#i miss my ex terribly sometimes and i miss the good times but it was necessary for me to grow as a person

[katsukikitten]

.

[sunny44]

The exes club

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex!reader, ex wags x fem!reader

Warnings: ex wags.

Summary: Where all the ex wags are best friends.

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @maxverstappen, @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna and other 174829

Yourusername the exes club is reunited again

Ps: for sure the best part of ours relationship

Tagged: @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna

Isahernáez I miss this so much

Yourusername and I missed you

Luisinhaoliveira love you babes

Yourusername love you more girlfriend

Maxverstappen I can see you’re having fun

Liked by Yourusername

Love4wags I love that the best wags are bestfriends

Mv33fan I miss y/n and Max together

User81 I hate the fact that y/n explicitly say that she doesn’t like the current wag

F1lovelywags

Model Y/n Y/L/N talking about the comments of her not liking the new wags.

Y/n was Max Verstappen's girlfriend until a few months ago when they decided to end their relationship.

She and the other ex-WAGs were often seen together in the paddock during race weekends, emphasizing that they were and still are best friends.

Fans are now commenting on her latest post, suggesting that she dislikes the new WAGs just because she shared that she and the other exes were out having fun.

Yourusername instagram stories

“It’s race weekend”

I was invited to attend the weekend in Monza.

It had been a while since I attended any races; it lost its appeal after Max and I broke up. We decided it was for the best, as my modeling career consumed all my time, just like his racing career did to him.

We no longer had time for each other, and it was driving us apart. So, the best decision for both of us was to take a break, which ultimately led to the end.

But here I was again, at a race, hoping everything would go well without any stress.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N." I turned around to see someone from SKY Sports. "Could you give a brief interview?"

"Of course," I agreed, controlling to not roll my eyes as giving interviews was the last thing I wanted to do today.

"We saw your statement in your latest YouTube video regarding the comments on your posts. Do you have anything to declare?"

"As I said in the video, I'm not obligated to like anyone, even if that's what fans think. I don't personally know any of the girls, so the comments are unfounded, defamatory, and malicious," I said, looking into the camera. "I've always been friends with the other girls, and our friendship might have started here due to our ex-boyfriends working in the same field. But our friendship goes beyond that, so the fact that these so-called fans are bothered by something so trivial truly amazes me. Once again, I have nothing against anyone, so I ask you to stop trying to portray me as the villain just because you don't like me."

"Very well, thank you Y/n, for your words," I agreed and left.

I continued walking, stopped for a coffee, and on my way back, Daniel waved at me.

"Y/n, long time no see."

"Hi, Dani," I hugged him. "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good too, just the usual dramas."

"I saw; people don't have much sense.”

"Don't even talk about it. I don't know where people get this rivalry. It's not like I said anything about them in the post."

"Don't worry about it. Fans are just jealous because all of you dated who they wanted. The girls are getting hate now for dating them."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I sighed. "It's terrible for all of us. Max and I aren't even dating anymore, and people still hassle me."

"I can imagine. Heidi sometimes shows me some comments, and they're pretty nasty."

"Well, I need to go, but good luck in the race," I waved. Passing in front of the Red Bull garage, I was pulled inside, and when I saw, I was in Max's driver's room. "What the hell is this?"

"I wanted to see you," he said simply.

"And did you need to pull me in like you were kidnapping me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you and I wanted as few people as possible to see."

"Why? Are you ashamed?"

"Of course not." He stared at me. "How are you?"

"Look, you didn't pull me in here to ask how I am, and I know it was your idea to invite me, even though you tried really hard to make it seem like it wasn't," I said, and he looked at the floor. "So tell me, why so much effort to bring me here?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you."

"You could have called me or sent a message."

"I know, but I needed to say this in person," I agreed and sat on his bed.

"All right, I'm listening."

"I wanted to apologize for my fans. I heard about what happened with your last post, and I didn’t wanted you to go through all this because of me."

"It's not your fault."

"Are you sure? The fans are mine."

"It doesn't matter; they're not your real fans if they're such nasty people," he agreed. "It's okay."

Max sighed, briefly averting his gaze before fixing it back on mine.

"Y/n, I need to be honest about the other reason I brought you here," I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I still love you, more than I can admit. Seeing you dealing with all this pressure and drama made me realize that, even with everything that happened between us, I can't just let you go. Not again."

My heart raced, and a smile formed on my face.

"Max, I feel the same way. I think, deep down, we never stopped loving each other. Maybe it's time to give what we had a second chance."

He smiled back, sincerity reflected in his eyes.

"Y/n, I just want to do this the right way, without rushing, and make sure we're both ready." I nodded, feeling a profound sense of relief.

"I'm willing to give it a try, Max. After all, what do we have to lose?"

And in the end, I guess I put an end to the exes club.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“Ops, I guess the exes club is over for me”

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Can I request something similar to your latest Lewis smau except y/n is Toto's daughter? It's controversial because she's younger, you know the drill

Sure!! <3 For this one I made Y/n a singer

Btw the song in this fic is made up lol

username1 She's PRECIOUS

username2 Y/n is so me

username3 Honestly that's so reletable

username4 I swear this girl will pet any creature she can, how isn't she scared of catching some disease?

↳username1 Have you ever heard of water? Is the concept of washing your hands familiar to you?

username5 Oh to be a cat pet by Y/n Wolff...

username6 A rich girl petting strays... Imagine how much of a better place the world would be if she put the same energy into some charity work

↳username7 Y/n is known for doing charity work when it comes to animals. Pretty sure some % of her earnings goes to several pet charities, organizations. Not to mention she's been vegan for a few years now

↳username8 Wow immagine if you did your research before commenting

↳username9 i love how Y/n was born into the rich life but has always been humble and used her money to help others

username10 Literally she gets a lot of hate for being a daughter of a billionaire like okay next time she'll choose to be born poor lmao

username11 exactly!! there's a difference between flexing on daddy's money and using your daddy's money for good causes

username9 pretty sure she makes her own money now;)

y/n_wolff Busy day at work 😋 look who I bumped into on the way to the studio!!

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georgerussell63 Look at you finally doing some work

↳y/n_wolff Don't worry, soon I'm back at my 2nd job (I just hang around the paddock looking all pretty and stuff)

georgerussell63 No, thank you ❤️ we don't miss you

lewishamilton Speak for yourself George, Roscoe likes when Y/n babysits him

y/n_wolff Roscoe is the only one who understands me for real 😭

roscoelovescoco Petition for an invitation next time you go to the studio

↳y/n_wolff I swear I sent one, it must've got lost on the way 🥹 the pigeon dropped it or something

roscoelovescoco Still using pigeons? That's not very vegan of you...

y/n_wolff Hey! I pay them, alright? If they didn't want to, they wouldn't do this job...

y/n_wolff (hey everyone this is a joke obv)

username3 Imagine what will happen when the haters see this comment section lol

mercedesamgf1 Can't wait to hear it ❤️

↳y/n_wolff 🫶

oscarpiastri Look at that last pic of Y/n with Lando

↳landonorris fuck you if I was an animal i wouldn't be a cat

y/n_wolff Right, you'd be a worm.

landonorris would you guys still love me if I was a worm?

oscarpiastri No

y/n_wolff No

username1 May this be a love song 🤞I need to her one from Y/n after her terrible breakup last year

↳username2 She had a boyfriend last year??

username1 Yeah, we don't know anything about him besides the fact that he broke her heart... Poor girl deserves some true love

username2 Was it a driver?

username1 I highly doubt it, they wouldn't be able to keep it so private

alex_albon Pls make it singable on track

↳y/n_wolff 😬 well...

alex_albon Y/n...

y/n_wolff It's a love song...

username4 SHE ADMITTED!! IT'S A LOVE SONG!!

↳username5 Our girl is in love again 😭

username4 I just hope he treats her better than her ex. Otherwise imma need to talk to him

maxverstappen1 If you like cats so much you should come over sometime

↳username4 Cats rizz 💀

↳username2 No cuz Max has had a crush on Y/n for so long now and I'd love to see them together

↳y/n_wolff You're a few weeks too late 😂🙈

username3 EXCUSE ME I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE MAN IS

username5 Me too, I just wanna talk... *cracking fingers*

y/n_wolff The one I prayed for out now, let me know your thoughts 🩷🕊️

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georgerussell63 Since when are you so religious?🤨

↳y/n_wolff He changed me ❤️

oscarpiastri Great, another song Lando will make me unwillingly listen to

↳y/n_wolff You love my music, don't lie

landonorris yes he does

oscarpiastri Alright, I know a few songs

y/n_wolff A few songs my ass, I saw that iconic interview where you and Lando sing my songs

landonorris he will never admit it but he was a fan YEARS before he got into f1 and met you

y/n_wolff Not like I stalk his Twitter but I saw a post from 2019 about me, it had like 5 likes and Oscar was one of them lmao

landonorris i knew you had daddy issues but are you okay?

↳y/n_wolff Yeah why?? Wtf??

landonorris well after hearing this song I'm not

username1 "They may judge the age we are, the differences they see, but love knows not of boundaries, it only seeks to be free" MY GIRL IS A POET 😭

username2 I'm not ready to meet this man after hearing "He's walked through fire, faced his fears, but in his heart, there's room for tears" 😭

carmenmmundt Truly in love with the lyrics, they're out of this world, out of this century

↳y/n_wolff Thank you love 🥹

lewishamilton The chorus got me in a chokehold💜

↳y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for, in the dead of night, a love like ours, hidden from sight. If people knew, they'd say it's wrong, but in his arms I belong🥹

↳username4 What is Lewis doing here...?

username5 Chill, he drives for Mercedes. George also commented in case you didn't notice

username3 Lyrics so beautiful miss girl was born in the wrong generation

↳username2 fr it sounds straight from 20th century poetry, she's too pure for the age of quick tinder hookups

username6 I knew what her father was like but damn...that song screams daddy issues...

↳username7 Y/n said music is her therapy, that's just how she chooses to express her emotions

username8 When are we going to talk about this part of the lyrics?? "In his eyes, reflections of victory, every triumph and mystery. He's raced through life, faced every curve"?? THIS HAS TO BE ABOUT A DRIVER

↳username9 Y/N AND MAX???

username10 me when I'm delusional

↳username11 I wish it was about Max, but it's certainly about an older guy. I mean, Max is a few years older than Y/n, but the song feels like the guy is in his 30s

lewishamilton Summer break = days spent at the beach

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username1 Sir Lewis Hamilton casually adding his boss' daughter to his vacation pics 🤨

↳username2 fr did he think we wouldn't notice?

georgerussell63 Blink twice if Y/n forced you to post the last photo

↳lewishamilton She kindly asked and I agreed.

y/n_wolff Exactly. That's what I do. I ask. Kindly.

username3 SO HER SONG IS ABOUT HIM??

↳username4 Seems like it 🥹

username3 idk how I feel about it tbh... she's too young for him

username5 Yeah imo she'd be better with Max

username4 Shut the hell up guys, let them be happy, there must be a reason they're together

landonorris that's called soft launching, did you know that?

↳y/n_wolff Wdym?? We're just team bonding during the summer break

georgerussell63 Then why wasn't I at the team bonding?

y/n_wolff Uhhhh I'll call you back later, I'm driving through a tunnel 😬

username6 She's too young for him, will have her fun and move onto the next guy (Max?)

↳username7 You're the reason why so many celebs prefer to keep their relationships a secret

username8 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username6 Does he even know? 💀 AFAIK he doesn't have social media

username8 But it's impossible that he wouldn't know, right...?

y/n_wolff I love you but what is this basic caption?😭

↳lewishamilton I'd rather like to focus on how pretty you look

y/n_wolff I LOVE YOU 😭

landonorris simp

y/n_wolff Stfu Lando, you wish you could hang out with us at the beach

username3 Lmao didn't expect Lando calling the 7 times world champion a simp but here we are

username9 Okay guys but... The girlfriend effect? How will the girlfriend effect work in this case if Lewis is a fashion icon already?

↳username10 There must be a way for an upgrade, there always is

y/n_wolff Sorry, he's all perfect already🫶I guess the gf effect only applies to boys and my man is a real man🗡

maxverstappen1 Have fun ☀️ see you back on track soon

↳username6 Something doesn't feels right seeing Max in this comment section...

username10 Get your shit together, him and Y/n never had a thing, y'all made it all up based on one interview Max gave years ago

mercedesamgf1 🌞😎

y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for

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lewishamilton I love you babe but what is this basic caption?

↳y/n_wolff You're learning from the best, I see

georgerussell63 Good to know you're still team bonding 👍

↳y/n_wolff Yeah, we bonded really hard last night😌

georgerussell63 TMI

oscarpiastri The last pic 🤓

↳landonorris she's getting bold isn't she

y/n_wolff I don't have reasons to be shy tho, do I?

landonorris girl made one good song and made it her whole personality

↳y/n_wolff This is girlhood, you'd never get it

landonorris btw this is hard launching but in a 'we don't give a fuck' way

↳y/n_wolff Well, we don't 🤷‍♀️

username1 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LITTLE Y/N😭

↳username2 She grew up 😭

username3 I love how nonchalant they're about it

carmenmmundt Someone's been working out🤭

↳y/n_wolff Now I have a personal trainer 😌

username4 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username5 Bet we're gonna see much more of smashing his headset after the break

username6 How is she so casual about it? We just found out she's dating LEWIS MF HAMILTON and she's acting like that's nothing

↳username3 I guess it is 'nothing' for her, she's known Lewis since she was really young

username7 That's what's giving me the biggest ick because this man has known her since she was an early teen and suddenly decided to date her?

username3 Yeah but she's in her 20s now, she's a consenting adult

username7 That's not normal, this is the definition of grooming

username3 I'm sorry I'm too european for your bullshit

username8 Lewis said fuck it I'm going to Ferrari next year anyway, might as well shoot my shot 💀

username9 Max Verstappen has been really silent

↳username10 Now he'll compete with Lewis not only for the championship but also for Y/n 😂

username9 It would be such a win

username11 Can y'all MaxY/n shippers shut up? I swear y'all are worse than Lestappen shippers

y/n_wolff Roscoe working hard while his dad socializes with his grandpaw 🥳

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username1 I didn't even realize now that Y/n and Lewis are together it means Toto is Roscoe's grandpaw 😭

georgerussell63 Working hard or hardly working?

↳y/n_wolff No comment...

landonorris really shocked to see toto still gets along with lew

↳username2 Lando saying what we all think lol

↳y/n_wolff Dad was actually happy!!

landonorris does he hope you'll convince lew to stay in mercedes?

y/n_wolff How am I supposed to know 🤷‍♀️ you go talk to him

oscarpiastri New songs when?

↳y/n_wolff Soon!! (I haven't started working on them)

username2 I'm actually happy to see them happy and that Toto accepts Lewis as Y/n's boyfriend

↳username3 It's still weird 💀 imagine calling a 40 year old your 'boyfriend'

username2 People are allowed to find love at any age

username3 Lewis is closer in age to Toto than to Y/n

username2 And? Y/n isn't a child, she's a grown woman, if Lewis is what she wants, who are we to judge?

username3 It's just icky... It's not gonna last long

username4 I still can't stop thinking what could be if Y/n was dating Max 🥹

↳username5 fr my dream couple

username6 Y'all see how Y/n predicted people's reaction in her song? "If people knew, they'd say it's wrong" and y'all can't stop yapping about imaginary grooming or what her and Max could've been

↳username7 Girl should've kept it a secret, I feel sorry for them 🥲

↳username8 But in his arms I belong

y/n_wolff Okay everybody, I didn't want to talk about it, but you give me no choice. Lewis and I are in love, there was no grooming involved, I make my own decisions. I really wanted to cherish our love with my new music, but you make me re-think it. I don't feel excited to share our love with you anymore.

↳lewishamilton Don't worry about them darling ❤️

↳danielricciardo FEA

↳landonorris You have our support guys

↳oscarpiastri Don't let these comments get to you, they don't matter

↳georgerussell63 I know I usually act like a snappy older brother, but I love to see you happy (even if Lewis is the reason)

↳maxverstappen1 Haters are always gonna hate, but they don't deserve your attention

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 11

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Summary: the aftermath of Jared's... lovely... reappearance in your life.

WC: ~2.4k

Ellie is all too excited as she eats her breakfast, wiggling with glee, as she tells you about how good she was for your girlfriend during church and how she was so surprised to see her father with you at the coffee shop.

You do your best to remain present with everything that your daughter is saying, but that’s proving to be hard when the ten minutes that Melissa requested for were up and she wasn’t knocking at your door. She was almost never late when she told you she would be to your apartment in a given amount of time. It’s also particularly hard to keep your focus on your daughter when your abdomen is absolutely on fire. You choose your eyes are a particularly bad cramp tears its way through your body, and when you open them Ellie is watching you curiously.

“Are you okay, Momma?”

You nod and smile at her with as much sincerity as you can muster up at this given time. “I’m okay, baby. Just bad cramps. You know how sometimes they like to sneak up on me.”

Your little girl nods in understanding, and you quietly pray that she isn’t also cursed with terrible PMS like you are. “Should I get Miss Mel?”

“It’s okay, hun,” you chuckle. “Momma can handle herself.”

“Cuddles will help?” Ellie suggests.

You roll your eyes at her suggestion. “Of course they will. Ellie girl cuddles always fix everything.”

“I know, Momma!” Your daughter’s eyes light up and she beams at you as though she had just figured out how to make pigs fly. She pulls you to the couch and forces you to recline back before she curls into your hold.

“Oh wait!” she pops back up and heads into the back hallway for a few seconds before you see her coming back out with your heating pad. She hands it to you with a shy smile.

You kiss her head softly, eyes welling with tears at her thoughtful consideration. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

You plug it in and press it to your stomach before she settles herself next to you again.

“I love you, Momma,” she whispers.

“I love you too, little girl,” you tell her. “I will always love you, no matter what. My sweet, strong girl.”

She grins at you toothily. “I know I telled Daddy Mel was my favoritest person in the world… but I think I lied.”

“Oh?” you look down at her.

“It’s you,” she says softly as she snuggles into your side before reaching for the remote and turning on the television.

“You’re my favoritest person in the whole world too, my little love bug,” you promise her with a kiss to her beautifully braided hair (thanks to Melissa).

Only once you’ve relaxed just a bit with the warmth from both the heating pad and your daughter does your body’s fight or flight response quit and you realize just how much it took out of you to confront your ex-husband. After only a few minutes of watching the Disney movie Ellie chose to watch, you end up dozing.

Dozing is a phrase to be used lightly, because when you wake up again, your little girl is no longer in your embrace, the heating pad has been switched out for a hot water bottle, and an entirely different Disney movie plays on your television than the one you had fallen asleep to.

You blearily open your eyes, and you can smell something on the stovetop that can only be a product of your girlfriend. Groaning as you stand and keeping the hot water bottle in your clutch, you make your way to the kitchen where Melissa has Ellie on her hip as she stirs whatever contents are in the pot.

You watch the two of them with soft and loving eyes for a few seconds before pulling out one of the barstools and making your presence known.

The redhead turns around at the sound. “Hey. When I came in you were asleep, and I knew El would be getting hungry soon.”

“I’m helping Mel make chicken noodle soup!” your daughter squeals from your girlfriend’s hip.

“You are,” Melissa kisses Ellie’s cheek before setting her down. “Why don’t you go grab the celery from my apartment, little miss?”

The little girl nods excitedly before racing off. 

The woman shakes out her arm and cracks her hip. “I think I need to pull up a chair for her next time… she’s getting a little too big for me to cook and hold her at the same time.”

You chuckle softly at her. “Yeah. She’s growing up before my eyes.”

“How’re you feeling?” the redhead asks as she makes her way over to you.

“Like I’m being stabbed repeatedly in the uterus,” you tell her. “Thank you for the hot water bottle, by the way.”

She frowns. “You felt okay enough to go meet your husband though.”

“Ex-husband,” you correct.

“You still met him,” your girlfriend reminds you.

You sigh. “I did.”

“You lied to me,” she says dully, and you can hear the way that she’s trying to hide her hurt feelings.

“I didn’t lie to you, Mel,” you tell her. “I really don’t feel great.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you decided to respond? That you were meeting with him?” she asks, and you can tell she’s trying to keep her temper at bay.

You bite your lip. “Because I knew you would get all protective, and I can handle myself when it comes to him. Besides, I didn’t think that he would be such an ass… I was kind of hoping he would just hand me a check for the child support he owes me and we would go our separate ways.”

“Did he?”

You huff. “No. I told him that if I didn’t have the money in hand by the end of the month that I would get a lawyer. I was going to storm out when I ran into you two.”

Melissa just nods thoughtfully before Ellie comes running back into your apartment with the requested vegetable in hand. “Thank you, sweetheart,” your girlfriend smiles. “Great job. I think I have it from here because it’s just chopping up the celery and letting everything simmer, so why don’t you go play in your room while I take care of your momma?”

Your daughter beams at the praise and nods before raising her arms. Of course, your girlfriend obliges and lifts her onto her hip. Ellie presses a quick kiss to the redhead’s cheek and squeezes her gently before wiggling to get down again. She then comes to you and carefully winds her arms around you. And then she’s off giggling to herself about whatever make-believe game she was planning on playing.

Melissa chops and dices the celery quietly and deep in thought before throwing it into the pot.

You finally break the tension. “Mel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She turns to you at that. She just shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Honey,” you sigh as you shuffle off of the barstool. You stumble slightly.

“Hey,” she catches you quickly. “Take it easy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you wrap an arm around her waist. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I didn’t mean to make you so angry at me that you needed time to yourself to calm down after we got home.”

She takes a deep breath as she guides you back to your chair. “Hun, I’m not gonna lie… I wasn’t pleased to see you out and about, especially with him.”

“I know,” you mumble.

“But I get why you did what you did,” Melissa tells you gently. “And I ain’t mad… not anymore.”

You sigh a breath of relief.

“I told you I needed ten minutes, and that ten turned into twenty while I found the ingredients to make you soup,” she lets you know. “I still came over, I’m still taking care of you because it’s clear you really aren’t feeling well… don’t think I didn’t miss the way you nearly doubled over in pain at the shop.”

You smile at her gently. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

She just rolls her eyes and kisses you softly. Then she tells you, “If you need a lawyer to get the child support, I know a guy. Just let me know, babe.”

The next time Jared messages you, you tell Melissa immediately. You tell her so immediately in fact, that you accidentally interrupt her science lesson with the kids.

“Miss Y/N?” she raises a brow. “I am in the middle of teaching.”

“I know, I know,” you apologize. “But just…” you hand her your phone.

She glances at it before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ll deal with this later, okay?”

You nod. “Sorry. Continue on with your lesson.”

At lunch, you settle down in the staff room while she heats up your lunches.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I guess take Ellie to the park today?” you shrug. “But come with me?”

She taps at her phone before groaning. “I have a meeting with Tyrone’s parents, but I’ll meet you there after?”

You end up walking down to the park with your daughter as she tells you all about the different things she had done today in first grade.

“I’m so glad you’re loving first grade, baby,” you smile down at her as she swings your hand with hers.

“I do,” she nods seriously. “But I do miss Mrs. Howard.”

“You still see Mrs. Howard all the time when she hangs out with Mel.”

‘Sn’t the same,” Ellie shrugs. And then when the two of you approach the park, she breaks out into the biggest grin at the sight of Jared.

“Daddy!” She drops your hand and runs for him. He lifts her up immediately with that sparkling smiles of his, and you catch up a few seconds later. 

“Thanks for letting me have this one, babe,” he smirks at you.

You glare at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yeah,” Ellie pipes up. “Only Mel gets to call Momma that now.”

Jared looks to your daughter. “Oh?”

“Well, they are dating,” your daughter shrugs. Then she focuses her attention on the swings. “Push me on the swings?”

He takes her over immediately and gives her a big push on the playground equipment. Ellie giggles with glee the entire time. Then she runs off to go play with a few of the other kids that have made their way to the park after school, and you and your ex-husband find a bench to sit on while you watch her.

“So,” he looks you up and down.

You huff. “Screw off. I’m only doing this for my daughter.”

“Ours,” he corrects.

You fire out, “I’m still waiting for my child support check.”

“About that,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“Jared, I wasn’t kidding when I told you that if I didn’t have the money in hand by the end of the month I would sue your sorry ass.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, damn. Where was this fire when we were married? It makes you way hotter.”

“Oh, eat my shit.” You turn your attention to where your daughter is running around playing tag. You can tell she’s tiring herself out- at least she’ll sleep well tonight. 

You don’t bother to speak to Jared again until Ellie comes running over to you. She immediately climbs into your lap and snuggles up against you.

“Momma, I’m hungry.”

“Okay, baby,” you brush a few of the flyaways away from her face. “We’ll start heading home so Momma can cook dinner then.”

“Can Daddy come?”

As much as you want to tell your little girl that he is not welcome in your new living space, the hopeful look that she’s giving you is too much. “If he wants to come, he can.”

Ellie grins up at you tiredly, and you stand with her in your arms. You start to make the trek back to your apartment complex with as much gusto as you can, but your daughter is getting heavy, and the Midol you took earlier in the day is starting to wear off. The severity of your cramps are getting stronger again, and you have to fight to keep the pain out of your face.

“Here,” Jared says softly. “Let me take her.” He lifts Ellie off of you and continues to carry her the rest of the way to your apartment. 

During your walk, you text Melissa that your time at the park got cut short because Ellie was hungry and to just meet you at your apartment- that Jared would be there, and you expect her to play nice.

She of course texts you back that she just got out of her meeting, that she makes no promises, and asks if he handed you the child support money yet. You reply with a thumbs down, and she tells you that she’ll get into contact with her guy on the way home.

You unlock your door and have him set a now sleeping Ellie on the couch before making your way into the kitchen to start dinner. Instinctively, he picks up a knife and helps you to start cutting up the vegetables you’ll need to make dinner.

It takes you back to when the two of you were married and cooking dinner together was considered your sacred time together. You wipe a tear away as you finish cutting up the tomato.

“Hey, are you really in that much pain right now?” Jared asks you, softly… tenderly.

You just nod. He doesn’t need to know that you’re in just as much emotional pain right now as you are in physical pain.

Your ex-husband takes you by the shoulder and guides you to one of the chairs at the table. He grabs the heating pad that you had left on the counter earlier that day and plugs it in before pressing it to your abdomen.

Just as he’s going to pull away, you hear the front door open again. You know it’s Melissa. And as she rounds the corner, Jared kisses you for her to see. 

Tags (and lemme know if you wanna be included in this!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MICHAEL KAISER x FEM READER

Kaiser’s always there for you after a failed date. Maybe this time he has something better than advice. 

wc — 800

tags — friends to lovers, confession

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“The man I’m dating is a flat earther.” 

Kaiser wordlessly pushes his drink towards you in a show of support. You down the glass, relishing the burn as it goes down. It’s wet and cold with condensation, and not an altogether terrible cure to alleviate your headache. 

“Any other conspiracy theories he believes in? Maybe tinfoil hats?”

“Kaiser - this is not helping.”

This is a weekly ritual that’s the only constant in your life. You switch jobs often. Shitty boyfriends come and go. But Kaiser and Lunar Love, your favorite local bar, are always the way you end your Friday nights. 

You don’t know when the tradition started, but it probably happened sometime between meeting Kaiser when you were working a low-level job for the JPN Football Association and crying into his rock hard shoulder after your sixth failed first date in a row. 

Bad things happen during the week. You dump them on Kaiser on Fridays. That’s just how it goes. 

You would feel bad, but Kaiser’s really, really terrible at comforting people anyway. Not only is he too muscular to be a good pillow - you still wince recalling how sore your neck had been the morning after you slept on his shoulder - but even his attempts at making you feel better with words sucks. 

Guy talked about his ex the whole time? 

“Ditch him and leave with the breadsticks.” 

It doesn’t matter if you tell him that’s bad advice. Kaiser doesn’t care about normal benchmarks for propriety and manners and social standards. He just does whatever he wants whenever he wants, and he expects you to follow suit. 

When your boyfriend of two months had ditched you to watch Kaiser’s football match with his friends, Kaiser had laughed himself silly while you complained to him on the phone later. 

“Quit football,” you tell him. 

“What, so your lame boyfriend will pay more attention to you? No way!” 

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” you groan.

“It’s not your fault the men you date are assholes - well no, it kind of is. Stop dating assholes, I guess.” 

“Don’t blame the victim!” 

But then there was the time the man you were meeting for a first date had tried to get you to join his cult. 

You had texted Kaiser an SOS under the table as the man and the two other cult recruiters he brought with him (who brings plus ones, much less plus twos to a date?) tried to convince you to give up the life of ‘sin’ you were leading. 

You should’ve known he was too hot to be true. That’s how they get you, you think ruefully. Now you’re stuck at this table trying to make excuses for living a life of debauchery when- 

“Excuse me,” Kaiser says. “What are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

Your head snaps up. 

“What are you doing?” You mouth at him. 

You look at the cultists. He’s making it worse. Oh, he’s definitely making it worse. One girl has her hand raised to her mouth in shock and horror. Another is actively praying for god to deliver you from evil. 

“Come on, honey,” he says, tugging you up from your seat. “It’s time to go home.” 

“Miss,” says the original cultist who asked you on the date. He really is cute, with a sweet and earnest face that makes you want to coo over him if he wasn’t actively trying to indoctrinate you. “If you leave now, your soul will never be saved.” 

Kaiser makes a face like he’s thinking about doing something very inappropriate for fun, and that’s when you rush out of there. Once you’re on the sidewalk, you slow down, walking hand in hand as you head towards his car. He swings your arm a little. 

“One day,” he sighs, “I’m not going to be around to rescue you.” 

“No you won’t,” you tell him with a grin. “You love me too much for that.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a rueful smile as he opens the passenger door for you. “I do.” 

That’s how you know Kaiser really does care about you. He cared enough to show up and rescue you. Maybe not the best way he could’ve done it, but still. 

That and the fact that he wouldn’t be paying for twenty dollar cocktails just to hear you whine about your love life if he didn’t care about you, but he’s just not great at showing that love. 

Case in point: “Just give up on your shitty dating life,” Kaiser says, rolling his eyes. 

“Excuse me?” You say, outraged. “It’s not like people are lining up to date me, mister!” 

“Why do you need a line?” He looks annoyed. “I’m right here. I’ve been here all along.” 

Bonus: Kaiser’s name in his contacts for you is “miss unlucky-in-love”. When you start dating, he changes it to “lucky” and forces you to change his to “good luck charm.”

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This motherfucker didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you were to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you���re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[ohbo-ohno]

Revisiting a distant memory but its ex lovers with Price. Maybe some yearning? And incorporating "for the old times sake"? Thanks and happy writing!

1k game here - no more please!

GOD this one is hard!! i lovelovelovelove second chance romances (it's my favorite romance trope lol) but i really have absolutely no idea if i'm any good at writing them :')

2k of price x reader ft. reader mourning her marriage at a friend's wedding and price trying to be a good future ex-ex-husband. (btw this is laswell's wedding so we're all pretending that she says "girlfriend" instead of "wife" in game to make this work) no smut!

It's difficult not to drown your glass of wine in one long swallow, the déjà vu an almost overwhelming feeling.

You know it's not fair to Kate, but God did she have to have her wedding in the same venue as yours? Everywhere you look you're reminded of the best day of your life, and the subsequent worst months.

You take a deep breath, and try to shove all thoughts of the past out of your head.

It isn't easy these days. Even though you were the one to ask for the divorce, you've never stopped loving - stopped wanting - John. You feel the loss of him everyday, just like you had the endless weeks and months he spent deployed.

It wasn't the time away that did you in - it was the secrecy of it all. You maintain that you could've made the relationship work had you at least known where he was, or even been afforded texting rights. But it's hard to pretend you're living a normal life when you haven't heard from your husband in six weeks and you have no idea whether he's even alive.

The day Kyle came to the door instead of John, you knew you couldn't stay married to him.

He was lucky - John had been injured and sent Kyle to bring you to the hospital since he was already back on base, but you'd seen the man and broken down into sobs before he'd even managed to get a word out. The poor soldier had tried his best to tell you that your husband was alive and would be fine, but you were inconsolable.

Once you'd realized what was going on you realized the truth of your situation. John's death would break you, and you'd never recover from it.

That moment where you'd thought he was gone... it was like a part of you had died, like grief had swallowed you whole and refused to let go.

You were scared when Gaz finally explained to you what was really going on. And all at once, all the pieces of your life started to click together.

When you served John with divorce papers you told him that you couldn't handle so much time apart anymore, that you wanted more stability in your life than he could give you. But the truth is you were scared, and a growing part of you thought that maybe if you distanced yourself before he got himself killed, the inevitable grief would be easier to swallow.

You think he saw through your bravado and straight to your fear. You've never known John Price to be anything but a fighter, but he hardly hesitated when you gave him the papers with shaking hands. He raised an eyebrow, said are you sure this what you want, love? and hugged you after he signed.

You'd cried more than he had, had sobbed into his chest and clung to him to hold you together. Looking back you're embarrassed of your reaction, but at the time it truly felt like you were cutting off half of your soul.

It still feels like that most days. Sometimes you lie awake at night, haunted by the idea that you've only caused yourself more grief, that you're going to feel hurt and terrible until something or someone kills John, and then you'll have to experience that grief you fear anyways.

But you've made your bed, and now you're laying in it, cold and lonely and missing your husband.

You take a deep breath and a small sip of your wine, try to center yourself. It's difficult not to dwell on your own mistakes - perceived or real - but you're determined not to cry at Kate's wedding. You are not going to be that divorced woman. You simply refuse.

Still, it's a close call. You close your eyes and drain the glass before your fingers stop shaking, and you hate that you've got nothing to do with your hands, nothing to distract yourself with. The deep breaths don't help, and the idea of getting a bit wine-drunk looks more and more appealing.

When you open your eyes again, John stands in front of you, holding a fresh glass out in offering.

He looks good, but you already knew that. It was difficult to look anywhere but him during the service, and he caught you enough times for it to become almost humiliating. You've been telling yourself all night that you could pass the flush in your cheeks off as the heat of an outdoor ceremony, but you know he noticed.

Still, he doesn't look smug about your obvious discomfort. Silver lingings, and all.

You take the offered glass after just a moment, deciding that it might be better to bite the bullet and invite John back into your space rather than keep trying to avoid him all night. It's not like your divorce is a secret - every person in this room saw you two attend countless events together, the tension between you two is probably painfully obvious.

John steps to your side as you take a small sip, heart skipping a beat at the taste of your favorite wine.

"Where did you get this?" It's not what they're serving, or you'd probably already be well on your way to wine drunk.

He smiles softly at you, dimples covered by his beard. "I can't give away all my tricks. Then what would you keep me around for?"

You laugh a little sadly at that, and his smile grows.

Honestly, you've missed John enough that you don't even really mind if he keeps your wine hostage for the rest of the night. You're willing to keep up the facade if he is.

You take another sip and stand a bit straighter, try to prepare yourself for another conversation with your ex-husband. None of them have been easy, but it gets less and less painful to see him every time. You know he goes out of his way to make this easier on you, never once showing any hint of animosity. Besides the lack of PDA, he's hardly changed his behavior from when you were actually married.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

He shoots you a look, one that says he remembers exactly how much you always hated small talk, but he indulges you. "It's a beautiful ceremony."

"It is."

He cocks an eyebrow. "But...?"

You sigh, gesturing with your glass as the wine loosens your tongue just enough for you to be a little too honest with your ex-husband. "It's all a little too familiar, isn't it? I mean, I haven't been back here since our... well, you know."

He snorts. "Yes, I do remember our wedding day."

You flush, elbowing him playfully. "Don't tease."

His smile is familiar, everything you've missed from him, when he looks down at you. "Can't help it, love." He lifts a hand, one big palm cupping your cheek and running a thumb over the apple of it. "You're just too pretty when you blush."

You can't help but close your eyes, leaning into his rough palm a bit. God, you miss him so much. Having him here, feeling his touch, and knowing that you'll go home tonight to an empty bed...

It's almost too much. The tears come entirely against your will.

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, other hand cupping your cheek and thumbing away your tears. You blink up at him, free hand wrapping loosely around his wrist.

His eyes bore deeply into yours, and you see everything you feel reflected there. The memories, the pain, the yearning, the love that just refuses to dissipate.

"John," you whisper, voice shaky.

His head dips forward just enough to rest your foreheads together, breaths mingling. Despite the music still playing and the sound of conversations all around you, you can't help but feel like the world begins and ends with the man in front of you.

That's always what John has been for you - everything. Even now, months after your separation, you haven't figured out how to live in a world that isn't defined by John Price. You're not sure you really want to.

"Oh, love," he sighs, grip just firm enough to make you feel held. "When are you coming home?"

You bite your lip to hold back a sob, face crumpling. John coos a little, pressing forward just enough to kiss the tip of your nose and using his thumb to coax your lip from between your teeth.

"It's alright," he soothes, rubbing soft circles into the indention your teeth left in your lipstick. "We don't have to talk about it now, alright? You can take all the time you need. I'm a patient man."

You nod a little, taking in another deep breath. His patience was always something you'd admired, considering your own patience is horribly short. You can't stand to wait, and despite the many times he'd try to help you see the beauty in delay (both in and out of the bedroom), you'd only become frustrated.

Like now. Here John stands, poised and put together and nowhere near tears, and you're the exact opposite. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't one of the main reasons you fell for him in the first place - he's always balanced you out where you need it most.

You take another gulp of your wine, the glass half gone already. John chuckles a little as he stands up, hands shifting to rest on your upper arms and giving you a comforting squeeze. "Might have to get you another glass sooner than I expected."

You consider him for a moment, thoughts slow but a bit erratic, and then drain the rest of the glass in one go.

His eyes widen a bit as you nearly slam the glass onto a table, looking up at him with determination.

"No more wine - for now - but how about a dance?"

You wouldn't be asking if you hadn't had three glasses of wine already. But you have, and you're just inebriated enough to say screw it. As long as you don't wake up next to John tomorrow, nothing you do at the reception can really hurt your progress in getting over him too much.

But God when he smiles at you like that, soft and loving and just sweet, you want to forget completely about the divorce and go back to the life you'd had.

Stress and fear and separation pains regardless, you want John Price with every bone in your body. But you can't help that your mind convinces you otherwise, whispers all the reasons being with him can only lead to pain.

He shakes you out of your musings by offering a hand, stepping away just enough to make you reach for him.

"For old time's sake?" He asks when you take his hand, letting him pull you onto the dance floor with the other couples happily dancing together.

You nearly giggle at the poor excuse, knowing you can both see right through it. Still, you agree with him.

"For old time's sake."

You both know it's a lie, know that there's something more to a slow dance at a wedding, but you're not ready to say it yet. For now you'll hide behind the mask of nostalgia for better days.

Someday you'll be able to move forward. But that's a mission for post-wedding you to figure out, a plan for future-you to construct. Wedding-you, almost-wine-drunk-you is more than happy to let your ex-husband tug you close and trail his hands almost inappropriately low on your waist.

You tell yourself that you can worry about John's words, about his tone and his touchiness, in the morning.

For now, you bask in the presence of the love of your life, and try not to think about how much it will hurt when you leave him all over again at the end of the night.

[echo-rambles]

use my body against me

summary: when a drunk text to your ex gets answered in a way you never expected, it leads to falling right back into old habits. tags: past established relationship, ex-boyfriend chan, suggestive content but nothing explicit, mention of recreational alcohol use, swearing. notes: title from the way you miss me by all time low. mostly a rewrite of my very first reader insert fic, because I loved the concept but I wasn't a fan of my own writing, and I think I've vastly improved since. I might write a continuation, but no promises.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The situation you currently find yourself in is truly one of your own making. There’s really no one else to blame, no matter how much you would love to point the finger at literally anyone besides yourself. 

There’s a text message from Bang Christopher Chan sitting there, on your phone. Staring up at you almost accusatory and chilling you to the bone. 

-Good morning, I hope you’re drinking water to combat all of that vodka you consumed last night! hahaha 

At first, the text means nothing to you. It leaves you in a state of mild confusion only exacerbated by your incredible hangover. How would he know you drank your weight in liquor? The only answer you can even try to think up isn’t a good one. Feeling brave and a little nauseous, you decide to scroll up, farther into this conversation between you and your ex.

The confusion melts away into horror as you locate the beginning of this conversation. One glance at the selfie you sent has the memory coming back to you, causing your headache to flare. Oh no.

It was late last night, and you had already drank one too many shots of whatever fruity flavored vodka was available. Shut away in Felix’s bathroom, the light overhead far too harsh and fluorescent, pulling your shirt down enough to show off your cleavage. Snapping a picture in the mirror above the sink, leaning into the counter and trying your best to look some approximation of sexy. 

Fumbling fingers sent it to Chan. The first text between the two of you in months. 

Looking at the selfie now has your stomach twisting into knots. Oh no. The texts that followed aren’t any better. Actually, they somehow make the entire situation worse. 

-the fact that i wore this shirt hoping you’d be at this party only to learn you went home EARLY?

-i wasted such an amazing outfit and for nothing

-i bet you looked good too. bastard

-sometimes i can’t tell if i miss you or just the weight of you on top of me 

-i miss how good you were -i know fora fact i miss your mouth -i miss your mouth on MY MOUTH -omg i miss my mouth on your

You swipe away from those messages. Knowing for a fact you’ll have to read them eventually, to get a proper understanding of the things you said to him. But not right now. Right now you continue to scroll, your texts devolving into a mix of incomprehensible emojis and bitching at Chan about things he very obviously can’t control. You were a mess, holy shit. Who even let you text? Why wasn’t your phone confiscated the moment vodka hit your lips?

The only things that Chan has replied with since your terrible wall of drunk texts is an initial Oh wow lol, and his aforementioned good morning text.

It could be worse, right? He could’ve blocked you or typed out an excruciatingly long lecture about drinking responsibly. It honestly could’ve been so much worse. 

Crawling your way out of bed, still vaguely nauseous and trying to fight the urge to lay face down on the floor and never get up again, you shuffle your way into the bathroom. First thing’s first before you tackle whatever the fuck is on your phone, you decide to wash up to feel human again.

The world can fall apart around you for all you care. All you want is a shower and some toothpaste. 

Wrapped in a towel and your toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you finally decide to reply. You probably shouldn’t, especially now that you’re sober and know better, but you have to apologize. That feels like the polite thing to do. 

Well, the only way to begin is by beginning. 

-lol hey good afternoon 

-I ended up demolishing an entire water bottle when I got home last night but sadly it wasn’t enough to save me

How do you even apologize for last night? Sorry I was so angry and horny and I made it your problem? Sorry that the first time I've texted you since we broke up was a drunk thirst trap? So sorry, and hey by the way how have you been since we had the messiest breakup because you’re bad at prioritizing and I’m bad at communication? 

Yeah, definitely none of that. 

You’re still standing there in your bathroom, staring into the mirror and brushing your teeth on autopilot as your mind spins into itself, when your phone lights up. One notification followed swiftly by a second, making your phone buzz on the counter. 

Chan’s contact stares back at you, both messages fading off into ellipses. 

-Ah, RIP. You should’ve drank three…

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could…

Oh, you don’t think this is the sort of message you can read by yourself while still combating the aching nausea of a hangover. Absolutely not, whatever he has to say can be answered once you have a sufficient amount of caffeine and the right company. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“I need a second opinion.” It’s the first thing you say, after sitting down across from Felix and shoving your phone at him. Showing off the string of text messages you experienced after waking up. You still haven’t read the newest text. 

Felix barely even moves his head from where it’s resting against the table. He’s clearly just as hungover as you are, but you feel like you’re in the middle of making a very bad decision and you need a second opinion. You shimmy your phone under the seam where his forehead meets the wood. 

With a little pout and deep groan, he’s shifting around and unlocking your phone. The silence stretches on as he swipes through the text thread and stares, blinks, and blinks some more. With a start, he’s sitting up straight, pulling the phone closer. 

“Wait, he wants to meet up with you?”

“He wants to what?” You snatch the phone from his hands, finally reading the text yourself. 

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could maybe grab lunch? Or, if you’re still too hungover for lunch, maybe something later?

Just the idea of seeing him again has something hot and electric buzzing through your veins. Your immediate instinct is to say yes. You want to say yes so badly, yes a thousand times over. Instead you very deliberately place your phone onto the table. 

Felix has slumped back into his seat, eyeing you warily. “I thought you weren’t talking to him?”

“I mean- I wasn’t. But now I am, kind of? It’s not that big of a deal-” 

“It felt like you two went through a divorce, I don’t know if I’d say it’s ‘not a big deal’-”

“I’m over it!” You proclaim, a little loudly. A little desperately. “And he is too if he’s talking to me.” 

All you get in response is Felix’s eyebrows pitching inwards and his mouth molding into a little frown. The type of frown that is trying very hard to not be a frown. He’s giving you the most pitying look you’ve probably ever seen on his angelic face. 

You should say no. Scoop up your phone and tell him that you can’t make it. Conjure up some far flung excuse so that you won’t reopen old wounds. But you want to see him again, desperately. 

You tap your fingers along the edge of the table. “Is this a bad idea?” 

“Do you want my truthful answer?” Felix replies from the depths of his hoodie. Your phone sits between you, dark screen facing the ceiling. 

You think for a moment. “Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck you.” 

The thing is, you know he has a point. It doesn’t feel very good but it’s true. Sure, you and Chan can be amicable over text, but that’s over text. Who knows what will happen if you’re face to face. Would it be awkward and stilted? Or maybe everything you say to each other will be filled with vitriolic anger. Things didn’t exactly end on the best terms, and that might just leak into an otherwise pleasant meeting. 

But you are nothing if not a professional at both denial and deflections, so you push all of those thoughts very far away. 

Maybe this could be a new start. Maybe you and Chan could be the incredibly rare type of people who are friends with their ex. You’d like that, actually, to have Chan back in your life beyond some tertiary character you hear about from other people. Texting him reminded you how much you actually miss your best friend. 

Snatching your phone up, you just barely restrain yourself from checking to see if you somehow managed to miss any new messages. 

“It’s a friend thing! Friend’s hang out all the time. We're going to go get coffee or something equally platonic and we're going to ignore all of the drunk texts I sent him!” Your voice raises in pitch towards the end, and it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

Felix gives you a very unimpressed look. “You told him that you miss the feel of his-”

“I know what I said!"

"In your mouth-"

"Thank you!”

Those texts are burned into your brain, you're well aware of the things you sent Chan. How they got more detailed the more you sent. Just remembering some of them has you flushing.

“I mean," Felix hums, oblivious to the direction your thoughts are taking. "I guess it could be a thing friends do.” There's too much sarcasm in his words for your liking.

“As if you haven’t said something similar to any of your friends.”

One of his eyebrows arch, and the gesture is so very pointed. “Any friend that I’ve gotten on my knees for was never at any point an extremely complicated ex.”

"Shut the fuck up." He's right and you hate it.

But still. You want to see Chan so badly. Finally you give in to the all consuming urge to reply. Opening up Chan’s contact, your fingers work quickly. 

-I mean, if you’re paying…

-Of course I’ll pay haha 

-then count me in!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cave so quickly.” Felix sighs, but there’s something all tangled into his words. Some emotion you can’t really identify right now. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounds hopeful. 

“Seriously, shut up.” 

“You came here asking for my opinion!” 

“Well!” You huff, trying not to glance at the little typing bubble that appears under your fingers. Signaling that Chan is in the middle of replying to you. He wants to continue your stupid little conversation. Your heart does a funny little wiggle at the sight. “I’ll take what you said into consideration, I guess.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Felix was probably right, and that was such a complicated thought to have while Chan’s hand was currently palming you through your shirt. 

See, it really had started out with grabbing coffee together. Something extremely casual with no pressure, the conversation just a little awkward at the start. Both of you trying to remember how to be civil towards each other, how to smile and laugh at jokes. It came a lot easier to Chan, as always. But you missed this. You missed being in the same space as him and hearing his voice and fucking hell, Felix was right; you’re so incredibly weak. 

You tried so hard to keep things on track, really you did. The possibility of being friends was right there, laid out in front of you. But then Chan smiled- that small little smile where he ducks his head and bites at his lip and looks up at you from under those fucking eyelashes of his, and oh. You were gone.

He makes it almost disgustingly easy to be around him. It makes your head buzz. 

Somehow the touch of your fingers against the inside of his wrist lead you to his apartment. Where he pins you to the wall and kisses you so deeply you can feel it in your toes. You almost forgot what it felt like when Chan put his full strength into holding you in place. It’s heady. 

He still tastes the same. Somehow, in the midst of his hands gripping and tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush together, that’s the thought that floats its way to the forefront. Chan tastes the same, even after all this time where you never got to taste him. He feels the same too, a little wider, mostly in his shoulders, but still familiar. He makes the same little noise in the back of his throat when you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

It’s all so familiar and you could choke on it. 

You should probably talk about this. The making out, yes, absolutely, but also the last few months and the texts and him asking to see you out of the blue. It should be talked about, right? Except what would you even say? You’ll just rehash the same things you’ve been saying. You felt ignored and he felt suffocated and you could never find a way to meet in the middle because you’re both stubborn. 

You should say something though, right? Right? 

The press of his hand against the dip of your waist, pulling you closer, has you losing any semblance of what language even is. Words? Who needs them? He’s hooking his other hand behind your knee and hiking it up, guiding you to wrap your leg around him, and really all you can think about is how you aren’t close enough.

You sneak your fingers up under the hem of his shirt, feeling the expanse of his skin, and the sound of the breathiest gasp leaving his lips settles along the curve of your spine. 

This doesn’t feel like a particularly good idea, but then he’s grinding against you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh, and it doesn’t really matter all that much. 

“Is this a terrible idea?” He asks, practically breathing the words directly into your mouth, and you find it a little funny. Not only are you both having the same sort of thought, but it feels incredibly belated. 

“Honestly Chris? I don’t really give a fuck.” 

That gets him to laugh. Just the quietest little giggle into the skin of your jaw. His hand moves, until he’s grabbing at your ass and angling your hips higher, and it’s really such an inspired thing. The feeling of him, hard through his denim, pressing into you has a moan tripping out of you. 

You definitely need to talk about this. 

Chan keeps touching you, kissing you, undressing you. Little by little, constantly asking 'is this ok? Yeah? We can stop whenever you want-' because he's still a gentleman. You haven't been this close to him in months, but he's still so fucking considerate. It'd be more maddening if it wasn't so familiar. If anything it’s reassuring, filling you with a stupid amount of confidence. You know how to deal with this. 

You repeat yes over and over, hands at his shoulders and licking the word into his mouth, no matter how much he asks. 

He peels your shirt away, careful with the fabric, mouth already trailing down your neck, your chest, landing on the swell of your cleavage. Hands so wide, palms easily fitting to your bare waist.

"Just tell me to stop, and I will-"

Finally you snap. Like a live wire pulled too taut, reaching out to grab at his face. Pressing your fingers into the hollows of his cheeks, his chin resting in the curve of your palm. "Christopher, I'm so horny I feel like I might cry. So while I really appreciate what you're trying to do- if you don't rail me stupid in the next five minutes, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Oh, sorry." He blinks at you, a little slowly as he leans more of his weight into your hand. Your fingers dig into the meat of his face and you can feel something tense in his jaw.

"Don't apologize baby, just get on with it." This feels familiar too. Like slipping into a pair of beloved jeans. The fit so perfect.

His eyes light up in the next instant, sparkling and bright, and holy shit you're in for it now. "Say less, boss."

You don't know if you still love him, but you do know that you'll always love the feeling of his mouth on you. His hands. Leaving wet trails as he kisses your skin messily, sloppy. Clever fingers following in the wake of his tongue.

[love-holics]

open book

pairing: ten x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 727

You shut the door behind you quickly, leaning your back against it and closing your eyes in relief. You took a deep breath and stayed there for a moment, trying to ground yourself. The plastic red cup in your hand was still full. You bolted from the kitchen so quickly that you weren't even sure what was in it. You sighed and opened your eyes slowly, lifting the cup to your lips. You arm stopped midair when you locked eyes with someone else in the room.

Your eyes grew wide, not realizing you were being watched the whole time. "Oh-- Sorry. I didn't know anyone else was in here. I'll get going." You turned to leave, bracing yourself to join the party again.

"No, stay. You're good," he said, an amused smile on his face. "Besides, it looks like that's the last thing you want to do right now."

You smiled sadly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Who are you hiding from?" he asked, tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear.

You joined him on the balcony. The music sounded muffled as you walked further away from the door. "My ex." You swallowed, feeling embarrassed of your sudden fight-or-flight response to seeing them.

"Bad breakup?"

"Not really. I'm still in that awkward phase of not knowing how to make small talk with someone you thought would be around forever, I guess." You sighed and leaned forward on the railing. "So I ran. I'm not proud of it," you said with a chuckle.

He hummed in understanding and looked up at the night sky. You couldn't help but notice his beautiful profile. "Are you hiding from something too?" you asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "Just needed a minute alone." He saw your eyes dart towards the door and guessed you were thinking about leaving again. "And no, I was not hinting that you should leave," he chuckled. "You would make a terrible poker player."

You laughed. "I know. I'm far too easy to read."

"I like that." His smile was warm. You blushed and he smiled even wider.

You sipped your drink and looked up at the stars. You knew you had to leave the room sometime, but there was something both comforting and charming about this stranger that made you want to stay. You turned to look at him again. He had beautiful tattoos adorning his arm. You wanted to trace them with your fingers while he told you the inspiration behind each one.

"Do you have any?" he asked, breaking the spell you were under. You blushed in embarrassment, not realizing you had been staring at him. He chuckled again. It was a pretty sound.

"No, but yours are gorgeous."

"Thank you. I designed them myself." He beamed with pride.

"Wow! You're very talented." You let your eyes linger on them for an extra second taking in this new information.

"I can tell you mean that," he said with a smile.

"You make me feel a lot better about wearing my heart on my sleeve," you said with a chuckle.

"I think it's something to be proud of. What's the point of anything if we're not being our most authentic selves?"

"True." You nodded in agreement. "You're very easy to talk to."

"So are you." He smiled warmly.

You locked eyes again. He was glowing in the moonlight. It felt like time had slowed down and it was just you two in the world. You didn't even know his name, but his presence was captivating. His phone lit up with a message and the spell was broken. You swallowed and forced yourself to turn your attention to the sky again.

He looked at you apologetically after reading the message. "I've got to go."

"Thanks for keeping me company." You smiled sadly, knowing you may never see him again. You felt yourself missing his warmth already.

"I'd love to do it again sometime if you need a hiding partner." He held out his phone for you to put in your number and chuckled as he watched your face perk up with excitement.

You laughed in embarrassment at your obvious reaction. "Here you go," you said, handing his phone back.

He typed out a quick message to you before leaving with his dazzling smile. "I'm Ten, by the way. It was nice to meet you."

[mizuhandpics]

sooooo I wrote a roommates au drabble based on this post. enjoy :)

special thanks to @kiraman for the encouragement hehe

contains: gay awakenings, sex talks, masturbation, akemizu <3

“Taigen hasn’t been around in a while.” Mizu’s voice yanked Akemi out of her fragile concentration. She looked up from her laptop at Mizu, who lounged on the opposite end of their couch, a book laying open in her lap. Akemi was momentarily stunned. Mizu never asked about Akemi’s boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now. In fact, she was pretty sure Mizu had never even said his name out loud before now. She sighed and shut her laptop. 

She had texted him only a week ago, fed up that he stood her up for the umpteenth time. “Are you ever going to spend time with me?” Akemi had texted him. His response: “you know how important this job is, Akemi.” “Aren’t I important too??” A typing ellipses popped up on her phone screen momentarily, then disappeared. Taigen didn’t respond. Akemi texted again: “Fine. We’re done.” 

Akemi tells her as much, curious to see Mizu’s eyebrows rise at the news. Akemi felt a tidal wave rise in her chest, bolstered by Mizu’s expression of mild interest, and launched directly into girl talk, frustrations bubbling out of her like an overflowing sink.

“Like, I’m not that  upset about it, we hardly saw each other anyway, but it’s just annoying, right? Like, why waste my time if you don’t even give a shit about me? Honestly the only thing I’m going to miss about him is the sex. Actually, no, not even that! I was the one putting in all the work! I was the reason our sex was good at all! It was always me on top while he laid there like a dead fish. And don’t get me wrong, I like being on top, but not all the time! Sometimes I like getting pushed around a bit, you know? Get rough with me! Eat me out once in a while! But noooo, Prince Taigen just had to always act like he was too sore from work to do shit. Idiot! Um, Mizu, are you feeling okay?” Akemi took a breath, distracted by a flush darkening Mizu’s face, her eyebrows so high on her forehead they looked like they could fuse with her hairline. Suddenly self-conscious, Akemi stammered out an apology. “Shit, my bad!! I just assumed… sorry, Mizu, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s fine,” Mizu said, looking anywhere except at Akemi. Akemi’s eyes followed the pink of Mizu’s skin, which spread from her cheeks down her slender throat, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She felt her own cheeks pinking as she thought about everything she just spilled to her quiet roommate. What was she thinking?! She hardly knew anything about Mizu, and now Mizu knew more about Akemi’s sad sex life than she probably ever intended to find out. Mizu coughed uncomfortably. “You could always… find a hookup?” She sounded hesitant. 

Akemi blinked at her, a small smile spreading on her face. She had expected Mizu to make an excuse to leave the room, to change the subject. Mizu’s (annoyingly pretty) blue eyes were actually meeting Akemi’s now, completely serious about the suggestion. Akemi almost giggled. It was sweet. 

“Ugh, there’s no way I would be able to find a hookup who would actually be able to satisfy me,” Akemi rolled her eyes, grinning in earnest, “I’ve tried before, trust me. I mean, you know men—” Akemi stopped herself at that thought, and eyed Mizu. “Or, maybe you don’t? You’re… gay, right?” 

Mizu actually laughed at that, the sound soft and light. She had a nice laugh. “Is it obvious?” Mizu asked, knowing it was obvious. “But I’ve been with men before.” Akemi’s mouth gaped slightly at the admission. She folded her legs up under her and scooted incrementally closer to Mizu on the couch. 

“Really? You have?” Mizu just shrugged in response, refusing to elaborate. Akemi breathed sharply through her nose. How could her roommate still be so annoyingly cagey when they were bonding? 

“So you get it,” Akemi continued, “Hooking up with men is terrible. They’re done in five minutes, and then have the audacity to not even be interested in round two! Even when they do manage to make me come, it’s still not satisfying, you know? Like, I can just keep going and they’re ready to tap out as soon as we’ve both come once. Like, are they not embarrassed?” 

Mizu seemed to sit back and consider Akemi as she paused to throw her hands up in the air in frustration. The pause lingered and Akemi felt pinned under Mizu’s sharp scrutiny. 

“Do you even like men?” Mizu narrowed her eyes at her. Akemi eyebrows shot up her forehead and her heart stuttered in her chest. 

“Wha— what do you mean by that?!” 

“It’s just a question.” 

“I mean, obviously, right? I’ve been with lots of men, haven’t I?” 

“Why are you asking me? Do you not know?” 

“Because— because!” Akemi couldn’t think of a reason. What did she like about dating men? She tried to answer the question, and her mind went terrifyingly blank. “What’s it like being with women, then?” Akemi frowned at Mizu accusingly. The woman had the audacity to grin devilishly, a fierce look Akemi had never seen on her before. It made something in her gut twist uncomfortably.

“Fun.” Mizu answered simply. 

Akemi could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Could she say that about any of her encounters with men? Was it ever fun, or was it just… a chore? Suddenly, Akemi felt herself wondering about Mizu. What did she like in bed? What did she find… fun? A hot flush rose to her cheeks and she stopped those thoughts where they were. 

“Yeah, umh… okay. Thanks for talking to me, Mizu. I think I’m gonna go take a shower.” Akemi forced herself to laugh, to distract from the obvious discomfort in her face. She scrambled to her bathroom, feeling Mizu’s eyes following her until she disappeared behind the door, burning a hole in her back. 

The shower head stuttered to life and Akemi leaned over the bathroom sink as the water began to heat up. She regarded herself in the mirror, frowning at the ruddiness in her cheeks that refused to recede. What the hell was that all about? Akemi doesn’t get flustered, she just doesn’t. She always prided herself on that, staying cool under pressure, having complete control over herself, her body, having the freedom to choose who she was attracted to. 

And she was attracted to them, right? Taigen was a good looking man, he was nice most of the time, he was never pushy with her. Akemi might have actually liked him, if he was around more. And he was easy. Her heart never raced around him, not like it was doing now, beating out of control. 

Akemi stepped under the hot water and exhaled shakily. She tried to relax her shoulders as the water soaked her, but she couldn’t get that word out of her head. Fun. Mizu’s voice rang in her ears, and when Akemi closed her eyes, she saw Mizu, sitting cross-legged on the couch, that fucking grin on her face, the mischievous curl of her lips around that word, fun. Akemi shook her head, shaking away the thought. 

But maybe Mizu was right, not about the hookup, but maybe Akemi just needed to get off, to let herself be distracted for a while. 

She dragged her hands across her own body, touching her skin the way she liked to be touched, her soft sigh swallowed up by noise of the shower and the bathroom fan whirring. Akemi bit her lip as she pinched and tugged at her nipples, sensitive buds hardening, stoking her own arousal. One hand dipped between her legs, stroked her clit, hissing at the stimulation. Her fingers rubbed slow circles around her clit and she leaned her head back, letting the hot water soak her hair and run down her face, cascade over her shoulders, roll past her clavicle and down her chest. She tried picturing Taigen. Akemi remembered the way he looked beneath her when they fucked, his lips parted and gasping as she rolled her hips onto his cock. Her fingers stopped moving as she felt her arousal wane frustratingly. She pictured him and suddenly it felt as though she were touching dead skin, all her nerve endings dulled. 

She breathed for a moment, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. Maybe she should try something different. In the heat of the shower, enveloped by steam and curtained by water, she could try something different and no one else would have to know.

Akemi closed her eyes again and pictured Mizu. She pictured Mizu after she came home from wherever she would disappear to at night, clothes soaked in sweat and sometimes blood. She pictured the moments she would sit with Mizu on the edge of the bathtub, sanitizing and bandaging deep gashes on her back where Mizu couldn’t reach. Akemi could almost hear the way Mizu would hiss as she cleaned her wounds with rubbing alcohol, could see the way the muscles in her back would go taut to withstand the stinging pain. 

Akemi began moving her fingers again, rubbing firm circles into her clit. Her own touch felt electric now, arousal gathering between her legs, heat coiling in her stomach. She gasped, pressed harder. She pictured the way Mizu would put her hair up after a shower, gathering dark hair into her hands as she held a hairband between her teeth, long fingers taming her waves with practiced movements. One stubborn curl would always fall out of her lazy bun, resting gently against her cheekbone, softening the sharp lines of her features. 

She pressed her lips together, muffling a low moan as her fingers worked faster, feeling the heat in her abdomen build and tighten, encouraging her arousal with quick motions. Her heart pounded, exhaling heavily through her nose as she furrowed her brows, focusing on the feeling. Akemi’s other hand came up to fondle her chest again, tugging roughly at her nipples. She bit her bottom lip, and pictured Mizu sitting cross-legged on their shared couch, face painted in a pretty red flush as she politely listened to Akemi talk about her depressing sex life. 

Fun. Mizu’s dangerous grin, plush pink lips curling around the word. Akemi gasped, knees buckled as her release hit her like a freight train, her hand on her chest flying out to steady herself against the wall of the shower. Her fingers moved frantically as waves of pleasure rocked through her body, slick wetness covering her hand and the inside of her shaking thighs, mind going pleasantly fuzzy and momentarily, blessedly empty. Akemi’s fingers slowed as her orgasm did, and she panted under the hot water. 

Icy white panic shot through her chest as she realized what she just did. A fast, fucking powerful orgasm as she thought about her roommate. Fuck, she’s going to be so awkward around Mizu now, isn’t she?

She finished her shower, quickly soaping and rinsing her body as she caught her breath and slowed her heartbeat. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel and wiped the condensation off the bathroom mirror. When she looked at her reflection, still dripping, breathing unevenly, she felt new, raw, different. 

“Oh my god, am I gay?”

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas. I love you."

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader (with background RookVil x GN!Reader)

Genre: Heavy Angst, proceed with caution

TW: Major character death, suicide, heavy drinking.

AN: Its my birthday! I dont know why, but i usually feel terrible on my birthday, so I gave you guys the option of choosing between a happy fic for today, or an angst. You chose angst, so here we are. Please exercise caution before, during and after you read. If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please get in touch with professionals. You are loved, and will be missed, so please take care of yourself. If at any point you feel like stopping reading, please do. Your mental health comes before anything else. I hope you enjoy... Merry Christmas to everyone!

Vil sat down on his couch, sinking into its warmth with his fifth glass of wine in hand. Once upon a time, he would have frowned upon doing something like this. He was a notorious lightweight, and despised the headache that accompanied him on the day after.

But now, the pleasant buzz that the alcohol created in his mind was a welcome distraction.

Vil's gaze fell on the TV remote. He reached for it and switched it on, it's artificial light casting on his face and lighting up the otherwise dark room.

"And in other news, acclaimed actor and director Vil Schoenheit announces his retirement from the entertainment industry at the fairly young age of 34. A public statement was released earlier this month by his agency, right after the release of his latest film, 'Eternity'. This news has come as a shock to many of the star's fans, but-"

Vil tuned out the TV as the newscaster spoke of how well his last movie was doing in theatres and how everyone wished him well in the future. Words blurred into sounds and the TV screen into colours as he took another sip of his wine, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back on the couch.

His phone vibrated inside his pocket. Removing it, Vil saw a message from Epel.

Merry Christmas. Hope you're having a good time. Mawmaw asked me to send you this pic, and told me to invite you to Harveston sometime for some apple pie.

Underneath it was a picture of Epel and his grandmother in their kitchen, both holding a plate of said apple pie in their hands.

Vil smiled, then decided to check his other messages. A voice message from Jack wishing him Merry Christmas, a whole paragraph of text courtsey of Rook, and many more messages from his coworkers and acquaintances. He replied to every one of them, answering each with a thoughtful message that somehow his alcohol-addled brain could type coherently.

As lilac eyes wandered over his chat log, they caught one last message. It was from his manager. Or, well, ex-manager.

Vil.

In all the years I have spent managing young actors, I have not seen one as talented and dedicated as you. Not many spend their time honing and perfecting their craft as you do. It is a shame to see you leaving the spotlight so soon, but I know this is something you have needed for quite some time.

Take this time to take care of yourself, Vil. (Name) would have wanted you to. Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Vil stilled as he read the last few sentences. "(Name)...".

The moonlight painted a solemn scene as it fell on the lone man, coloring his blonde locks an enchanting silver as he picked up his wine glass. He gulped the drink in one go, the slightly bitter liquid burning his throat in a familiar manner as he placed the glass on the coffee table.

Vil smiled, then tried to stand. The five glasses of wine had begun showing their effect, and he had to lean against the armrest of the couch to stop the world from spinning in front of his eyes.

Slowly, he made his way to the master bedroom. Upon reaching, he walked over to the bed, forgoing his usual skincare routine in favour of tucking himself in.

Vil sat upright in bed, eyes trained on the lone flowerpot kept at the windowsill. The lilies stirred ever so slightly under the light breeze coming in through the open window, as though shivering under the weight of his gaze. Gaze filled with profound love, and sorrow, and resolve.

"(Name)..."

Vil's voice was not more than a whisper, yet that one word uttered from his lips seemed to fill the silence that shrouded the room. He took a shaky breath, hand closing around the bottle of sleeping pills he had on his bedside table.

The clock struck twelve from somewhere within the house, it's soft sound echoing throughout. Outside, Vil heard cheers coming from people who were spending Christmas with their loved ones.

He looked back at the red lilies, and smiled. A genuine, unpracticed smile that had not seen the light of day ever since the love of his life died.

"Merry Christmas (Name). I love you."

Rook was a hunter, through and through. He prided himself on his observation skills, on his judgments. Usually, he could see things coming from a mile away.

He did not see Vil's suicide from a mile away.

The blonde haired man was one of the first to be informed of it, and also the one to whom most of his possessions were bequeathed to.

Rook did not care much for most of the things Vil had left him. He had also left him with a hole in his heart, and a permanent pain in his soul. Yet, as he gazed at the flowerpot with the red tulips in it, and the matching one with white magnolias beside it, he could not blame Vil.

Calloused hands trembled as they caressed the petals of the flowers. It felt almost sacrilegious to touch, as if the pure flowers were taunting him for the blood that stained his hands.

Tears dropped down onto the silky petals, clinging to them like drops of fresh dew. Rook's hands slid down to touch the flowerpots, where the letters engraved spelled out the names of two people he thought of as the very epitome of beauty.

The lilies grew on the essence and memory of (Name) Schoenheit, and the magnolias welcomed the ashes of Vil Schoenheit.

Red lilies: Eternal love and passion

White magnolias: Nobility and Purity

Masterlist...

[mumms-the-word]

Love Letters

Alistair and Lucy Amell

These letters were written as a collaboration between @callmethebrightness and myself for the lovely @elspethdekarios's birthday. callmethebrightness wrote the AMAZING letter from Alistair (and I'm obsessed with it, she nailed his voice so well) while I wrote Lucy Amell's reply letter <3 This was so much fun to work on and I am in awe of the talent my friends have in this little corner of tumblr. Thank you @elspethdekarios for trusting us with your OC! I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and that you adore these love letters!

Full text under the cut!

Alistair's Letter by @callmethebrightness

To Warden-Commander Lucy Amell, Hero of Ferelden: Lucy, I love you. I know, bad form to start a letter like that; without even a hello and how are you, but it's literally the only thing that comes to mind when I think of you, so I had to write it down first. I love you. There. Now to the rest. We're making strides looking into the Wardens and Corypheus, this "false Calling" he's managed, though it's not the sort of progress I'm particularly excited about. Every time I think I've figured out the worst of it, more bad news rears its ugly head. I'm a bit less skeptical now that we have some proper allies: not only the Champion of Kirkwall, but Inquisitor Sulah Lavellan, who has all her people putting their heads together to do something about all this. We should consider having an army at our disposal for all our problems, it's really marvelously convenient. Skyhold is an amazing place. Not just the fortress itself, where I've gotten into all sorts of places I shouldn't be ("Oh, I haven't seen this door before" -- surprise, it's a dungeon. No, thank you.) but the people and the activity here. It feels like everyone from the servants to the Inquisitor herself is committed to working together. I've met Fereldans, Orlesians, city elves, surface dwarves, ex-Templars, mages, farmers, nobles, Chantry sisters, Dalish spies, qunari, Tevinters...I could go on. If anything might be able to actually unite all of Thedas, the way the Chantry says it does, it's this thing. It's this place. Maker, I wish you could see it. Every time I see something incredible in my travels, I think that, you know. "Lucy would love this, I wish she could see it." And every time I see something horrible I think, "Maker, I wish Lucy was with me." You get the idea, don't you? You, with me, all the time, no matter what. Sometimes you're all I think about. But you knew that already. We're going to figure this thing out, Lucy. I'm going to make sure the Wardens have nothing more to fear from this Elder One, even if I have to fight him myself. And when you return, whether you've found what you're looking for or not, and I see you again -- I'm going to take you in my arms and never let you go. I mean it. That's not an exaggeration. I never want to be apart from you again, Lucy. Nothing is more important to me than that. What else? I love you. I miss you. Leliana is scarier than ever, but in a good way. I've eaten Orlesian cheese and do not care for it. I miss you. I told the Inquisition's ambassador I would include a small note in their missive to the Hero of Ferelden but my letter is now longer than the official one. I hope those creepy ravens of Leliana's can carry a little extra weight. When you see it, write her back and tell her it's creepy; she won't listen to me. There are less terrible birds, Leliana. Maker, I miss you so much I don't want to stop writing to you. Is that odd? Probably. But you wouldn't say odd. "Alistair, you're too sweet." That's what you always say when I'm being a fool, especially a lovestruck fool. Can't say I don't appreciate it, though. I'll write you again soon. There's talk of the fortress at Adamant, a potential siege. All sorts of military talk I do not care for. Whatever happens, you'll hear from me soon. I never can stand to wait long. Yours forever, Alistair

Lucy Amell's Letter (by me)

To Warden Alistair: [In a smaller script] Leliana, don’t be nosy! You’ve got your own letter! My darling, I love you. I don’t care if it’s bad form, just seeing those words at the start of your letter gave me so much joy and comfort that I couldn’t even read the rest of letter at first. I just wanted to linger there on those words and imagine them in your voice. I love you. I love you. I love you. And, Maker’s breath, I miss you, too. As my journey out west bring me farther and farther away from recognizable society, I find myself traveling alone more often than not. There are good people out here, and plenty of interesting distractions, and more than enough danger to keep my mind occupied, but again and again I wish you were at my side. I know taking down the Elder One is important, but these days I wish I had been more selfish and brought you along. But what’s done is done, and it’s good that you’re there, trying to shake some sense into our fellow Wardens. Someone has to.  What you’ve told me about the situation, and what little Inquisitor Lavellan has included in her letter, troubles me. It sounds like Corypheus is more dangerous than we thought…but if the Inquisition has the army and the resources that you say it does, then I trust them to succeed. And I trust you to survive whatever comes your way. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes, the two of us, haven’t we? Regardless, I’ve asked Inquisitor Lavellan to look after you. I know, I know, you would say I’m fussing over you too much (but I know you love it). But if she’s your ally, then she’s my ally too, and I feel no shame in asking this much of her. I want you in one piece when we meet again, my love. Be good for me. Don’t wander into dungeons that you can’t wander out of. Avoid the Orlesian cheese if you hate it so much. Remind Leliana to eat every now and again. I know her work keeps her busy, and I can only imagine that the death of the Divine has shaken her more than she’s letting on. And take care of yourself, too.  Oh, and I’m not telling Leliana that her birds are creepy. Just be glad she’s not sending missives via nug, or we’d never get letters to one another. I’ll write soon, my darling. I love you. I miss you. Yours always, Lucy [below, in a messier scrawl, as if added to the end of the page in haste] Alistair, I’m glad I didn’t send this letter right away! I’ve got big news. I think I’ve found something, and if I’m right, it means the end of this journey is in sight. I don’t want to say what it is just yet, but…I have a really good feeling about this. This might be the cure we’ve been hoping for.  But if not, I don’t care. If it’s not this, then I’ve got nothing else to investigate out here. If this isn’t our cure, then the silver lining is this—I’m coming home, and nothing is going to stop me. Meet me in Redcliffe when all of this is said and done. Whether I’ve found the cure for our Callings or not, I will be there, in the place we first started to fall in love, at the start of the next summer. And once we are together again, my love, I swear that nothing will ever separate us again. With all my love, Lucy

[solsays]

here we go again. serious post time. This one is about a very serious topic, and could be very sensitive for some people (cw: manipulation, domestic abuse). if you aren’t aware, this is about Shelby (and Wilbur, which is mainly who this post is about, but reminder that THIS IS NOT HIS STORY. TOSS HIM ASIDE. LIFT SHUBBLE UP.). There is a TLDR at the bottom, as well as a comment regarding my fics.

Shelby (Shubble) recently spoke about an ex boyfriend who abused her. People were guessing it was Wilbur, but she couldn’t say the name due to legal things, but today the scumbag posted a response.He tweeted an “apology”, that spoiler alert, was not an apology. Here is his sorry excuse of a reply if you’d like to read for yourself:

There are some things I’d like to point out here. First of all, he made this about himself. It’s not a damn apology, it’s a lousy attempt at avoiding taking responsibility. Second, he refers to the abuse as an “allegation.” It is not.

He locked her in his filthy ant-infested house. He refused to give her house keys even when he made her clean up after him and pay for the materials. He went two months without unpromptedly complementing her. He bit her so hard that it bruised and she would scream out their safe word. At the safe word he would sometimes bite harder, or grind his teeth against her skin. He joked that she looked like she was abused.

By the way, human bites are more dangerous than an animal bite. They’re incredibly dangerous due to the amount of bacteria in our mouths and can easily kill someone. Oh and also? That reply has an 85% match with AI generated content on TurnItIn, a website used for college papers.

Here are some responses to his “apology” from other CCs, as well as Shelby’s response:

You hear Shubble. They don’t accept it, meaning neither will we. 

As far as other response go especially Freddie and Billzo’s are incredibly concerning. Do not, I repeat, do not pressure Tommy in particular to respond as quickly. He was one of the closest people to Wilbur. He was very young when they became friends, and Wilbur clearly has a history manipulating teenagers. They went through a friend’s death together. Maybe he did have a soft spot for Tommy, or maybe Tom received the worst treatment of any of his friends. 

Phil is currently out of the country and off of Twitter, so he might take a bit to reply as well as the fact he may only now be realizing that he was close friends with an abuser. If he supports Wilbur, we drop him too.

Wilbur does not deserve support. He is a terrible person. He manipulates people for his own benefit, “abuses those he loves”. If you’re abusing someone? You do not love them.

I have dealt with plenty of people like him, and it is so easy to miss the signs. Especially if they’re good at what they do. They gaslight, they lie, and they trick you. Do not assume that anybody knew about his abuse just because they were friends with him. 

Go support Shelby. Encourage her. Follow her and watch her videos. She’s so incredibly sweet and funny, and they’re a joy to watch. Shelby is asexual and uses she/they pronouns.

There is no excuse for supporting him. I have followed Wilbur since late 2020. I was there for the first Lovejoy EP. I was there for YLYL. I have merch from Lovejoy. He has been a huge comfort to me through some of the hardest times of my life. When this came out, I have blocked both Lovejoy and Wilbur on Spotify. I have taken down every piece of merch or posters I own. Don’t support him, period.

He did not care about her. He is a terrible fucking person, and deserves to be deplatformed entirely.

As far as my fics go, I will be (once again) removing his character entirely from any story I have. It may take a while as I’m incredibly busy at the moment, but I will be doing it as quickly as possible.

One final reminder: This is about Shubble. This is NOT about Wilbur. Let Shubble take her time to process this. Support them every step of the way. She is a wonderful person and deserves the world, and the best thing we can do is focus on them and their strength through all of this. They don’t want to be known for this. Let’s get him gone and focus on lifting her up <3

TLDR: Wilbur basically admitted to abusing Shelby in an incredibly self-centered and manipulative excuse of an “apology”. Do not support him, go support Shubble.

[dadvans]

hm.

i think this is coming up because longmont potion castle came into conversation recently. the last time i saw you, really saw you where it was just the two of us, we spent the night on the couch in your condo listening to longmont potion castle tapes. "rope" was my favorite.

i saw you again, later, with your soon-to-be wife, who was wonderful. i still hadn't progressed to taking hormones, but you introduced me easily, just like you had with your roommate within weeks of me leaving my ex and deciding to transition. no faltering. you always got me.

i'll always remember you making me stop my car, saying, "psp psp psp kitty, first pets are free," and making new cat friends.

you would have been so much better at being in your thirties than i am. i suck at this. you would have been so good. you would know what to do in this stubborn world.

we started a tumblr for our radio show in 2010. i updated it every week but struggled, because it was so much different from livejournal. i still have that account attached to mine, because there's a picture of us as the icon, and despite how i've changed, i'm not ready to let go of your (occasionally terrible, joanna newsom and titus andronicus, really?) music taste, or the picture of us together in my old kitchen, back when we used to have vodka and pickle parties to watch new episodes of jersey shore.

this isn't an anniversary of your death, it isn't even close. it's just a random day i'm remembering you again. your wife wouldn't let me see your ashes the last time i asked, because she was still grieving and lost, and i respect that, but i really just wanted to read you italian elon musk tweets. you would have fucking loved italian elon musk twitter. you would have been an answer to a lot of things happening now that we don't have. you were so fucking smart, and funny. someone uploaded your one-time standup show when we were college students to youtube, and i've watched it more than once.

if anyone ever deserved to be alive, it would be you, and i'm so mad that you aren't. life was taken from you in the ugliest way. it was taken from you and you were taken from us, and no one had a say, and every now and then (today) i get real fucking angry about it.

i still drive past your old house sometimes and expect to see your franksteined together car. i remember how soft your hands were. your stupid mountain unicycle. the way you made us all listen to drake but also the first press the smiths album afterward like a balm, only to chase that with fucking drake like he was the second coming. you laughed like jimmy carr getting punched in the solar plexus. i miss you so much. i can't remember how long it's been.

[kentokrazy]

a/n: 🙈 this is terrible but my mind is rotting

ex-sorcerer!nanami kento x gn!reader

warnings: death, grief, could be considered toxic but not in my opinion

nanami kento's red flag

* i saw a tiktok edit so now i'm thinking about this

* but dating nanami kento, he's the perfect man

* brings you flowers

* walks closest to the street

* listens to you, like actually listens when you say things

* he always keeps a level head, during arguments, during stressful moments and even when he's upset

* when he dated in you he invested in you

* that means there are no big life changes made without talking about it

* his finances are even stricter than before, he's going to save every penny he can

* his eyes are on the housing market every other day, checking houses in malaysia and nicer neighborhoods

* if you so mention the idea of kids, he's got schools bookmarked, scribbles of life long plans

* he remembers anniversaries, holidays, birthdays

* but there's one thing

* one, small, tiny thing

* the littlest of red flags

* and if you didn't know him, it could've sent you running

* because nanami trusts you completely, he loves you deeply and wouldn't make this much of a change in his life if he didn't

* but if he could lock you away from all harm he would

* you can feel it when he holds your hand, when he doesn't stray from your side for more than a minute in public

* when he requested you share your location

* if you don't answer your phone when he calls, his heart seizes and his palms get sweaty

* when he doesn't get a single text from you, he can feel the rippling of an anxiety attack

* sometimes, if you sleep too stiffly, his fingers on your neck can stir you.

* he doesn't mean to be overbearing, not really, but can you blame him?

* at the ripe age of 17, he carried his best friends dead body back to his school

* and sometimes the nightmares reminding him of the fact aren't always haibara, sometimes they're of you

* those are the days he seems to be incredibly nervous, driving you to work with a hand on your thigh, picking you up, walking so close he might as well be a backpack when you go to the grocery store

* he doesn't trust others to get close on those days

* he was banned from the convenience store down the block

* nanami's left the sorcerer world for good this time, he has a good reason to do so

* but sometimes he can't help it if he notices a curse getting too close to you (or anyone he deems worth saving)

* sometimes he finds it hard to breathe, thoughts of what could happen to you when he's not around drown him, in those times all he can do is close his eyes, try to remember that those days are behind him

* and when that doesn't work, he calls you, leaves work early, finds you and just needs to feel you

* there are few days he cracks under the pressure, and those come months after shoving those feelings away but you can always see it coming

* he forgets things when those days come, not important things- no, but little things like drinking, eating, sleeping

* he lays down next to you, sure, his hand is somewhere on you but he just stares at the wall, the back of your head or the window

* his bags are deep, his hands are shaky and he becomes the husk you first met, where the only thing on his mind was money and forgetting

* but when he breaks it's bloody and red skin, his nails are bitten and fingers with hangnails

* his hair is tussled and his clothes are disorderly, tie discarded and sweat soaking the fabric of his shirt

* his eyes are watery and your phone is filled with missed calls and panicked messages

* a cool cloth and silent holding is the beginnings of piecing him together, brushing his hair out of his face and whispered assurances bring him back from the fog in his brain

* nanami is well spoken, polite and god forbid he use the wrong honorifics around you, but here he's choking, spitting up and crying, his hands are clutching you like he's not sure you're really there

* that's he's not sure he's real

* propping him up in the bathroom, washing his red skin and sitting with him ground him

* trying to remind him of his change, his growth and his safety

* nanami is a foodie, he prides himself on cooking the best food and buying the freshest vegetables he can find

* but his dirty secret is that on days when he can't stomach anything, can't do much but cry and worry and sometimes call an old student that reminds him of a friend to make sure they're okay, he likes one thing

* a cup of noodles that a friend used to buy is the one of the only things that he can digest, as much as he wishes it wasn't true

* there's a shelf full of them, tucked away from the rest of the world, and each time one gets used another takes it's place

* noodles with the side of a particular soda and a childhood candy stitches together the bleeding part of his heart

* and when that meal is over and his mental fight has exhausted him, nanami sleeps like a rock, for hours (once he slept for two days) he keeps his arms wound around you so tightly

* because his red flag is in the shape of his bleeding heart

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 96

Ah, I see, so THIS is why Liam looks like a cute beatnik from a 50s jazz club ... oh boy ... he's brought back the German accent BIG TIME and it's giving me massive Caleb vibes ... meanwhile Tal's clearly having EVEN MORE fun with this ... oh my gods ... wow ... that's a DOOZY, definitely ...

Marisha (cracking up): "It sounded like there was more!" Travis: "I know!"

So ... yeah ... it was all SO HEAVY when we ended it last week ... the group is WELL on the way to imploding under the weight of what just happened in the night ... can they come back from this? This is SO WORRYING ...

Oh boy ... RIGHT BACK where we were at the end ... wow ... so it's just the two of them again ... O.O

Fuck ... now even LAUDNA can feel Delilah's starting to take over ... that's not good at all ...

This is starting to sound SO MUCH like Laudna knows she's not going to be around when this is all done ... oh man ... AND she's starting to think maybe that's A GOOD THING? Fuck ... no, really, NO ...

Imogen's trying SO HARD to keep this all together for BOTH OF THEM but I can feel her breaking too ...

Come on, Imogen, that's it, bring her back from the brink ... LISTEN TO HER, Laudna. She's the best thing in your life, and she feels the same way about you, luv. You need to buck up ...

Imogen: "I'm gonna miss our little cottage." Oh fuck ...

Ah shit ... the tissues ... yeah, that's how it is with ALL OF US right now ...

Crap ... that's right, Dorian's missed A WHOLE LOT, he doesn't KNOW about Delilah, not really ... oh, and also about IMODNA ... XD ... AND Chetney's threesome with Fearne and his ex ...

Oh yeah ... Bordor ... that was a whole bunch of wrong ... that took a whole lot out of ALL OF 'em ...

Ashton being all philosphical again abdout villains trying NOT TO BE ... yeah ... he's pretty spot on ...

Dorian: "CAN she be trusted?" Oof ...

Ashton: "You okay?" Imogen: "No." Ahston: "SHE okay?" Imogen: "No." Ahston: "Okay."

Laudna's just been having a good powerful MOPE while all of this has been going on ... yeah, of course she has ... oh FUCK OFF, Delilah. You're not welcome right now ... oh yeah, Fearne, great timing, snap her out of it!

Orym: "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you too terribly did I?" Laudna: "Oh, I think I can see a few ribs ..."

Yes ... please, come on you too, make up. You're FRIENDS, you mean so much to each other. MAKE UP. Yeah. That's it. Exactly that.

Yeah, exactly. Fuck Delilah, we just want our LAUDNA.

This is exactly it, yeah ... she's not alone, they're ALL carrying their own big mistake baggage, she's not alone in that ...

Awwwww ... Ashton's BIG SISTER Laudna ... I love it ... :3

Wow ... yeah, it may be a joke, but Chetney DOES have a point there ... Dorian's the one true innocent in the group now ... you poor sweet summer chaild ...

Nice move, Chet. Yeah, that works.

Oh, that's interesting ... yeah ... that pipe ... yeah ... that could be REALLY GOOD for Laudna right now ... go on, girl, take a puff ...don't be afraid, this can only HELP ...

And then Dorian comes in with the sweetest cap for all that ... awwww ... :3

AAAAAAND just like that Chetney's OUT. XD ... of course he is.

Spin the bottle? REALLY?!!! LOL ...

Wow ... not they're just getting ridiculous ... XD ... "Hammer time?" Yeah, that's the worst one yet ... "Chetney needs sleep"? Slightly better, maybe ...

More rest, at least ... which is needed ...

Liam'#s giving Orym a point of exhaustion for NECESSITIES ... of course he is ... wee selfless lad ... we love him but he does punish himself sometimes ...

THAT'S what the Gambler's Blade does? DORIAN!!! O.O

Essek is a bit ... MOODY this morning ... hmmmm ...

"I like pulp!" XD

Ah, so everything's ready for them ,then? Sweet ... cue gearing up montage ... LOL ... oh, and descriptions too ...

Hot Shots: Part Deux for Chetney ... XD

Oh shit ... that's right ... they're back from the Moon ... IS Orym a little different? And our boy's a bit toussled now ... yeah, that's CUTE, I'm sure ...

Imogen's wearing PANTS now? Okay ...

Dorian's wearing "THE SLUTTIEST SHIRT"! Cute ...

Nipple talk ... oh dear ... XD

Oh wow ... Laudna's kind of giving me some subtle Harrow the Ninth vibes right now ...with a touch of DELILAH too, which is ... worrying, just a little ... O.O

Ashley's alwasy SO GOOD at weaving a beautiful picture, she really is ... and a utility belt. Yeah ... :3

Ashton's rocking a CROPTOP right now? Awwwwww ... and a spike trade with Fearne, too ... cute ... ooooooh ... and "Smiley Day" ... oh man ... I love it ...

Matt makes a rather pointed "prepare your spells" statement that everybody IMMEDIATELY takes as SUSPICIOUS and I'm right along with them. What are you planning, Mercer?

Yeah ... that fucking bloody apron's just gonna leave a trail behind them THE WHOLE WAY ...

Divvying up stuff ... here we go, ten minutes of inventory bookkeeping while we wait for the game itself to start up again ... XD

Ah ... sucking up one Ring of Protection with the harness ... hmmm ...

Imogen's jealous of Essek's floating thing ... not surprising ...

Ooooh ... ExU: Calamity recap ... cute ...

A FEW tries? Oh, I don't like the sound of that ...

Wow ... they're all REALLY crossing their fingers ... XD

Rolling a D100? Oh fuck ... 14? Hmmmmm ... ouch ... oh, that didn't go well ... they went NOWHERE and took 11 points of Force damage each ... bugger ...

Second try ... ANOTHER roll ... 45? Okay ... SEEMS like the right place ... an abandoned encampment? Interesting ... oh, sounds like it's NOT where they should be, then ...

Lyrengorm? Where?

He can only do it ONCE MORE for the day? Bollocks ...

A final roll ... 61 ... MORE snow ... much colder ... Orym's ENTIRELY BURIED ... a particularly AGGRESSIVE mountain range this time ... some kind of VERY fancy castle ... oh, so we ARE in Eisselcross ... but we're not sure WHERE ... oof ...

Crap ... they've been spotted ... by SOMEBODY ... big lumbering somebodies ...

Undead ice giants? Yeesh ... yeah, better hide ... argh ...

Matt: "There's a reason you took a BOAT to Esselcross last time!"

And now it's time for a break ...

Do they run? Do they fly? WHAT DO THEY DO?!!! Hiding's obviously out of the question ... eep ...

A DISTANT Command on one of them? Risky, Imogen ... "HALT!!!" Oh, it doesn't work on undead? BALLS ...

And now one of them flung a rock ... BAIT & SWITCH!!! Nice save, Orym! Crunch ... STILL 26 points of damage ... ow ...

There's a whole BUNCH of 'em coming now ... AAAAAAAH!!!

Essek's trying a HIGHER level Teleport ... okay ... one more roll ... 48? Oh bollocks, Laura! This is so bad ...

DO NOT give Mercer ideas, Ashley! O.O

More snow ... elsewhere ... hmmmm ... Essek has no idea where they are ... great ...

Yes. Sniff the wind, Chetney ... the air is THINNER ... oh, they're AT ALTITUDE right now ... cute ... on a mountain, then ... that's just PEACHY ...

Oh, if they had something FROM Aeor? I mean THEY COULD just use a piece of FCG ...

Looking into Essek's memories, then ... O.O ... and a glimpse of Aeor ... it's all VERY dramatic ...

Aha, a specific anchoring point ... good idea ...

Laura: "Guidance? Will that help?" Matt: "No, but it's nice to have." XD

So, the Staff ... oh boy ... this could go SO BAD .... she rolls 99 for it ... well, that's ... potentially good?

A frozen woodland glade ... Huh?

Don't shoot the rabbits with your harp, Chetney. They'll only explode and that's not what ANYONE wants ...

An amber coloured dome of energy over them? Oh, yeah, that definitely rings a bell ... XD

At least it's nice and warm in here ... although they are in danger of getting buried under the snow before morning ...

Essek's just IMMEDIATELY going to sleep, then ...

Fearne, you're adorable ... :3

Chetney's going hunting. WITH THE HARP. Oh boy ...

And he shoots a boar? Oh, okay, I suppose that's too big to just blow up ... food!

There's a huge city out there? Hmmmm ... no chance that's Vasselheim, maybe?

Time for food, then ...

Another try at Teleporting, then ... roll AGAIN ... 53? Fuck ...

They land ON THE SLOPE of a mountain ... AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Another jump ... another roll ... 46? No, NINETY-six ... somewhere icy and cold ... oh, that's it, then. They made it ... phew ...

Yup, they're here. On the VERY EDGE of the ruins, then ...

Time for Stealth, then ... group check time ... oh boy ... fucking hell, Travis ... 41?!!! How the FUCK did you do THAT?!!!

Shit ... are those more of theose undead ice giants? Oh no ... gods, bo what to know WHAT these things are ... eep ... O.O

Going down into the gloomy underground darkness ...

ICE TROLLS?!!! Lovely ... yeah, just GO QUIETLY, please ...

It's getting STUPID tight in here ... this is NOT GOOD ... Chetney's going ahead to check the route ...

Oh, that's a DROP. Great ... now what?

So they have to climb down with the rope ... great ... oh, Chet wonders if he could ICE-CLIMB down? I really don't know about that ... oh, the Immovable Rod, that shoudl be helpful ...

Yeah, this couldn't possibly go wrong ... O.O

A ruined courtyard? Fascinating ... smelling for anything alive down here ... a clean must? Strange ...

So he's climbing down, then ... okay ... the others getting down will be ... INTERESTING ...

Oh yeah, some light might be helpful now ...

Bones? Frozen into the ice underfoot? Hmmm ... that could be ... problematic ... and some bodies too ... oh lovely ... there's SOMETHING unpleasant down here, clearly ...

Wait ... WHO is this? Oh ... FUCK ... shit! Oh, that is SWEET!!! Nice callback ... O.O

So, going EAST then ...

The Praesidis Ward? Hmmm ...

A giant cavern that was once a city ... weird ...

It's getting WARMER? Hmmm ...

Fearne has a point ... this DOES look like that weird ruined city in the cavern on Ruidus ...

Wait ... there's SCARY things down here to be on the lookout for? Way to bury the lead there, Essek ...

Yeah, DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING, people ...

He became a FISH. Really? Fascinating ...

Another Group Stealth check ... generally good rolls once more ...

Skeletons? Lots of them? Great ... this place is like a necromancer's wet dream ... I really hope this isn't where Mercer's heading with this ...

Grim Psychometry? IN HERE?!!! Whoa, Chet ...

That is ... troubling and not terribly infomrative, really ...

Crap ... was that a troll?

Moving on, then ...

Weird creepy corpse ... which wasn't there LAST TIME Essek passed through ... charming ... it IS moving, but, like, RIDICULOUSLY slow? Oh, that's unnerving ...

Imogen, AGAIN, don't touch ...

Oh, this seems like a nice, fancy place ... but Essek's not taking any chances with it, clearly ... and somebody's been through here, too ... hmmm ...

HE did this? Interesting ... well, at least he hasn't lost his sense of humour ...

Another cavern ... more industrial environs this time ... fascinating ... and it's curving UPWARDS as it goes ...

The Genesis Ward ...

It just smells of metal and water ... okay ...

So we have a specific destination now, then ...

What, try to home in on Ludinus' Harness? Could that work?

Oh, so there really ARE other things moving around in here besides the group ... that's disconcerting ...

A tent? Really? Well THAT is a pretty major sign of life ... I think they may have found what they're looking for ...

Arcane Eye? Cool ...

Oh, so something happened here ... something VIOLENT, according to the blood ... and CORPSES ... Ruby Vanguard? Oh wow ... THAT'S interesting ... this was ... relatively recent, looks like ...

More of an eagele's eye view of the cavern now ... a big jagged hole in the floor, off in the distance ... great ...

Heading in to take a look at the tent, then ...

So the deaths happened within a space of DAYS, then ... it looks like they all killed EACH OTHER?!!! O.O ... whoever did this was ENJOYING themselves? Charming ... and one of them killed HIMSELF ... and apparently was very HAPPY when he did it ... that's just LOVELY ...

It's a pretty nondescript knife, Imogen ...

Grim Psychometry again, then ... oh boy ...

Oh, so the elf was the one who killed them all ... really violently, with SIGNIFICANT manic strength ... carves soemthing into his chest ... and then kills himself too ... wow ...

Chetney DRAMATICALLY unveils the elf's chest ... a sigil ... what is it, then? Ask Essek ... he doesn;t recognise it ... Laudna casts Eyes of the Rune Keeper ... no joy, it seems ... hmmmmm ...

Oh ... Laudna asks DELILAH if she recognises it ... great ... she doesn't either ... great ...

Don't take a pee on the arcane time dome, Orym ...

Something's grinding out there ... stone on stone ...

A group stelth check, but grading everyone individually as they hide? Oh boy ...

Two groups, then ... roill well, guys ...

It's VERY TALL ... oh boy ... that is DISTURBING ... that's like ... it's a hood, but it DOESN'T actually have a head? Ye gods ... and it has a VERY BIG HAMMER it's gragging behind it ... and there's LOTS of teeth in a maw in its belly ... well THAT noise was just unsettling, Matthew ...

Fuck ... a whole bunch of creepy translucent scorpion-like creatures seem to crawl OUT OF IT ... charming ... and they're searching the area ...

Laudna just gave herself away ... and they're all going RIGHT FOR HER now ... oh fuck ...

And THIS is where Matt chooses to end it ... but not before he gives us a look at the Battlemap for next session ... and it's MASSIVE ...

Oh, this is gonna be a SCARY encounter to start things off next time ... But it's the end of the month, so that's gonna be a FORTNIGHT'S wait ...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!