turning in his head. Slowly, he turned back to his dimension's Hobie Brown, who was giving him a strange sort of look.

Miles awkwardly tried to gather himself up, waving his hands around as he struggled for a non-weird explanation to his very weird behavior.

"I-I mean-- ahahaha! Yeah I mean, obviously you're famous! I was just y'know-- playin' with you. Pulling your leg and all that, I guess... heh."

The strange dubious look on Hobie's face didn't budge. "...Right."

Miles coughed conspicuously, trying to change the subject. "But uh yeah, haven't seen you around this school much then! Are you... you in a different grade than me or...?"

The corner of Hobie's mouth twitched suddenly, and for a split second Miles wondered if he said something wrong.

But then Hobie chuckled a bit. "No, I don't think so? This is my first day here. Like... ever. So I'm not really surprised you haven't seen me before. I just transferred over."

Miles practically sighed in relief and nodded, hands in his pockets. "Right! Right, very cool. Welcome to Visions then, I guess. Uh... I'm Miles! Miles Morales. Nice to meet ya!"

He goofily stuck a hand out, which Hobie actually accepted. They shook hands for a second, and then Miles was suddenly taken aback by how cold his hand was against his own skin. It was a definite contrast to the warm and lanky body he remembered practically draped across his own, back in Mumbattan.

He forced those particular memories away for now.

This Hobie was smiling down at him, sad eyes set inside a seemingly genuine expression of fondness. "Cool. I'm Hobie. But, uh, it seems like you already knew that, so."

"Aha, yeah yeah! It just-- honestly it's just the shock of, uh, running into a major celeb in the middle of my school that really got to me, I think. Sorry. I probably look like a total weirdo right now!"

Hobie shook his head, and Miles took the opportunity to really study this guy now that the shock was over and the vibe was more chill. This Hobie was just as long and lanky as the punk anarchist Miles was already well acquainted with, but he held himself completely differently. Where Spider-Hobie was all confident strut and careless swagger, this Hobie seemed to be all reserved grace and... sadness? He definitely reminded Miles of a willow tree drooping down into a lake, beautiful but tragic at the same time.

Okay Miles, get it together, he thought, stop thinking this guy is beautiful. I mean, he is beautiful yeah... but c'mon man, focus!

Hobie's non-pierced lips were moving now, finishing a sentence that Miles most definitely did not catch.

Then, Hobie looked at him expectantly.

Oh shit. He just asked a question didn't he? Fuck.

"Uh, sorry... one more time?" Miles grinned as wide as he could, apologetic. Nice going, Morales, the humorless voice in his head chimed in. Definitely not convincing this guy you're an alien from outer space or anything!

Hobie huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sorry, my fault. Sometimes I mumble and... yeah. Mom says I need to work on that," he sighed, then continued, "I was just wondering if you knew where room 301 was?"

Miles nearly jumped with the force of the realization that just hit him.

"301? Mr. Moriarty's class?"

"Y-yeah, that's the one," Hobie smiled, twirling a loc on one finger and tugging it a bit. Then he tucked it back behind his ear. "I'm actually so lost it's not even funny, I'm godawful at directions and like, navigating. I've been looking for it for like 20 minutes now--"

"That's where my first class is too! AP chem!"

Hobie seemed to brighten up a bit at that, straightening his posture up from his own self-conscious hunch. "Oh cool! We should probably get going then, if we don't wanna be more late than we already are."

Without thinking, Miles places a hand on Hobie's shoulder and steers them both towards a classroom right at the end of the hallway they were in.

"Of course, right this way! Pretty lucky you ran into me, huh? I can help you find your other classes later on if you want, too."

For the first time since nearly crashing into him, Miles looked up at Hobie and saw genuine happiness in his eyes as they grinned at each other and walked down the hall together.

"...Yeah," Hobie said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that'd be pretty cool. Thanks!"

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Their chemistry teacher ended up not being a total hardass after all! Especially when Miles rolled up with none other than Famous Model Hobie in tow, immediately causing a ripple of whispers amongst the students sat at their desks.

Mr. Moriarty was a short and stumpy old man with a kind face and a severely receding hairline. He took one look at Hobie after squinting at his attendance sheet, accepted Miles' quick explanation that they were late because Hobie's minty fresh enrollment got him all lost in these maze-like hallways, and excused their tardiness with a wave of a hand.

"It's the first day and you were very kind to help a new student out, Mr. Morales. You're both excused for today, but try not to make a habit of it, alright?"

Miles bobbed his head as he picked his way past rows of desks. "Absolutely, sir. No problem at all. Thanks a bunch!"

Hobie stuck close to him, and smiled a bit as the only two desks left empty in the whole room happened to be right next to each other, right up in the back of the class. Nice.

They took their seats and exchanged a couple of glances as they pulled out their notebooks, barely listening to their professor's quick introduction and class syllabus. Well, Miles was barely listening, anyways. He was too caught up in the euphoria of running into a dimensional variant of one of his friends, in Visions Academy no less! His mind started to wander a bit. Did a 1610 Gwen exist too? a 1610 Pavitr? Were they also here at Visions? And what was with these random stares he and Hobie were getting from their fellow classmates right now?

Every now and then a student's head would swivel back to glance in their direction, awestruck looks evident on their faces.

How famous was Hobie anyway?

Of course, there was that giant billboard conveniently placed within view of the school's back hallways near a busy intersection, but Miles really started to think. He sneakily pulled out his phone and swiped down to the lowest brightness he could in case the classroom's fluorescent lighting wasn't enough to hide the phone screen's own light.

He kept his face straight forward, eyes flicking to and from his typing that he was trying to conceal behind the student sitting in front of him. He typed Hobie Brown model, Hobie Brown perfume ad, Hobie Brown supermodel, getting absolutely nothing every single time. Well, nothing that looked like the Hobie Brown sitting next to him, who happened to be dutifully scribbling down some notes in his notebook. Miles looked down at his own empty sheet of paper and quickly copied his new friend, whipping out a pencil and hurrying to catch up with the lecture on the whiteboard before the professor moved on.

Groan. What gives? Was Hobie this super accomplished, totally famous supermodel or not? Maybe he wasn't on social media, oddly enough. Maybe he just started an illustrious career and happened to be famous only in Brooklyn right now? No, that didn't make sense. If he was some small-time influencer or whatever, people would not be asking for autographs so often that Hobie would just automatically assume anyone who recognized him wanted one. And the looks on these other kids' faces convinced Miles that... maybe something was missing. Maybe he's just not searching up the right terms?

Agh, if only Spiderman business didn't keep him totally detached from reality sometimes. He really felt like he and the rest of the world were on totally different planets. If he had any friends besides Ganke, he probably would've heard about Hobie by now.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to multitask between forming theories and keeping up with the lesson in the front of the classroom.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of eyes staring straight at him that didn't belong to the other classmates he barely even knew. He glanced over at Hobie, who quickly looked away.

Was that... an embarrassed look on his face just now? Miles scratched at his jaw a bit, more confused than before.

That was weird. Whatever. Anyways...

Before long, class was over and the bell rang. Miles and Hobie both meandered slowly up to the door and hung around the outside, leaning against the wall as they compared schedules before they had to make their way to their next class.

"Dang," Miles lamented, clutching his own schedule and moving to slot it into the cover of his binder. "Looks like we don't share any more classes besides 1st period..."

Hobie stopped his hand and squinted at the sheet again, glancing back at his own. "Uhmm... nah, actually. I think we might have 6th period together? Right after lunch."

"Do we share a lunch period too, actually?" Miles asked excitedly.

Hobie made a small noise of triumph, a smile playing over his lips. "Yeah! 1st, lunch and then 6th. Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

Miles chuckled, shoving his schedule into the plastic and tucking it under his arm. "Definitely. We can eat together at the cafeteria if you want! I'll walk you to your next class though, since it's basically right around the corner."

Hobie shrugged his own backpack back onto his shoulder and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes were cast downwards as he grinned at the floor and said, "yeah, if you don't mind... that'd be pretty cool."

This guy sure does like the word cool, Miles thought, and away to Hobie's next class they both went. They both ignored the various whispers and stares in their direction. Miles was already used to it by now.

They walked together amiably, in near lockstep for a little while before Hobie finally spoke up again.

"... So... if you don't mind me asking... why are you so nice to me if you didn't know I was famous, then?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it kinda caught Miles off guard nonetheless.

He laughed nervously. "Uhh ahaha, whaddya mean? I did know you were famous! I just... y'know my brain doesn't work the best real early in the morning. I'm, uh. Sometimes I can be pretty weird, if you haven't noticed by now."

Hobie nodded slowly, digesting this information for a bit. "Yeah, you did recognize me in the first place, I guess. It's just weird, you're like... the first person I met that doesn't look at me like I'm made out of solid gold, though. That's all..."

They exchanged glances again, and Miles' brain was working into overdrive, thinking of an appropriate response.

Before he could open his mouth, they finally reached their destination and Hobie bumped Miles' shoulder with his arm, smiling.

"So, thanks. For, uh... this. All this."

Miles raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah, this is nothing. I just walked you over to your next class, no biggie. My class is right over here anyways, so--"

Hobie laughed and shook his head, the expression lighting up his facial features unlike anything Miles has seen on that face yet.

"No, Miles. Not just this. I mean, like..." Hobie dipped his head, a bashful sort of move. "I mean, like, being nice to me. Like forreal. I really appreciate this."

They looked at each other for a moment, something real warm growing in Miles' chest all of a sudden, something... familiar.

He was just about to casually brush the gratitude off a second time with a dorky quip, before some girl's screechy voice interrupted their private little moment out of nowhere. It honestly startled them both, and the nice warm atmosphere dissipated immediately.

"Oh. My. GOD!! Is that Hobie Jones? Like actually?!"

She giggled and bounded up to them, blatantly ignoring Miles to insert herself between them and crowd into Hobie's space. She coquettishly asked for a selfie with him, promising to tag him on social media. The sudden commotion unfortunately attracted some other students who then took their cue to also bother Hobie for autographs, selfies, throwing compliments left and right.

Miles backed up out of the crowd, eyes still on Hobie as he watched the poor guy metaphorically slip on a mask, the very same that Miles saw when they first met not 2 hours ago. It was a sad, detached sort of look, and Hobie was forced to hunch in on himself to meet his fellow students' heights as they snapped selfie after selfie. His lips formed a smile all the while. His eyes did not.

A pang of sympathy hit Miles as he slowly turned away and made his way down to his own classroom without so much as a goodbye. He shrugged to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, he knew how that felt, just trying to mind your own business and live your life, do what you have to do-- and being stopped by nearly every living being within a 50 ft radius wanting their photo ops and their babies kissed.

Miles smiled to himself as he shouldered his way past other students and sauntered into his class, right on time. The bell rang as he reached his desk, and he pulled out another notebook out of his bag before the realization finally hit him with the force of a truck.

Wait... Hobie JONES?!

Miles quickly glanced around at his surroundings and mentally kicked himself yet again for choosing a seat so close to the teacher's desk, almost right up at the front. Damnit!

But the teacher wasn't in the classroom just yet, most likely making a quick run down to the printer down the hall to make copies of the class syllabus or something.

Okay, Morales. Gotta be quick.

He hastily pulled out his phone yet again, one eye on the door. He quickly typed in Hobie Jones model in his browser's search box, letting out a breath as search results loaded up and gave him exactly what he was looking for this entire time.

Bingo.

Hobie's face popped up in the image search previews, all sorts of cool and striking photoshoots lit up in all kinds of different ways. And the very first link at the top of the page? Hobie's own Flickstagram.

With a shaky hand, Miles tapped the link and impatiently waited for it to load, for his phone to get with the program and just open the damn app already. He kept glancing every so often at the door yet again, praying that the printer or copier-- or whatever-the-hell that was keeping the professor away from the class-- would keep them away for just a second longer.

He finally cast his gaze back down onto his own Flickstagram app and his heart nearly dropped out of his chest.

At the top, right next to Hobie's own smoldering profile picture was his username: hobiemjones

hobiemjones... hobie m jones. Hobie M. Jones.

M.J.

Miles exhaled again and tucked his phone away in shock just as the classroom door opened yet again and all the students quieted down. This class's teacher made their way over to their desk, piles of papers in hand. They started to pass them out to the students in the front row, introducing themself and then going over the usual attendance policies.

Miles accepted the syllabus sheets with trembling hands, turning to pass them over his shoulder once he got his own, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.

Peter talked nonstop about his wife, whenever he managed to stop talking about his baby, that is. It was always MJ this, MJ that. Flashes of a middle-aged man staring forlornly at a picture of his then-ex wife-- grieving the one who got away-- raced across his mind's eye. His universe's own MJ standing at a podium, strong but deeply hurt as she addressed all of Brooklyn after Spiderman's funeral.

"She wanted kids and I... just wasn't ready," echoed over and over in Miles' mind. Of course, they're together now. But the way Peter talked about his divorce... oh god.

Wait... was Miles ready for kids? Were he and Hobie going to have a messy on-and-off again relationship that ended up with them having to care for a spider-baby just like Mayday?! Maybe even multiple spider-babies?!?!?

Miles loosened his tie a bit, sweating profusely.

The fact that neither Hobie nor Miles were equipped with the parts to make a baby together flew right over his head. No... instead, his mind skipped straight to marriage, messy emotional fights and inevitable breakups. How was he gonna juggle school, work, Spiderman stuff and a relationship all at once?!

Without realizing, Miles started hyperventilating.

No no no no no, cool it Miles. COOL IT. Don't be weird. Miles mentally slapped himself and tried to even out his breathing as he leaned back in his seat and wiped some sweat off his brow.

He just proved to Miguel O' Hara and the entire multiverse this past spring that he can do his own thing, canon events be damned. Miles Morales was no victim to fate. Maybe all of the other spider-people had their own MJs. But maybe in this universe, MJ and Spiderman were... just friends. Good friends! ...Yeah, yeah, just friends...

The idea floated around in Miles' head throughout the entire rest of the class, but it didn't really make the tightness in his chest loosen up any at all.

Once the bell rang again and everyone started packing their things up, Miles dawdled a bit by the door, fumbling with his phone as his classmates filed out of the room. If he was late enough, maybe he'd completely miss Hobie in the hallways and not have to see him at all. Miles double-checked, triple-checked his schedule again and again, mapping out an eventual escape route through the halls in case Hobie's path did intercept Miles'.

God, Miles thought ruefully, checking the hour on his phone for the 15th time in a row and smiling awkwardly at his teacher's questioning glance. You're being so fucking weird about this right now!

The rational part of his brain kicked in and presented a quick slideshow of other calmer, more reasonable explanations as to why he really shouldn't be avoiding his new friend like the plague all of a sudden.

1. Hobie probably doesn't and won't like me, it stated. There is literally no proof that Hobie Jones is even into guys. Or me, Miles Morales.

2. Even if Hobie Jones is into guys-- or me, Miles Morales-- that does not mean the endgame is automatically marriage. No sir, no proof of that at all!

3. Canon events were officially disproven. Kinda. Mostly. Sort of?

C'mon, bro. Just man up and get out there. You're gonna be late for the next class soon anyways.

Right. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself.

"Okay well, uh. Have a nice day Mx. Gonzalez! See ya... tomorrow." Miles cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded, but his teacher didn't seem to notice as they bid him a nice day as well.

With his heart in his stomach, Miles slowly made his way into the hallway and started walking at a brisk pace, keeping his eyeline straight in front of him, trying to reach his next class on the floor below quickly but manageably. It was when he reached the stairs that his heart sank even lower.

Hobie was standing right next to the stairwell, glaring at the school map placed on the wall off to the left, fingertips on his chin as he mumbled to himself. He was glancing up and down between the map and his schedule in his hand, clearly befuddled.

Damn, he really is bad at navigating, Miles mused, once he recovered.

But as luck would have it, tragedy struck right then. Miles being pretty much the only other kid in the hallway attracted Hobie's attention, and even though Miles' feet kept him moving, he almost tripped on air once Hobie perked up upon seeing him.

"Miles!" Hobie grinned and waved him over, clearly happy to see him.

Oh noooo. Miles was not as happy to see him.

Without thinking, he launched himself down the flight of stairs, hopping over the railing and landing loudly on the 1st floor. Once steady, he basically sprinted over to his 3rd period class, completely missing the way Hobie's sunny grin slowly disappeared and his hand lowered back down to his side.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Lunchtime came and went. Miles ate his packed lunch at his usual perch on top of the school building, where he always hid while trying to avoid the rest of the student body. He managed to pick a good spot away from prying eyes, and it never failed him.

Hobie ate alone, at a table tucked into the corner of the cafeteria despite being invited to several other tables. He sat and chewed sadly, locs back in front of his eyes, posture hunched over and defeated.

6th period came and went. Miles purposefully kept his gaze averted as Hobie walked in 5 minutes late. They sat at opposite ends of the room, never acknowledging each other's existence.

The school day ended and Miles made his way back to the dorms, sighing with relief once he glanced out the window and saw giant rainclouds rolling in over the horizon. Man, was he glad he got to bunk up on campus with his best friend! He greeted Ganke, kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto his bunkbed, laying back with a sigh. Maybe tomorrow he'd confront Hobie about his erratic behavior and apologize. Maybe.

But that was a problem for future Miles...

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Outside, the rain started falling fast and hard.

Outside, Hobie M. Jones waited miserably by the curb with an umbrella in hand, getting drenched by the water nonetheless. He checked his phone for the 15th time and sniffled angrily, pocketing it and gripping onto his umbrella handle.

Late. Again.

His mother was late to pick him up, as usual.

He swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek and finally loosened his ponytail, letting his locs fall all around his face.

Once she arrived, his mother was going to inevitably ask him how his day was, look only slightly concerned about his angry tears and ask if he made any new friends anyways, despite knowing the answer.

No, mom, Hobie would say as he kept his eyes glued to the car window.

No. I didn't make any friends.

#spiderverse #mine #miles morales #hobie brown #heeyyyyyyy... im back. again :) with some angst this tiiimmee ahaha #hope yall dont hate me for this lil meet-cute turning out the way it did 😅 #it just.... turned into angst i guess #we all know peter parker and mj are always a tragedy before a theyre a romance yanno what i mean? #soooo yup. miles is no different tbqh #do they end up together tho? WHO KNOWS!!! #maybe they do get together and have their lil spider babies in the end! LOL #also yeah i know mj already exists in 1610 #but lets uhhhhh pretend that EVERY spiderman has an mj. just like they have a gwen! ahaha #or maybe............ hobie jones isnt even an mj after all!! *foreboding music* #YOU decide! #anyways yeah... hope yall liked this one too LMFAO #i'm really in my fic writing era now jfc #who knows what i'll show up with next time?!?! :) #thx 4 reading as always ♡ #punkflower #← i hesitate to tag this bc its technically not PUNKflower yanno what i mean #buttttt well. adding it in there anyways. hope yall dont mind

[kalofi]

zl fic idea

hii everyone i wrote something yesterday about an au idea i had for zolu and. i thought i'd share it here since its a bit too messy and disjointed in places to post on like. ao3 or something.

4.7k words, warning for temporary major character death but do not worry all will be fixed in due time. i'll put the rest under the cut

ok i have an idea for an au thats like kind of reincarnation but like reality displacement but like. okay just listen.

so we start at laughtale. its a couple years into the future from where we are in canon the strawhats are achieving their dreams luffy is about to find the one piece theres a big battle happening between them and the blackbeard pirates and whoever the fuck else is there idc. the rest of the strawhats are fighting the bb crew while luffy and zoro head off to find the one piece and also end up fighting black beard himself. luffy and zoro atp r like basically a thing but they never talk about it cuz theyre luffy and zoro and they kind of just exist with each other but like. theyre basically in love and everyone knows it. anyway they go off together luffy has the one piece almost in his grasp blackbeard attacks they fight its a big battle blood is shed bones are broken uumm in my mind luffy and zoro are like teaming up against bb bc his devil fruit is lowk broken and op and like ok theres gear5 too but i didnt rly consider that so lets just assume bb’s devil fruit can negate gear5 somehow or luffy exhausts it before bb is fully defeated. 

finally theyre able to knock bb down and hes out and theyre both tired and worn but they DID IT and the one piece is luffys and theyre facing each other grinning ear to ear and zoros saying “you ready, king of the pirates?” and luffy laughs and goes “not just yet zoro, i still gotta-“ and then theres a spear piercing right through his chest. and in the next moment its gone. 

theres a gaping hole through his captain and theres blood, theres so much blood and luffy’s still smiling like he hasnt realized it yet, like it hasnt even registered. zoros ears are ringing and he doesnt know what to make of whats hes seeing because its just not real, it CANT be. 

he looks over luffy’s shoulder and blackbeard is on the ground with his hand outstretched , black energy coiling back into his form and he’s laughing and laughing with bloodstained teeth. hes fucking laughing. one moment zoro is still standing parallel to luffy and the next hes in front of blackbeard and the mans head is rolling through the dirt and gravel, wado dripping crimson, a terrible gap toothed grin still stretching the man’s cheeks. 

zoro is breathing heavy, hes trembling and hes almost mesmerized by the blood pooling around a lacerated neck— then he’s remembering luffy and turning around and calling his name and he can see right through him theres a HOLE right through him and he chokes and stumbles and rushes to his side right as luffy starts to crumple to the floor . catches him and lowers him gently and doesnt know what to say. 

hes still shaking but cant move his mouth and everything is muffled, the sounds from the battle outside are distant and they dont matter but what does he do. what does he do. 

he snaps out of it when luffy gently calls his name. a strong “zoro,” like hes not fazed at all. like there isnt blood soaking into zoros clothes. 

his brain kickstarts and he’s speaking. saying things like “youre ok you’ll be ok” and “choppers right outside i’ll just call him and he’ll fix you right up” and “you always bounce back, right captain?” and hes thinking “dont die please dont fucking die. not now, not when we’re this close please dont fucking die” and hes silently praying to all the gods he doesnt believe in but luffy calls his name again and his mouth clicks shut. luffys saying it’ll be fine, that he had fun. that hes proud to have made it this far with all of them. and those sound a lot like parting words so zoro’s shaking his head no but luffy is still smiling. hes saying that hes glad he had zoro, that he made him happy. hes saying to tell everyone he’s glad they met, that hes glad they all had each other, that he knows theyll be just fine . 

zoro wants to say that luffy should tell that to them himself, when hes wrapped up and recovering and alive but his mouth is glued shut again and he feels that interrupting luffy now would be cursing him to death, like his words are the only thing keeping him tethered here, he just needs to get him to keep talking to stay awake. 

he tries to smile but it comes out ugly and wrong and he feels his lip wobble so he drops it. he settles on rubbing his thumb on luffys shoulder. something to keep him here. 

so he rubs and luffy talks little things until he cant anymore. until his eyes grow dull and his skin loses its warmth and still zoro rubs and he rubs.

—

thats how law finds them. zoro hunched over a body that should never be as still as it is. and its really no surprise hes there, hes been gunning for the one piece since the time he could captain a ship (or a submarine) but it all feels so wrong. 

zoro either doesnt notice him or doesnt care, but either way the man doesnt acknowledge law until he’s right behind him. its not like law can say anything to announce himself either, not after seeing the state of the body that zoros currently holding. the body that used to be luffy’s. hes still processing it all when the other man(the one whos alive) finally speaks. 

zoro asks if hes got a devil fruit. less of a question and more of a statement, but he should know anyway since theyve spent considerable time together and hes literally seen him use it. law cant unstick his jaw so he hums in affirmation. “and you can switch stuffs’ places?” another hum. “what about time.” 

that makes law pause. “what?” his voice comes out stronger than he feels. 

“what about time? can you switch things in time?” by this point law has awakened his devil fruit or some shit dont sweat the logistics but hes never tried anything of that sort so he kind of stumbles “im not- maybe? ive never attempted-“ zoro interrupts “send me back” 

“what?” 

“send me back so i can fix this. you can do that, right.” it clicks. law would pity zoro if he didnt know any better, instead he just feels mounting despair and resignation. 

he may not be crew, but he knew luffy too, he was allied with the man for fucks sake, and this just feels- wrong. he sighs, a tired, heavy thing. 

“what about your crew?” its useless. zoros as stubborn as his captain, with arguably a handful more screws loose. “it wont matter. they’ll never know because i’ll make sure this doesnt happen.” he still hasnt turned around. law doesnt know what expression hes making and hes sure he never wants to find out. 

hes ready to deny it, cut his losses and head for the one piece himself (hes not heartless, but if he stands here any longer and has to look at. well. he think he might never be able to move again) but then he really thinks about it. could he? would it even be possible? surely this isnt the way things were supposed to go, surely this isnt right. luffys never been one who was supposed to die just like that, like this, law knows that much. he thinks hes going to regret this, but he counts it as one last thank you for everything luffy did for him. 

youre gonna owe me big time strawhat-ya. if i even remember this, that is. 

he puffs a breath “i can try. i cant- promise anything but. i think we both know this,” he makes a vague, weak gesture, “isnt right.” 

zoro doesnt say anything, law didnt expect him to. he just bows his head slightly and law takes that as the acknowledgment it is. 

he brings his hand up, “dont do anything stupid, zoro-ya. or, at least, make it stupid enough to bring him back.” 

he positions his fingers in way so familiar, but the weight of it now is nearly unbearable.

room.

shambles

—

zoro’s world shatters, differently than before, and then theres nothing.

—

he wakes up in bed, bleary eyed and a pounding headache assaulting his senses. his alarm clock is going off which only adds to the drumbeat against his eyes. he grumbles and whacks around aimlessly to shut it off. the silence lasts a moment before his eyes fly open and he jolts up, sheets pooling around his waist. luffy. where was he? where was zoro? did the crew find him and take him back to the ship? did law fail? but this didnt look like chopper’s office.

he looks around to find hes in a room hes never seen before in his life, yet he instinctively knows is his. it all feels so wrong, like he doesnt belong in his own skin. he scratches lightly at his arm. he needs to go to work. 

work?

what the fuck is happening. 

its like his mind is at war with itself, one truth trying to dominate over the other. he trained at sensei’s dojo. he aged out of foster care. he was a swordsman, he was the first mate of the strawhat pirates. he didnt go to college, hes working construction. he made a promise, and kuina died. kuina…died. huh. his captain, his luffy, someone he knew so intimately and who knew him in turn. hes never met someone with that name his entire life. he needs to go to work, he needs to find his crew. 

he doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. 

without his permission his legs stand him right up and he moves confusedly, surely, to the bathroom he didnt know he had. his reflection stares back at him in the mirror and its him, of course it is, he doesnt know why he expected someone else, but hes also…different. he has both function of his eyes, first of all. a scar in the same place as before but its light and healed over and doesnt seem to have blinded him like it once did. his hair is green, sure, but black roots peek out from underneath the familiar shade. hes grown stubble, he should shave. he needs to go to work. 

hes so confused, but his body moves like its been doing this its whole life. as far as zoro knows, it has. 

he continues getting ready, mind still at odds, and makes himself a cup of coffee (in his own kitchen. his own kitchen? the state of it leaves less to be desired. sanji would surely skin him alive) before tucking into his shoes, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out the door. he seems to live in a single room apartment, and a crummy one at that. his legs move him faster, he has to go to work, he cant be late again (again?).

his car is parked outside the building, he has no fucking clue what it is but he unlocks it all the same and settles in. he feels like he shouldnt be operating this sort of machinery. franky would know better than him how it must work. he starts it up and backs out. trusting his gut to get him where he needs to be. he should be more concerned, he should be frantic and inconsolable, his captain was dead in his arms and now hes? what? going to lay some bricks or some shit? but he finds that part of him dulled in favor of following whatever mundanity this body is pushing him towards. 

uumm whatever whatever he arrives at work eventually i dont know how construction jobs work are there offices or something. idc thats not the point. johnny and yosaku are there and zoro is surprised to see them since, as far as he knows, the last time they were with each other was at arlong park which was years ago for him. but the two greet him like this is a daily occurence, like theyve been working together for years. and zoro thinks, knows, they must have. but this is good, this is great fucking news actually because until now theres been no confirmation if zoro was here alone (wherever “here” is) but now his proof is right in front of him because if johnny and yosaku are here, and they exist the same as from before, then that must mean everyone else is here too right? he clings onto this hope with both hands trembling. 

nami, usopp, the cook and chopper and robin and franky, brook, jinbe and fuck. fuck, luffy. theyve got to be here somewhere, zoro just has to find them. hes not sure if they remember things like he does but hes got to try because they are his as much as he has always been theirs and they should all exist together as it has always been. 

so then yeah he finishes his shift because its what hes ‘supposed’ to do but he doesnt go home. he drives around aimlessly before pulling into a random lot and pulling out his phone (theres no snail attached to it. weird.) he doesnt even know where to begin. hes not usually the one coming up with plans, he just goes where theres blood need to be shed. but no one seems to be in any danger here except for maybe himself, and its not like he has his swords anyway- shit. fuck did he still have wado? he must have right? he knows there was a kuina that existed here too, he knows because he remembers. and she, well she wasnt around anymore so he must have wado. he must. with shaking fingers he pushes that aside for now, though barely. he needs to find luffy, but he wouldnt even know where to start. luffy could probably find the rest of their crew by simply wandering around and happening upon them, thats how he did it before. but zoro has no idea where he’d be, he doesnt even know where he is. nami or robin would be a good bet to at least form a plan, but he wouldnt know how to find them either. 

is there even a coco village here? would robin still be part of baroque works? he needs someone who has a defined location that he could google or something (what the hell is google?). usopp would be at syrup village right? shit. is there even a drum island? these are all too broad, he needs something specific. specific…..a place with an identifiable name, somewhere smaller that would be easier to stake out…

a lightbulb goes off. 

fucking shit he thinks. of course. of fucking course it would come down to the cook. 

he types in “baratie” to his maps and a location pops up, just 27 minutes from where he is now. he hasnt eaten yet either, so he figures thats killing two birds with one stone. he taps the address, backs out of the lot and drives. 

(if it takes him nearly an hour to get there thats nobodys business but his own)

he pulls up to the building about a quarter after 7. it seems packed enough already, but if memory serves him right then that was just par for the course for baratie. he parks, gets out and locks his car, then shoves his hands in his pocket and resigns himself to another oncoming migraine hes sure to get upon interacting with the man hes certain is waiting somewhere inside. 

the tables are full, the host tells him, he slips a 20 from his wallet and suddenly (of course) theyre more than willing to serve him. 

he gets settled in a far and somewhat isolated booth and a waiter comes up to him, but he cuts the man off as hes introducing himself and says “you got a blonde working here? stupid ass side part with a weird eyebrow? goes by sanji” the waiter looks shocked and put off by his rudeness but quickly collects himself and says “we might. depends on whos asking” zoro snorts “just tell him hes got someone who wants to talk to him,” he cringes at this next part, tries to smile but knows it comes off as a sneer. hes not sure if he still has conquerors haki wherever he happens to be now, but he tries to channel that energy the same way he would if he were in battle and says “tell him im a fan.” the waiters eyes widen, in fear or surprise zoros not sure (most likely a mix of both) before he nods and scurries across the floor, weaving in between patrons and coworkers alike until he disappears behind the double doors to the kitchen. 

zoro sits with his arms crossed and skims through the menu out of boredom and impatience. its a couple minutes before he sees a familiar head of blonde hair emerge from across the way. a smile climbs onto his face despite himself. sure, the guy annoyed him to hell and back and their…friendship (if you could really call it that) was a tumultuous one, but it was good to see someone familiar nonetheless. he schools his expression before the blonde can spot him. a few moments pass before hes standing right in front of zoro, his stupid suit primped and pressed as always, and a cautious look on his face. 

“you asked for me?” his tone is the one he only reserves for men who he deems not worth his time. zoro grits his teeth but says “yeah, theres something ive gotta discuss with you.” 

hes never been one for tact, forever blunt unlike his swords. 

sanji quirks a brow “i dont plan on talking about anything with anyone unless theyre a paying customer” zoro feels his eyebrow twitch but grabs his menu nonetheless and points to a random item without looking “i’ll have this then, and whatever booze you got.” sanji leans in to see what hes pointing to before his one visible eye widens and a grin slowly overtakes his previously unaffected face. 

he speaks condescendingly. “wonderful choice sir, coming right up.” before zoro can get another word in he grabs the menu out of his hand, spins on his heel, and marches back to the kitchen. 

zoro clenches his fists and does his best not to grind his teeth into a fine dust. no matter where they are or what displacement in time the fucking curly brow never fails to be absolutely insufferable. at least this way though, zoro knows its him for real. 

its another 20 minutes before the shit cook reemerges from the back with a platter and a mug in his hand. he steps up to zoros table and places the plate and cup down in front of him with a smug look. zoro has no idea what the fuck hes looking at on his plate. he doesnt have time to question it before sanji plops down in the booth seat across from him, disregarding all previous faux-professionale and asking “so what do you want” zoro tears his eyes away from his plate and looks into sanji’s, trying to convey as much emotion, as much urgency as he possibly can. 

“luffy needs us. and we have to find him” whatever the cook was expecting him to say, it definitely wasnt that. the other man regards him more warily now, looking him up and down with a tense frown before replying “i dont know what the hell youre talking about. and i dont appreciate being mocked or having my time wasted” he goes to stand up but zoro grabs his wrist, yanking him back down unceremoniously. 

he blinks before rounding back on zoro, flaring his nostrils in a way zoro knows means hes about to get himself in deep shit “oi, what the fuck do you think youre-“ he doesnt let him finish “im not mocking you. this isnt some stupid prank or whatever youre thinking. and despite how much i would enjoy punching your teeth in right now im not looking for a fight either.” 

the cook still looks affronted but seems to actually be listening. zoro continues “look, i dont know what the fuck is going on. i was at laughtale with you and the others, with luffy, and then i woke up and now im here and i dont know how but this is all wrong. its all wrong but i need to find luffy and fuck, i cant do it alone. i need your help to find him. find everyone.” the blondes eye is wide, but he blinks and its gone. he looks more tired than zoro has ever seen him 

“im not paid enough for this shit. i dont know why i even-“ he looks like hes getting ready to leave again but zoro is desperate at this point so he blurts out whatever he thinks will convince the other man hes not bullshitting.

“we met you here, at the baratie. me and nami and usopp and luffy. luffy busted through one of your walls so your old man punished him by making him wash dishes. i dont, i dont know what luffy said to you, or how he convinced you to join us, but he changed your life like he did mine. we sailed together, and we had each others backs no matter how much we got on each others nerves. you were our cook. i was our swordsman. luffy was our captain and youd do anything to help him, i know you would, same as me. youre a pervert and an asshole and a damn annoyance, but youre strong. i could still kick your ass though” if the cook’s eyebrow could go any higher hes sure itd be clear off his forehead by now. 

“and you- your dream. you wanted to find the all blue.” he stalls there, engine sputtering. zoro doesnt know what else to say, so he snaps his mouth shut. 

the blonde is still gaping at him like a fish, but he mouths the phrase “all blue” like hes been searching for it his whole life, like he always knew but just never had the words. 

he blinks. 

then he blinks again, rapidly. there are tears pooling in his eyes. his mouth flaps for a moment before he seems to finally be able to push out words. 

“you- zoro?” he sounds small. he sounds hopeful. zoro grins. 

“yeah, yeah its me.” sanji stares at him a moment, then looks around, as if hes seeing everything with clear eyes for the very first time. zoro figures he might as well be. 

“holy shit. holy shit.” 

zoro laughs, a rough thing. theres a ball in his throat that he cant seem to dislodge. “nice to have you back, curly brow” sanji’s gaze snaps back to him before he scowls and tries wiping away the tears that are now streaking down his cheeks. its useless though, it seems they cant stop. zoro laughs again at the sorry state of the asshole in front of him, this time more full and genuine. he feels so relieved he doesnt know what to do with himself. 

“yeah yeah, whatever dick head.” sanji grumbles. zoro quiets down, glances away, lets him have his moment. “fuck, mosshead, im still on the clock and you unload all this on me? how the hell am i supposed to finish the rest of my shift?” his words are sharp but he doesnt sound angry at all. in fact, when zoro turns back to look, hes smiling. 

“you remember now though, dont you?” he has to be sure. 

“what does it look like, dumbass? think im tearin’ up cuz of pollen or some shit?” the cook rolls his eye. theyre both silent for a moment, trapped in their own heads, before he speaks up again. “so, what now?” zoro doesnt even have to think before he answers “we find everyone else, obviously.” “well no shit, but how?” zoro glances to the side. “i was hoping youd figure that out” sanji stares before bursting out laughing. zoro scowls and hunches into his shoulders. 

“of course!” sanji cackles “of course your dumbass wouldnt know what to do! you probably just typed in the most recognizable place you could remember and hoped one of us would be there!” zoro doesn’t answer, because yes thats what he fucking did, but it worked didnt it? he doesnt see whats so funny. 

“fuck you.” 

he wants nothing more than to bash that smarmy mouth in, but the familiar egging settles something in his soul. sanji gasps a few breaths before calming down, now wiping tears from his eyes for a completely different reason. 

“alright alright, well lets figure this out then, yeah? we figure out how we got here then we can figure out how to get back right? simple enough” 

zoro nods, “law was-“ he stops. remembers dull eyes and clammy skin and wrong wrong wrong. he shakes his head, “no, no we cant” sanji looks at him confused. 

“we cant go back,” zoro presses, “not until i fix things. i promised i would” the other man seems to pick up on his panic and his mood dampens, becomes more serious. “promised what?” 

zoros never been one to sugarcoat, but now he wishes he could find a way to soften the blow hes about to deal. he inhales, pushes the breath out. says, “luffy died, sanji.” the fact the hes actually using the other mans name seems to fly right over his head in favor of the first part. “what?” zoro huffs, is he really gonna make him say it again? “luffy di-“ sanji interrupts, angry now, fists clenched and whitened from the pressure “i heard what you said. but what do you mean.” 

he doesnt want to have to tell sanji what happened, doesnt want to talk about it at all, wants to slice it up into small enough pieces that it very well may have never existed.

he told law the others wouldn't have to know, that he would make sure of it, but he's realizing now just how unrealistic that is. as much faith as zoro places in his own abilities, he's aware he's only one man.

and, he figures, if there's anyone i can trust enough to share a burden heavy as this with, might as well be the one who's strength i'd count on just as much as my own.

sanji cant help if he doesnt know what went down once they got separated at laughtale, so zoro sets his shoulders, clenches his fists, prepares himself like hes riding into a battle he knows he has no chance of winning—hes the first mate for fucks sake—and resigns himself to filling the other man in on every horrible detail

by the end, the cook looks much the same as zoro feels, pale-faced and shaky. he runs a trembling hand through his hair and clenches his eye shut. “fuck mosshead, thats…” he doesnt bother finishing, and zoro stays silent—already knowing just how much of a shitty situation it is that theyve found themselves in.

—

(btw the reason sanji was so smug about what zoro randomly chose on the menu is bc its one of their most expensive dishes. even upon regaining his memories he still makes zoro pay it cuz hes an asshole like that. business is business 😁)

uuummm i dont feel like detailing the rest basically my idea is that they work together to try and track down all the members as well as law, since hes also a part of this. i dont know how or when or in what order but i do know finding luffy would come last. so yes its zolu but for a majority of it more in spirit than anything. maybe i can throw in some luffy pov of him living with ace and sabo . he knows something is off but cant place his finger on what. he knows something is missing but hes got his brothers with him so what else could he possibly need? etc etc. you get the idea

#devil fruits don't work like this but don't sweat the logistics. just read with your heart not your head #it starts off rough cause im kind of just rambling about my ideas then the more i go the more it just turns into a fic #let me know your thoughts in the comments or my inbox or whatever i love discussing stuff hehe!! #as you all know im an artist first and foremost but sometimes my ideas get a bit too big for my current drawing skills so i write them down #so heres that #one piece #zolu #theres no guarantee i'll ever like. srsly continue this but i rly rly like it as a concept im invested LOL #and i have a few ideas on how the rest of the crew would be found that ive discussed w friends #so perhaps if i find motivation and can outline. an actual plot progression and clean up this first part... #well who knows... XD #also im not a zs truther in fact my insta followers r well aware of my. certain feeling on the ship #HOWEEVVEERRR i do think zoro and sanji have such an interesting unique and important dynamic/relationship #that i enjoy studying outside of a romantic lens #anyway ive spoken enough . pls enjoy! or dont thats fine as well

[fwoosheye]

*sighs* Not again

Okay so it's another LU idea and can someone please adopt it so it will leave me alone? Anyone? I have too many projects already. Someone please save me!

Anyway. This is a "Legend is the last one to join the chain" idea. He was practically raised by Fi after he pulled the Master Sword for the first time (was it @bokettochild who came up with that? I know I've read some really good fics with that but I'm not sure I remember by who correctly. Please correct me if I've mixed people up), and it takes place on Lorule's Death Mountain. Link is a regular at the Treacherous Tower, because it's an easy way to earn money and with the Triforce restored the monsters aren't as mindless as before so he actually befriends them (though I hc the monsters in the T-Tower were the least mindless to begin with (at least the ones in the audience, maybe the ones one fights were caught mindless ones), probably around the level of Blind the Ex-Sage the Thief, and that they just became more "stable" and better att communicating when the Triforce was restored). Anyway when the story takes place, Link is actually filling in for the final boss because the Purple Moldorm is sick and their new Union demands sick time or something.

When the chain appears in Lorule it's fairly near the T-Tower and when they ask the Devilish Girl about the Hero and learn he's the final boss, they realize someone will have to get up there and defeat him for his shift to end. She will only let one of them enter, so Sky, Warriors or Wild traverse the Tower with the Master Sword in hand (and I'd pick one of those three because they're aware of Fi's presence. Wild might be post-TotK Wild).

When Sky/Wars/Wild finally makes it to Legend there's some brief chatting, and when they attempt to attack each other they simultaneously get their hands burned and Legend accidentally hisses an undignified "Mom!" at Fi making the other Hero realise this teen was practically raised by a sword (and yes this is the scene that gives me the urge to write this, please save me). It becomes a sword-less battle, because Legend shift won't end if he's not defeated and his (magical?) contract don't permit him to hold back more than making it non-leathal. Tri-Force Heroes might've taken place before ALBW for this fic so Legend actually can use doppels/doppel medallion/etc so there 3v1 for a bit. Surprising move from Sky/Wars/Wild eventually sees Legend defeated and he meets the rest of the chain. He probably offers to guide them to the Castle to talk with Princess Hilda, if it doesn't turn out they've managed to get the information they want from the monsters on the audience while they watched. Maybe the chain are chatting about different friendly/civil monsters they've met during their adventures while descending the mountain. And/or Sky/Wars/Wild asks Legend why he addressed his sword as mom.

And because I am utterly incapable of keeping a story idea short, I was also considering to make it so Link is stuck in Lorule because the bracelet only had enough power left to send one of them home to Hyrule and both Link and Princess Hilda agreed Princess Zelda should be the one to return. Ravio would in that case likewise be stuck in Hyrule because he didn't have enough magic. He had probably managed to sneak into Hyrule's Sacred Realm trying to go home and met Zelda as she came back so he knew Link had won, though he might've left before Zelda made her wish (or even woke up?) and thinks Lorule and Link is gone. Maybe. It has some sweet juicy angst potential to let Ravio think his home and hero are destroyed. But also including this would for sure make it a longer fic...

#i wish my brain could write all the ideas as far as i get them #it would save me so much trouble #if this appeals to you or someone you know please adopt it #i'm trying so hard to not start a new one #linked universe #lu fic idea #lu fic #lu #fic idea #maybe i should reblog this to my prompt blog #it's not my usual prompt format but it basically is one #fanfiction prompt #i guess this could work with other loz au:s too but i'm not as well versed in those so i went with the lu version #if anyone adopts this they can make any changes they want/need

[prince-liest]

I just want to thank you for the masterpiece that is 666!!! Your writing is such a huge part of my love for this show and every little snippet or post, let alone every new chapter makes my entire week!!! You are so talented and I’m so happy I ended up finding your work, I keep pestering my friends by info-dumping about your au almost daily haha

Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day and thank you again for feeding us freaks so well, there are not enough words I could use to express how much I love your writing ^^

Aw, thank you so much!! Freak pride!!!!! Honestly my fondness for this fandom is immense because of the sheer amount of positive encouragement and enablement I've received to keep at my shenanigans. I really appreciate the community, and everyone like you that's taken the time to let me know that they enjoyed my work! I'm so happy to have been part of the fandom experience for you! <3

#ask #personal #werenotacoupleyesyouare #thank you and I hope you have a lovely day as well! <3 #I'm too dayquil loopy to write much now but these asks sustain me ehehe #t #also it makes me SO happy every time I hear that people find my fics Worthy Of Talking About #kinda wanna be a fly on every one of those walls LOL but it's nice to just know about

[blushinggoku]

Been trying to read some goku x reader fanfics (because I love him and cringe culture is dead) but there's soo few out there it's insane. I'm disappointed in this fandom for not loving goku more

#listen I understand he's married but that's what AUs are for #also there's way more vegeta x reader fics out there than there are ones with goku and that's a crime #he's the MAIN CHARACTER ffs!! #vegeta is written better and has a well written story arc that is true #but still #I guess this is the only way he could beat goku huh #this is should probably be a case of “if you want someone done right you have to do it yourself”/ #“you want this foc so bad make it yourself” #however A) I'd get too flustered writing goku x reader fics. #B)I'm already busy writing some stories for other fandoms that take all of my time #and C) I'd be afraid to make any of dbz's characters OOC (I need them to be accurate for my peace of mind or I'll cry) #so I will just suffer knowing there is not much of the fics I want out there #I have read a couple of good ones. but I'd only recommend like 2 of them #btw I gotta ask how tf is this possible. dragon ball has existed for 40 years and there's barely any selfshipping fics wtf #again especially pertaining the main fuckinh character. it baffles me. boggles my mind. makes me sob #star scrambles #goku