#also if you read through the whole thing? um you did that. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monzabee · 3 months

Text

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?”

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?”

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.

And who is he to deprive his girl?

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.”

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”

“I—what?�� Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow.

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?”

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?”

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?”

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?”

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?”

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?”

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?”

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?”

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.

Though he has other plans. Of course.

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?”

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips.

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.”

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.”

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?”

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen fluff #mas verstappen smut

1K notes · View notes

kisses4reid · 3 months

Text

ruined surprises | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you accidentally find a small, red, velvet box in aaron’s drawers.

genre - fluff, nonbau!reader x aaron, proposals, engagement rings, happy ending

warnings - mentions of anxiety, mixed feelings, um… being proposed to???

w.c. - idk why i put this here i never check before uploading. it’s only like 1k you’ll be okay.

a/n - hey pia why don’t we edit those drafts for the requests- no. ima do my own thing 😏🕷️also pls tell me abt mistakes i did not proof read this lol!

You sat at your dining table staring into space, or more specifically the bare wood in front of you. There were mixed emotions coursing through your veins. You felt as if your blood was changing from pink to green in the ugly mesh of conflicting feelings.

While this revelation brought you happiness and immense excitement, it also brought you fear. You were not supposed to find this, at least not now.

It stood prominent in your pocket, a pandora’s box of possibilities on how Aaron would react to your discovery. Would he be scared? Angry? Sad?

Your fingers picked at your nails as you took steadying breaths. The clock read only 5 minutes before Aaron returns from his vigorous job, 5 minutes before you’d have to reluctantly tell him you found the one thing he had been hiding from you.

The front door opens to your apartment and your palms start sweating in insecurity.

He’s tired, he’s worked all day, maybe it’s not the best time to bring it up. But what if he found out you knew the whole time? You’d be lying to him, and he values honesty above all else. What if it’s not for you? A gift, or maybe even an heirloom? Everything in your head started to doubt the one thing you wanted it to mean.

“Honey?”

Aaron stood at the end of the table, eyebrows low and eyes squinted slightly in concern. Coming home to your favourite person disassociating rigidly wasn’t a very warm welcome home. He would usually be greeted by a kiss, or the smell of a meal, or a bear hug. This was off, this was different.

“Aaron.” You smile, genuinely. Even with your anxiety raising your heartbeat by the second, there’s nothing that can keep you smiling from the sight of your handsome lover. Though the feeling was not long lived.

“Are you okay?” He asks, placing his bag down on the table and loosening his tie slightly.

“I’m… We need to talk.” You say with a gulp. You lowered your head and glanced at his expression quickly. It came out more serious than it needed to be, and honestly Aaron started thinking the worse.

He sat on the chair next to you and searched your avoiding eyes, “Y/n-“

“Before you say anything, and before I tell you about what,” you waved your hands slightly, “we’re actually talking about. I need you to know that if I’m wrong you can’t laugh at me, and you can’t get angry. Okay?”

He nodded more confused than ever. Okay so, the fact that he could possibly laugh from this ‘talk’ was a sign it wasn’t anything too bad. He only wished you’d stop taking deep breaths and get too it.

You sighed, tired of your own stalling before reaching in your back pocket and putting a small, deep red velvet box on the table. Aaron’s dark eyes latched onto the box and he sighed, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair in shock.

“Do you know what’s in there?” Maybe you hadn’t-

You nodded. He nodded back and closed his mouth in a tight lipped grimace. This was not how he planned his proposal to go.

You took a deep breath and quickly defended yourself, “I lost my sports bra, and I thought maybe I put it in your drawers accidentally so I opened them and found… that.”

Aaron looked into your eyes, you looked scared but as he watched your eyes soften he knew that you weren’t scared of the implications, you were scared you had done the wrong thing.

“Thank you for not pretending to be oblivious.” He said smoothly, receiving a small smile in return. It warmed his heart. Jesus, he thought you were breaking up with him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked through your stuff. I’ve ruined the surprise, your surprise-“

“It’s okay.” He smiled, bringing his hand over yours, pulling it to his mouth and kissing your knuckles. You smile softly and he continues, “Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“How?” You tilted your head and furrowed your brows, running your thumb over the back of his hand softly.

“Now you know I want to marry you.” Aaron’s cheeks reddened only slightly, and you laughed to bask in it. It wasn’t often you got your lover blushing.

“You told me you wanted to marry me on our fourth date. Trust me, I remember.”

He laughed this time and looked down at the box. “Did you like the ring?”

“I didn’t get a good look because I shut it immediately. I pinched my finger in the clasp.” You displayed your fingertip as proof, “But from what I saw, it was perfect.”

You didn’t ruin his plans at all, he thought. It wasn’t a terrible revelation, you didn’t give it to him and run away, you didn’t let him down easy. You were honest and turned the moment into a core memory. You laughed. Everything was good when you laughed.

Aaron placed a soft hand on your cheek and placed a loving kiss on your lips, you smiled into it. “You’ll just have to wait longer now.” He whispered jokingly, to which you slapped him on the chest and whined, no fair.

No. What wasn’t fair was that he would get the best life, with the most perfect wife in the world, and others wouldn’t.

But it was hard to feel sorry for others when you were in front of him.

About a month later. Aaron Hotchner decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

Aaron’s arm was on the back rest of the couch, legs stretched on a foot rest and you cross-legged beside him explaining the deep lore behind the movie that was playing in the background. You were blabbering on, voice changing between characters that you tried to imitate, and topic lighting up your face more than the TV screen.

And Aaron’s heart just couldn’t take it. He needed to ask you to marry him more than he needed anything else in the world. Those four words seemed to be the only cure to his love sickness (though he knew it would only get worse).

You laughed at one of your own jokes, and started to calm down your explanation.

“And that’s why the first actor got replaced.” You smiled and placed your hands in your lap, face triumphant. Aaron smiled softly, eyes tracing your face with love and adoration.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked.

You nodded, thinking it would be about the movie, “Of course.”

“Will you marry me?” He took the familiar velvet box from his sweatpant’s pocket and clicked it open, cheeks hurting in a smile as the ring was exposed to you for the second time. Aaron mentally scolded himself for not having a speech ready but seriously, he had not planned to do it tonight. It was a yearning, a need. Everything he would say to you, he promised to say a million times in your marriage as to not feel guilty about the bland proposal.

You held a hand over your mouth. Eyes glistening quickly, heartbeat seemingly still in your chest.

“Yes, oh my god. Aaron- Yes!” You threw yourself on him and squeezed his shoulders and back in a hug so tight he had to pat your back to get you off.

Not that he wanted you to stop, he just wanted to see you with a ring on your finger as quick as he could.

perm taglist (open!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

#criminal minds #aaron hotch oneshot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x fe!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

912 notes · View notes

tiredofthehumanlife · 19 days

Text

Is there anything better than pussy? Yes! A really good book.

Part one

Barbie dolls: Spencer Reid x gn! Reader

Word: 900

Summary: Derek find out about your secret relationship with Spencer

Warnings:non sexual nudity, you wear a robe, um idk, you eat cereal now and read books, extremely short

There wasn’t a lot you enjoyed about mornings. The sun was too bright. You were expected to stop sleeping. You had to get out of bed and get dressed. That’s a lot. You did enjoy it when you didn’t get the call first thing in the morning so you could laze around with your amazing, though mostly secret, boyfriend Spencer.

This morning, you laid around in bed with him tucked into your side for a whole 45 minutes. Then you both got up, made, and ate your breakfast in your pajamas. Now, you were taking a shared shower. You were scrubbing Spencer’s head, making the shampoo foamed up. It was nice when you got to stay in each other’s company without stressing about perception or cases. It felt like it was just you two in the world, wrapped up in your own warm and foggy universe.

And then there was a knock at the door. You huffed. You dropped your hands from Spencer’s hair, making him groan. You rinsed your hand in the stream of water from the shower head. You tugged the shower door open, slipping out to wrap yourself in your robe.

“I got it, you rinse your hair out.” You said. You slipped into your house shoes, leaving the attached bathroom to Spencer’s bedroom. You headed across the apartment to the front door. You looked through the peephole, dropping your jaw when you saw Derek. You muttered a curse and pulled the door open.

“Hello, Derek.” He raised a brow at you, looking you up and down. You opened the door further, Derek stepping through. He stopped near the door, looking around the living room.

“Is Pretty Boy here?” Derek asked. You nodded, pointing your thumb back at the bathroom.

“Yes, my water broke back at my apartment so I’m borrowing Reid’s shower. He’s in his bedroom right now, reading. I’ll go get him.” You said, skittering off to Reid’s bedroom. Derek nodded, dropping himself onto Spencer’s couch. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, crossing his ankles.

“Feet off the coffee table.” You said, slipping into Reid’s bedroom. You burst through the bathroom door.

“Derek’s here. You have to get dressed and pretend like we weren’t just in the shower together if you want to keep up this act.” You said. Spencer groaned and stuck his head out. You waited in the living room with Derek as Spencer rushed out of the shower.

A handful of minutes later, Spencer joined you two. He was in a fresh set of pajamas, slippers and everything. His hair was damp but it could be perceived as he took a shower earlier. You doubted Derek would believe that.

“Good book?” Derek asked. Spencer nodded. Derek bounced his foot, still on the coffee table.

“No feet on the coffee table,” Spencer muttered. Derek dropped his feet and stood up.

“Right well. Pretty Boy. I came over here to pay you back for last week.” Derek said. Derek moved across the living room, standing in front of Spencer. Derek shoved his hand into his pocket, digging out his wallet. You watched them from the couch. Derek handed Spencer a few bills before spinning back around to head for the front door. Spencer thanked him, following after him because his wallet was in the key dish next to the door. Derek held his hand up, turning back around to face Spencer.

“Also, you two are going to have to try a little harder to hide this dating thing from Penelope,” Derek said. Spencer looked over at you for a split second.

“We’re not dating,” Spencer said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I told you, my water broke in my apartment.” You added, crossing your arms.

“And Reid still has shampoo in his hair behind his ear. You have matching house slippers, cute by the way. Your favorite book is sitting on Reid’s counter. Your keys are in his bowl. You two are stuck together like glue at work. You know Pretty Boy’s house rules. I saw your favorite cereal sitting over Reid’s Chex mix. There are pictures of you together on Reid’s fridge. If you guys really think this is going to fly under Pelenope’s radar, you’re missing a couple of screws.” Derek said, turning back to the door.

“Don’t tell Penelope. Let her figure it out on her own, please. Once she finds out, everyone will know.” You said, avoiding Derek’s eyes to stare at the coffee table. Spencer hummed in agreement.

“You know I can’t lie to her, but I won't bring it up,” Derek said. He faced Spencer again, slapping his shoulder. “Look at you, growing up.” Spencer pouted his lips, staring at the ground.

“See you at work,” Spencer said. Derek hummed.

“yeah, whatever, losers.” You added. Derek gave you a small smile, waving before slipping out of Reid’s apartment. Spencer locked his door again and looked over at you. You stood up and dragged him back to the shower.

Three days later, Penelope did figure it out. She peiced it together when she watched you make Spencer his coffee and set it in front of him. She saw your hand resting on his shoulder for just a second longer than a friend’s would and almost dropped her Hello Kitty mug. Within minutes, everyone knew and Hotch was calling you and Reid into his office.

You fully tought he was going to tear you both a new one but it ended with him handing you both a stack of paperwork and congratulating you. So your movie and take-out date night turned into paperwork and take-out date night.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you

559 notes · View notes

suiana · 1 month

Text

i spent the whole day reading and watching fianl fantasy 7 and guys pls imagine yandere! creation

you're an evil scientist and because you can and you want to, you created this absolute beast of a man.

he's perfect in every single aspect. height, strength, build, even his cock is huge.

anyway the evil corporate shitheads steal your creation from you when he was still newly created because they wanted to use him as a weapon. that... worked out well for them because when they took your perfect man he was still fresh like a newborn baby and didn't know shit.

they brainwashed him into thinking his parents had died and they took him in because you know. they took him in and raised him on his parent's behalf... a sad backstory makes a good hero am i right? it'll also give him more motivation to 'kill' the enemies that 'killed' his parents.

meanwhile you didn't really care that much that they took him away. sure, you were annoyed because he was expensive to make. but if you really wanted to, you could just make another version of him that was even better.

one day while you were doing your silly little things in your silly little lab... your creation burst into your office with a few of his teammates following beside him.

"give up you evil..."

his voice falls flat, eyes widening as the long sword he pointed at you slowly got lowered. you merely raised an eyebrow, frowning at him as his teammates continue to point their weapons at you. oh, did the corporate people send these guys to kill you?

you were going to willingly give up, cause, well, there's no way you were going to win in a fight against your creation. not when you created him to be a god in human form. he'd kill you before you even got the chance to stand up.

however...

you could only stand in silence as his sword pierced his teammates and ended their lives brutally. what the? he's killing them??

their screams of pain and terror ring through your ears as your creation steps towards you, blood on his hands and face as he drops in front of your legs. he kneels on the ground, his cheeks a beautiful shade of red as he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

"my creator."

he mumbles, getting you all bloody as well. you didn't dare to move from your spot, fearing that he might kill you if you resisted him. damn, did he remember you or something? did seeing you unlock some sleeping memory that you created him?

you didn't know, and you didn't want to know. especially not with how he looks crazed for you now. did growing up as a soldier of war make him lose a few screws? it probably did. because why is he now carrying you in his arms and treating you like you're some sort of god?

"um-"

"hush now, we'll have plenty of time to talk once this is done."

your creation then kills everyone in the vicinity, bringing the palce where you work to ruins and making it totally uninhabitable.

...then he floats away awkwardly with you in his arms to some deserted far off island.

"i've finally found you, my creator."

"erm-"

"we'll be happy together. i'll take care of you."

oh well, at least he has big boobs.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere creation #yandere creation x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

962 notes · View notes

heizlut · 7 months

Note

Jealousy pt 2 😍 (I love ur writing sm omgz..) (have a good day/night)

i’m sooo sorry i’m just now getting to this. this request and the others before this one were made when i was getting my life together after my breakup but i’m here now! thank you so much, i’m so happy you love my writing❤️❤️ since you didn’t specify specific characters, this one will be with cyno, wanderer, ayato, and heizou☺️ (i never write for them and they need to be shown some love)

cw: none!

tags: multiple chars x reader (separate), lowkey yandere!ayato, fem!reader

read part 1 here!

m!list here

Cyno~

You and Cyno had been together for so long now. It had started when you were introduced through Tighnari, who had taken you on as his newest assistant after hearing about how you made the top of your class in the same darshan Tighnari graduated from a few of years prior. Tighnari would go on and on about how much easier his research has been since you became his assistant until Cyno had enough and demanded to meet you. Cyno hates to admit it, but it was practically love at first sight. Not only were you a strong fighter with good instincts when you needed to be, you were also whole-heartedly passionate for what you held interest in.

Cyno had asked you and Tighnari to take a break from research to join him for TCG night at the tavern, to which you both agreed. Once arriving to the tavern, you three take your usual table and get set up for the match. Drinks were ordered to the table and the heated match began. When it came to playing TCG with Cyno, the matches either ended swiftly or he would purposefully draw them out just to win in the end. Somehow, over the course of the match, you and Tighnari ended up helping each other here and there with, whispering in each other's ears about strategies for your next moves.

Cyno watched the two of you, not particularly enjoying how physically close you two were getting as you both snickered and whispered to each other. He did his best to keep his cool until Tighnari's fingers grazed yours as he turned your deck towards him to guide you on your next move. You paid no mind to it, but Cyno could feel the possessed spirit within him practically clawing its way out of his body, looking for a fight. Tighnari was the first to notice the subtle flashes of purple light that began to linger around Cyno's body, a clear sign that the spirit was trying to take over, "Um, Cyno?"

Tighnari's concerned tone made you look up from your cards to see the sight before you. Your smile slips into one of concern and you get up from the table and move towards Cyno's spot, "How about we take a break and get some fresh air? Just you and me..." Cyno's red eyes seem to flash as they meet yours, but all he does is nod. You give an apologetic smile to Tighnari who just nods in understanding. You and Cyno step outside into the sticky, hot night. You reach up with both hands, placing them lightly on his tanned cheeks, "Cyno, love... Tell me what's wrong?"

The sweet, soft sound of your voice, your gentle touch, and the way you were looking at him with such love and concern put the possessed spirit to rest. He looks into your eyes and sighs, not one to admit his emotions let alone jealousy, "I don't want to talk about it at the moment." His tone monotone as usual, but the look in his eyes held a hint of longing, "As much as I hate to say this, let's forget about the match and go home...please." You kiss the tip of his nose, making his cheeks go a light shade of red, "Alright. Let's gather our things and say goodbye to our friend."

Wanderer~

Ever since Wanderer regained his memories, Nahida had asked you to keep an eye on him. You two hardly got along until one night, months ago, he kissed you. He likes to say it was a temporary moment of weakness, but you knew better. Ever since then, you two have been almost inseparable as you helped him with Akademiya projects or wandered through Sumeru.

On this particular afternoon, you had resigned yourself to the House of Daena with a male student you couldn't remember the name of for the life of you. He approached you knowing that you always helped Wanderer get the best grades on his project and promised to pay you handsomely if you could help him as well. You shrugged and agreed, not denying the chance to earn such a nice amount of mora.

Wanderer was pissed when he couldn't find you until he entered the House Of Daena. He felt ready to explode when he saw you sitting so close to that random guy, seemingly laughing at something he had said while you reached over (a little too close in Wanderer's opinion), making a correction on the guy's paper. You look up with surprise which turns to the cutest smile when you see Wanderer approach the table, completely unaware of just how pissed off he was. The foul look on Wanderer's face didn't go unnoticed by the guy you were working with who now had a subtle smirk on his face.

Wanderer's eyebrows furrow as he clenches his fist, "I suggest you wipe that stupid smirk off your face and walk away now while you still can." You blink once in confusion. Your eyes flitting between the guy and your boyfriend, "What are you going on about now?" Wanderer's frustrated gaze falls to you, his demeanor almost cracks when he sees how cute and oblivious you look. Then his gaze returns to the guy who hasn't made a single move to leave, "I gave you a warning already. Don't make me repeat myself or you won't have legs to walk away with."

The guy puts his hands up defensively and takes his stuff, only leaving half the amount he had promised to pay you as he walks away grumbling to himself. You look up at Wanderer, your initial shock morphing into quiet laughter that you tried so hard to hold in. He plops himself into the seat next to you, shooting you a glare, "What's so funny?" The childlike angry pout on his face made it hard to contain your laughter, "Are you jealous right now?" Wanderer looks like you just said the greatest insult, but the redness of his cheeks give away how embarrassed he is, "Yeah, right. As if I'd be jealous of a weak nobody." You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, which makes him blush up to his ears, "Whatever you say~"

Ayato~

You were so precious to Ayato. He simply cannot imagine his life without you. You were smart, strong, and so sweet; he couldn't ever get enough of you. It wasn't really a secret how close Ayato kept you. Honestly he was a bit too obsessed with you, but that's part of what made you fall for him in the first place. Wherever he was, you were too. Except for today.

Today you had spent most of your day with Aether helping him with a commission he had insisted he needed your guidance on. Of course, you had asked Ayato from permission first. That's just how your relationship was and you didn't mind it one bit. Ayato was a bit wary of sending you off without him being by your side, but Aether insisted he would keep you safe and he knew you were capable of handling yourself. So, begrudgingly, Ayato agreed but made you promise to be back before nightfall, dragging you in for an over the top kiss to your lips.

Hours had gone by and Ayato felt he was about to go insane without you by his side. He gets up from his desk and begins pacing the estate, bringing on questioning looks from the guards and groundskeepers. It's not long until he hears one of the guards by the main gate give his greeting. It takes Ayato so much restraint to keep himself from practically storming over to you and taking you into his arms. Aether was still with you, and Ayato had an image to upkeep. What he didn't expect to see was Aether holding you as if you were his bride as he entered the grounds. "What is the meaning of this?", Ayato demands as he quickly approaches the two of you.

You stir in Aether's arms, turning your head to give Ayato a tired smile before your eyes close once again. Ayato is absolutely furious as he practically rips you out of Aether's arms, making you let out a sleepy groan, "You have three seconds to explain why you have brought her home in such a state, in your arms no less." You nuzzle into Ayato's chest and Aether releases a breath, "We got dragged into a fight with some Kairagi." If Ayato hadn't been holding you tightly in his arms, he would have drawn his sword to Aether's throat. Sensing the immense anger, Aether raises his hands defensively, "Don't worry, she doesn't have a single scratch on her. I think she just passed out from exhaustion."

Ayato looks down at your beautiful sleeping face, then glares up at Aether, "Do you mean to tell me you checked her body for scratches? I've heard enough. Please exit quickly before I do something I may come to regret." Aether looks sincerely apologetic as he leaves the estate and Ayato carries you to your shared bedroom. Once he lays you on the bed, he gets in and immediately holds you as if you were going to disappear right in front of his eyes. Ayato nuzzles into your hair, breathing in your scent, speaking softly so as to not wake you, "I will not allow any man to touch you nor allow you to leave my presence ever again."

Heizou~

Everyone knew you were Detective Heizou's girlfriend. He would never shut up about you, going on and on about how you're almost just as bright as he is when it comes to solving cases. It also takes a lot for him to feel jealousy with the big ego he has. How could anyone be better than him? That would be absurd and simply out of the question. But one person seems to put him on edge despite both of you being so close to him: Kazuha.

There was something about Kazuha's easy-going and free-spirited nature that made Heizou want to pay close attention to the way you and him acted while in each other's presence. It wasn't that he didn't trust you or Kazuha, he just had this unfamiliar feeling that bubbled up inside of him whenever he would see you laugh together or be near each other. The night stars were shining brightly as the three of you laid on an empty cliff, away from the main city of Inazuma. You were laying between both boys as you admired the twinkling stars. You and Kazuha were going on and on about the constellations, recalling the mythology behind them with such passion and romanticism. You and Kazuha were very similar in that aspect. Everything to you both had a sense of romance to it which Heizou normally found endearing, but not in this moment.

Kazuha was telling you the story behind Orion's constellation as you listened with great intrigue. Heizou was growing jealous of the conversation and the way you kept looking from Kazuha and back up to the stars. Heizou wanted you to do that for him. You were his girlfriend for fucks sake, not Kazuha's. So he makes a quick decision, grabbing your hand to get your attention, effectively cutting Kazuha off from his story-telling by butting in, "I know of an even better story." You and Kazuha look to Heizou, confused but interested. Heizou clears his throat and begins telling a tale of a god who gave up his power for a human girl he had fallen for just so that he could be with her. When he finishes, you and Kazuha share a look and you speak up first, "Did you just make that up?"

Heizou's face heats up and he frowns, looking away from you both which makes you laugh, "Why are you pouting? It was a cute story, love." Kazuha tries his best not to laugh which only makes Heizou more annoyed, "Why is it that you can romance my girlfriend but I can't?" Now both you and Kazuha begin to laugh, not at Heizou, but of the absurdity of his statement. Now furious with jealousy, Heizou moves to get up from his spot, but you grab hold of his hand, giving him a silly smile, "You don't need to 'romance' me with silly stories, I much prefer your ramblings when you're going on about a case." Heizou's expression relaxes, but still huffs out a breath, "Then quit getting all gooey with him over those balls of gas in the sky." Kazuha finds this to be the perfect opportunity to crack a joke, "Would you prefer we discuss other types of balls instead?" This makes Heizou's demeanor crack completely as laughter from all three of you fills the night air.

a/n: writing this made me realize i actually love writing for ayato! he gives serious yandere vibes but in the best way. i hope you liked this anon❤️

#genshin smut #cyno smut #wanderer smut #ayato smut #heizou smut #genshin impact smut #cyno x reader #wanderer x reader #ayato x reader #heizou x reader smut #heizou x reader #cyno x reader smut #wanderer x reader smut #ayato x reader smut

786 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 4 months

Text

how did it end? | arsenal x reader

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm, alcohol abuse, depression

um yeah lol feel grateful for this because i’m going to go ghost mode for the rest of the week! to the anons who have a problem with my writing, don’t fucking read this if it’s such a problem, in fact don’t read any of my stuff at all, my page is a better place without you.

Everything about the day had felt wrong.

Everything about your last month had felt wrong, really the whole year if you thought about it.

It had all started after a blindside move from your home club. Leaving Rsenal had been the worst thing that had ever happened, but you’d known it was coming after they’d signed Russo. There was only so much room for strikers on the team, and your contract happened to be out as the summer started, leaving you as a free agent.

Somehow, you’d ended up at PSG, which you still didn’t understand. There had been offers everwhere, Lyon, Real Madrid, Man City, Chelsea, Bayern, Wolfsburg, yet your manager had fucked you and gone for PSG.

It had been a clusterfuck from the day you’d arrived, the language barrier, your horrible mental state, the different playing structure, the weather, your lonely apartment, the lack of friendships, the lack of support.

It had taken a month before you’d crashed and burned, withdrawing yourself from both club and national team. You’d been lower then low, sadder then sad, completely withdrawn from your own life. You wish you’d stayed, you wish that none of it had of happened, because maybe life wouldn’t have turned out the way it had, maybe you’d be happier.

Your Arsenal teammates had visited as often as the schedule permitted, helped you move your whole life from one country to the other, but at the end of the day you were still hundreds of miles away from them.

You’d stopped answering their calls after a few weeks, too consumed with the completely inebriating struggle that you were going through in Paris, trying to stay true to yourself whilst being so far in the deep end of the pool that you were struggling to keep your head above the water.

After the call to Sarina and the call to your manager it had made more sense for you to return to London, even if it had pained you to do so.

Not a month after you’d packed your whole life away against your will, you were packing it all back up.

You didn’t like what happened in Paris, you weren’t proud of it, all you wanted was to get back to your house in St. Albans, but you were also terrified of what your ‘home’ looked like now. It wasn’t the same place it had been for the last 8 years, you didn’t have your bestfriends as teammates more, you didn’t have any teammates, you were unofficially, self-decidedly, retired. Sarina had begged for you to return, tried to reckon with you, but you were done, your love for the game had died in Paris and you had no desire to re-open the wounds that had been torn into your skin in France.

You didn’t tell anyone, you just hoped that you’d be able to avoid everyone for as long as possible, that you’d just be able to slowly become nonexistent and become forgotten by everyone from the past 20 years of your life, but you were aware that life didn’t work that way.

You were sick of all the pain you were going through, all the suffering that you were being forced to endure for no good reason. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, you didn’t feel like you had anybody to talk to about it, it was just you nowadays.

That was how you spent most of your nights, alone.

Alone with a bottle of your posion of choice sitting on your bathroom floor.

It was the only thing that made it all better nowadays, the feeling of alcohol slipping down your throat, typically with a razor blade in your other hand.

There was something satisfying about it all, something perfect about being perfectly intoxicated with a sliver of metal between your finger tips.

On this particular day, you knew you’d drunk to much, but it had all been wrong. You’d woken up with a headache, in your shower, the tiles of your floor stained with your own blood. It wasn’t a uncommon place for you to wake up anymore, but everything about it felt wrong. Your head was aching in a way it never had, your whole body was hurting and for some reason it all just felt off.

You went about your normal routine, pushing the temperature of your shower to as hot as it would go, finding peace in the blistering water falling down across your skin. Once your skin was bright red you’d climb out, falling into your bed to help to sleep off the rift that the hangover had left inside of you. Around midday you would climb out of your bed, slipping out from the covers to enjoy your few hours of life that your days now gave you. Sometimes it would be spent in your kitchen, trying your hardest to piece together some kind of sustenance, other days making and eating food was too hard. On this particular day, you forgoed your kitchen, instead opting to walk straight past it and out onto your patio, as per the usual london weather, it was pouring down, but you didn’t mind too much.

The rain was nice, it reminded you that not everything in life was pretty, your life certainly wasn’t pretty anymore. Rain was a reminder that everyday could be turned upside down just based off of something that was completely out of anybodys control.

After deciding it was a bit too wet to enjoy the outdoors you tracked your way back indoors, your bare feet creasing and digging into the hard, cold wood floors of your home. You eyed off your uncomfortable couch, the one that your manager had found on facebook marketplace which was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture you thought could be bought. It kind of felt like a metaphor for you, you’d been bought, and it had been the worst decision PSG had made, and you were destined, just like the couch, to be thrown away without anybody really knowing or caring.

You walked straight past the couch and back to your bed, there wasn’t any living for you to do today, it just felt that way, so you pulled the covers back over your body and enjoyed the moment of peace that your bed gave you.

It didn’t last long, your body relaxing into the mattress for a few seconds before the restlessness took over. It was like that nowadays, your body never able to stop. You figured it was probably a result of your body going from pushing its limits everyday, mentally and physically to you doing absolutely nothing. Previously, when you’d been in a depressive episode you would sleep all day, no matter what had been happening, but not anymore. Now, you had to drink yourself into oblivion before your body would force itself to relax, you could be as exhausted and tired as you wanted but your body just wouldn’t let you sleep.

Your brain convinced you that your mattress was the lumpiest mattress made, when you really knew you’d hand picked it for it’s comfort. You brain tricked you into feeling like all of your curtains were wide open on a summers day when really they were drawn closed. Your mind was playing tricks on you and you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

That’s how you’d ended up on your bathroom floor so early, the overwhelming need for you to fix the pain becoming too much for you. With a bottle of vodka in one hand and your scared silver blade in the other you finally found yourself at peace.

The stomachache and burn of the vodka going down your throat didn’t truly matter, not when you were staring down at the thin criss cross of lines all over your thighs.

Some were healed, some were thick, some were thin, some were sore. They all told a different story. Thighs were the easiest, less arteries, good to hide, disguisable. They didn’t bleed the same way wrists did, they bled slow and painfully, a couple of lines never hurt you.

With the mix of last nights alcohol though and the new vodka mixed with the sight of blood you found yourself feeling woozy.

You hadn’t always been a cutter, self-harm hadn’t always been your vice. It had always been football. From the minute the ball was at your feet it had been football, and you wouldn’t of had it any other way. It had been your everything, football had been your life and until it had been taken from you, you hadn’t understood the true magnitude of what that meant. Your life had no purpose, no substance, nothing, without your game. Football had been the only thing you were good at, and you were extremely good at it. You’d given up on school in pursuit of your footballing career and it had been worth it, up until now.

Now your life was nothing but a big mess.

You wished it had worked out in Paris, you wished that you’d been able to farewell London and make a new home in France, but it hadn’t meant to be. All of your talent, all of your love, all of your passion, it was all for nothing now. Everything you’d ever done amounted to nothing, you were nothing without a pair of boots on your feet and a football in front of you.

You were never going to be the same again, it was all different now, and you were man enough to admit that you missed what you’d had. There were things that you lost in life, in the heartbreak and the struggles, you just hadn’t expected that you would lose the meaning of your life in the process. You had a hard time understanding why it had to happen to you, why you’d been the unlucky one. You paid your dues, you’d woken up at 5am every single morning to run drills, you’d worked your ass of and yet here you were, drunk on your bathroom floor wishing that you were gone.

Once upon a time you’d believed that a person would do anything for the thing that they loved most in the world, but you didn’t believe ion that anymore, love was supposed to be the most powerful thing on earth, and yet it had failed you.

It was funny because you could drink all of the alcohol you wanted but it never made you forget about what you’d lost. The hundreds of memories of football over the years, Arsenal, it had all been Arsenal. You’d been the kind of player where you’d always been one club, from academy all the way through to the senior team, you bled arsenal. Nobody even asked you what your dream team was, because it had always been Arsenal, you hadn’t had eyes for anywhere else. Yet you’d been thrown away like nothing.

You’d loved playing for Arsenal, when you put your jersey on at the beginning of every game you felt ten times stronger, qall of your bestest friends had been at Arsenal, your bridesmaids, your for life friends, and yet now it all felt like you were drifting away.

For the longest time you’d chosen the good options, the healthy options, what was right.

Now though, you chose destruction.

You sleep when your blackout drunk.

You drink caffeine late at night.

You stay awake until your eyes burn.

You always say yes to whatever vice your brain can think of.

You drink water instead of food and vodka instead of water,

You’re isolated beyond the point of it being okay, nowadays you spend more time with yourself then anybody else.

Maybe it was the vodka that made you feel particularly adventurous, or the scent of your own blood seeping across your skin, but whatever it was it somehow inclined you to reach for your phone which was rested on the tiles besides you.

You’d turned your notifications off long ago, as soon as the trade had come through.

You’d ignored everyone’s messages for the sake of preserving your own mental state, you couldn’t deal with the constant back and forth of trying to keep friendships which felt like had already gone.

You were more intoxicated than normal, or that was how you rationalized your behaviour, because there really wasn’t any other explanation to it, unless all of the emotions from the last few months had suddenly hit you a lot harder then normal.

But you were sick of being alone, you knew that, you’d been alone for far too long.

Maybe the alcohol had pushed that to the forefront to your mind, or you’d just become inherently desperate.

Your phone rang, the sound vibrating against the tile floor of the bathroom, amplifying it to your ears, the noise ringing out in your ear canal.

It didn’t take long for the ringing to cease, the sound of silence absorbing around you.

“y/n? Is that you?”

You blinked a few times, swallowing down the final remnants of your last swig of vodka.

“Hey.”

Your voice was shaky, from the days of not saying any words at all, you didn;t have any reason to speak if you were all by yourself.

“Hi.”

The silence stayed thick, obviously neither of you unsure about what to say.

“Are you okay, no ones heard anything from you in a few weeks.”

You’d vanished, for the good of yourself.

“I wish I’d stayed, le.”

Their was a deep breath exhaled from the other side of the line.

“I wish you’d stayed too, y/n.”

You couldn’t think of a single positive that had come from you leaving, not a single one.

“I wish I’d stayed now, I wish I’d been given the chance.”

You could fele the tears building up in the corners of your eyes.

“Me too, y/n.”

The tears were falling, the water falling from your cheeks falling onto the blood on your legs, the two liquids mixing together, the blood turning into red as they two mixed, blood did run thicker than water.

“I wish i’d stayed le, I wish none of this had happened.”

You didn’t want to know what the blonde on the other side of the phone was thinking about at this moment, you weren;t thinking about her, just yourself.

“Hold in there kid, for me, it’s all going to work itself out.”

There was no working it out, this was the end for you.

“I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend that i wish I hadn’t of stayed, that I don’t spend everyday regretting it, I want it all back.”

You pushed the blade down against your skin again.

Drawing the metal against your skin until the blood had begun to pool at the base of the two or three inch line.

“Where are you kid, are you in Paris? Do you need me to send someone to come and check on you? You shouldn’t be drinking like this by yourself, especially not in season.”

There wasn’t a season for you anymore, you were free, you could do whatever you pleased.

“I’m at home, and I’m fine.”

You pulled the blade up, and onto a new patch of skin, it was all littered with past scars, raised white lines.

“You don’t sound fine kid, I have plenty of friends in France, don’t make me get them to come and hunt you down.”

Her voice was an attempt at threatening, but it sounded more worried then anything.

“I’m not in Paris, I left after my contract was annulled.”

Annulled aka we’re letting you go without any pay but you still technically belong to us until the length of your contract is up.

“Annulled?”

You would have thought Sarina would have told the team, but apparently not.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m retired.”

Retired was not a word that you thought should fall from a twenty four year olds mouth, but here you were.

“Retired? Where are you, y/n?”

You supposed the alcohol might have been making your tongue a little bit looser.

“In my house, in my bathroom.”

Another deep exhale, you could just picture the woman pinching the bridge of her nose, maybe even frowning.

“Your house, where?”

You picked up the bottle of alcohol, taking a break from the razor blade to allow the vodka to ease back down your oesophagus.

“St Albans.”

The line went silent for a few seconds.

“You’re back home, since when?”

Another sip of your vodka.

“Couple of weeks, France wasn’t for me.”

France was the end of you.

“How much have you been drinking? You sound awful.”

You didn’t think you sounded that bad, but you also supposed a sober person would have a different perspective.

“Vodka, feels good le.”

Another deep exhale.

“I’m going to come over.”

Rustling on the other side of the phone.

“I’m fine, I’m good, you don’t need to come over.”

You were lying to both yourself and Leah.

“You aren’t fine, you aren’t good, and even if you want to tell yourself you are, I need to see you in real life because for the last months I’ve thought you were as good as dead. Are you safe, y/n?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question, you hadn’t felt safe with yourself in what felt like forever.

“I’m not unsafe.”

More rustling on the other side of the line.

“Do I need to bring somebody with me? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

You thought about it for a few seconds.

“I’m okay Le.”

The alcohol made you feel more okay then you had been, so you supposed it wasn;t fully a lie.

“You’re drunk at 6pm, I don’t think you are fine. I’m going to go get Viv, she knows how to deal with you when you’re spiralling, I’m going to stay on the phone with you and ask you some questions, okay, I’m walking out to my car now.”

You nodded your head, the realized that Leah wasn’t in front of you.

“Answer me honestly, are you safe right now, do you feel safe?”

You didn’t feel unsafe, you kewn by the looks of things, you were in a unsafe position. Alcohol and self harm wasn’t exactly the safest thing, but you felt at peace, and you knew that you weren’t causing any serious bodily harm to yourself.

“Depends on your perspective.”

You heard the sound of car doors.

“Okay, I’ll break it down, hmm? Are you within arms reach of something that could cause harm to you or others?”

Fuck.

“Yes.”

The sound of the phone connecting to bluetooth and keys in a ignition.

“What?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“Bottle of vodka and a blade.”

It wasn’t hard for you to admit, not when this had been how you’d spent all of your nights the last while.

“What kind of blade?”

You wished you’d stayed, you wished you weren’t in this position.

“Razor.”

You could feel the bile rising in your throat, whether it was alcohol related or from the cosntant questions.

“Alright, I want you to push them both as far away from you as possible, don’t look at them, don’t think about them, think about me. Now, have you caused yourself any harm?”

God, if you’d been able to stay none of this would be happening, none of it.

“Some cuts, le I think I’m going to be sick.”

The tears were full throttle, the sound of somebody’s voice that you’d missed so much in your ears and the vomit bottling itself up in your throat.

“Go to the toilet bowl, let it out.”

The taste of bile in your throat was never going to be something you enjoyed, the feeling of the new cuts along your thighs creasing as you crouched over the bowl stinging in a way that reawakened you.

The vomiting didn’t really stop, the continuous gagging being the only sound in your bathroom, beside the sound of Leah’s car.

Eventually, you finished, all of the clearish liquid mixed with your stomach acid sitting at the bottom of the bowl like a disgusting soup.

You laid down against your tiles, enjoying the cold that covered your skin.

Viv must have been picked up, because you could hear her and Beth talking in the background, beth, happy beth, beth who had once been your bestest friend.

“Bubba, you still with us, we’re just around the corner.”

You let out a groan in aggreance.

They continued to talk to you, allowing you to reply with different huffs and noises as they neared closer and closer to your home.

You ignored the hit of endorphins that you felt melt across you at the sound of your front door unlocking, Leah had kept your key, clearly.

It was a few seconds before your bathroom was crowded by the presence of your past teammates, the three sets of eyes all falling on you.

“Beth, go get a wet handwasher, Leah go get her some water.”

Viv’s voice was soft, but commanding, her body immediately gravitating to your own.

She crouched down beside you, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you upwards, bringing you eye to eye with her.

“It’s good to have you back.”

You burst into tears, you’d hated being in St Albans out of fear that you’d be rejected, that you’d be told to go back to France, and yet here you were being welcomed back with open arms.

“I wish I’d stayed vivi, I wish I’d stayed, I wish none of this had happened, I want it all back, I want my life back. I can’t do this life anymore.”

Viv brought you into her arms.

“I know liefje, I know, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to figure it out, but we need to get you safe first, and this isn’t it. You need to be in a better place.”

If Viv had a problem with the way thart you clinged to her clothes, literally holding on for dear life, then she didn’t brign it up.

“You could have called one of us earlier you know, when you were struggling in France. You could have called me, you know I’ve been where you are, I’ve moved and hated every single part of it, we could have helped you before it had gotten this bad.”

You shook your head.

“Nobody could have helped me vivi, nothing could have helped me, I was done, I’m done.”

Viv nodded into you.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up, and then you’ll go back to Leah’s house, and then we’ll work on fixing this, okay, Kyra’s going to be so happy to know you’re back, she’s missed you, the bloody kid hasn’t shut up about you and she only knew you for a week. Kim’s been contacting everybody, trying to figure out where you were, her little protege, she’s been hardly functioning, we all have been, you can’t just disappear on us like that, you had us all worried sick.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Really?”

Viv let go of you a bit, to get a proper look at you.

“Just because you’re forced to leave doesn’t make you any less Arsenal. You can take the girl out of arsenal but not arsenal out of the girl. No matter where you go, or what you do, you’re always going to be one of us.”

You could feel more tears beginning to form.

“I don’t know how it could have ended how it did vivi.”

You felt the Dutch take a deep breath.

“I don’t know either, but we’ve got you alright, we’ve got you now, we won’t let you leave, your staying with us forever, you took a year off of my life for everyday that you ghosted us.”

You looked down and around you, at the mostly empty vodka bottle, the blood, the scars, it all, and you didn’t know how it had all ended up like this.

“How did it all end vivi?”

Viv looked at you, just as lost as you felt.

“We’re going to figure it out.”

——————————————————————

just thought i’d end this with a little etiquette lesson for any anons xo

if you feel like dropping hate over this in my inbox… don’t.

if you feel like having a go at me for this fic… don’t.

if you feel like making personally rude arguments about me… don’t.

if you feel like having a go at for me for expressing my struggles with writing and sometimes making mistakes… don’t.

just don’t. go touch some grass, go for a run, buy a new fucking vibrator. i can guarantee you will get more pleasure from a good orgasm then dropping aimless hate in my inbox.

541 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 6 months

Note

You can lay blame for this second ask at @hoifne 's feet, I saw their comment on the post and had to:

How did folks react to the moon landing?

"You're ready? No Big Regrets?" Renji asks. He always asks. He'd done hundreds of Konso rituals now that he was doing his mandatory tour of duty in the living world, but he never wants them to feel 'routine', so he talks to the ghosts. Hypes them up a bit for the afterlife, tries to keep his heart in it.

Especially when it's a kid.

"Well, it's not really a big deal..." The ghost Suichi considers. He was maybe ten or eleven years old. Thick prescription glasses, face round with puppy fat, very loved. Love won't stop a freak electrical accident though. Young Suichi is handling his sudden departure really well, all things considered, so maybe love does stop despair. "-but its a bit of a shame that if there's no TV in the afterlife, I won't be able to watch the moon landing."

"Yeah, we're a bit behind the times, but I'm sure one of the mad geniuses in the 12th will invent one sooner than late-" Renji grins ruffling the boy's hair before the rest of the sentence registers. "-The What Landing?"

"The Moon Landing!" Suichi lights up with excitement. "They just launched the rocket yesterday! But in just three days, man will walk on the moon!"

"...The Moon?" Renji blinks, bewildered.

"Yeah!"

Renji points up over his shoulder into the sky, gripping the boy's shoulder, eyes wide. "THE MOON IN THE FUCKING SKY?"

---

The lights of the Fifth division offices reflect blankly off of Captain Aizen's glasses as he attempts to process the news. He is entirely still, save for his eyebrows which are writhing like overcaffienated caterpillars, unable to settle on an emotion to convey.

"The Moon?" Lieutenant Ichimaru squints at Renji even harder than usual, pointing up out the window behind him. "The Moon in the fucking sky?"

"Yeah!" Renji spread his hands. "I didn't believe it either but the humans have managed to work out some neat trick with the way the world turns to like, throw the spaceship like a slingshot..?" he tried to explain.

"So, so there's three guys in a boat-" Captain Aizen tried again, reaching up under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

"It's really more like a sealed metal tube, but they call it a Space Ship because it does sorta sail through space..." Renji tried to explain, holding up the newspaper from the living world he'd brought back to substantiate his claims and also provide helpful images to explain what was happening.

"So there's three guys in a metal tube and they... threw it into the sky so hard that instead of falling it started flying instead?" Aizen tried. "How do they even throw something that hard without Kido?"

"So the men are up in this little itty bitty bit at the top that looks like a cap on a vaccine needle-" Renji pointed at the image of the Apollo 11 rocket. "-All the rest of this is the uh. enormous amount of extremely coordinated high explosives they used to launch it. The. The whole thing is like... It's a little over three hundred fifty shaku and only 12 shaku of that is where the humans are. The rest is um. Air they smooshed so hard it became liquid and then they set that on fire and look at the picture you can see the kaboom!" Renji tried to explain, pushing the paper across Aizen's desk for his captain to read.

Aizen certainly pointed his face at the image and accompanying article, but 'read' may have been a bit beyond him at the moment.

"Oh, is that all it took?" Ichimaru hummed with interest. "Well fuck, why haven't we done that?"

"Oh yes, how very silly that the humans have beaten us at the trifling matter of FLINGING OURSELVES INTO SPACE, WHAT THE *HELL* ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ICHIMARU??" Aizen objected.

"Well like. Idea's sound. Moon goes around the earth, so a smaller thing should too. And we can absolutely make a sealed metal container and kaboom bigger than that." Gin shrugged, as though this were plainly obvious. "Betchya the clown that runs the twelfth has the stuff laying around- we got a meeting with him later today anyway, why not ask?"

"Oh sure, that's a great Idea!" Aizen beamed. "Why hello Kurotsuchi-taicho, curious news from the human world- do you think you could spare a few parts and several tons of explosives to send some guys for a stroll on the moon?"

There was a moment of silence where Renji and Gin shared an awkward glance (or at least, Renji gave meaningful look to the narrow slits where his lieutenant-commander's eyes theoretically were).

"...he'd agree to that in a heartbeat, if he hasn't started work on his own Spaceboat already." Aizen groaned.

---

"No." Grunted Mayuri.

"No? Why not?" Aizen asked, head cocked to the side like a confused spaniel.

"Look, what the old man doesn't know about budget expenditures won't hurt him!" Gin smiled encouragingly. "Think of all the scientific data you'd get to research!"

"What the old man finds out about budget expenditures after the fact can and will hurt me." Mayuri growled. "It's not cookie money, kitting an expedition to the living world to engineer a spaceship with atomic matter instead of Reishi- No, much more efficient to let the humans do it for us and poach the date from them."

"...Why would we need to go to the Living world?" Aizen blinked, confused. "I can see the moon from the window right here?" Aizen pointed out the window of Kurotsuchi's office.

"What? That moon? You can't go to that moon!" The clownish chemical engineer cackled."

Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him blankly.

"Is. Is the moon here different than the one in the living world?" Aizen asked, bewildered.

"Different? It doesn't exist!" Mayuri laughed, waving his hand at them.

Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him, then leaned back in their seats, looking out the window at the moon, which still looked as physical and present as it ever did.

"...Oh don't tell me you didn't know." Mayuri frowned, pouting. "No, spirit world doesn't have a moon. The thing up in the sky is a Tulpa- there's a "moon" because everyone who comes to spirit world thinks there should be one, and there's so much ambient spiritual energy even weak souls can exert some force on the nature of reality and when millions of them are all certain there should be a moon, a moon manifests. Or at least, a thing that looks like a moon. Doesn't act like one, changes size and skips around it's phases all the time and if it really were a round object in space, that's NOT what a crescent moon would look like."

Aizen and Ichimaru looked back out the window at the "Moon", whose crescent arced a full three quarters of the alleged satellite's circumference.

"Seriously? this is some really basic stuff." Mayuri glared at them in disappointment. "You never noticed that the moon is always visible out any random window at night, no matter what time it is? It doesn't even go east-to-west more than half the time!"

"But. But we have a lunar calendar..?" Aizen muttered, an edge of genuine distress in his voice.

"Oh yeah, the moon *used* to be regular as clockwork- everyone literally set their watches to it." Mayuri shrugged. "Then sometime about eh, two and a half, three thousand years ago? Right around the same time the first captain-class spirits started appearing, the moon started doing this 'Full Moon Thrice A Month If it Feels Like It' and 'Visible At Improbable Angles' nonsense."

Aizen's eyes were wide and Gin's very nearly open with alarm.

"That's uh- that's terrifying?" Aizen sputtered, now outright frightened.

"Yeah, anybody know what coulda caused that?" Gin muttered.

"The going theory is that the precipitation of a new class of spiritually hyperpotent souls like us has caused disproportionate tugs on the desired appearence of the the "Moon", but that's only a theory- my predecessor's predecessor once attempted to send a camera to the 'Moon' for a closer look, but it never actually *got* any closer." Mayuri explained, casually inspecting his fingernails- he seemed to be growing out the middle one for some godforsaken reason. "-Your theoretical starboat would likely far worse."

"...Okay but that's worse. You understand how that's worse, right?" Aizen demanded and Mayuri waved him off.

"No, no hit makes sense-" Gin nodded, and Aizen glared at his lieutenant. "Think about it! There's what, three and a half billion human on earth? Millions die every day, but only a couple hundred ever turn up every day at the intake queue in the 7th, and nearly everyone is from just the one part of Japan. We're one afterlife of many- ugh, could you imagine if the missionaries were sent here?- anyway, our world is nowhere NEAR as big at the Living World, so the moon-moon is just a geographical feature in the living world, and there's only a couple million people living here. We got disproportionate swing, so we pull on the collective conciousness more. It's fine!"

"That's AWFUL!" Aizen shouted, dismayed.

"I mean I think we all understand God is an Asshole, but what are you gonna do about it?" Mayuri shrugged before tapping on the crate beside his desk. "-Anyway, do you want these Polio Vaccines for the rukongai outreach program our not?"

"I- yes. Please." Aizen muttered.

"Good man, sign here." Mayuri tapped the sheet on his desk. As Aizen tried to read over the provisions release paperwork, the small "Electronic Mailer" on Mayuri's desk pinged. "Oh, the word got out- Kyoraku-taicho wants to hold another moon-viewing party for the occasion. Do me a favor and attend so you can explain to him why we can't go to our 'moon' for me? I don't want to go, and I really don't want to explain it to him through a hangover either."

"If you don't wanna go Boss I'll stand in for you. Promises to be a real riot." Gin grinned.

"Yes, you have your young friend, don't you? Miss Matsumoto?" Aizen smiled fondly at his second-in-command.

"Oh, she probably already got her invite- she an' Miss Nan- er, lieutenant Ise are real pals from the academy." Gin laughed. "Nah, I was gonna drag old blind bones along."

"...Captain Tousen?" Aizen asked, befuddled. "Whatever for?"

"Stars ain't exactly braille, y'know?" Gin explained, wiggling his fingers. "He knows even less than we do an' I wanna watch Rangiku and Kyoraku try'n 'splain the whole thing to him." Gin grinned.

"Sounds lovely! Take your shit and get out of my office." Mayuri threatened.

---

Renji exhaled, still bewildered, laying on his back on the grassy hill just outside the 2nd division training grounds, staring up at the moon as it rose opposite the sunset behind him. Or, maybe not? There had been some lecture about how the moon in spirit world wasn't a moon back at the academy that he didn't really remember-

"You sound like you're in the throes of a moral conundrum Red." Shuuhei teased, looking up from the strange contraption he was setting up.

"Huh?" Renji blinked. "Oh, no I'm just- Those guys in the Spaceship gotta be somethin' else, going to die thousands of miles from home."

"What? The Astronauts? They'll be fine! -Probably." Shuuhei laughed. "They're definitely insane, getting in that contraption at all, but they still gotta come home with all the rocks and whatever they get from the moon for the lab techs to look at."

"...How the hell are they getting back?" Renji frowned, rolling up onto his elbow to frown at his senpai. "I thought they blew up all the rocket getting off the planet?"

"They got a bitty rocket in the lunar landing craft that will get them between their ship and the lunar surface, and then they will angle the ship a bit and the moon will fling them back to earth the way earth flung them at the moon." Shuuei explained, not looking up from the weird bass-drum looking object he was messing with.

Renji opened his mouth, realized his friend probably understood it way better than he did, closed his mouth, shrugged, and changed topics. "So what is that thing you had me haul up here?"

"It's uhhh... Experimental. Haven't got a name for it yet." Shuuhei muttered, placing a level on top of it and frowning at the bubble before adjusting the legs bolted awkwardly to the side of the drum. "-But with all this excitement about the Lunar Landing, I realized Tousen-Taicho is... I mean he gets left out of a lotta stuff, y'know? But it's not like he can see the stars, or the spirit-moon, and I don't think he really understands orbital mechanics-"

"I sure fuckin' don't." Renji muttered.

"Yeah, because you're the kind of moron who put a ham sandwich in a VCR-" Shuuhei rolled his eyes.

"That was ONE TIME, and Matsumoto Senpai told me it was a Panini Press!" Renji sulked.

"-and then pressed "Fast Forward", but Tousen is actually smart as hell- I'm the one who can't explain it without gestures he can't see." Shuuhei continued. "...but I can use a camera obscura and reiryoku-sensitive film to sort of take an old exposure image of the night sky. I'm hoping that if I treat the exposed film right, that the light and dark parts will turn into different textures for him to read, like a braille sky."

"Oh." Renji muttered. "That's really nice of you actually."

"I mean, we'll see if it works." Shuuhei shugged, examining the level again. "Hand me the allen wrenches- What about your boss?"

"Captain Aizen? Uh- honestly? He seems a little freaked out by all this and I saw him fuckin' slam the newspaper into his wastebasket when he got back from the twelth." Renji winced. "He's weird like that. Sweet as cake most of the time but then there's these weird flashes of anger... and I'm not sure how much longer he's gonna be my boss."

"As in you got ambitions, or you think he's gonna get fired?" Shuuhei asked, staring at the level again.

"As in 'Tetsuzaemon Iba got in another brawl with his mother about him only being fourth seat when she made captain, and Liuetenant Madarame asked me if I'd updated my resume recently." Renji winced.

"Woof. Talk about a lateral promotion." Shuuhei winced. "Still, the pay raise would be nice. You could afford to take your girl Rukia somewhere up to her brother's standards!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Renji snapped, rolling over and jumping to his feet. "-It's -I'm sorry. It's kinda complicated." Renji sighed.

Shuuhei was silent for a minute as Renji sat back down on the grass, face in his hands. After a minute of fine-tuning the drum to keep it level, he spoke up. "You're more than good enough."

"Huh?" Renji jolted. "Oh, yeah- I'd be doing all the eleventh's paperwork but there's no way it's worse than the fucking rice subsidies accounting board-"

"That's not what I meant." Shuuhei glared.

"...I know." Renji groaned. "It's just. It's complicated, okay?"

"If you say so." Shuuhei shrugged. "Alright, hand me the flat box- thanks. It'll be ready for exposure in a minute, and I want to get it done before those clouds roll in." He gestured at the distant thunderheads threatening to bloom into a summer storm on the edge of the city.

The process was quick- the shielded plate went into the gap under the drum, and the light of the night sky was reflected onto it from a pinhole in the top. Once the metal plates were pulled back, it needed a few minutes to pick up enough light, before Shuuhei pushed the metal shutters back in and locked the plate in darkness until it could be developed.

"It's for taking pictures of the stars, right?" Renji asked as Shuuhei started disassembling the camera. "You could call that plate an Astrograph."

"Hah! Futuristic. I like it!" Shuuhei grinned. "C'mon and help me with this thing before the punishment squad turns up to kick my ass for having a camera within a mile of the second."

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #renji abarai #sosuke aizen #gin ichimaru #mayuri kurotsuchi #shuuhei hisagi #the moon landing #And THAT's why the moon is fucked up in spirit world!#long post

511 notes · View notes

gotholdladywithadhd · 6 months

Text

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

440 notes · View notes

mickyschumacher · 1 year

Note

hi! I love the way you write and I’d love to see some Daniel Ricciardo or Oscar Piastri content!! Older brother’s best friend and something including model!reader or figureskater!reader. I also cannot begin to describe how much I love your Taylor song based fics. I was hooked on Style and Dress, thank you, have a wonderful day :)

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you don't have much in common with oscar piastri other than three things: you're both rare talents, you know each other through your older brother, and that, unknowingly, you both really like each other.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: older brother's best friend trope! (although not heavily enforced), suggestive but nothing crude, poor ice skating knowledge, mentions of the spa track, crashing and DNFing, reader likes to blame things on alcohol, lily (oscar's current gf) is his ex (oops), slight diss of tsitp, jealousy!!!, scene of harassment and a creepy man, a physical altercation in which oscar gets physically hurt, attending the wounded scene! (sobbing rn), a cute and horribly cheesy, fluffy ending!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x figureskater!fem!reader, arthur leclerc x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5k+ (um srry hehe)

𝐀/𝐍: i wanted to this was oscar but since he's kinda young, i did a one year age gap bc the territory of 'the older brother's best friend' for piastri is alarming to say the least. i also assumed it was a female reader due to my other works, hope that and this whole piece is okay!!

𝐏.𝐒: if you couldn't tell, it's loosely based off of taylor swift's 'i can see you' bc i ended up losing track lmao. sorry for taking FOREVER but coming back from holiday, going straight back into uni, and having writer's block is the worst combo 🤧 as usual, poorly proof read!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

In a world of billions, quite strangely yet only logically, there were many talented people across the globe. But very few were be a World Champion let alone the opportunity. You were part of this few. The Youngest World Champion in figure skating in history, a two-time World Champion and the 2022 Olympic winner.

You were a living legacy in your town.

Of course, you couldn't do it without the support of the people you loved. Your parents attended all your competitions. In fact, your father was the one who had brought you to the ice when you were three. And your brother, no matter how much of a menace he was, he was your number one fan. Despite all the things he had to do, he was always there for you.

Your brother was one of those Australian boys who had turned their passion for dirt biking into a career for motorcross racing.

Naturally, he had found a friend who was also very interested in racing. However, instead he loved driving a open wheel single-seater formula racing car at crazy speeds. That friend was Oscar Piastri. A childhood best friend of your brother's and a sort of acquaintance slash family friend of yours.

It worried you two see some of the most important people in your lives risk death almost every day but you enjoyed watching them do something they loved.

You could see it in their eyes when they raced. It was the same passion you had for the ice. The slivers of ice that occasionally touched your skin thrilled you was the same excitement that coursed through the two Aussies when they felt their engines rev.

It was odd. You could've sworn a few days ago, you were all kids playing in the backyard of your house; your brother riding his toy bike while Oscar raced him on foot and you commentated in Oscar's favour to piss your brother off. And now all three of you were leading your careers: you were a competitive figure skater, your brother was slamming the MXGP and Oscar was one of the best rookies introduced to F1 in a while.

Where time had gone... you could not even begin to wonder. Heck, once upon a time you were staring down Oscar in the school hallways because for some reason you could only talk to him outside of school. And now... well, it was complicated to say the least.

You had always liked Oscar. It was difficult not to. He was always around you. The boyish charm, the small smiles, the puppy brown eyes, his offers to help you with your homework, you visiting him when he raced... everything had built up inside you. It was festering.

But that's how you liked it. You didn't want to cross any lines. As heart-racing and flustering as your crush on him was, you could not bear the idea of telling someone who was brotherly to you that you liked him.

It was repulsing.

And as far as his dating history could went, Oscar didn't like you. Oscar wasn't a player but he definitely didn't like being single from what you could tell.

To be honest, considering you didn't see him that much due both of your schedules, nothing between the both of you would've ever happened if you're annual family holiday hadn't happened.

Your family and the Piastri's took time out at least once a year to relax together. And this year, your brother and Oscar's breaks overlapped, and you had persuaded your coach for two weeks off. That was all the both of your parents needed before booking a trip to Greece. Everyone wanted to go when they were younger and now they could finally go.

Two weeks... not much could happen. At least so you thought.

The moment you saw Oscar in Greece, your heart thumped against your chest like it had never before and you knew you were screwed. It was ridiculous. How after all the time did you still like this stupid driver? He was the root cause of your lonely love life. Which for most figure skaters was not a big deal... you had prospect lovers falling left and right. Especially the guys in pair skating. But no... you were head over heels for Oscar out of all people.

With the firm boundaries you had made, you ventured to not make a big deal about what you were feeling and pushed it to the side. But the thing about pushing things away, they have a funny way of coming back up.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On the first night of your much needed vacation, you had found one of the most popular restaurants in Santorini while endlessly browsing through social media and decided to get everyone out of the lovely AirBnB you had rented. Upon arriving, your parents and Oscar's were cooped up on one side of the dining table, leaving the 'kids', as your mother calls you three, on the other.

You released a sigh of content, feeling the crisp breeze dance past your skin in the warm summer evening air while your sip of assyrtiko (Greek white wine) slipped past your throat far too easily. Thank God you had chosen an outdoor restaurant tonight. Every time you were on holiday, you couldn't be more grateful to get away from all the stress. If you could live like this every day, with the warm breezy evenings and the amazing architecture, you would.

"So," your mother started, her voice hitting your direction. You flickered your gaze over to her, raising a brow. "How are my kids' love lives? Are you getting down?" She waggled her eyebrows behind her glasses.

A wave of heat pricked your skin at your mother's words. "Mom!" You hissed out in disbelief while your father and Oscar's parents chuckled.

"What? You guys never tell me anything anymore! I used to be the holder of all your secrets and now... now I am an old woman!" Your mother cried, wiping an invisible tear off of her cheek.

You and your brother blankly looked at her and then towards each other. To say your mother was a character was an understatement. She enjoyed her theatrics far too much for anyone's liking, more specifically you're liking.

Oscar grinned, reaching out his hand to hover over hers. "You could never be an old woman. Always young in my heart."

Your brother snorted at Oscar's cheesiness. After you and your brother, Oscar was your mother's son and Oscar was a suck-up. He liked being in the good books, especially that of your mother's.

"Of course," Your mother chuckled softly, patting Oscar's hand gently. She sucked in a sharp breath. "What happen to you and Lily? I heard you two broke up? I thought you liked her a lot?"

You could see Oscar tense at the mention of his ex, your own body rigid. It wasn't a surprise to you but you actually hated hearing about Oscar's love life. Unrequited feelings were already a bitch and you didn't need to make it any worse.

Oscar cleared his throat, a small smiling tugging at his lips. "I thought I did too..." He trailed off, falling into his own trance momentarily. Suddenly his eyes flickered around his surroundings before they landed on you. "I guess I just saw something I else I liked a lot more."

A slight shiver crept down your spine and your heart travelled towards your ears. You pressed your lips tightly together, furrowing your brows.

What the fuck?

You snapped your eyes away, firmly placing them on your empty plate that suddenly held your entire world. Oscar had never ever looked at you like that. Any time you looked into those puppy browns, they were usually some mix between happy, anger, annoyance, sadness, humour, and the God forbidden 'I-see-you-as-my-sister' type love.

But this... this was something else entirely. The softness of his gaze, his words, the timing of it all; a perfect execution of sorts... it was a first.

Maybe you had taken one too many sips of the wine. It was the only reasonable explanation behind your obvious hallucination.

Sooner or later, the sun would set, a main reason behind your picking of the restaurant. The parents and your brother were at the front of the house, arguing about who paid for tonight's dinner. You were more than happy to wait it out on the balcony and revel in the last few rays of light, eyes closed and the breeze dancing across your skin.

"Well don't you look happy," Oscar voice stated, nearing you.

You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to the side only to look back a few second later. Oscar and sunsets... you enjoyed that combo far too much for your liking.

"That's because I am. Sometimes being off the ice is refreshing," You told him, taking in a breath of the fresh evening air.

Out of your peripheral vision you could see Oscar tilt his head, eyes raking over you with a small grin tugging at his lips. You ignored the pace of your heart as he nodded at your remark, settling in next you with his hands on the balcony bar, a mere inch away from your own.

"I hear that," Oscar sighed, looking out at the horizon.

You forced yourself to look over at him, trying to read his mind after hearing the burdened sigh he released. "Oscar... I hope you know you're doing well in F1 right now. You're doing pretty good compared to Lando's rookie year."

Oscar smiled gently. You knew him far too well. "I know. I just... I feel like everyone's expecting so much more of me. Podiums... race wins... like everything else I've done. And then Spa came along."

You winced at the mention of the track. Oscar had collided with Carlos on the very first lap. Carlos said Oscar was too optimistic about making that turn and Oscar said that he didn't even know what Carlos doing; that the Spaniard turned as if he wasn't even on the track. Nevertheless, the collision resulted in both of them DNFing.

You snorted. "Spa is a shit track," You dismissed Oscar's current pessimism with a wave of your hand.

Oscar chuckled at your crudeness. He couldn't disagree with you. Spa was one of those tracks which felt auspicious to any driver. The one where you hoped you at least passed the finishing line. It didn't matter what your position was... as long as you passed it, you were okay.

"Guys come on! We've finished paying," Your brother called out.

The both of you turned around. Oscar pushed himself off of the bar, heading towards your brother. "Who won this one?" He asked in amusement, hands gliding past his waist. Ever so gently, in his walk, he teetered towards you, letting his hand brush past your own, sending a tingle down both of you.

You gulped at the racing feeling, immediately pulling your hand closer to yourself. This hairs of your body stood straight and your fingers felt numb. Heck, you felt numb.

Damn, you thought, this is some crazy good wine.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The thing about your inclination to blame everything on the alcohol you consumed was that it only actually worked if you consumed alcohol. You were lucky if you could extend to the remaining bits by a day with the claims of a hangover.

But right now, you were sober as hell.

An unfortunate event, to say the least.

"Y/N, wake up," Oscar's voice pounded against your blanketed, muffled ears.

"Ugh, no" You groaned, cocooning yourself into your blanket and pressing your head further into your pillow, savouring the warmth.

You always had such early mornings when you trained, waking up at ungodly hours only to workout before heading to the rink. Being on the ice was the only thing you loved. Your fans were sweet but everything else after that, the press, the workouts, the food, sucked. So you cherished the late summer morning in Santorini. And no person, let alone a boy who announced his F1 team to you by saying "I'm driving for a papaya", was going to ruin this for you.

Oscar put his hands on his hips, eyeing you with a twitch in his eye. "But breakfast is ready. I cooked!"

You laughed into your sheets lightly. "Oh boy, that's even worse!"

Oscar looked at your peeking head and humoured eyes blankly. "That," he started to say as he began to literally pull you out of your bed by your arms, "is very very rude thing to say to the chef."

"Oscar, no! Let go!" You begged, hands flailing to attach themselves to anything. Falling on the hard cold floor was not the ideal morning for you.

At least not alone.

You jutted out your leg, nudging Oscar's to the side, making him stumble over his steps. As he quickly realised he was losing balance, he threw his body under yours, creating a soft landing for you as you both fell to the floor.

You were laughing too hard to realise Oscar's one hand had even moved to your waist and the other to your head, as if it was to protect you from getting hurt.

"Oh my God! You should've seen your face! It was like–" You turned to mimic his expression but you couldn't find the words. All the air around you had been seized, your throat was dry and you were breathless.

When had Oscar's face become so close to yours?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to him. Probably as a child. He was cute back then as well. But growing up changed the both of you. The most apparent reminder of how old you were was the tiny short hairs from his chin that he always tried to shave off. His eyes were still as brown as ever, less big because he grew into his face. And his lips... they were kissable.

His face was also littered with freckles here and there. You didn't even realise your finger had shot out to play connect the dots with them until you could feel his faint warm breath from how close you were.

Your eyes trailed up his face to find his gaze firmly planted on yours. Suddenly you could feel where his hands were and your skin burned at his touch. The current heatwave in Europe had left you in some thin pyjamas. You didn't regret it last night but you definitely regretted wearing them right now.

Hypnotised, you found yourself leaning in naturally. Oscar's head also nudged forward. Your lips were barely a centimetre away from each other. You could hear your name slip out of Oscar's lips as the faintest whisper. Like it was a struggle to say your name because he couldn't think.

His woody and amber scent engulfed you and for a second, you couldn't think.

Not until you could hear your brother scream both of your names from the kitchen, demanding you to come to breakfast.

You blinked, falling out of your trance as quickly as you fell in.

Oscar felt you jerk in his arms suddenly, pushing yourself out of his hold and attempting to stand up. "Y/N, I–"

No. God, no.

You weren't ruining a friendship over this.

You could pretend. Yes. Pretend. You can't see him.

"We're coming!" You yelled back, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment and annoyance; both vexing feeling for yourself.

God, what a day to be sober.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly how this holiday had gone from zero to a hundred was beyond you.

Pretending like nothing had happened in your room was harder than you thought. Not when Oscar looked at you with these burdened eyes and like he had something to say to you, right on the tip of his tongue.

You considered avoiding him. But doing so on a family trip was easier said than done. Besides, it would've been pretty obvious to everyone else and knowing your family, they would've made a big deal out of nothing. Because that's what it was: nothing.

But alas, you have a brother. And normally, he's stupid and self-obsessed to the point it bordered on unhealthy. But as your brother, it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something about the older sibling being superior or whatever lies he convinced himself with.

"Why are you being weird with Oscar? Your brother asked you while you ate some ice cream and caught up with the new season of 'The Summer I Turned Pretty'. At first, you couldn't fathom watching a character called 'Belly' out of all things but somehow you got hooked.

You paused the scoop of ice cream you put in your mouth, letting it slowly melt away as you stared hard at your nuisance of a brother. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Ha, nice try. You're supposed to use 'literally' when you deny it the second time," Your brother smiled at you smugly.

You pressed your lips together, feeling your teeth slightly grind against your spoon. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to smack the shit of your brother with a spoon or bury him in a six-foot deep hole.

"Come on, lil sis, you can talk to me. Everyone's out of the house right now," He partially jested while being entirely serious.

Burying him in a hole it was.

"I have nothing to say to you," You stated, eyes reverting back to your show.

Your brother narrowed his eyes, grabbing the remote to pause the episode. Ignoring your exclaim of annoyance, he sat down next to you and took your ice cream and spoon away from you to dig into the pint for himself.

You shuddered in disgust. You were not having that flavour for a while.

He pointed your spoon at you. "I know you think I'm stupid, which I may be, but I'm not entirely an idiot. What happened with you and Oscar? You were all happy buddies a few days ago. Now he looks like a lost puppy and you look like you saw Pennywise in the hallway."

You bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. You couldn't actually let him know he was funny.

"Did he do something to you? Y/N, if he did something wrong to you I swear to God... just tell me and I will end him."

Your eyes widened at the sudden change of the conversation. Sitting up, you waved your hands in urgent dismissal. "No! Oh my God, nothing like that! Holy shit."

Your brother let a relieved exhale fall from his mouth before furrowing his brows. "Then what happened? Is it your stupid crush on him?"

"I–what?" You asked dumbfounded, looking at your brother incredulously.

"Your crush? Like the one you've had since you first laid eyes on him. You know everyone knows right? It's kinda obvious. Well, everyone but Oscar," your brother said nonchalantly.

You blinked blankly at him. "Before I throw myself off of a cliff, I can give you the generous choice of how you die? Personally I'm thinking asphyxiation, arson, or murder."

Your brother gulped, slowly putting away the ice cream. "Okay, first off stop watching Criminal Minds so much. Second of all, you don't need to feel embarrassed. All of us have been secretly rooting for you. Especially mom and Oscar's mom. You should've seen how happy they got when I told them Oscar and Lily broke up. It was seriously creepy."

You sighed, falling onto the couch. "It doesn't matter how creepy it was. We almost kissed! And then you called for us. Any later, I would've ruined our friendship. What's the point anyways? He doesn't like me. I'm gonna die in the friendzone," You dramatically sobbed out.

"Well you can start by not turning the other direction when you see him. Poor guy looks like you killed his dog. Do you think a guy who's dog was killed has any guts to speak to their murderer? And that's beside the fact that he may like his murderer."

Where was that shovel again?

"You know what you need to do? Do something that makes him talk to you. I got it! I could set you up with Arthur! He's in Santorini too! Oscar would hate it."

"Oh my God... do you want me to die?" You asked, slightly horrified at the look of pure joy on your brother's face .

Your brother grinned. "Of course, I do. Would I be your brother if I didn't?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

For as long as he could remember, Oscar was a peaceful guy. He didn't really get angry quickly. He was usually calm and usually could think before he acted.

But all those characteristics were thrown out the window, well into the air of the music festival everyone decided to attend, when he saw you walk into the event with Arthur Leclerc. His former teammate out of all people.

"Is that Arthur? Why is he here?" Oscar asked your brother.

"Hmm?" Your brother turned around, pretending to squint at the two of you briefly before catching your piercing gaze. "Oh yeah... that is him. He told me he was in Greece. Guess he found Y/N first. Makes sense I guess."

Oscar looked at your brother dubiously. "I... what does that even mean?"

"I don't know why but I always got the feeling he liked Y/N," your brother shrugged.

Oscar blinked. "You're taking the fucking piss..." He huffed in disbelief.

"What? Oh? Here they come."

Truth be told, Arthur was more than happy to oblige with your brother's game. He hadn't seen Oscar in a while because they were in different championships now. Getting the opportunity to play with him a bit was a hard offer to turn down.

"Ozzie!" Arthur cheered, bringing him into a hug.

Oscar raised a brow at you. That pet name originated from you when the three of you decided to become superheroes for a day and you decided to name eight-year-old Oscar, 'Ozzie the Mozzie' after he got bitten by one. No one else on Earth called him that but you.

"I was telling Arty here about that mozzie that bit you and he really liked Ozzie the Mozzie," You chuckled softly.

Arty...

God give him strength because Oscar wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this.

To be honest, you weren't much of a music festival type of person. It was always crowded, hot, and filled with some sort of drugs even if you couldn't see it.

But aside from that, you enjoyed the serenity it could bring; the indie music that was well on it's way to becoming pop; the calming breeze; the warming sun.

Well you would enjoy it more if a certain Aussie wasn't staring daggers to the side of your head–Arthur's head.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see a stranger. A somewhat attractively creepy stranger but a stranger nonetheless. You raised your brows and gave a small smile. "Yes?"

"I know you don't know me but I just saw you from over there and I wanted to say you're really pretty!"

You blinked, feeling the three boys around you stiffen at the compliment. You nodded slowly, putting on a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you so much," You responded, laughing awkwardly.

A moment of awkward silence settled in the air as the guy still remained in front of you.

"So... I was wondering if I get could get your number?" The guy asked with an odd glint in his eyes.

The alarms were ringing in your head and an uncomfortable shiver went down your spine. "Uh, I'm sorry. I... I don't really want to. But thanks for your offer," You politely declined.

"Oh come on. I called you pretty... that's gotta be worth your number. Come on."

Oh.

Honestly, you were speechless. Your number which for him was the leeway into your intimate life was worth a compliment.

"Yeah, I don't think so," You quipped sharply, gritting your teeth.

"Come on, baby girl. Let me show you a fun time." The guy stepped forward, his hand reaching towards your body.

You froze at his words. You wanted to move but you couldn't.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Oscar, Arthur, and your brother step in front of you.

"Mate, fuck off. She doesn't want you," Oscar pushed the guy away from you.

Your brother snorted. "I don't think anyone wants him."

The guy sneered, making you wince. He raised his hands in a feigned defence, beginning to turn away from you. Thank God. "Fine. I didn't want a girl like you anyways. All these guys around you... a whore."

Arthur and you, as the pacifists you were, watched in silent horror as your brother poked his tongue in his cheek and Oscar's head quickly whipped towards the guy.

"Oscar..." You warned meekly as Arthur tried to get your brother's attention.

The last thing any of you needed was famed athletes on the front page of ESPN, cited as the cause of a brawl.

"What did you say?" Oscar raised a brow, ignoring your pleas and walking towards the guy. His tone was dark and the total opposite of what he normally sounded like. He was raged.

"The truth," The guy chuckled. "I said she's a whore. Why? What are you gonna do about it, little boy?"

Yeah see, the guy most definitely had a couple of inches on Oscar and you brother. You weren't really keen on seeing them get pummelled to the ground.

Oscar said nothing in response but raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the guy's jaw.

Oh for fuck's sake.

As if the guy had lightening reflexes, the guy quickly pulled his head back up and got a hold of Oscar, getting into a cycle of punches.

Your heart dropped at the sight. Your brother, thank God, and Arthur quickly realised that Oscar wasn't winning anything here, stepping in to push the two men apart. A small crowd began to gather, some thankfully aiding in trying to stop whatever was going on.

Arthur pulled Oscar away and towards you. You held Oscar against you, clutching him tightly as your heart raced in your ears. Somewhere in the muffled sounds you could hear your brother.

"We're going home. Now."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your brother and Arthur had decided to go explain the situation the both of your parents who were out having lunch because you couldn't blame all those bruises and dry blood on Oscar's face by saying he fell. This left you to clean up Oscar to reduce the risk of your parents having a heart attack.

You clenched your jaw, holding the first aid kid and a wet cloth to your side as you walked towards the seated racing driver who had found a lot of interest in the floor all of a sudden while icing his face.

"I can't believe you," You mumbled in annoyance, taking a seat next to him. You gently grabbed his chin, putting side the ice bag, trying to decide on where to start cleaning but you could only wince at his face. His bottom lip and his brow was slightly torn, the side of his jaw and the top of his cheek had started to bruise, and his nose was a blood fest.

All the pain Oscar felt began to disappear as he felt your hands gently graze past his skin, scouting all the damage that had occurred. He looked at your pained eyes and internally sighed. He hated seeing you in pain. "He was disrespecting you. I wasn't going to just let it go."

You rolled your eyes, slowly wiping away the dry blood. "He was like six foot two, Oscar. You're like five foot. He could've ki... he could've really hurt you," You jested before your voice fell into a bare whisper.

Oscar's heart clenched as you went back on your words, watching you grab some antiseptic with shaky hands. He grabbed your hands, holding them with his own and softly looked into your eyes. "But he didn't. I'm fine. See?" He smiled widely before wincing at the pain shooting through his face.

You snorted. "As if."

"Hey, you're talking to a guy who crashes at most craziest speeds. Bet that guy can't do that," Oscar shrugged nonchalantly.

You narrowed your eyes. "If you weren't already hurt, I would've smacked the shit out of you right now. Just so you know."

Oscar grinned at you. "Ah, there's the ever kind Y/N I love."

You rolled your eyes before processing what he had just said. As friends. Friendly love. Right. You shook your head out of your trance, removing your hands from his and returning back to the stupid first aid kit next to you.

Oscar mended his brows together. "Hey," he tapped your thigh, "you heard what I said right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," You said idly, opening the tube of antiseptic cream.

"What? I..." Oscar sighed, taking the cream out of your hands before pulling you closer to him. His hands held your face, looking you dead in the eye. "I said I love you, Y/N. You know... the type where you look at someone and all you know is that you can't breathe without them? The one in your books?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked blankly. Your hands felt clammy. You chuckled nervously. "Pfft, what? You don't love me. You mean as a friend, right? I think you need some medicine. Maybe there's some in this kit." Your eyes darted down, frantically looking around the box as your heart thudded against your chest.

"Hey, hey," Oscar called, using his hand to turn your chin towards him. "I don't. I mean, I do love you as a friend, but no. I love love you."

"Well... what about about Lily?"

"As I said... I realised I loved someone else more," Oscar told you, letting his confession sink into your mind. "You know... if your idiot brother didn't call us that day, I definitely would've kissed you."

Oh.

Well.

That was something.

This was real. You weren't dreaming. You hadn't died. Oscar, your childhood best friend and your brother's best friend, was confessing to you.

"Huh... well, if it's any consolation, I probably would've kissed you too," You retorted, trying to keep your quirking lips at bay before you began smiling for too much for anyone's liking.

"Probably? That kinda sucks. Are you sure you wouldn't have definitely kissed me?" Oscar grinned, grabbing your waist and seating you down on his lap.

"Hmm... I mean maybe. This current environment is nowhere near as enticing as my bedroom. I mean what is sexier than me waking up, am I right?" You joked, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying at the proximity between you two.

Oscar pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek, holding your jaw while his thumb grazed your lips. "Well, I can think of a few other things."

You silently watched as Oscar leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were softer than you could ever imagine.

You blinked, taking a mere second to register what was going on. Oscar Piastri was kissing you. Holy shit, Oscar Piastri was kissing you!

You kissed him back, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck and the other holding you steady against him. Your skin burned at his touch, feeling his fingers snake past the hem of your shirt and rest on your hot skin.

Oddly enough, despite your heat, goosebumps sprawled across every inch of your skin as his tongue darted out, exploring your own, giving you access to his mouth.

You could've sworn you were walking on fire. One more step and you could've combusted. Your thighs clenched at the moan that slipped from Oscar's mouth as your teeth tugged on his bottom lip, your hands roaming around his chest and his arms.

Oscar's hand wrapped around your hair, enjoying the softness he had wanted touch ever since he realised he had feelings for you. His pants felt tight as he felt your hand brush against his bare torso. Fuck. You were going to do him in. He fell back further into the couch, holding you tighter against him.

The desire you had was blinding you. Your other hand fell to his cheek, forgetting about his injuries till Oscar murmured an "ouch".

You retracted your hands, pulling back from his lips, a move Oscar clearly didn't enjoy as his eyes followed your lips. "Shit!" You exclaimed, "the antiseptic! Sorry!"

Oscar paused in his trance, realising what you were talking about. He smiled softly, lips widening even further when he saw your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

You carefully applied the cream to his brow before moving to his lips. "The diagnosis for you Mr Piastri is no more kissing for you," You grinned.

Oscar looked at you dumbfounded. "I–what? For how long?"

"Mmm... a week?"

"A week?" Oscar repeated in exasperation. "There is no way I can last that long. Not after this. Besides I'm pretty sure kissing actually helps you heal faster."

Your skin warmed further at his confession. You cleared your throat and held his hands. "I am confident that is not scientifically true."

Oscar narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. "You need to read better medical journals, doc."

You tilted your head to the side, leaning in further. "I think I have an alternative."

"Yeah?" Oscar's eyes danced across your face, smiling softly. "What is it?"

"It's less practical, more theoretical. Confessional, if you will," You shrugged, letting your forehead rest against his.

Oscar shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of you. "Oh really? Don't let me stop you."

"I love you, Oscar. I've loved you since we were little heroes running around in the backyard."

Oscar opened his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist. He smiled widely at you. "Are you sure you said a week?"

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. "I'm sure."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine

1K notes · View notes

kpop---scenarios · 4 months

Text

Reckless (2)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Bestfriend

Warning: Hurt.. smutty smut [18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 2.6k

Part One |

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @seungminsapuppy @chanbahng29

“Dumb enough to do what, exactly?” You ask Jisung, eyes darting between him and Minho.

“Fuck around, get to together.. you know, anything like that.” Jisung chuckles.

“Would that really be so bad?” Minho asks, locking eyes with you as Jisung looks down at his food, that was your food, and laughs.

“It would be hell on earth.” He yells. “My little sister and my best friend? Ew, never happening.”

“Don't worry man, I would never go for Y/N. She's not even my type.” Minho laughs.

You glance at Minho, who is now avoiding eye contact.

“But you can go after my best friend?” You scoff, pushing his shoulder a little.

“What?” He asks. “When did I go after Hyunjin?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Not Hyunjin, Jisoo you moron!”

“She's hot.” Jisung laughs, looking at Minho. “And judging by his face, he thinks so too.”

“Ah, um, no, I don't.” Minho says. “I really don't.”

“It's okay, her and I are just a casual hookup thing, I can set you up with her.” Jisung offer.

“Since when are you a casual hook up thing with her?” You ask.

“Since last night.” Jisung explains, with a giant smile on his face. “So, you wanna get set up?” He asks Minho, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I don't need your help with women. I'm perfectly capable of getting them on my own.” Minho laughs.

“I'm gonna set you up anyway!” Jisuung yells, excitedly. “Minho and Jisoo!”

You look at Minho, you're not even sure with what kind of expression.

“As fun as this has been, I have to go get ready for class. Both of you, goodluck with the whole Jisoo thing.” You say, forcing a smile as you walk past both of them.

“What's up her ass?” Jisung laughs as you walk out of the room.

You hated him so much sometimes. As you're gathering your bag and books there's a knock at your door.

“Go away.” You yell, grabbing your phone off your bed.

“Open the door.” You hear. You rolled your eyes, you had no choice, you had to leave anyway. You pull the door open, seeing Minho standing there, looking guilty. “What?”

“Listen.” Minho starts.

“Don't.” You say, putting up your hand. “Whatever happened was a drunk thing, I'm not even your type so don't worry about it.” You finish, moving past him, heading downstairs and out the front door.

“Guys fucking suck.” You scoff, sliding into the seat next to Hyunjin.

“Good afternoon to you too.” He chuckles, running his hands through his hair.

“I'm sorry, not you. Just a select few.” You sigh.

“Your brother?” He asks, glancing at you.

“He's one, yes. He hooked up with Jisoo.” You shiver, the thought makes you nauseous.

“Yeah, unfortunately I saw that.” Hyunjin sighs. “I had nightmares last night from it. Also, where did you disappear too? You said you were getting a drink and never came back.” He pouts.

“Ah, I got pulled into the hallway by one of Jisung's friends apparently. Changbin.” You explain, opening your text book.

“That creepy fuck?” He almost yells. “Stay away from him.”

“That's the plan.” You smile as your professor walks into the room. Hyunjin leans over, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you wanna get a drink after this?” He asks.

You smile at him and nod your head. Hopefully you'll be able to make it through this class. At the end of the lecture, your head was pounding. You were exhausted and confused by the entire lesson plan. You swore you had no fucking clue what your teacher was talking about in almost any of the class.

“Drink?” Hyunjin asks. You desperately nod your head as he links arms with you, heading to your favorite pub. You know those people who say they're going to only have one drink, and end up having multiple? Yeah that was you and Hyunjin. One turned to two, which turned to three, and four and so on. By your 6th drink you were hiccuping and slurring your words.

“Let's get you out of here.” Hyunjin laughs, pulling your arm.

“I don't wanna go hooooomeeee.” You whine. “Stupid Minho is there.”

“What'd he do?” Hyunjin asks, holding your shoulder as he guides you out of the pub.

“I'm not his tyyyypee.” You exaggerate.

“But you're everyone's type.” Hyunjin scoffs. “Especially mine.”

“No..” you hiccup. “No No don't do that.”

“Do what?” He asks. He leans his face close to yours, and you're uncomfortable. You can feel in your pocket, your phone vibrating. You grab it, fumbling to answer the call, not even reading who was calling.

“Hellooooo?” You answer, moving away from Hyunjin's close face.

“Where are you?”

“Minho?” You ask.

“Yes, Y/N, Where are you?” He asks again.

“Why do you even care?” You wonder.

“Y/N. Please, just tell me.” He sighs.

“I got a drink with Hyunjinnie.” you giggle. “That turned into 6.. I think he's trying to kiss me.” You whisper.

“At the pub by school?” He asks.

“Yeah, we left. He's walking me home.”

“Stay there.” He deadpans. “I'm on my way.”

You wanted to tell him no but the line went dead. You slipped your phone back in your pocket as Hyunjin walked over to you. “Who was that?”

“Minho.” You slur. “He told me to wait here.” You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“I'm more than capable of taking you home, you know.” He whines. You look at him, he looks annoyed.

“Yeah, I know.” You smile. “I didn't ask him to come.” You chuckle.

“Doesn't matter. Why does he have to come? Why can't I just have some time with you. And why are you okay with him coming!? I thought you didn't like him.” He huffs.

“It's complicated Hyunjin..” you sigh. This sudden serious talk was beginning to sober you up and you didn't like it.

“Complicated how?” He asks. You grab the sleeve of his arm, dragging him back towards the bar.

“More drinks.” You huff, Hyunjin in tow. Hyunjin chuckles from behind you, as the two of you enter the bar. You wanted to see how many shots you were able to do before Minho busted through the door.

It ended up only being two. The front door of the pub swings open, a huffing Minho walks in, looking around the bar for you. You tried to duck behind Hyunjin, but drunk you weren't the best at hiding.

“Minho.” Hyunjin says, placing his hand on Minho's chest to stop him. “She's fine with me. You can go.” He finishes.

Minho looks down at Hyunjins hand, swatting it off of him. “She's fine with you, huh?” He laughs. “After you tried to kiss her?” Hyunjin doesn't say anything. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Y/N, let's go. I told Jisung I'd bring you home.”

“So you're not here because you want to be.” You sigh, standing up. “Jisung sent you?”

“Yeah.” Minho responds, avoiding your eyes. You scoff, pushing past him and Hyunjin, towards the front door.

Minho follows closely behind you as you walk out the door. “I'm parked right there.” He says, pointing to his car.

You huff as you walk towards it, climbing in the back seat. Minho climbs into The driver's seat, turning around to look at you. “Why are you back there?” He asks.

“It's much safer back here.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Safer from what?” He asks, starting the car.

“Safer from you. You can't kiss me back here and then tell people I'm not your type.” You yell.

“Y/N.. that's not..” he starts.

“Don't wanna hear it.” You yell, cutting him off. He sighs as he starts to drive towards your house. The rest of the ride goes by in silence. You walk in the door first, Jisung tries to greet you but instead you walk straight up the stairs and head towards your room, changing into some shorts and a tank top before crawling into bed. You glance at the clock, it was only 10pm, and Jisung had already forced you to go home. It wasn't even that late, you were an adult, so why were you listening to them? You pulled out your phone to send a text to Jisoo, seeing what she was doing.

[To: Jisooooo] 10:02pm: What are you doing rn?

[From: Jisooooo] 10:05pm: Party at the EXO house. Come!!

You smile at your phone as you crawl out of bed and head to your closet. You slip on a dress, quickly doing some makeup and your hair. You grab a pair of shoes. You open your bedroom door, peeking out into the hallway, not seeing anyone you quietly head down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can. You peek around the corner, seeing Minho and Jisung watching something on the couch. You tiptoe by, opening the front door, and of course it squeaks.

“Y/N?” Jisung yells. You pull the door open as fast as you can, not bothering to shut it and you bolt from the house. You look behind you, seeing Jisung's shadow in the door frame as you take off.

Once you feel like you're far enough, you slow down, put on your shoes and call an Uber, which comes quickly, taking you to the lively house.

Jisoo came outside as soon as you texted that you had shown up. She pulls you into the house, heading straight for the drinks, which were surrounded by so many attractive men.

“Y/N, this is Kai, Sehun, Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.” She says, introducing you. You smile and wave at them all, but one in particular cannot take his eyes off of you.

The seven of you stand around taking shots, talking and laughing for a few minutes, until Kai holds his hand out to you. ‘Wanna dance?” He asks, with a gorgeous smile. You take his hand, smiling back at him before he drags you to the living room.

You're hot as you dance in the crowd of people, Kai’s hands roaming your body as the two of you danced close to each other. His eyes remain on you and yours on his, you are completely oblivious to anything else going on, until Kai is ripped away from you. You look over in shock to see Minho standing there. He walks closer to you, you back up until you can't anymore. His chest pressed against yours as he stared at you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Dancing. What does it look like?” You ask.

Minho is pulled away from you. You see Kai standing there, the collar of Minho's shirt crumpled up in Kai's fists.

“What the fuck, man?” Kai yells, shoving Minho back. “Y/N, Do you know this dude?” He asks.

You sigh, running your hand over your face. “He's my brother's friend.” You say. Kai nods his head, walking away, but keeping a close eye on Minho. You grab Minho's wrist, pulling him outside the house.

“What are you doing here!?” You ask.

He chuckles a humorless laugh. “Why are you trying to make me jealous?” He asks, walking closer to you, moving his face closer to yours.

“Why are you jealous? I'm not your..” you say before he cuts you off.

“Cut the shit.” He breathes, crashing his lips onto yours. His hand presses against the back of your head, pushing into the kiss harder. His lips move against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, swirling around your own. You wrap your arms around him, bringing your bodies closer together. The sound of someone yelling causes the two of you to break the kiss. Minho pulls you to his car, opening the passenger door for you before moving around to the driver's side. He speeds off, turning down random streets until you hit one that's fully dark. His hand held onto your thigh the entire time, slowly sliding up with each turn.

He puts the car in park, sliding his seat back. You reach over, unbuttoning his pants as he kisses you again, this time with more desperation and neediness. His hands roam your body as he pulls you closer to him and onto him, straddling him. He pulls his cock out before moving your panties to the side. Just as you begin to lower yourself onto him, his phone rings. He grabs it from the cup holder, groaning as Jisung's name flashes across the screen.

“Don't answer.” You breathe, desperate to feel his cock inside you.

He swipes to answer. “Yeah?”

“Did you find her?” Jisung asks. You smirk as you lower yourself onto him, his cock stretching you out. You watch Minho's face as he squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip to keep from moaning out.

“Yeah, I've got eyes on her - She's fine. I'll get her home soon.” He says, hanging up the phone and tossing it to the seat next to him .

“You lied to him.” You moan as you rock your hips against him, his cock so deep inside you.

“It's not a lie.” He smirks. “I do have eyes on you.” He says, his hands on your hips as he guides you while you ride him. Minho moves his hands all over your body, up to your breasts, pulling them from your dress. He grips them, pulling you closer to him as he slips your nipple into your mouth, sucking on it. You cry out as you bounce on his dick, the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple sending you over the edge.

“God damn.” He groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

You smile as you throw your head back, he bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper into you. You run your hands through his hair as you continue grinding on him, your orgasm building so quickly.

“Fuck.” You breathe, squeezing your cunt around him, trying to delay your orgasm but it doesn't work, your eyes roll back as you cry out, your orgasm pulsates through your body.

“Oh fuck.” He groans. “I'm gonna cum.”

“Cum in my pussy.” You breathe, bouncing harder. “I'm on birth control.”

Minho moans loudly as he cums, thrusting himself deeper inside you. The two of you breathe heavily, your chests heaving as you slide off his cock and back into the passenger seat.

The rest of the ride is quiet as he drives back to your house. You walk in the front door, Jisung is in the living room.

“Don't take off again, please.” He sighs, his eyes never leaving the tv.

“Night.” You say, heading up the stairs to take a shower. That night you fall asleep, dreaming of Minho and what this night meant for the two of you.

The next morning you wake up happy as fuck. Happier than you had been in a very long time. It was Saturday and you were excited for the day and what might come of it. You look at the clock, you'd slept in late, it was already 1pm. You went downstairs, seeing Jisung and Minho in the kitchen talking and laughing.

“What's your plan tonight, Y/N?” Jisung asks, popping a candy in his mouth.

“I'm not sure yet.” You smile, glancing at Minho. “What about you?” You ask your brother.

“Gonna have people over later, but first Minho and I are going on a double date.” He laughs.

“Oh?” You partially choke. “A date?”

“Yeah.” Jisung chuckles. “Minho has been talking to Maya for a few weeks. And Jisoo and I are going to join them.” He explains. You look over at Minho, who won't look at you.

“Sounds fun.” You whisper.

“Yeah.” Minho pipes up. “It should be.”

366 notes · View notes

winwintea · 5 days

Text

stop posting about BALLER - zhong chenle

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

GENRES ↬ pure crack idk... fluff, romance, some angst if you look in between the lines, chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ inspired by a fic i read on ao3, a tiktok i watched where op got mad at their boyfriend for having headphones in while making out, plus my post here. and also chenle's recent fanboying activity in la. ignore the title its a placeholder for now, in honor of my dear friend @syatchy london stop writing for chenle challenge

WORD COUNT ↬ 1.3K

Everyone had their hobbies. You knew your boyfriend liked basketball, you just didn’t realize he liked it that much.

Making it your life’s goal to win over the heart of Zhong Chenle, you spent countless hours studying quizlet flashcards, watching a couple of basketball games, even trying to learn the sport as well. Although you were surprised when it didn’t take more than a few dates for you to begin dating.

Your best friend Ning Yizhuo, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“I just think he’s a big red flag. Who the hell puts “I’m always ballin’” as their twitter bio?” She’s sprawled across your bed, mindlessly stalking your boyfriend’s social media accounts. “What if your man loves another man more than he loves you?”

You’re paying her no mind, working on a basketball basics test on your laptop. Eight teams from each of the league's two conferences qualify for the playoffs. The top two teams play each other in the conference finals, to determine the Conference Champions from each side. The winners then play in the NBA Finals.

Yizhuo suddenly stands up, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you ignoring me?” You’re about to answer your next question, until she starts waving her hands in your face.

“What the hell, Yizhuo?” You turn around annoyed. “I was locked in!”

“Studying for basketball is crazy… Just warning you Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when your boyfriend calls you Stephen Curry’s name instead of your own.”

You punch her in the shoulder, “I swear to god-”

But Yizhuo seemed unfazed by your attacks, continuing on, “I’m just saying from experience hon. Sports guys like him will never love you as much as he loves his balls.”

“Um.. that’s what she said.”

—

Despite Yizhuo’s warnings and what she seemed so sure of, you and Chenle clicked in a way that none of your exes ever did. If he invited you to the gym, you’d show up with a yoga mat, pretending to do Pilates while sneaking glances at him bench pressing. If Chenle said he was hungry, you’d learn how do use a frying pan, determined to whip up something edible. And if he asked you to come over, you’d throw on your best outfit, adding an extra touch of appeal, and never forget to bring a treat for Daegal.

Spending time with Chenle was easy. It seemed almost too easy, that you began to slightly question why everything seemed so perfect.

If there were any red flags like Yizhuo pointed out, it was probably too small to see in the mix of fun times you spent together.

Times spent together usually and often ended with the two of you cuddling or making out on his couch.

Unsurprisingly, Chenle was a really good kisser. Plus, he was good at cuddling. You had no doubts in that moment you laid eyes on him, but everything was certainly up to expectations. He knew exactly how to hold you in his arms and make you feel like you were on top of the whole damn world.

As you leaned in closer for another this time, your hands running through his hair, you took notice of his features. His incredibly sharp jawline (mewing tutorial when?), the flushed pink splashed across his collarbones up to his cheeks, and now that he grew out his hair longer, it was much harder to see the shape of his ears-

Hold on.

You blink and then squint your eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping you’re just imagining things.

“Chenle. Are those Airpods?”

Chenle immediately pushes you off of him and then freezes.

You see every single emotion flash through Chenle’s eyes, but he’s still speechless. You’d honestly thought you’d been through the entire spectrum of men in your life, from guys who had memes tattooed on their chest to guys who brought their mother to dates to guys with an extremely interesting savior complex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Relax. You still had your dignity to protect. “What… are you listening to?” Maybe he was into listening to music while making out, maybe some relaxing sounds people used to cope with traumatic intimate experiences??? You were thinking of anything at this point, trying to brace yourself for the absolute worse.

“Highlights” Chenle begins, looking at you nervously, “For uh, for the Warriors game.” Before you can even process the info, Chenle rambles on, “We’re so so close to a wild card spot and I wanted to turn the game on earlier, but you were talking about your project you were working on and I really wanted to listen, and right now it’s not like we’re talking about anything important, so I figured it might be alright if I-“

what the fuck… yeah shut the hell up right now please, you think as he keeps rambling, and turn around to grab a pillow behind to smack this big headed shit right in the head.

“Ow-“ Chenle throws his hands up in defense, trying to block the pillow that comes crashing down. “What? Hey!”

“Zhong Chenle. I’m going to chop your fucking dick off.”

—

In the end, Chenle’s dick remains intact.

After letting himself get beaten up by a pillow, he manages to get you to calm down, taking the airpods out, which makes you a little bit happier than you were before.

Chenle leaves you on the couch to take a shower, allowing you to ponder for a bit. Were you being too restricting this way? Chenle seemed to still care about you, and didn’t want to take away time from your own interests as well. I mean… maybe you needed to get into basketball as well to fully understand.

As you lounge on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest, you hear the faint sound of the shower turning off. Before you know it, Chenle slips onto the couch beside you, his presence warm and comforting. In one smooth motion, he curls himself around you, arms gently wrapping around your waist as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of the shampoo you gifted him lingers in the air, blending with the soft warmth of his skin.

Your mind's racing, caught between conflicting emotions. And damn, Chenle smells incredible, which really isn’t helping right now.

A minute of silence passes before he finally speaks, his voice soft but serious. “Look, I get if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to push any boundaries. If that was too much, I won’t do it again. And if this is something that’s going to be a dealbreaker for us, I get it—we can end things here.”

“No, wait—no,” you cut in, setting your phone aside to face him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Okay, it was weird. You’ll give him that. Maybe his “casual” obsession with basketball wasn’t as casual as you thought. And sure, that might be a red flag for some.

But Yizhuo’s wrong. Maybe Chenle’s got a deeper connection with his basketballs than you or whoever she’s comparing him to, but at least he’s never moaned or called you Stephen Curry in the heat of the moment.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get used to this. Besides, he already promised he wouldn’t do it again.

Your thoughts bounce back and forth, but after a while, you break the silence with a quiet, “Did you win?”

His head lifts from your shoulder instantly, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Yeah, we did! Secured our spot in the conference finals.”

Conference finals. Oh, right. You recognize that term—studied it on Quizlet like the good, supportive partner you are.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. Chenle might be a bit obsessed with the sport, but he was supportive of your own goals and actually a really nice boyfriend.

“Tell me about it.”

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

196 notes · View notes

todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 7 months

Text

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.”

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?”

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker.

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod.

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod.

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

455 notes · View notes

joshs-big-toe · 9 months

Note

I triple dog dare you to write Josh futterman getting caught jerking off to a pic of y/n!!!!

Heyyy bbg I am SOOOO sorry this took me so long to get to this request, I have been dealing with final exams and tbh mental health? Down the drain lmao. I do have a fic similar to this, so if you want to read that one it is linked HERE!! I am still going to write a similar concept, however, I will change it up a little bit! I hope that you still enjoy it!

cw: smut, male masturbation, female masturbation, fluff

word count: 1,445

Being around Josh Futturman is this strange mix of contradictions that you can't quite wrap your head around. On one hand, he's this total loser, but you can't help but be infatuated with him. It's like he's the king of awkward, yet there's this undeniable charisma that draws you in. And then there's the whole "Biotic Wars" thing – he's legit addicted to that game. You can't help but roll your eyes when he starts rambling about how close he was to beating the game, but there's something oddly cute about his enthusiasm. Lately, though, there's this other layer to your friendship that you can't shake off – a subtle flutter in your chest when he laughs or those lingering looks that neither of you acknowledges. You knew you were far gone when it came to Josh, but you also knew you refused to risk your friendship with him, so you kept silent.

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

Your shift came to a close and you started gathering your things when the buzzing of your phone made you jump. You looked down, seeing Josh’s name on the screen, making you smile. You pick up, greeted by the distant sounds of explosions ad gunfire – the unmistakable sounds of “Biotic Wars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, what are you doing?” There was a tiredness in his voice.

“I just got off of work, I’m about to head home. What’s up with you?” You responded, realizing that it was kind of a stupid question.

“Ah, you know, same old. Just killing these biotics left and right. You should join me sometime.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe someday, but probably not,” he groans in a mocking way. “You wanna hang out today? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, clearly distracted. “You can um – ah fuck you! Sorry, not you, I just died.” He laughed. “You can come to my place, that sound alright?” The frantic clicking of buttons started up in the background, accompanied by gunshots and occasional explosions.

“Yeah your place works,” you remark. “What time?” There was a silence from Josh, leaving the sounds of the game in the background. “Josh?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “How does 6 sound? It gives you a chance to get out of your work clothes and me a chance to go through a few more levels.” Clearly, he was more focused on the game.

“That works, I’ll grab pizza for us. Usual?” He ‘mhmm’s’ in response your question. “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He says a quick goodbye, hanging up quickly after. You sigh, grabbing your bag and keys, making your way to your car to head home.

---------

You looked at your watch, the time reading 5:42. You were typically early. Josh always left his door unlocked whenever he knew you were coming over, so you were able to walk right in. You set your bag and the pizza box on the dining table, looking up the stairs. You couldn’t hear his game playing, however you did hear noises from up the stairs. You walk up the stairs quietly, wanting to sneak up on him. Noticing his door was cracked, you took a peak in. Your breath caught in your through, letting out a soft gasp at what you were greeted with. On his computer monitor, your Instagram was pulled up, a photo of you at the beach on the screen. A heat started pooling in your core with the sight in front of you: Josh was in his gaming chair, jeans around his ankles, quickly stroking his dick. His head was lulled back, eyes half closed and tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. You stayed silent, watching his hand moved up in down in a needy pace, whimpers escaping his throat as he continued. He switched hands, shaking the one he was previously using, making you think he had been at this for a while. You bit your lower lip, your arousal becoming overwhelming. You start to think, there's no harm in touching myself too, right? With that, you quietly sit down on the floor, leaning against his doorframe. You took a look over your shoulder, making sure you did not alert Josh that you were there. You were in the clear. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Carefully, you dip your hand down into your sweatpants, past your underwear and down to your heat. You leaned your head back against the door frame as you grazed your clit, biting on your lip to stifle any noise threatening your lips. Your eyes closed, taking in the whimpers and words coming from Josh as he continued stroking his cock. Your fingers dipped down into your heat, making you sigh. Your mind was completely clouded with the thought of your fingers being replaced by Josh’s, making a heat pool in your lower belly.

“F-fuck, y/n,” you heard Josh whimper out, making you that much closer to your own release. You circled your clit, letting out your own soft moans at this point, unable to contain them with the pleasure you were feeling. You heard Josh’s moans get more erratic as kept going, insinuating that he was close. You sped up your movements, rubbing and fingering your wet heat, finally bringing yourself to your release. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to stifle your moans, leaning your head back against the door frame and screwing your eyes shut. You sit there for a moment, catching your breath before glancing inside Josh’s room, not seeing him on his gaming chair anymore. You stand up on wobbly legs, composing yourself. You knock on his door, pushing it open.

“Hey Josh, I’m here,” you call out with a shaky voice. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. You looked at his computer, your picture no longer up. Josh was standing at his shelf, now wearing sweatpants. He turned to look at you, a smile making its way onto his face. His cheeks were a light flush of red.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful as he made his way over to his bed. You go in, sitting next to you. He leaned in to hug you, you immediately hugging back. He moved his head to where his lips were next to your ear. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice was low and gravely. Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from the hug to look at him. He looked nervous, his face a darker red than before. This honestly probably took a lot of confidence to say, especially for him.

“W-what?” You stutter out.

“You heard me,” he grinned.

“I um, you saw?” He just nodded. “How much?”

“Most of it, watching you is what actually made me,” he paused. “You know,” he looked away, clearly nervous now. You guess his confidence wore off.

“I-I’m sorry if I made things weird I just-” he cut you off, connecting his lips to yours gently. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been into you for years. You just never showed me any signs of anything, so I stayed quiet about it.” You smiled.

“honestly, josh? I have too. I was just scared.”

“You sure didn’t seem scared five minutes ago,” he smirked. You grumbled, flicking the back of his head. “You were also early, you were never supposed to see or know anything.” You shrugged.

“Well, I do now.” He looked down.

“So what now?” He said, joy and curiosity in his voice. You thought for a moment.

“well, theres pizza downstairs-“

“no, not right now, dumbass. In general. Us. What now.”

“oh,” you blushed. “You could be a gentleman and ask me on a real date, you know.” You teased him. He rolled his eyes, hiding the smile that crept onto his face.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” A smile lingered on his lips. You pretend to think for a moment.

“I guess, but lets just eat pizza and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?” He nodded.

“I’ll go get the pizza,” he planted a kiss on your cheek before he left the room. You laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe what just happened, and frankly you were embarrassed. But you’re secrets out now and it feels good, especially knowing that he had feelings for you too. You let your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath, anticipating what may come within this newfound relationship that may be forming.

OMG thank you for being patient with me. I hope this is good, I honestly struggled with this one a lot for some reason, but if you enjoyed it, im glad. Have a beautiful day everyone :)

#josh hutcherson #josh futterman #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman fluff #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark #peeta

538 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 4 months

Text

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Octopus behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean, unless you’d rather have gotten a tutor or something, I guess, probably Batman could’ve helped me find you a tutor,” Billy says, shrugging a little awkwardly. He used to help other foster kids with their homework a lot, though, and he taught a couple street kids he knew some bits and pieces of stuff, at least. And also–“Wisdom of Solomon, you know? It’s, um, kinda a thing. Anyway, I’m gonna help you with your powers, so it’s the same kind of thing, right? And it’s normal to read to your kids, too.”

“I don’t need to read to be a weapon,” Lynn mutters, still looking down at Tawky. “Not if I’m being deployed with a team, anyway.”

. . . Billy thinks maybe he could just go ahead and burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Like. Morally, and all. Ethically. Whichever.

“I’m not helping you with your powers so you can be a weapon,” he says firmly, making himself keep his voice even so Lynn won’t think he’s mad at him. Or, uh–royally fucking pissed at him, more accurately. That’s Cadmus. Like, definitely it’s Cadmus that he’s royally fucking pissed at. “I’m helping you with your powers so you don’t get hurt or accidentally hurt anybody else. Like–so you can use them however you want.”

“I’m the thing that gets used,” Lynn says as he folds one of Tawky’s ears back and forth, voice and expression both just distant enough to make Billy hate literally everything that’s made Lynn feel like that.

He is definitely gonna put in a request with the League to let him burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Either that, or there’s gonna be a real convenient thunderstorm concentrated right on top of it, and a whole lot of equally convenient and equally concentrated lightning strikes.

And if that fails, then there’s gonna be a twelve year-old “civilian” sneaking in with some matches and lighter fluid, and he’s just gonna commit arson the old-fashioned way.

“If anyone ever says that to you again, I’m gonna make them sorry for even thinking it,” he says as evenly as he can. Lynn’s mouth tightens. He keeps his head down.

“. . . why would you have read to me?” he asks, the question a little guarded. “That wouldn’t have taught me anything.”

“It would’ve taught you that I’d read to you,” Billy says. Lynn–frowns, like maybe he doesn’t understand what he means. Billy’s not sure he understands what he means, just . . .

His dad read to him. And his mom too.

And Uncle Eben definitely did not.

And Cadmus didn’t read to Lynn either, he’s betting. As far as he can tell, all Cadmus ever did was jam a really biased education into his head and lie to and mind-control him, in fact.

Cadmus was just really awful to Lynn in general, as far as Billy can tell.

Lynn thought they’d have kryptonite here, so . . . yeah. Cadmus was definitely awful to him.

Billy really, really wants to make sure that Lynn’s first thought is never something like that again. Or at least, that his first thought is never something like that when it’s about him.

About the person who’s taking care of him, he means. Lynn should–he shouldn’t–

Billy always felt safe with his dad. With both of his parents. He wants Lynn to feel that way too, because Lynn deserves to feel that way too. Like no matter what tries to hurt him, it’s gonna have to go through somebody else first, and somebody who’d never just stand by and let it get to him.

Billy doesn’t know if Lynn’s ever felt safe in his life, all things considered. He grew up in a pod being lied to and woke up to mind control and more lies and got attacked by, like, a giant mutated jerk of a doctor who’d been controlling and hurting him all his life already, and then he left the only place he’d ever known just because he thought it was the right thing to do, and . . .

Yeah. Billy can’t imagine “safe” is a feeling Lynn’s all that familiar with yet.

Can’t imagine he’s ever really felt it at all, at this point.

He–swallows, a little, and then makes himself smile at him again. Lynn’s still not looking at him, but Billy figures he’ll hear it in his voice, if nothing else.

“I’ll read to you anyway, if you want,” he offers as he links his hands together behind his back, his voice coming out a little awkward; a little quiet. He doesn’t mean for it to, but . . . “Even if you can do it yourself.”

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He rubs the pad of his thumb across one of Tawky’s paw pads and then squeezes it, just a little. Billy doesn’t blame him for wanting to hold somebody’s hand right now. It’s–a lot, probably. All this is probably a lot.

All this is definitely a lot, and Billy doesn’t blame Lynn for anything he’s feeling about any of it at all. When everything changes all at once like–when somebody’s whole life changes and they lose everything and everyone they had before, and . . . and . . .

It’s just a lot, he knows.

Like–yeah.

Of course it is.

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, and glances up–not at Billy, exactly, but in his direction. He’s looking at his shoulder more than anything else, Billy’s pretty sure, but that’s fine by him. He brightens instinctively, resisting the urge to float up a little in excitement.

“Cool!” he says. “Um–okay, yeah. Cool.”

Lynn ducks his head again, looking more towards the wall now. He’s still holding Tawky’s paw, though, and he didn’t, like, go run off and hide in his room or get mad or anything, so Billy thinks things are going okay, really. Even if–even if some of this is a little harder to talk too much about, maybe.

He really does want Lynn to feel safe with him, though, so he’s gonna have to be able to talk to him about the harder stuff too.

He can do that, he promises himself. Or–he’s gonna do that, anyway. He’ll figure it out, one way or the other.

Lynn deserves a dad who can do that, and Billy’s already decided he’s gonna be the kind of dad Lynn deserves, so–yeah.

He can do it.

He wonders if his parents ever felt like this with him. Felt like–like it was hard and scary and weird, but like they still needed and wanted to figure it out and do it right, whatever it took. Like it was more important to do it right than . . . than anything else.

He doesn’t know, obviously. And he’s never gonna get to ask. But . . . but he hopes he’s at least doing this right enough that they would’ve been happy about it. Been–proud of him, for taking after them. Being like them, even just a little bit.

They were both really good parents, and he just . . . they’re gone, and he’ll never see them again, and no one really remembers them the same way he does. No one loves them the same way he does. Not anymore.

So–so if he can be a good dad to Lynn like they were good parents to him, then maybe at least there’ll be a little bit more of them left in the world. A little bit more that they got to do; got to make happen. Make matter.

And maybe . . . maybe that means Lynn will love some part of them too, technically, if Lynn ever loves him.

If Billy does this right, anyway.

“Do you wanna walk to the library too?” he suggests. “It might be a little farther away than the diner, I think, but not too bad. And, um, we’ve got super-stamina and all, so yeah.”

“. . . I’ve never walked that far before,” Lynn says. Billy blinks, wondering how Lynn knows that. He didn’t say how far it was for sure, just–

Oh.

“You’d never walked as far as the diner before?” he realizes. Lynn nods stiffly. Billy’s chest sort of–hurts a little, maybe. “Did you like it, or was it too much? I know it’s kind of exposed and there’s a lot more people than you’re probably used to and all, so it’s okay if–”

“It was fine,” Lynn cuts in, and then hunches his shoulders a little. “Uh. I mean–it was fine.”

Billy’s own shoulders slump a bit in relief, and he smiles wider at him. Okay. That’s–okay, yeah.

He really likes Lynn. Like–Lynn’s really easy to like, he means. He’s glad about that. Not that he was gonna take anything back or send Lynn back if he was hard to get along with or anything, obviously, but . . . he’s still glad, yeah.

Really glad.

#octopus #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

194 notes · View notes