#he has to stay and help save the world now
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Paddock guests | MV1
In which you and your class visited Max at the track in Zandvoort.
warning : This is the second part of 'special guest' and you don't have to read the first part first, but it might make it easier for you because of the connections in this part. You can also find 'special guest' on my profile :)
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ALL EYES are on you and your class as you enter the paddock in a row of ducks.
Until now, it has never happened that countless six-year-olds in Red Bull merchandise and paddock passes around their necks have entered the paddock together with their teacher.
But that changes today. Having plucked up the courage a few days ago to save Max's number and thank the Dutchman for a great day in the lion class, you didn't expect the three-time world champion to invite the whole class into the paddock as a thank you.
"It's important that we all stay together. As you can see, the paddock is quite large and spacious, so we all have to stay very close together to get to the Red Bull Garage, okay? ", you look at your pupils one by one with a smile.
You can clearly see the beaming faces of your protégés and the anticipation of the day ahead.
Today is Friday, so there won't be too much happening at the track this weekend, so this is the perfect day for Max to show the six-year-olds where he works.
In a video message sent directly to the Lion class, he thanked them for the great day at school and invited all the students to his garage to take a look behind the scenes.
You're also looking forward to seeing everything up close, so you can hardly wait to walk over to Red Bull and marvel at everything up close.
"Then let's get going," you indicate to your charges with a smile.
As it is impossible to keep an eye on all the children alone in this spacious paddock, you are accompanied by a nice Red Bull employee who introduced himself as Mason a few minutes ago.
You're grateful to Mason not only for helping you keep the kids together, but also for guiding you through the paddock and getting you to your destination.
Because if you're honest, you wouldn't find this way on your own. The paddock already looks pretty big and expansive from the TV, but in real life it looks twice as big, so if you didn't have a clue, you'd be one hundred per cent lost.
Mason starts to run off in front, while the rows of two that the children have formed follow the Red Bull employee and you bring up the rear so as not to lose any children in the hustle and bustle.
Every now and then, a few employees or even drivers cross your path, who give you a big smile and greet and wave to your protégés in a friendly manner.
It doesn't take long before Mason comes to a halt in front of the Red Bull Hospitality and all the children gather in a semi-circle around Mason.
"We've reached our first destination. This is the Red Bull Hospitality. This is where we stay from time to time when Formula 1 is on a break..." While Mason begins to explain a little to the children, you start to take a few photos with your mobile phone to capture today's event not only for you, but also for the children.
"Max has another appointment, so it will be a while before he can show you all round. But I see you've all got rucksacks with you, which must contain your breakfast, right? " the Red Bull employee adds as you walk up the small ramp to the hospitality centre and shortly afterwards the sliding doors open to reveal a large room with countless tables and chairs.
A loud chorus of 'yes' answers Mason, who indicates to the children that they should find a place to have a snack to tide them over while Max has something to do.
You smile gratefully at Mason when the dark-haired man presses a coffee into your hand a few seconds later.
"The little ones are really adorable, " Mason enthuses as he sits down at a table opposite you.
Your students are sitting around you, talking excitedly and eating their breakfast.
" Yes, isn't it? " you smile and wrap your hands around the cup before taking a sip of the hot liquid. " It's really great of Max to make this possible for you. "
"Max is a really warm person, " Mason smiles and shortly afterwards starts to engage you in conversation, which you're really grateful for.
Because it's not just your class that's pretty excited and nervous about what's going to happen in the next few lessons. You are also really nervous and excited, but you try your best not to let it show.
—
"I hope the garage has room for you all," Mason turns to you and your class with a grin as he continues walking backwards.
You all sat in the hospitality centre for about an hour, where you ate breakfast in the back and then the children were allowed to ask Mason a few questions about the team and his duties.
Mason is part of the mechanic crew who look after the car before and after the sessions.
The children have listened attentively to his stories during the last lesson.
But now, the closer you get to the actual destination, you clearly realise how excited your charges actually are.
A smile plays around your lips as Mason starts to walk down the dark blue corridor towards the garage and begins to tell the children that Max and Sergio Perez always walk along this path to get to their cars.
A few seconds later, you finally reached your actual destination. The garage.
The six-year-olds fill the garage with amazement as they see the two blue cars for the first time.
A broad grin appears on your lips as you realise where you actually are. So far you've only ever seen this view from the sofa on your television and now you're actually standing here.
Apart from a few mechanics who have gathered at the front wing and seem to be making a few preparations, the garage is empty.
"As you can see, Max's car is on the left and Checo's car is on the right. Can anyone tell me what makes the two cars different? " Mason looks round with a smile, from which countless index fingers shoot up.
" Max' is faster! " Milan shouts formally after Mason takes his turn. Loud children's laughter from the class fills the garage.
"Milan..." you almost admonish the blond-haired man. Not because it's true, but because it makes you a little uncomfortable that Milan is more or less rubbing salt in the wound, because everyone knows that things aren't going as well for 'Checo' as they are for Max at the moment.
The Red Bull employee begins to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment and seems to be struggling with the words. However, he can't seem to think of a suitable answer, so he looks relieved when Max suddenly appears.
The children happily start shouting the Dutchman's name, who gives each child a high five and then gives you a friendly smile, which you return.
" I'm glad you all came! " Max begins as he stands in front of the children and Mason disappears from the centre of attention and goes back to work. "As you probably already know, you're now in the place where I spend a lot of time. How about we take a closer look at my car? "
With a wave of his hand, Max gestures for everyone to come a little closer so that he can show the children his car in more detail and answer a few questions.
Excited, everyone moves a little closer to the car.
"Make sure you don't get too close to the car, will you? You remember what I told you this morning, don't you? " you ask the group.
"Don't touch other people's things!" your class shouts back in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips and Max looks over at you.
His lips form a wordless 'thank you' before he crouches down to be a little more at eye level with the children and shortly afterwards he begins to explain everything about the car and answer questions.
—
" Thank you very much for your efforts, " you thank Max as the Dutchman comes over to you.
A few minutes ago, you stood a little apart in the box so that you weren't in the way but also didn't lose sight of your class.
"Always a pleasure," Max smiles as he leans against the wall next to you and you look over at your class and Checo.
During Max's detailed explanations of his car, Checo joins in later and now the Mexican takes over to explain the steering wheel to the children in detail.
Sergio sits on a folding chair with the steering wheel in his hand, while the class sits in a semicircle around him on the floor and listens attentively to his words.
" It's really not a matter of course that you invited us all here. That really wouldn't have been necessary," you begin. You are really grateful for what Max does for you and especially for your class.
"It's nice to see the little lions again. And so I also have a reason to see your great teacher again. " Max winks slightly at you, causing the warmth to start shooting up your cheek.
Embarrassed, you brush a strand of hair out of your face and then slowly raise your eyes to look at the Dutchman.
Max's blue eyes are fixed on your face as his lips curve into a smile.
" I mean that seriously, " he adds.
" U-uh... thank you?" you stammer, almost caught off guard. Max's words were so surprising that you didn't even come close to having a perfect answer.
But that 'Uhm, thank you' didn't even make it any better in your mind.
The Dutchman, however, seemed to take this quite calmly, as a grin appeared on his lips.
"I didn't think I would succeed in making you so embarrassed. " Max takes a step closer to you so that you can clearly smell his aftershave.
Without meaning to, warmth begins to gather in your body, causing a warm feeling to spread through your whole body.
"But you succeeded. " Your voice almost sounds like a whisper, so you're not sure whether Max has understood your words at all, as children's laughter can be heard in the background.
" Max! Come here, you have to take over again," Checo calls out just as the Dutchman opens his mouth and starts talking.
"We'll talk later, " Max says in your direction, before he runs over to Checo and, together with Checo, begins to explain the racing gear to the children and, shortly afterwards, one or two of the children put on Max's and Checo's helmets.
And while Max sinks back into his element and makes sure that the children have an unforgettable day, your thoughts are permanently with Max and his words, which you won't be able to get out of your head any time soon.
—
Countless new impressions and information and a completed first free practice session, which you and your class followed live, the day of your visit to the paddock at Zandvoort slowly comes to an end.
A satisfied but also exhausted smile is on your lips as you watch Max hug each child goodbye and have a few kind words for each of them.
You’ve been impressed all day today by how well the Dutchman has dealt with the children and how much time he has really taken for each of them, even though he has a tight schedule and is certainly quite exhausted.
It's sweet to see how some children wrap their arms tightly around the Dutchman and don't want to let him go.
Even for these children, he takes extra time to talk to them quietly and whisper a few words that you don't understand.
And then the Dutchman is suddenly standing in front of you, while all the children are already waiting with Mason at the exit of the paddock.
"Thanks again, Max. Not just for today but also for the visit to the class. That really meant a lot to us, especially the children," you thank the Dutchman again.
"I was happy to do that," he replies with a smile and pulls you into his strong arms to say goodbye, which takes you rather by surprise.
It takes you a few seconds to break out of your little stupor and carefully wrap your arms around his middle.
"I hope we meet again. You've got my number," he whispers in your ear as he hugs you a little closer.
"We will," you assure him.
A tingling sensation begins to awaken in your body and your whole body is slightly electrified.
But before you can really savour the feeling, the Dutchman has already pulled out of the embrace.
"Then I hope you won't say no to that. "
Confused, you look at Max, who pulls something out of the back pocket of his trousers and shortly afterwards presses another Paddock Pass into your hand.
You frown in confusion. The Paddock Pass in Max's hand looks exactly like the one you already have around your neck. What is he trying to say?
Max must clearly see your confusion, because the Dutchman begins to grin slightly before he starts to speak.
" I'd like to see you in the paddock for the next two days so that we can spend some more time together. But only if you want to, of course. "
He starts to scratch the back of his neck nervously while he waits for your answer.
" I'd love to! " you say quickly as you take off your paddock pass and hang it around your neck.
And if someone had told you back then that it was the beginning of a relationship, you certainly wouldn't have believed a word they said.
#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#formula 1#formula one imagine#red bull racing
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I absolutely adore your agent lore SO MUCH it feels really canon to me, just in a darker and realistic way!!
I am kind of wondering what your thoughts are on octavio, especially in this verse- if you have any of course LMAO 👍 so fair if you don't he just lives in my braincells rent free.
"You. Were not so different, you and I."
"|Shut. Up. Dont compare yourself to me. I did everything for this fragile world. A world you yourself almost destroyed twice.|"
"Aah, so did I, young squid. So did I."
3 rounds on the imprisoned geezer. Some thanks he got, after saving the world. The Captain was almost as bad as their old superior.
He only crosses his arms tighter as they clacked their beak.
"|The destruction of my world does not justify yours' survival.|"
Theres a dry chuckle from within the glass globe.
"Which world has the zapfishes. Which world is close to the sky? Which world allows everyone to...act the way you do. That annoyingly fresh attitude that just rubs in our face how much better you have it."
3s looking more unsure now, their hands clasping tight on their arms whenever theyre not signing. Thats a surprise.
"Mm. Do you understand, agent?"
The hesitance disappears, and their eyes and spots glint threateningly. "|Im the Captain now, and I will prefer to be referred to as such.|"
The king rolls his eyes. Mocks a salute.
"Stuffy kid. Damn. Alright, Captain.
Let me illuminate it a little more clearly for you.
You train your agents to keep my people underground. Sometimes, to the point of breaking their spirit. Because you want to keep them safe -- from me, from my troops, from anything the rough seas can throw at em. Right?"
"|I dont do it like you do. Hypnosis? Mind control? Eight ran away because of that!|"
"Who told you I used that on my entire nation? Damn old fool, that Craig.
As for your "Agent Eight"...
that one...
...had her reasons.
I hold no ill will towards her, or the others, for running.
In fact, I dont blame them one bit."
3 squints.
"They wanted a life that I cannot provide.
Its hard, underground. Constant energy crisis. Constant food shortage. Constant resource depletion. Who would stay? Except those who want to make it a better world to live in?
And you, Captain. What would you do in my place?"
And they stay quiet...
Before their voice rasps through a low hiss.
"Act...in a way... you wont."
"Hoh! So you can speak! Impressive.
But you know youd do similar. Ive heard how much Agent 4 hates your guts. Its not as easy being a leader, isnt it."
3 hisses louder, balling their fists.
"I...am not...you."*
"Yes. You. Are." The king presses his tentacles on the glass. "I did all I did for my fragile world. I continue to run my nation the way I do so everyone stays safe from the danger YOU bring. You and the REST of your nation. My troops are family. My troops are all Ive got."
He casts a glance at 4 (pre-Captain my Captain), who was approaching for her training.
"Even if they end up hating me."*
3 catches 4s gaze.
"Even if they end up deserting."
4 turns her gaze away, to look directly at Octavio.
"Do you understand?"
Now its 3 who looks, understanding dawning in their eyes.
Hes right.
"I must do what I need to, even if it hurts me. Id risk my life, my honor, my everything, for my people.
If I dont, who else will?"
3 thinks of the times theyd swooped in to save the newly returned 4 from hazards in the newer missions. The verbal and physical abuse from her beak and fists. The way they had to give her easier missions despite saying that it was tougher, just so shed have a more gradual growth. Have higher chances of surviving. Even if...underhanded.
4 herself breaks the silence, and their train of thought.
"Talking to the damn geezer again, Captain?"
"|He spoke first.
...but he makes good points.|"
"You cant seriously- hey. HEY! CAPTAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!"
theres a loud crash.
"|I dont think it fair to keep him here after he helped us save the world.|"
"Hohohoh! You are not so bad, Captain."
"GRAMPS IS GOING TO KILL YOU."
"Hah! No he wont. I know your old man. And for once in his life, he actually made a good call.
Captain.
Agent Three."
The mention of their old number, to refer to them, almost made tears spring to their eyes.
Almost.
After all, this was the reason they were dragged into this mess. But can they really keep blaming him for all this, after all this time?
Octavio shows...a hint of a smile.
"You make a fine protege for the man I used to know.
Keep it up."
3 holds 4 back from rushing the Octarian leader. "Go...back. Take care...of your people."
"Aye aye. Heheh. So long, suckers!!!"
And he was gone.
#splatoon#splatoon fanart#agent 3#captain 3#dj octavio#agent 4#opal owl’s nest#LONG READ HERE I DONT THINK I CAN DRAW ALL THAT IN COMIC FORM#again this takes place before the events of Captain my Captain#ALSO THANK YOU!! IM GLAD YOU APPRECIATE MY LORE
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BULLET TRAIN (2022) PROMPTS
* assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary
if you mention thomas the tank engine one more time, i'm gonna shoot you in the fucking face.
would you describe me as someone who lives in perpetual anxiety?
well, you also have a shoot-able face.
you never know what horrible fate your bad luck has saved you from.
thank you for taking the job on such short notice.
you are getting the new and improved me.
i'm less reactive to situations, i'm more accepting of people's shortcomings.
you put peace out in the world, you get peace back.
i'm not even trying to kill people and someone dies.
i could live here. i like the atmosphere, the people are considerate.
i know i'm being judgmental. i need to work on that.
this train is bound for kyoto.
i'm gonna assume you didn't take the gun?
you know, i'm thinking of starting my own agency.
what am i snatching and/or grabbing?
shit, i think i dropped my ticket.
you're bleeding.
who the fuck did i kill?
i think they'll notice the childish code names first.
when was the last time you ate a lemon meringue pie?
there's always a catch.
you idiots work for my father?
you ever watch thomas the tank engine? everything i learned about people i learned from thomas.
i want to strangle you now.
why do you always bring swords?
that wasn't our fault.
hey, listen, i'm just gonna get off at the next stop.
where's the briefcase?
he doesn't need a reason to kill people like you.
you're going to want to hear the whole story, or you'll be very, very sorry.
why do i even bother forwarding you the briefings?
no one really knows the truth.
we are... fucked.
find me the son of a bitch who did this.
can we just take a time out here? talk this out?
why does that sound so familiar?
the guy who stabbed me. i spilled wine on his suit.
one of them is walking towards me right now.
why are we whispering?
your orders were to stay on the train.
can i please do my job now?
shove that fucking hat up your fucking asshole.
there's a gun underneath this table pointed right at you.
i'm just fucking with you.
real quick... every day is a fucking headache with you, innit?
you're alive, i'm alive, everyone's happy.
i just want to get off this train, go see a zen garden and some shit, you know?
there's another body here.
this guy's like criss fucking angel. he pops up everywhere.
unlike you, i'm a professional.
you shoot first and come up with the answers later.
are you hiding in a bathroom?
i knew my luck would rub off on you.
you're really proud of yourself, aren't you?
for what it's worth, you seem like a right fucking asshole and i'm glad you're gonna fucking die with me.
you proved you're smarter than everyone.
am i dreaming?
i don't know how to use a gun.
i'm glad you enjoyed the performance.
i'm mansplaining. i'm mansplaining again.
you want a blanket? you want me to hold your hand?
you have been lying to me, my friend.
i never forget a face.
i'm so happy to see you. please help me.
make sure you do something that brings you peace, 'cause everything else is a pain in the ass.
fate for me is just another word for bad luck.
why are you motherfuckers using metaphors?
i'm gonna buy us some time.
i built myself up from the nothing you gave me.
i came here to kill you.
oh shit. something's happening.
i'm sorry i shot you twice.
we're almost there. you just need to get up.
what's happening to your face? are you crying?
#rp meme#mcflymemes#rp prompt#rp memes#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter#sentence starter prompt#sentence starters#bullet train
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IT HAS BEEN FOUND
Hi!
The beginning of it was Crowley couldn’t find a way to get Yuu home, so they stayed and got married to [insert boy of choice] but the Twisted Wonderland government found out and sent Yuu back home, but Yuu was pregnant — this was unknown to the government. Yuu ends up back in their small town where they’re now treated as outcasts. Yuu has amnesia and it gets worse every time they look at their son (Yuu and boy-of-choice child) and remembers [boy of choice]. Yuu dies when their son’s a teenager, and the son gets isekaid into Twisted Wonderland. There he gets sorted into a dorm (Riddle’s son is in Heartslabyul, Azul’s is in Octavinelle). Twisted Wonderland is also in shambles without Yuu: everyone’s overblotting (Riddle is an overblot), the ocean is unlivable, the world is basically in apocalypse mode. In order to save Twisted Wonderland, Yuu’s son must go back in time and do something so that Yuu can stay (I don’t remember what he has to do). I think he gets teleported to Yuu’s time when they’re doing Vargas’ Camp?? I think it had something to do with a camp idk. I think the son calls himself something like “Yuukun” when introducing himself to them. There are different summaries(?) for the boys. (I only remember a few, which are the ones I list)
Ortho: Ortho scans Yuu’s son (Yuu + Idia), and finds that he has the Shroud curse
Ruggie: Doesn’t care. Time isn’t real so he can still shoot his shot with Yuu
Jamil: Super suspicious when Yuukun tries getting close to him. He’d understand him getting close to Kalim, but choosing him??? Weird and suspicious
Trey: Wonders why Yuu stopped coming to visit. Turns out Yuukun was baking Yuu treats. He gets jealous of Yuukun.
Sebek: Gets into a shouting match with Yuukun
Rook: Gives Yuukun a nickname (I think it was based off a duckling?)
Floyd: Gets jealous of Yuukun and calls him Shrimpy Jr (I think) until he finds out Yuukun’s his son
Ace: I don’t remember Ace’s reaction but I do remember a line from Yuukun’s POV “In his eyes, his father only had his dignity, and not even that.” (I think that’s how it went) It was because of the way Ace acted around Yuu
There was more stuff for different characters, like it gave more background on Yuukun’s past depending on the dad:
Riddle: Yuukun is very short and angry, which caused him to be a troublemaker back in Yuu’s world. He knows all 810 of the Queen of Hearts rules, but I think he’s lax with them. Riddle is an OB in this timeline (or maybe all of them?)
Azul: Yuukun is shy and chubby as a child. He’s still shy, but he turned the baby fat into muscle. He’s afraid of Azul. Yuukun could beat him in an arm wrestling match.
Ace: Has zero respect for Ace
Sebek: Sebek 2.0 but is loyal to Yuu instead of Malleus. Gets angry when Sebek insults Yuu (cue shouting match)
Floyd: Yuukun was part of his old school’s swim team. Loves swimming. Monstro Lounge doesn’t exist in NRC anymore. Is appreciative of Octavinelle’s oceans so he can get an understanding of what the oceans are like in twst due to most of them being polluted. Defensive of Yuu when Floyd approached Yuu and him. Understands Floyd is a predator but is happy to hear his father’s voice for the first time. Back in Yuukun’s timeline Floyd might be dead and Jade asks Yuukun to make sure he gets more siblings so he (Jade) can be a bad influence on them. When Floyd learns Yuukun’s his son, he takes him swimming to talk and tells him he’d never abandon him, and “wasn’t he there at all?”
Please help I’ve scoured the internet for it and left empty-handed (also Ty for taking the time to read :>)
#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#jade leech x yuu#floyd leech x reader#floyd leech x yuu#azul ashengrotto x yuu#vil shoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit x yuu#epel felmier x reader#epel felmier x yuu#riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts x yuu#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts x mc#Floyd leech#jade leech#twst azul#twst jade#azul ashengrotto#fic finder#vil schoenheit#epel felmier#rook hunt#rook hunt x reader#rook hunt x mc#floyd leech twst
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Saturday Meetings
Summery: When Eddie learns Y/N has a similar music taste as him everything change.
Words: 2.3k
Warnings: Bullying, fighting, grammar mistakes.
Eddie Munson was always seen as a freak ever since he entered highschool. The basketball team, cheerleaders, party kids and even the smart kids thought he was a satanist for listening to metal music and wearing ripped jeans accompanied with chains. The permanent ink that decorated his skin did not help his case either.
High school was a nuisance for Eddie. The only thing that motivated him was the Hell Fire club. A club where kids from juniors to seniors played dungeons and dragons.
For the members, this game meant the world, it was packed with excitement and fun. Yet, for others, it served as a tool for bullying.
During lunch you sat multiple tables away from him. You were dressed in the usual green, white and yellow cheerleading uniform the school provided, your hair pulled back into a neatly curled ponytail, you blended in with the rest of the team. But deep down, you were different. You had a passion for the same things as Eddie Munson. It was a part of you no one else could ever know.
Your Metalica, Black Sabbath and AC/DC cassette were tucked away underneath Madonna and tears for tears inside your backpack. You thought how Eddie was freely listening to the music you loved so dearly while you couldn't.
Your head turned over your shoulder and you watched as he talked. His arms were flying around as he expressed himself. His big and extraverted gestures made you giggle. Nobody at your table was this extravagant. Seeing someone like him felt refreshing. You always wondered what it was like having spontaneous conversation was like. At your table it was like a routine. Sport, girls/boys, parties, repeat.
“What are you looking at?" Jason's voice broke your concentration, prompting you to snap your head back to face him. He was sitting directly across from you at the cafeteria table.
"Oh, it's nothing," you attempted to brush him off, but the concern in everyone’s faces at your table made it impossible to avoid.
“You sure? Looks like you were looking at Munson” The judgment in his voice was clear. It was like mentioning his name burned his tongue.
"I, um, I was just... he looks weird, doesn't he?" you stammered, trying to save the situation. His brow furrowed as he glanced between you and him. The concern dissolved from his face as he chuckled and nodded in agreement with your previous statement. With a sigh of relief, your tense shoulders relaxed, and your racing heart gradually slowed its pace.
Your anxious gaze met Chrissy's, Jason's girlfriend, and she responded with a gentle smile. In that moment, her glance was reassuring, silently letting you know that everything was okay.
…
That night, you layed in bed, the sound of "Thunderstruck" blasting through your Walkman, was drowning out the world around you as you stared up at the ceiling, thoughts filled your mind, wondering how different life could be if you were surrounded by people who truly understood you, rather than pretending to fit in where you clearly didn't belong.
“Y/n!” Your heart dropped when you barely heard your name over the music. You threw The headphones off and you saw your mom in the doorway.
“What is it mom?” You asked and sat up.
"I've been calling that dinner's ready for the past 10 minutes. Are you still listening to that crazy music?" she sighed, rolling her eyes as the sound echoed from the headphones now abandoned beside you.
“Come downstairs, now” she scolded and you followed her down to the kitchen where once again you talked about school, boys and sports instead of something that really interested you.
…
The next morning, the thought of staying home was tempting. Everything seemed to conspire against you, discouraging any motivation to face another day of repeating the same exact routine as the day before.
But you knew your parents would not want you to stay home.
As the school bus pulled up in front of your house, you found yourself once again lost in your music, the volume cranked up high enough to fill your ears but low enough to keep the people around you from hearing it..
When it arrived at its destination people rushed to get out of the yellow vehicle. You, on the other hand, walked slowly deadring the moment you will have to enter class.
As you turned the corner in the main hallway, you collided with someone so hard that the Walkman's headphones slipped off your head and began to fall to the ground. The cord connecting the headphones to the cassette player on your waist tugged, causing it to tumble to the floor as well making the Metallica cassette spill out onto the ground.
“Oh I'm sorry sweetheart” your heart pounds against your chest when you finally recognized the boy you bumped into.
“Let me get that for you- Metalica?” He examined the cassette as if he couldn't believe his eyes.
“You really listen to that?” his smirk is inevitable.
“No. It's- uh, for my brother” You snatched the cassette from his hand.
“You don't even have a brother” He laughed when he caught your lie.
“How would you know that?”
"We've been in the same classes for two years, Y/N." The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine.
In this moment you noticed how Andy and two other boys from the basketball team looked at you and Eddie as they passed.
In a hurry you grabbed his hand and tugged him away into the nearest janitor closet.
"You know, you could've asked me out first before dragging me in here, but I guess I'll give you points for spontaneity," he says with a smirk, his confidence made you roll your eyes and slap his forearm.
“You cannot tell anyone that you saw this alright?” You shoved the cassette into his face. ”Jason would ruin my life and probably find a way to kick me out of the team because he thinks it's… it’s satanic” Eddie sighed harshly.
“Fine. But-”
“No buts!”
“BUT you have to help me with O'donnell's test for next month” you considered it for a moment. If anyone saw you with him they would probably do worse then kick you off the team. But you didn't have a choice.
“Fine but you come to my place on Saturday nights, and you have to come through my window.”
“Exciting, romantic, I like it”
“This is not romantic!” and just at this very moment you noticed how tight the closet was. How close your bodies were. “I- Am going to get out and you have to wait 5 minutes before you do, understood?”
“Understood, maam” he nodded and quickly you came out of the closet. Fresh air immediately brushed on you.
The rest of the week went smoothly, you sneaked glances at him every now and then but nothing was abnormal. During the integrality of Saturday you were impatient for the moment eddie would come knocking on your window. And when he did you were listening to one of your many vinyls, as you opened the window and welcomed him in.
“Holy shit” he whispered as he took in your room. In his head it would have been filled with pinks and purples, neat and well organized. But there were vinyls of his favorite bands on the wall next to posters and a concert ticket framed in a black picture frame. You had books scattered on your desk that he had also read, and 5 pairs of different colors converse on the floor.
“You are full of surprises” He had said and you just ignored the compliment and went
straight to studying.
On the following Saturday night, Eddie returned without fail, and you both studied again. As the hours passed, midnight approached and you were both tired and yawning.
“I should go,” He said as he started gathering his notebooks and his backpack.
"Same time next Saturday?" you inquired as Eddie made his way halfway out of your window.
He nodded, a sweet smile lighting up his face, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. Every Saturday preceding the test, unfolded the same way. Sometimes you found yourselves watching movies, almost cuddling, his arm draped around your shoulder, and occasionally you allowed your head to rest on him.
Friday, the day before your last study session before the math test, was a game day. You knew Eddie and his club had a reunion the same day but you still invited him to come watch your cheerleading routine along with his friends.
Surprise flickered across your face as you spotted him in the stands just before the end of the game. His unexpected presence threatened to throw you off balance, but you swiftly regained your focus.
After the game, as the team was heading back to the locker room, Jason spotted Eddie lagging behind waiting for you.
"Waiting for the girls to come out, perv?” Jason sneered, his minions laughing along with him.
Eddie tried to brush off the insults, but Jason's words cut deep. Just as Jason was about to deliver another cutting remark, you came out of the changing room holding your sport bag.
you looked between them for a second in silence. Eddie looked at you and a lightbulb lightened up on Jason’s head.
“Oh I see what's going on here. Munson’s got a crush on y/n!” His loud tone made everyone grow quiet. Students nearby started surrounding them, their eyes darting between Jason and Eddie. Eddie's cheeks burned with humiliation as he struggled to find the courage to respond
“Sorry to break it to you but a cheerleader would never go for a freak like you” With a smirk on his face, Jason draped his arm around you in a cocky way. It was in no way near as comforting as Eddie's embrace.
“Fuck off, Carver” you pushed him off your body. His smirk faltered for a moment as he received the unexpected rejection, but he quickly regained his composure, scoffing at Y/N's boldness.
"Really, y/n? You're into Munson now? I didn't think you would go that slow but you've always been a slut” he shrugged and some people around you snickered and some other gasped
Jason's menacing presence loomed over you. You stood frozen after the words came out of his mouth. Eddie stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he positioned himself between you and him.
Eddie hesitated before striking a punch right into his jaw. Jason’s head flew to the right and he stumbled backwards. Everyone gasped loudly.
With a fierce growl, Jason lunged forward, aiming a wild swing at Eddie's nose. But he was quicker. With fast reflexes, Eddie ducked under his punch and returned one to Jason’s gut, earning a grunt of pain.
The fight was on. Fists flew as Eddie and Jason traded blows. The students who were gathered around cheers added to the chaotic atmosphere.
“Stop!” You screamed but they were blinded by rage and humiliation.
Despite Jason’s size and strength, Eddie held his ground. With each blow, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
The echoes of grunts, cheers and strikes alarmed various teachers and when they saw the scene, they were both separated. The boys were panting and Jason was quick to put the blame on Eddie.
He looked at you desperately before walking into the crowd of students to storm out of the school ignoring the calls of a teacher demanding him to stay and explain himself.
You dropped your sport bag with your uniform inside and ran after him.
“Eddie, wait” Once outside you saw him about to enter his van. Your calls stopped him and he turned to face you. You didn't fail to notice the large bruise on his cheekbone already forming.
“Eds- im so sorry” he shook his head dismissing your apology.
"It wasn't your fault, Y/N," He reassured you softly, and in a swift movement, you wrapped your arms around his chest. At first, surprise made him motionless, but after a few moments, he returned the embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug.
“Y/n” A much softer voice called out behind you. You and Eddie both looked toward it and Chrissy was standing there holding your bag.
“This is yours. Right?” She extended her arm.
“You can keep it Chrissy… my uniform is in it, now that Jason knows, nobody will want me on the team”
“I want you on the team, and I'm the captain” she pushed the bag inside your arms. “If someone has a problem with your relationship with Eddie, they will be kicked off the team.”
“Were not in a-” Eddie started with a shy tone.
“Thanks Chrissy” you hugged her tightly before saying your goodbyes.
“Bye Eddie. See you monday y/n, love you”
“Are we in a relationship?” His question is genuine and full of curiosity.
“I- uhm, do you want to be?”
“Hell yeah I want to. The whole studying shit was just an excuse to spend time with you!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face.
“What?!”
“Do you actually think I, Eddie Munson, would study willingly?” He giggled.
"I can't believe you," you said between giggles, resting your head on his chest as laughter bubbled up between you both.
With a hesitant yet determined step forward, Eddie closed the distance between you, his hand reached out to gently cup your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of Eddie's touch, a shiver of anticipation traveled your body. Eddie leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours.
And then, with a tender brush of his lips against yours, Eddie closed the gap, sealing your lips with a soft kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and desire that had been building between you.
And when you finally pulled away, your lips tingled with the lingering sensation of his kiss, the fight long forgotten. You knew that this was just the beginning of yours and his journey together—a journey filled with passion, love, and endless possibilities.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader
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I need to talk about zolu in the terms of dnd because I can't get this idea out of my head!
Zoro who starts as a fighter class - a swordsman through and through - that's all he's ever know since childhood. He fights to become the best, the strongest, to keep his promise to Kuina.
But then, an impossible guy saves him from a certain death. A guy who becomes his captain, his guiding light. And Zoro becomes his, his pirate despite never wanting to have anything to do with them before.
Zoro has never believed in any gods or higher power or miracles, it's just not who he is - to depend on something or someone intangible.
But he believes in Luffy, because he's seen what he can do and knows what Luffy wants. Their goals allign.
He believes in Luffy so much that he saw him as a god before anyone else did. And that's where it changes - when he's faced with his biggest rival whom he wants to beat, defeated, and swears to Luffy an oath to stand by his side to reach their dreams together. Calls him the Pirate King.
He believes in Luffy so much, that he would swap their places in facing death just so Luffy could take another breath, pain-free. He believes in him with absolute certainty, even to become the King of Hell for him, and to defy Death time and time again, with absolute faith that he would keep standing and breathing, to stay by his captain and crew's side.
(Luffy believes in Zoro, too, in his strength and his words, that's why he can always trust and lean on him.)
With Luffy behind him, Zoro becomes his champion, his paladin, not only to the alternation of the Sun God Nika, but most importantly to Luffy as a person and what he represent - freedom, joy, infinite possibilites; and then he can show this trust to all the other people they're helping along their journey. It changes his whole world, but in a way he might not even notice- in the small every day things, like not traveling alone and knowing his crew has his back. Their bond - the oath, the promise - re-affirms the powers Zoro can wield (*cough* unlocking Concqueror's Haki), he's much more stronger now than he could ever be as a fighter with no other purpose except to fight. He no longer fights for the sake of fighting, but for the sake of protecting.
(Official art from here X)
#zoro as paladin of luffy just makes me insane sorry not sorry#this has been on my mind for a few weeks at least ;-; just... them#zolu#roronoa zoro#monkey d. luffy#luzo#one piece#do you see my vision?? OTL#yes this is all fantasy hig/hs and fig's fault for her always knowing how to come up with the best interpretation of devotion#crying#mine#gif:zolu#gif:op writing
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I'm going through the Sinostra chapter right now and I can't stop making theories omg there might be spoilers below so be careful, although I'm just enumerating my questions tbh lol
According to one of Taiga's home screen dialogs, there might be some sort of time loop happening which he's KINDA aware of? Or maybe just aware when triggered somehow.
He said "long time no see! You decide to ditch this future too? Sorry I'm not dead yet" which is INCREDIBLY ooc as to how he behaves during the story which leads me to
His extreme memory loss, which apparently lasts less than 24 hours. Why is that? Did he go through so many time loops that it started affecting his memory? There was one small moment in which he remembered Ritsu because he saw the MC face though...
The Clash. What the fuck was it
What's Taiga relationship to Haru? Haru sounds eerily nonchalant regarding Taiga even though the man keeps on threatening Peekaboo. And aftewards, Rui briefly mentions that Taiga has a "destroying what others hold dear" schtick, which leads me to believe that Taiga is seeking revenge for losing something important maybe???? Is the fanfic brainrot too big rn
WHY DOES HE HATE LIKE DOVES??????? I dont wanna go full romantic mode, but is he just resentful of seeing a bird that is the physical representation of someone else's feelings or something......
The spy. Honestly no idea. There's some theories floating around that Haku is the spy, but I would rather see him during the Hotarubi episode before jumping to conclusions, but it's understandable how people might think that I guess...? He IS very nice and helpful and randomly finding the MC fleeing by train was way too much of a coincidence... he does seem to always tie the MC to Darkwick somehow, firstly by KIDNAPPING her and then by talking her into staying. If the MC is the trigger to a bigger event, then one could see that as suspicious. But I would like a bit more evidence first lol
Back to Taiga, why is he. Like why
Okay no but seriously. If we take the timeloop thing seriously + Haku being a spy, here's the theory:
Taiga knows the MC is the trigger for an awful event and tried killing them back in the Prologue in order to cut the problem on its roots. Haku, if we consider him as the spy, WANTS the event to happen (considering he could also be aware of the loop), which is why he saved us and took us to Darkwick, therefore letting it all play out once again.
If Haku isn't the spy, then we would have to chalk it up as Taiga knowing and trying to kill us, but destiny (???) being a bitch, therefore putting Haku there as a pawn to make things play out again
Maybe the spy can control other ghouls? Who know tbh
Finally, what is going on during the first scene we see in the game? Darkwick on fire and the first character we choose jumping off of the building? I wonder what would happen if we choose Taiga as our first card....... maybe I should create a sub acc
Anyway if anyone has more questions/theories PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY IM OBSESSED WITH THIS GAME I NEED TO THINK ABT IT
There is also a good theory on reddit made by u/imonlybr16 that states this:
"Before the prologue, when you open the game for the first time, you're greeted with the opening scene involving MC running through the halls of a ruined Darkwick. The question is asked "When the world is collapsing around you, whose hand will you take?"
There you're taken to your character choice screen. The guy you choose is later shown on the railing of a balcony, about to jump off.
Now I think I have a very far fetched and vague idea as to what is going on.
In chapter 2, we learn that the person that Alan killed was Dante or at least he thought he did. But we meet Dante and he's very much alive.
This comes theory number one.
***You can't actually die on campus.***
Note the use of actually here. You can 100% still die, you just end up coming back to life.
If Rui is your home screen he talks about accidentally killing someone else in his dorm and being annoyed with having to lift them back to Obscuary. This struck me as a particularly odd dialogue because Rui's curse causes people to die.
Unless, you can't die on campus.
This would explain Dante pretty much instantly. Yes Alan killed him but yes he's alive.
The campus itself is an anomaly, stopping people from dying doesn't sound too far fetched. I expect this to be revealed with the other two members of Obscuary, as that dorm seems to have a connection to death. One of the things that always pops up is that ghouls aren't immortal, no matter how quickly they heal.
Also explains how Calamari didn't die in chapter 3. Ren ran from the dorm > the caves > the jetty and Calamari was already pretty dehydrated in the beginning.
But OP you might say, aren't all the guys talking like they believe they're going to die.
Luckily, that brings us to vauge and far fetched theory number two.
***The campus is on fire due to a rebellion***
In the very last chapter of the prologue we get to see Kaito's wickhive. There we see three pretty interesting threads.
. There's gonna be an uprising soon
. One of you is a demon
. There's a guy who could see the future
Kaito is surprised at something he sees in this scene but we don't learn what it is. This chapter's 'preview' is one of the scenes we see in the very beginning. Blood and a Lily.
I believe that the first thread is foreshadowing and will . After you meet your chosen guy standing on the railing you get a line of dialogue (or not if you picked Towa) that changes depending on who you picked. Some imply that what they're doing is going to save you(Jiro, Zenji and Sho), some apologize stating that they could protect what they cared about until the very end (Luca,Kaito,Haru and Yuri) but three characters caught my attention
Leo: Life sucks and then you die,right? I just want to make the assholes responsible regret it.
Ren: This is exactly why I didn't to do this! I knew this was how it was going to end.
Subaru: This is all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me, but this is the least I can do. Please take this as my final act of good faith.
Especially Subaru's and Ren's, that seemingly imply either the MC's (Ren's) or their (Subaru) involvement in the current situation. Now what does this has to do with a potential uprising?
One of the things we learn from the very beginning is the inter-politics of the houses and by extension the ghouls. Especially after the fallout of the clash. Things are pretty tense and an uprising or rebellion seems to be the most likely thing.
As to what happened and why? I have no clue. Though one thing to note is that according to the prophecy, as long as the ghouls are in Darkwick, they prevent a disaster from coming. If Darkwick is destroyed however, the prophecy can't be fulfilled, or can it?"
This is such a good theory too, I really think u/imonlybr16 has probably gotten a lot of things right.
Although it's weird that death is such a big threat to us specifically, but maybe the Academy can't prevent death by curses, much like the Mesmer Matches dont work on someone who's cursed. Hhmm...
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totally gonna send you random headcannons of my xmen dr based off of stuff i see you reblog
im forced to move into the mansion to stay safe and i only agree to it under a few circumstances:
no classes for me
my own room with my own private bathroom
access to a kitchen bc i love to cook/bake
some times i can’t sleep so i’ll randomly bake cakes or cupcakes or whatever it is i’m in the mood for and i like to believe peter will bother me while i do it and he tries to help but he ends up splashing batter all over the kitchen
when we celebrate his birthday for the first time together i bake him a giant twinky cake and he cries (he gets sick from eating over half- lets be real the ENTIRE cake but that’s okay we still love him)
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH DJFIEHFIJRJR !!! y'all, please keep sending me stuff like this. it makes my entire week, you don't even know !! 💗💗💗
you have nooooo idea how jealous some of the students are gonna be !! like, c'mon !! you get a private bathroom ?? that's just not fair !!
your baking habits are so frequent, the students forgive you for stealin' the private bathroom. as long as you're makin' tasty treats they can indulge in, you're alright in their book
one night, you're up late and baking. that's when peter spots you. you're mixing some good good in a bowl. lost in your own, little world. got the radio on at a low volume, listening to some tunes
but it's like...3am. you know that, right?
i mean, it makes sense for him to be up. he really doesn't need to sleep when his energy is so limitless. but you? what, did you have a bad night or somethin'?
peter just wanted to grab a quick soda, rush back upstairs, play some mortal kombat (on the arcade cabinet he obtained 100% legally, fyi)
but - guilty as charged - he's a sucker for sweets. and now...you've made him a little curious...
this becomes somewhat of a habit
at some outrageous hour in the night, you'll bake again. peter'll be there, leaning over your shoulder. he'll pester you. tell you all these (slightly exaggerated) stories of all the cool stuff he's done
he sticks around, at first, just to taste test everything you make. but after so many nights - he kinda just really likes hangin' out with you
eventually, he tries to help. but cooking is a slow process. you tell him a thousand times - he needs to be patient !! he can't rush the process !!
next thing you know, you're turning around at the sound of a casual "whoops." there's batter everywhere. flour. a few broken eggs. he's licking unmixed batter off the whisk. he makes a face when it doesn't taste like yours
"i followed your recipe to a t, dude. i dunno how i bombed so bad!! i even added a little extra vanilla"
"peter, you used the whole bottle"
"so? what's wrong with that?"
seriously? what did he even do wrong?? who can complain about more vanilla ??
on his birthday, you tell him you have a surprise for him. and his first, immediate assumption is-
"is it a cake? it's a cake, isn't it? definitely a cake. what kind? did you make your own frosting? how big is it? it's huge, right? please tell me i don't have to share-"
and again, you remind him he has to be patient. which makes him antsy. but...fine !!! he's (kind of) willing to wait, if it means he gets somethin' tasty out of it
you reveal it's a giant, twinkie cake. same recipe as the originals, but even better. you put your own little spin on it. made it extra special. and this is...LEGIT SO CRAZY !! it's totally AMAZING !! like, how did you even know ??
"i could kiss you right now, y'know that? i could, and i might. right after i dig into this bad boy. just you wait."
he doesn't think before he acts. ever.
he devours the whole thing before you can remind him to pace himself
normally, his rapid metabolism saves him any aches and pains. he can swallow down a whole pizza - or two - and be just fine
but this cake...this is a really, really big one. you went wayyyy above and beyond with it
he'll be keeling over in bed later, writhing in tummy achin' agony. but your baking is so worth the suffering
#i love typin little lists like this sorry if its too long kjsdhgksdg#long post#txt#asks#elemental xavier
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So for my game tonight- Theodore's unconscious right now, but as soon as he wakes up... Imagine this, because this is what the session's opening will be like for him:
You're ripped out of whatever dream-state you were in (was it a nice dream? did you forget everything you've gone through while you were sleeping?). You're on the floor.
You realize your body Hurts. Your nose is broken.
Maybe you'll vaguely realize where you are, or maybe you'll try to remember what happened-
But you're going to get decked with a baseball bat, held by your former friend/party member, who most likely has the intent to kill you. He's knows it's you.
Panic- fight back? Do you fight out of instinct or because you remember what you've caused and decided this is a viable act of karma, so you fight to get him to hit you more?
If you haven't by now, realize the consequences of your actions: Your mentor, who kept you from dropping out and had hope for you, both for the changeling and human world, is gone- possessed- and it's your fault. Your former friend's boyfriend is also gone, you tried to kill another party member's friend (and the party in general), and you've practically kickstarted a war while you were possessed by the BBEG. Your party already lost some trust in you earlier before- all trust is obliterated because of this.
Do you have anything left?
#ended up writing a whole essay in the tags again#im so normal about how horrible his life has become#he just wanted to have some escapism but got caught up into a resistance#and his quest for investigation and escapism lead to intense trauma but he couldnt just Leave#he has to stay and help save the world now#so he's plagued with nightmares and the escapism has become worse that what he originally tried to escape from#but he keeps going#because while both options are Bad at least there's fantasy and wonder here- he cant leave#and so he's offered power by the bbeg and fights against it#but he steals its artifact and tells himself its for research#and then he gets offered power by a villain and declines- he doesnt want that he just wants knowledge#he wants things to think about to distract himself from everything from the fact he's a college failure & from everything he's been through#and then the artifact offers him an escape with the possibility to change things- the Power to do that and make things better for himself#and to maybe release some of the anger buried in his heart#and theodore knows its fake. he Knows.#but he fails to resist just for a moment and now he's lost everything#and what does he have left?#he was failing college anyway and now there's no one in the changeling realm to help him. he's the cause of his own ruin#and so he's going to spiral.#his rage at himself with be extended outwards until he finally and completely destroys himself#theodore absolutely deserves consequences for what he's done#but that doesnt deny the fact i view him as a tragic character#(though i do worry if he comes across as too pathetic and/or whiny at times)#the discovery of the supernatural world made his life worse not only bc of outside factors but also bc of his own actions#Theodore was made to be a tragic character- he was never meant to have a happy ending- and by god is that happening#eric finally speaks#ttrpg oc#theodore carter#rainbow in the dark#ttrpg character
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To continue the tag: that is our blessing from Him for our endurance thru sufferment without a single complaint or a cry of pain, for obeying him without question, showing up and showing out every day, and especially for our actions of refusing to harm them in return. He commanded me twice to retaliate & bc I never did we passed our tests and will be blessed to the maximum so ask away for anything you🖤 want my love you🖤 deserve it and will receive it. He said the only thing we did to them was make their true colors bleed out in the wash, so expose them for who they truly are. Vengeance is His says the Lord and a-fucking-men 2 that. God bless you 2 all the law enforcement (not the crooks) and a massive thank you
#sweet man* sweet sweet honey bear 🍯 🐻#u🖤 my love r the only 1 who matters 2 me & I can’t wait 4 our new beginning can’t wait 2 show u🖤 the love n care#you deserve 2 experience devotion won’t ever make u🖤 jump thru flaming hoops like past people u🖤 have my complete and unconditional#love forever & always in each lifetime & I’d die 4 u🖤 like in our past lives#u🖤 deserve the world and I’m going 2 hand-deliver u🖤 my promise each & everyday#we’ve been put thru Hell n back without complaint n we’ll get our compensation bc what we’ve had 2 endure these past few months is insane#I don’t know any1 who has had to deal w what we’ve had 2 deal w but regardless it’s done nothing but sling-shot us together & together we#shall b no matter who wants 2 keep us apart or what they r willing 2 do 2 keep us apart (insane & illegal & immoral &#unethical methods of chaos) it’s over now the feds r closing in on the entire group now & protective/restraining orders r being issued 2 us#& our families agaisnt The Crazies. it’s over now & being more than handled 4 us#apparently the feds don’t want us in the courtroom w them & God has instructed me 2 never help them spiritually & the feds apparently agree#we’re leaving The Crazies in Crazy Town where they belong & God said he’s going 2 keep it that way (babe they apparently want 2 reach out 2#me so I’ll save them from the mess they created & they want me 2 tell every1 this has just been 1 little misunderstanding they want me 2#wipe their slates clean and proclaim they did nothing wrong… yeah stay the fuck away from us permanently) I’ve never met people who r#willing 2 go to such extreme lengths when they r in the wrong. moral of the story is God and the feds r keeping them away from us bc they r#completly unhinged so rest assured they r permanently blocked from accessing us physically mentally emotionally spiritually etc so let’s#heal from this together and one day this bs will just b a distant memory our soul ties 2 them have been#severed completely we were supposed to have another life w them present so they could atone 4 their wrongdoings & God said since it’s been#so severe & they won’t stop so he’s decreed this is both of ours last life w them present in any capacity & we will never have 2 c them or#their families or friends in heaven or any of our next infinite lifetimes I thank God 4 that they’ve hurt us thru many lifetimes & their#chances 2 fix it r now done and they’ll never get another chance 2 hurt us or our children or loved ones again. God is good & God is great#thank u & amen 2 that!#God & the feds r both saying they aren’t sorry 4 what they’ve done 2 us they have no remorse they r just sorry they got caught but more so#exposed & they blame me 4 quote making them do what they did it’s been noticed they take zero accountability 4 their own actions & words#so rest assured even tho they don’t want 2 be done harassing us the feds & the divine r working together 2 stopping them (they apparently#2 stress me out so bad when u🖤 get me pregnant it makes me lose our babies) so I’m thankful for the law enforcement & 2 God n his Divine#for putting an end to this saga#God wants me 2 conclude w all the things they’ve done 2 us & continue (she won’t stop trying 2 kill me or get me 2 kill myself) 2 do its al#being returned 2 sender & each misdeed against us is another blessing He will grant to u🖤 and I so this is genuinely and truly working out#in our favors in every way He wants u🖤 2 think of all the things u🖤 want 4 us & URSELF (ur🖤 so selfless!) He will grant it all asap that is
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nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.
nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.
nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.
nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all.
nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.
nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.
nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you.
nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.
nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.
nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.
nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it.
nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?
nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence.
nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.
#✧˚₊‧𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬#nanami#jjk#nanami kento#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami fluff#jjk fluff#nanami kento fluff#kento nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#nanami x reader fluff#jjk x reader fluff#kento nanami x reader fluff#nanami kento x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff
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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE
pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader
summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?
warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.
⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅
“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”
Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.
“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.
“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.
She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.
Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.
A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.
He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.
Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.
She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.
“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”
“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.
Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.
But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.
Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.
“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.
Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.
“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.
As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.
She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.
“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.
She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.
“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.
Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.
“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.
He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.
It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.
“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.
There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.
“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.
Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.
Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.
Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.
“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.
Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.
Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.
“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.
What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.
Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.
Guilt and jealousy.
Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.
“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.
Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.
“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.
Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?
“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.
“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.
Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.
“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”
“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.
Please let this be a nightmare.
Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.
“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”
“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.
“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.
A full stomach meant nausea.
“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.
Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.
“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.
Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.
“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.
She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.
Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.
She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.
“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.
“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.
JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.
Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?
“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.
“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”
Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.
“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.
“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.
Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.
“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.
Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.
“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.
“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.
“Okay.”
Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.
You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.
So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.
Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.
One step at a time, one day at a time.
You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.
For now, at least.
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#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#military!ellie williams#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#the last of us x y/n#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou x reader#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fic#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams smut#tlou2#ellie tlou#the last of us 2#the last of us x female reader#tlou part two#tlou part ii
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the party era | oscar piastri
pairing: oscar piastri x female driver!reader
summary: you used to be a party girl, you’re now much more content staying in and watching movies with your boyfriend instead.
authors note: my AP world history test is tomorrow!! wish me luck 😞 (i haven’t studied, im going to fail)
liked by 637,937 others
f1wagsgossip: thoughts ? 😂
view comments below!
user1: is this a safe space to say i do too 😖
user2: she’s gotten so boring now that’s she’s with oscar 😞
user3: y/n isn’t a wag ???? she’s a driver, whys she on this page 😭
user4: as a y/n fan during this era, NO! i do not miss this
user5: why ?
user4: this was a horrible time for y/n and her fans, she was constantly being called slurs, a whore, slut, etc :( i was ALWAYS on the front lines defending my girl !!
user6: y’all saying oscar made her boring rubs me the wrong way…
user7: RIGHT
user8: me too
user9: honestly i agree
user10: i miss party y/n
user11: what i would do to be a fan during the party era
user11: i’m in my party era right now
user12: are we all forgetting how y/n has said multiple times that this was probably the hardest days of her life?? and how she wishes this never happened ???
user13: she was literally out partying all day 😭 how was that hard
user12: i can tell youre all new fans 😭 this whole “era” happened after she had gotten out of toxic relationship of 6 YEARS she was extremely depressed AND she had said that the only reason she went out so much was because she felt unsafe in her house
user14: you all saying oscar made y/n boring are forgetting that she, and i QUOTE, has said “oscar literally saved my life, and i know that sounds so cheesy, but he truly makes more happy than i could ever put in words”
user15: yall say this, but if she did party like she did back in the day, y’all would be calling her an alcoholic 💀
user16: not too much on oscar now…
bigfanofyn: 2022-2023 y/n was the best !! rip y/ns party era 😞
view comments below !
user17: oh that’s not…
user18: this is weird !
user19: ME TOO, BRING BACK PARTY Y/N!!
user20: NOO DONT. DO NOT BRING BACK PARTY Y/N
user21: can’t y’all let this girl be peaceful ?? 😭
user22: are y’all forgetting how they tried to get y/n kicked out of f1 because of this ??
user23: WHATTT
user22: YEAH fans literally made a petition to get y/n kicked out of f1 because she was “out of control” it only got like 500 votes THO 😭😭
user23: y/n has said that she is no longer friends with this people in the picture and that we should stop giving them attention…
user24: why ?
user23: they would always purposely got her drunk, and made her feel guilty when she suggested they do something else instead of drink, they would then take photos of her when she was passed out drunk AND SELL THEM TO GOSSIP PAGES ??
user25: don’t forget that they LET SOME STRANGE MAN ALMOST TAKE HER GOD KNOWS WHERE WHILE SHE WAS BLACKOUT DRUNK ?? the only reason he wasn’t able too was because of a STRANGER who intervened
user26: free y/n from oscar 🗣️
user27: this and y’all in the comments ARE WEIRD
user28: …
user29: this isn’t good! hope this helps ❤️
— y/n has posted new pictures!
liked by, mclaren, oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 726,028 others !
yourusername: i have no idea why this is trending BUT… party era y/n was NOT fun or quirky. she was depressed, anxious, and always scared, she pushed away all the people she loved. NOW, “boring” y/n has never been happier. she stays at home with her boyfriend and has movie marathons. it’s better for her this way.
view comments below !
user30: we love boring y/n
user31: why are people acting like you don’t go out anymore ?? 😭 you were at landos celebration party like a week ago ??
*liked by yourusername*
mclaren: boring y/n is a happy y/n 🧡
yourusername: boring y/n is a happy PR team **
mclaren: that too 🧡
landonorris: a boring y/n is a happy lando
user32: the fact that the only reason y/n got help was because lando told her too is just so 💔💔
user33: she knew that when LANDO tells you that you need to stop. YOU NEED TO STOP.
user34: no because LANDO telling her to stop partying ?? is crazy 😭
user35: REAL FANS LIKE ANY TYPE OF Y/N
user36: y’all got this girl so mad she’s talking in third person 😐
— oscar piastri had posted new photos !
liked by, mclaren, yourusername, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 826,028 others !
oscarpiastri: party girl or not. i will always love you.
view comments below!
user37: oh to have a movie night with y/n l/n…
user38: the man y/n DESERVES
user39: can’t people just understand that some people truly go through rough patches which makes them do out of the ordinary things ??
user40: RIGHTTT, because if y/n was a true ‘party’ girl like they claim. SHE WOULD STILL BE PARTYING. she had said multiple times. that ‘era’ wasn’t HER. it was a ROUGH PATCH
user41: get you a man that loves you as much as oscar loves y/n
maxverstappen1: tell y/n to play pool on imessage with me.
oscarpiastri: she said she’ll play when you stop cheating
maxverstappen1: I DONT CHEAT
yourusername: I KNOW DANIEL IS PLAYING FOR YOU.
charles_leclerc: you said you would invite me to the next movie night 😞
oscarpiastri: this is an old picture charles, don’t worry, you’re still on the invite list 😁
#oscar piastri fluff imagine#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri x y/n#f1 smau#f1 x female driver#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 social media au#f1 fluff#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1
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My favourite Parker episode has always been The Inside Job, y'know why? It's not just what Parker does, but rather what the others do FOR Parker.
Parker has 4 safe houses in the city, but Nate and Sophie know her well enough to know where she actually stays when she's away from the team
Parker's security code. Do you understand the level of trust someone like Parker will have to have to use their name as her security code? To the place that's her own personal sanctuary? Sophie EARNED that level of trust.
'The Sterenko can't be cracked-' 'Can you do it?' 'Nate, it can't be-' 'For Parker. Can you do it for Parker?'
This. Just this.
'I made her. I trained her, and I released her into the world.' 'She was broken! She needed you!'
This stood out so loud to me, because it's not Hardison or Sophie (the more emotionally intelligent ones of the team) saying it. Because it's NATE. It's Nate, the man who couldn't say I Love You to Sophie for so long. The man who got so caught up in his son's death that every job involving kids or medical malpractice he nearly went out of line. NATE, who pushes and pushes and is ruthless and so cold at times.
It's Nate protesting for Parker, standing up FOR Parker, and y'know why? Because Parker doesn't know what she got deprived of. Parker doesn't feel that loss because you can't grieve something you aren't even aware you could've had. But Nate does. Nate saw her injustice and loss of childhood and spoke up, KNOWING she'll never know about him defending her.
'Hardison I screwed up.' 'We're already here mama.'
Do you understand the level of trust and vulnerability it requires for her to say those words? She's never gotten anyone's help after a screwup, she's had to take care of herself on her own. And there's Hardison, right there, not upset, not angry, not disappointed. A right straight - I'm here and we'll get you out.
'Let's get our girl home.'
Do I even need to say anything.
'It's not what we do, we don't get involved!' 'No, that's what YOU do!'
Parker is not Archie Leach's protege anymore. She's Parker. She's the greatest thief in the world. She's the one person to get the entire Leverage Inc breathing down your neck to save her. She has a family who got her back. She has a life and friends and people who may not understand her always but will always support her and be there for her, no matter what, without changing any aspect of her or forcing her to change either. And she saves people, because that's what they do.
'It's your play Parker.'
The explicit trust Nate displays in her. For someone like Nate with control issues and need to be the guy calling the shots, this is practically an all out notice saying 'she's my people, she's my family, I trust her with my life, more than that I trust her with my family and our jobs.'
'No.' 'What do you mean no? This isn't time for crazy, Parker! Come on!' 'No! I need to go back. I need to put the vial back.'
Do you understand what it feels to have someone like Parker, who is practically a ghost and the prospect of getting stuck somewhere is unthinkable, to refuse an escape route? And that too because she wants to help people and not be used to hurt them? In the face of someone who brought her up to only steal? Now that's growth.
Now this is a callback, but when Sophie and Nate first enter her safehouse, Sophie says something that foreshadows the ending. She says 'Look at this. It's methodical. This could be one of your plans, Nate.'
This is a personal choice, but god it's so good when authors and writers and creators give you hints and foreshadow and reward your intuition at the end, rather than changing endings for shock value. Because Hardison isn't ruthless, Eliot isn't striving for control, and Sophie is dramatic, not clinical. None of it would have been worth it unless it went to Parker, which it did.
Man, this fucking show I swear.
#leverage#parker leverage#sophie devereaux#alec hardison#nate ford#eliot spencer#jace.txt#i fucking love this show#the inside job#archie leach
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Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕
thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k
“Spencer?”
Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?”
“Is this okay?”
You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt.
The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin.
You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.”
Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing. “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush.
“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say.
“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.”
You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.”
“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours.
“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says.
“What if we have a case?”
“That’s a better reason to go shopping.”
You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?”
Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says.
“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.
“You really are glowing.”
“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place.
“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.”
“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek.
You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing.
You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time.
“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks.
You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness.
He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home.
“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed.
“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says.
You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk.
“Yes,” Spencer says.
You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.”
“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly.
You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek.
“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen.
You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles.
“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”
She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs.
You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another.
Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee.
You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room.
“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan.
“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says.
“Or not,” JJ says with a frown.
“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.”
You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time.
“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.”
“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks.
No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?”
“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.
“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin.
“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.”
You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately.
“And what’s with the water?”
Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?”
“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts.
That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field.
You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too.
You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to.
“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.”
“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?”
“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished.
You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask.
The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide.
Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively.
You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer and bombshell reader
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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.
— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.
words・6.4k
pairing・han jisung x female reader
genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn
warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut
playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han
a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡
smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare
Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.
It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.
So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.
Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?
Why can’t I follow?
Then he wakes up.
No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.
Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.
Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.
You see him.
Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.
Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.
He hopes you like horror movies.
Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.
Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.
“Lix, hey!”
“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”
“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”
“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”
This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.
“Eventful night, huh?”
He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.
“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”
“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”
Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.
A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.
“I’d like that.”
He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.
Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.
Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”
“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.
You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.
It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.
You turn towards it.
In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”
A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.
“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”
Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.
You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.
“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.
The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.
Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.
He wants to remember everything about you.
It’s not often he wants to remember anything.
Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.
He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.
“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.
Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”
Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.
You do the stupid thing for him.
You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.
The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”
“Gimme your lemonade.”
The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.
You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.
The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.
“Open,” you murmur.
His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.
You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.
He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.
He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.
The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.
“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.
“You’re a monster,” he croaks.
You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.
“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”
One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.
“...and you still remember my address…”
A suckle to the lobe of his ear.
“...you can kiss me, for real.”
A trembling breath.
“And then some.”
Jisung moans, loudly.
Thankfully, he remembers a few things.
He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.
Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.
The back in his dreams keeps walking.
Jisung has never liked winter.
He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.
He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.
And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.
This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.
When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.
His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.
Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.
“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”
“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”
“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”
Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”
“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.
“My bad,” he sighs.
“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.
“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”
The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.
“We’re waiting on one more person.”
He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.
“Who?”
Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.
“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”
Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.
In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.
This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.
But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.
“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”
You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”
“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”
“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”
Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.
“Hi,” he offers.
“Hey,” you reply.
Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”
Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.
It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.
He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.
Jisung:
do you have plans after this?
Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.
He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.
Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.
Y/N:
I was gonna ask you the same thing…
He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.
Jisung:
can i take you to dinner?
Y/N:
Yes, I’d love that :)
Y/N:
When should we leave?
Jisung:
9?
Y/N:
Sounds good~
Jisung:
cool
Jisung:
it’s a date
Y/N:
It’s a date!
Y/N:
Excited 💛
With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.
He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.
Or both.
He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.
Jisung:
me too <3
When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.
As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.
He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.
“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.
“What did you realize?”
“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”
Jisung has broken hearts before.
There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.
He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.
There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.
Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.
“Sure,” he answers.
He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.
Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.
“I like when we don’t talk, though.”
It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.
Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.
The glass fogs up anyways.
“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”
You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.
Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”
The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.
“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”
Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.
It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.
His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.
“W-why’d—where’d you go?”
He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.
“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”
He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.
“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”
You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.
You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.
“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.
“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”
“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”
“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”
“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”
“R-really?”
“Really.”
“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”
He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.
“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”
“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.
And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.
He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.
Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.
He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.
Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.
“You squirted,” he says.
“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.
He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.
Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.
He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”
There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.
His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.
Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.
After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.
Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.
This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.
The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”
He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.
Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.
When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.
You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.
He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”
The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.
“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.
The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.
Only then do you notice the blizzard.
You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.
Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.
“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.
“When did that happen?”
“I have no idea.”
You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.
“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.
He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.
Your ribcage fucking throbs.
“You don’t seem excited,” you say.
He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.
“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.
“You don’t like snow?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.
“It’s a long story.”
Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.
You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.
“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”
“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.
A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.
“You’re not driving right now.”
He breaks eye contact.
“Right?”
That was the plan, you read in his expression.
You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.
You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.
And you won’t.
“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”
“Stay.”
You’re not asking.
Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.
Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.
“You can stay, Jisung.”
He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.
It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.
In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
The inevitable question follows.
“Can I save the story for another time?”
“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”
“We should.”
Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.
You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.
In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.
You wake to a black hole.
For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.
Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.
Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.
The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.
The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.
Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.
You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.
But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.
At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.
You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.
Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.
And you recognize him for the first time ever.
You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.
“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.
Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.
He’s been having this nightmare.
It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.
Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.
Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.
Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.
This time, though, the snow tastes like something.
After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.
His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.
He wakes up.
“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”
You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.
“That’s—”
My shampoo.
A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.
“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”
“I don’t want you to be.”
“I don’t want you to cry for me.”
“You died.”
“And I would do it again.”
This response comes without an shred of hesitation.
You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.
Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?
Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.
He saves you the trouble.
“Honestly?”
Your confession stills.
“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.
“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”
You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.
“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”
You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.
“Don’t go,” he exhales.
You kiss him.
It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.
The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.
Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.
“I love you too,” you breathe.
The night comes and goes.
The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.
Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.
You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”
Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”
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