#through the screen and explain it in plain words to him and give him the solution

[ultra-raging-ghost]

Richas is trying to help bad convey his feelings and bads like post-reset social ineptness is showing because hes like "yeah i wanted to have a full day with her because she asked because she was upset" which is so fucking real. actually might need to make a whole separate post about how bad thinks because i understand it really hard

[supi-wupi]

Second Place - Joshua

pairing: Joshua x Reader

synopsis: You’ve loved him since day one, but he’s in love with someone else. As you help him write love letters to his crush, he unknowingly discovers your unsent letters—confessions hidden in plain sight. 

wc: 4.3k

genre: Angst, Unspoken/unrequited love, second chance

warning: Emotional angst, Unsent letters and misunderstandings, Separation/abandonment, Mental health struggle mentions, Heartbreak, mentions of exhaustion and burnout, joshua crying on stage, members confused, grievinga/n: This can be considered an alternative ending to my work ‘Penpal’, which you don’t need to read before this, it just gives background context to the name ‘Shuji’.

The studio always smelled like burnt coffee and citrus-scented air freshener—two things Y/N constantly relied on to stay awake through 3 a.m. writing blocks and last-minute composition tweaks. It was her quiet place, her second home. And lately, the only space where she could love him in silence.

Joshua.

She'd been writing songs for the group since before they debuted. First as an intern, then as a contracted lyricist, now a ghostwriter whose name was never printed but whose words shaped half their discography. No one questioned it. And she preferred it that way.

Well. Mostly.

It was easier to hide in the credits when the person you loved was singing words you wrote for someone else.

“Y/N,” Joshua called softly from the doorway. “You got a minute?”

She turned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. He wore a hoodie half-slipped off one shoulder and held a notebook in one hand like he wasn’t sure whether to offer it or clutch it to his chest.

“Yeah, of course.” Her voice was lighter than she felt.

He stepped inside, hesitating. “So… I wanted to ask you for help with something. Again.”

You always do, she thought. But she smiled. “Lyrics?”

Joshua nodded, his grin sheepish. “It’s stupid, probably, but I wanted to write something for… someone. You know. Just something personal. You’re better with words.”

She didn’t ask who. He didn’t offer the name. But it didn’t matter. She already knew.

It had been the same for months now—Joshua appearing with half-formed verses and flushed cheeks, shyly mumbling about how this girl made him feel something he couldn’t explain. And Y/N, like a fool, would spend nights bleeding her heart into lyrics she could never claim as her own.

“Do you have a melody?” she asked instead.

He hummed the beginning of something gentle, a chord progression she recognized from their last jam session. It would make a beautiful ballad. A confession song.

It would destroy her.

“Give me a few days,” she said, reaching for her pen.

He looked relieved. “Thank you. Really.”

“Always,” she whispered once he’d left.

—

She stayed long after the studio lights dimmed, laptop screen casting a dull glow across her face. The chorus came easy—hearts in hands, breathless hope, longing wrapped in soft vowels and sweet consonants. She knew his voice well enough to mold the words into something that would sit right in his mouth.

That was the problem.

Every word she wrote tasted like love.

Her own.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 12/09/2017]

Dear Shuji,

You smiled when you read the lyrics today. You said they felt real. That they captured exactly how you felt.

You don’t know they’re about you.

You don’t know that every time you describe her, I think of all the things I’ll never be.

But I keep writing, because it’s the only way I can love you without ruining everything.

Yours,

Nie

—

Joshua found the letter by accident.

A week later, rummaging through her desk while she grabbed them both dinner, he was looking for a spare cable when he noticed the envelope tucked inside a draft folder. It wasn’t labeled, but curiosity got the better of him.

He read it once.

Then twice.

The handwriting was hers. The paper was old, the fold lines soft with time. But there was no name. No context. Only the nickname: Shuji.

His heart skipped.

Only one person called him that.

When Y/N returned, he smiled like nothing had changed.

He didn’t ask.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Not yet.

—

Joshua started to notice little things.

The way Y/N stopped looking at him when she spoke. How she paused before answering, like measuring every word before it left her mouth. The ghost of a smile that used to be automatic now took its time showing up.

But she still helped him write songs. Love songs.

She always did.

—

The melody they settled on was soft and simple—just guitar, piano, and breath. Y/N filled the gaps with metaphors that made Joshua’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t ask where she pulled those images from: The way she laughs into her sleeve, like hiding joy makes it stronger. Or: I loved you like a secret—loud and unspoken.

He thought maybe he was finally finding the right words.

Even if they weren’t his.

“I’m thinking of giving it to her,” he said one night, when she handed him the final demo. “Just… directly. Not through a release or anything. Just me. And her. What do you think?”

Y/N swallowed. “I think… if it’s honest, she’ll hear you.”

She didn’t tell him the honesty was borrowed.

She didn’t tell him that the verses were carved from her own heart.

—

Later, after he left with a hopeful smile and a folded-up lyric sheet, Y/N sat back and stared at the empty chair across from her.

You really think she’ll hear you?She’s not even listening.

She reached for the drawer.

She shouldn't read the old letters again. But she always did.

Except… one was gone.

Her hands froze.

She counted them twice.

And it was definitely missing.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 04/11/2019]

Dear Shuji,

You asked me what falling in love feels like. I didn’t answer, but this is what I wanted to say:

It feels like watching your favorite song play out in front of you, knowing you can’t join in. Like standing in the audience when you know the harmonies by heart.

It feels like writing lyrics about someone who’ll never read them—and hoping they never do.

Because then maybe, you can keep pretending they were yours.

I don’t want to pretend anymore. But I will. For you.

Yours,

Nie

—

He found this one in a second notebook—one she left on the piano bench in the practice room. The edges were worn, the ink faded. It was dated years ago, before he even realized she was the one gluing their group’s emotions together behind the scenes.

The nicknames again. The handwriting again. That same ache in the words.

He didn’t confront her. Not yet.

Maybe she’d written these for someone else. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe he was starting to realize the truth and didn’t know what to do with it.

Still, he kept the letter folded in his bag.

Just in case.

—

Y/N noticed it first—the shift in how he looked at her.

Like he was watching her with a question on his lips he didn’t know how to ask.

But it didn’t matter. Not really.

Because the moment she saw him holding hands with the girl in the lobby—her—the one he’d been writing songs for… it all came crashing down anyway.

—

That night, Y/N didn’t cry.

She packed her laptop. Shut down the studio. Took the long train ride home. And when she got in, she did the one thing she swore she never would.

She started a new letter.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 07/02/2022]

Dear Shuji,

It’s not her fault. It’s not yours either. I should’ve said something years ago.

But I was always scared of being a burden you couldn’t put into a melody.

I was scared that if I told you I loved you, I’d lose the only part of you I was allowed to keep.

So I wrote you songs instead.

But you never heard me.

I think it’s time I stop writing.

I think it’s time I go.

Yours, almost.

—

She didn’t show up to practice the next morning.

Not in the studio. Not in the back room where she usually scribbled lyrics on her tablet with earbuds in, mouthing melodies no one else could hear.

Joshua didn’t panic right away.

Y/N had always been consistent, but not rigid. She sometimes needed air—walks at night, weekend disappearances for inspiration, quiet hours with her thoughts and no one else's noise.

But when she didn’t answer his texts by lunch—and her shared drive folder remained untouched, with nothing new since the demo he’d used for the girl—something in him shifted.

He told himself she’d be back.

She wasn’t.

Three days passed.

Then four.

When Seungkwan asked if she was sick, Joshua just said, “She’s taking a break.” It sounded better than I don’t know where she is, or maybe I’m the reason she left.

Because now, with every quiet hour that passed, the letters began making more sense.

He re-read them at night. Alone. In bed. Memorizing the curves of her handwriting like he used to memorize chord changes.

She hadn’t signed her name.

But it didn’t matter.

The letters weren’t a puzzle anymore.

They were a mirror—and he had never bothered to look into it.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 08/13/2021]

Dear Shuji,

They always say to write what you know.

But how do I write this? This knowing. This silence.

I know your favorite coffee order. The tempo your foot taps when you’re anxious. The way your shoulders tighten before you laugh. I know you want her. I know I’m not her.

But I still write you love songs like I’ve been asked to.

Like you’re not breaking me every time you sing them.

I love you so much it hurts. And I hate myself for it.

Yours,

Nie

—

He found that one in an old shared lyric book—one they used to keep between the two of them, back when they were still experimenting with writing as a duo.

It had fallen behind her desk. Tucked into the middle like a secret.

The page before it had a scratch melody he remembered vaguely. A soft ballad. It had made him tear up the first time he heard it.

He thought it was because it sounded like longing.

He hadn’t realized it was.

—

He messaged her again.

[11:03 PM] You wrote those letters, didn’t you? Why didn’t you say anything?

No reply.

[11:47 PM] Was I really that blind? Please talk to me.

Still nothing.

The next morning, he got an email.

—

Subject: For the Team From: [Y/N] To: [SEVENTEEN Staff + Members] Time: 5:26 PM

Hi everyone,

I’m officially stepping away from the group’s lyricist role to pursue something quieter. This decision wasn’t made lightly, and I’ll always be grateful for the years we spent creating together.

Please take care of yourselves.

With love, Y/N

—

The air left his lungs like a silent apology.

The rest of the team read the message with wide eyes and murmurs of she didn’t say anything. But Joshua said nothing.

Because he’d known.

Maybe not in time.

But he knew now.

And it felt like losing a song before he ever got to sing it.

He went back to the studio that night, even though the others had left. Just in case she'd left something else behind.

She had.

In the pencil drawer was one last envelope. No name. No date. Just folded paper, waiting like a confession.

His hands shook when he opened it.

—

[Unsent Letter — Undated]

Shuji,

I hope you don’t hate me.

I hope when you find these, if you find these, it’s because some part of you wondered.

Some part of you looked at me and thought, maybe.

If not… then at least now you know.

I wrote every song for you. Even the ones you asked me to write about her.

I loved you when you didn’t see me.

I loved you when you looked right through me to find her face.

But I loved you.

And I’ll keep loving you… just not here.

Yours, once.

—

He sat there for a long time.

Letter in hand. Empty studio. No background melody. No voice humming beside him.

Just silence.

And for the first time since debut, Joshua Hong had no words.

Joshua stared at the unsent letter in his hands like it held the answer to everything he’d missed.

“I wrote every song for you. Even the ones you asked me to write about her.”

His chest tightened at the words. Every song—every lyric—was a confession he’d been too blind to hear.

The studio felt emptier than ever, the echoes of her absence ringing louder than the microphones ever could.

He couldn’t let this be the last note.

—

The next day, Joshua sat alone in the practice room after everyone left, opening a fresh blank page on his tablet. His fingers hovered, unsure. He hadn’t written a lyric for weeks—not since Y/N left.

But this time, it wasn’t for anyone else.

It was for her.

—

[Joshua’s Letter — Draft]

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know. I didn’t see the signs, the quiet tears hidden behind your melodies.

I was so focused on who you weren’t, I missed the person who loved me all along.

I’m sorry for the silence, for the songs you had to write alone.

If you’re listening somewhere out there, know this—

I’m trying to find my own words now. For you.

J.

—

He saved it, but didn’t send it. Not yet.

In the following days, he found pieces of her everywhere: a coffee cup on the corner of the studio desk, a half-finished notebook of lyrics, a familiar scent in the hallway air.

Each small thing a reminder.

And a question.

Why didn’t she stay to tell him?

He asked the members, careful with his words, hoping someone had heard from her.

They all shook their heads.

“She’s busy, probably taking time for herself,” Woozi offered quietly.

But Joshua knew better.

—

That night, his phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

“Shuji, it’s me. I’m sorry I left like that. I needed space, but I’m not gone forever.”

His heart pounded.

Could it be?

—

Joshua stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Four simple words that stirred a thousand questions—and a hope he hadn’t dared to feel in months.

He typed back slowly, carefully.

“Where are you?”

Hours passed with no reply. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain.

—

The next morning, a new message came:

“I’m still figuring things out. But I want you to know I’m okay. Maybe we can talk soon?”

Joshua exhaled, a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation flooding him.

—

He sat by the window, guitar resting in his lap, eyes tracing the skyline of Seoul as if searching for her in the distance.

The songs he once wrote for her now felt like letters waiting to be opened—pieces of his heart scattered across melodies and unsent words.

He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There were wounds to heal, misunderstandings to unravel, and time to reclaim.

But for the first time in a long while, Joshua felt a quiet promise flicker inside him—

A promise to try.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start.

—

Aftermath

Joshua never thought he’d be standing there, in front of the world, with his heart laid bare.

The moment was etched in everyone's memory—the moment when, on stage, under the bright lights, his voice cracked with emotion and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He apologized, not for the crowd, not for his fans, but for you. The promise he had broken. The way he had walked away from you, from everything, without a word.

The silence after the apology was deafening.

Everyone wanted to know the truth. What did it mean? What did he mean by it?

You knew. And that was the problem.

In the days that followed, the weight of what had happened didn’t lighten. Instead, it became heavier, suffocating in its own right. Joshua’s apology had echoed across stages, but you were still the one who had to live with the silence.

—

It wasn’t long before he started looking for answers in the wrong places. In places that were never meant to be discovered. You had hoped—no, you had expected—this day would come. You had written so many letters to him over the years, carefully pouring your heart into words that never saw the light of day. Letters meant only for him, but never sent, because to send them would have meant losing him entirely.

And now, they were all he had left.

He hadn’t meant to find them. He hadn’t meant to see the words you had written, the confessions buried in the folds of old notebooks and drafts. But now, he had them. All of them. The letters, the songs, the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

—

Joshua had been spending every waking hour in the studio, lost in the music that was no longer his alone. The songs, the melodies, everything now felt tainted with the truth he had ignored for so long.

"Shuji, I'm sorry," his fingers hovered over his tablet screen. "I didn't see it. I didn't see you. I was too blind to realize."

It was a draft, but it was a start.

But even as the words took form on the screen, they felt like they were coming too late.

And then came the message.

The silence had been unbearable, and in the silence, you had left.

—

You hadn’t told him. You hadn't told anyone. You'd just slipped away. Packed up the parts of yourself you had given so freely, and left. You were no longer the invisible force behind the songs. You weren’t the lyricist, the ghostwriter—just a woman who had loved him too much to stay.

Your decision wasn’t easy. But it was necessary. The love you’d hidden for so long had taken everything from you, and you couldn’t afford to keep giving pieces of yourself away when he never once saw them.

Your last message to him was simple. A quiet goodbye in the only way you knew how.

"I’m still figuring things out," the words came, hesitant and soft. "But I want you to know I’m okay. Maybe we can talk soon?"

—

Joshua held his breath as he read your message. It wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for, but it was something. A sliver of hope. He stared at the screen, the weight of the words pressing against his chest.

"Where are you?"

The response came slowly. Hours passed before he finally got an answer.

“I'm okay. I'm not gone forever. But I need time. We need time.”

His heart ached.

Time. It was all he had left now. Time to undo the damage. Time to finally listen to the words you had been whispering for years.

Joshua didn’t know how to fix things. He didn’t know where to start. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t let the silence swallow everything.

As the days stretched on, Joshua found himself writing songs again. Not for the group. Not for anyone else. Just for you. They were the songs you had written for him, once. The lyrics you had poured into every melody, every note, every verse.

He had missed it. He had missed you.

And maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t be too blind to see.

He hit send.

"Y/N... I’m sorry. I know I can’t fix everything. But I’ll spend every day trying to."

The message was simple. But the promise was everything.

And for the first time in months, the silence felt a little less heavy.

—

Joshua stared at his phone screen, his thumb hovering above the send button, unsure if the words would be enough. Would they ever be enough?

He thought back to the letters. The confessions you had written, the ones you had never shared. Your words were so raw, so beautiful, and yet he had failed to see them for what they were. The melodies, the lyrics—they had always been pieces of your heart, pieces of you, woven into songs for him that he had accepted without ever questioning.

But now, now that it was too late, all he could feel was the weight of every moment he had missed, every opportunity he had wasted.

He had heard the lyrics, but he hadn’t listened. He had felt the melodies, but he hadn’t understood. All of it had been a confession—an open secret—but he had been too blinded by his own self-doubt, too focused on the girl he thought he was meant to be with, to see you—the one who had been there all along.

The truth was a bitter pill, one he had swallowed too late.

—

It was a few weeks before he saw you again, and even then, it wasn’t how he imagined it would be. There were no grand gestures. No reunion at the studio or a dramatic confession at a concert.

It was just a text.

"Meet me at the café?" It was you, as simple as always. But this time, Joshua wasn’t sure how to feel. His hands shook as he read the message again, each word a reminder of everything that had led him here.

"Of course," he replied.

It was the first step. A small one, but the only one he could take.

—

The café was quiet when he arrived, the usual hum of conversation muffled by the early hour. He spotted you right away, sitting by the window, a cup of coffee in front of you, your fingers tracing the rim of the mug absentmindedly. You weren’t looking at your phone. You weren’t avoiding him either. You were just... there.

For a moment, Joshua froze, unsure of how to approach you. He had rehearsed a hundred apologies, a thousand explanations, but in the end, none of them felt right.

What could he say? "I'm sorry" felt so small in comparison to everything that had happened between you two. And yet, it was the only word that seemed to keep coming back.

You noticed him standing by the door, hesitating, and for the first time, you gave him a soft smile. It wasn’t the warm, easy smile you used to share, but it was something. Something that made his chest tighten.

“Joshua.” Your voice was soft, almost like you weren’t sure how to address him anymore. You had been so used to calling him Shuji, to speaking to him as someone who knew your every thought, every word. But now… now there was distance. The kind that couldn’t be crossed with a simple smile.

He walked over slowly, sitting across from you. The silence that hung between you felt thick, heavy, like something unsaid that both of you were too scared to voice.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, your eyes tired, but there was something else there too—something he couldn’t quite name. “I’m doing okay. A lot of changes… but I’m alright.”

You avoided his gaze for a moment, your fingers curling around the handle of the coffee cup, as if it were the only thing anchoring you to the present. Joshua's heart skipped. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. It wasn’t the answer he needed. He needed you to say that you were okay because of him, that he had fixed something, made up for everything he had done. But the truth was that you had already made up your mind long before this conversation.

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just sat there, watching you, trying to gather the words that had been locked inside him for months.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, the words coming out in a rush. "I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a brief moment, there was something in your gaze that he didn’t expect—something like understanding. But it was fleeting.

“I know you didn’t,” you replied quietly. “But I couldn’t keep waiting for you to see me.”

Joshua’s heart clenched at your words. The air between you was thick with everything unspoken, everything that had been left unsaid. The letters. The songs. The moments that had never been shared. It was too much, and yet, it was nothing compared to what he had lost.

"I was a fool," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was so caught up in everything else, I never took the time to see what was right in front of me. I—"

“No,” you cut him off, your eyes soft, but firm. “You weren’t a fool, Joshua. You were just... lost. So was I. But I can’t keep pretending like I wasn’t waiting for something that would never come.”

Joshua swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. "What do we do now?" he asked, voice rough.

You sat back in your chair, your gaze thoughtful, distant almost. “I don’t know. Maybe we take things one step at a time. But I’m not here to be your second choice. I need to find my own way now, too.”

The words stung, more than anything he had heard before. But there was truth in them. And that truth was something Joshua wasn’t ready to face. Yet he knew it was the only way forward.

“Then... I’ll wait,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “If you want me to. I’ll wait. Because I owe you that much.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. But when you finally spoke, it wasn’t to shut him down. It was a quiet agreement, a fragile understanding that neither of you was quite ready to step into each other's lives again, not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there would be a way forward.

“Okay,” you said, your voice small but resolute. “Maybe we’ll figure it out someday.”

Joshua nodded, the silence between you two more comfortable now, not full of things left unsaid, but things left to be discovered.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he might be on the right path. Even if it wasn’t clear yet, even if it took time, he knew he wasn’t walking it alone.

masterlist ♪

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, use of y/n

word count: 5.5k

a/n: so @coco-loco-nut (aka my irl bestie) and i both wrote fics based on the same concept, theirs is linked at the end!

smau

masterlist

Contrary to popular opinion, Monaco was one of, if not your least favorite racetrack. It was narrow, making it hard to pass and way too easy to defend. Analysts would say all of that makes the Grand Prix exciting, while you found it to be just plain stupid. For the last half of the race, you were stuck in a DRS train in 10th, sandwiched between Alex in front and Pierre behind. 

“Fucking hell guys, this is boring.” You complained over the radio “Sorry I can’t do any better right now” 

And you couldn’t do any better the rest of the race. While your race was nowhere near eventful, you were able to get glimpses of the screens showing Charles crossing the checkered flag first at his home race. You didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on your face. He had worked all of his life for this moment. He deserved every bit of euphoria. 

You slid into parc ferme along with the rest of the midfield, barely able to get out of the car and reconnect your steering wheel fast enough. Sprinting down parc ferme, you found Charles celebrating with his team and family. When he eventually wriggled his way out of their grasp, you were able to approach him. 

“Congrats Charlie. Well deserved man” You said, embracing him in a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” Was all he was able to get out. 

As the podium celebration ensued, you and Max made your way to the media pen. Dozens of news outlets were scattered around the barrier, prompting you to separate from your teammate. The interviewer greeted you before going through the standard questions of what went wrong in the race. 

“Now let’s talk about something that happened after the race” The interviewer spoke, leading you to raise an eyebrow. “I think everyone who wasn’t looking at Leclerc was watching you run down parc ferme to greet him. Can you tell me a bit about that?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. At the time, you didn’t think twice about doing it, but being asked about your actions, you probably looked crazy doing it. “Yeah I mean it’s always exciting watching someone win their home race. It’s something I’ve dreamed of since I started watching Formula One as a little girl” 

A pause took over for a moment as you decided on the best way to word your next thoughts. “Charles is a very good friend of mine. He’s someone who welcomed me to the championship with open arms last year. On track I always want to give him a good fight if possible, but off the track I’m always going to support him.” 

Now Charles wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop on interviews. Most of the drivers said the same things over and over again, occasionally rephrasing. But whenever he heard your sweet southern accent, he couldn’t help but to listen in on what you had to say. 

When your words hit his ears, he could feel his heart stop. He wasn’t expecting you to confess a secret crush that no one knew you had to some interviewer, but a guy could dream. Instead, you very publicly friendzoned the Monegasque. 

Little did he know, you did in fact have a massive secret crush that only one person knew about. That one person was your teammate. And boy did he know a lot about it. 

“Did I just friendzone Charles with that?” You asked as the two of you walked towards the Red Bull garage for the team meeting. 

“Honestly maybe” Max said “Depends on if Charles is smart enough to realize you said it because you weren’t stupid enough to reveal your emotions to the media” 

“So then I definitely friendzoned him. Got it” You sighed

You weren’t sure if it was just how boring the entire day was, but the team meeting felt like it was dragging on. While you were zoning in and out of listening to Horner and Marko explain every single thing that was wrong with how you drove, you spotted Max next to you on his phone. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered 

Max’s head snapped up to look at you, quickly turning off his phone as he did so. “Oh, uh nothing” 

You shrugged, not thinking anything of Max’s reaction. He was always a private person, and you understood not wanting anyone to know your private conversations. 

Later that night, you traded your fireproofs for a little black top and jeans, as you and the grid were going out to celebrate Charles’ win. You were the last of the drivers to arrive, all of the boys jokingly blaming it on the fact you took longer to get ready, but in reality you needed the time to calm your nerves. 

You had gone to the club with the grid plenty of times before, but none of them revolved around Charles being the center of attention. You knew he was going to be bouncing around the group, spending time with everyone, and you were sure you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself. 

Meanwhile, Charles was worrying about himself. When he drank, he got flirty. He knew it, Max knew it, even the fans knew it. The only person he was sure didn’t know was you. And that was only because he never drank as much as he usually does when he’s around you. 

He was already a few drinks deep when you finally showed up. He was near the back of the room, but he could spot your figure from a mile away. As you navigated through the sweaty bodies and sticky floors, Charles was easily able to get your attention by a wave of his hand. 

That wave turned into a hug, followed by a kiss on either cheek from the Monegasque. You realized it was just a cultural difference, and that’s how he greeted all of his female friends, but that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering. 

“Congrats again Charlie” You said finally spoke 

“Thank you mon amour, why don't I get you a drink to celebrate?” He asked, his words already starting to slur a bit 

“I can pay for myself. If anything so should be getting you a drink, for the winner after all” You replied. 

“No, no, no. Let me get it for you.” He insisted “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the winner, now would you?” 

You knew you weren’t going to win this round, so you let him buy you a drink. He followed you up to the bar where he easily got the attention of the bartender. 

“Moscow mule and a vodka redbull, blue edition” He ordered

Your head snapped to look at him, surprised he knew what you wanted. Regardless of how many times you’ve gone out drinking with him, you knew you never told him what your usual was. 

“You know my drink order?” You asked 

“I’m just that good” He shrugged as the bartender handed him the beverages. Charles handed you the vodka redbull as the two of you walked away from the bar. “Feel free to put the rest of your drinks on my tab tonight” 

It was a no-brainer that Charles was going to be the center of attention all night. Not even thirty seconds after you got your drinks, his childhood friends whisked him away. Then it was his friends from Ferrari. And then his brothers. And then those people who claimed they were friends with him, but only got close with him after he became famous. 

But no matter how many times he got carried away, he always found his way back to you. Even if it was just for a second, Charles made sure he checked on you throughout the night. 

The majority of your night was spent with Max, Logan and Oscar. You were lucky you got along well with your teammate, and you, Logan, and Oscar all grew close due to being the rookies the season prior. It also helped that Logan was the only other American on the grid. 

“So what’s going on between you and Charles?” Oscar asked 

“Oh uh nothing. We’re just friends” You said, hoping the Aussie would drop the topic 

Unfortunately for you, Logan decided to call you out. “Oh bullshit. I overheard him insisting on buying your drinks tonight, and we all saw you sprinting earlier to congratulate him” 

“Charles is too drunk to realize what he’s offering” You quickly dismissed 

“Still doesn’t explain your actions in parc ferme” Logan reminded

You looked to Max for help, only for the Dutchman to shrug.

“You are no help” You told him as you turned to the two others “I may have a small crush on him” 

Max almost did a spit take when he registered your words. “Small? You were doodling both of your initials together during the team meeting today.”

“Details, details. How about another round?” You suggested, quickly changing the subject. 

The four of you had just finished a round of shots when you saw Charles approaching from behind Max. The Monagasque rested his arm on Max’s shoulder, clearly needing stability. His eyes widened and a goofy smile formed on his face when he saw you. 

“There you are!” Charles slurred, moving his arm from Max’s shoulders to yours 

“Oooohkayy, I think it’s time for you to go home” You said, shifting to support his weight better “C’mon Charlie”

“Ooo Charlie” Logan teased 

You shot the American a glare, mouthing the words “not now”. Charles somehow got himself off of you, only to wrap his arms around himself, embracing his own body in a hug. 

“Uh, are you good?” Oscar asked Charles, his voice filled with concern 

“Yes, just thanking myself for coming out tonight. I picked a great bar” Charles answered with a goofy grin forming on his face. His eyes were shut as he swayed back and forth, almost knocking into a poor girl behind him. 

Apologies quickly fell out of your mouth to the girl. As you turned back to the group, all of the boys except Charles had worry plastered on their faces. Both Max and Oscar offered to help you take Charles home, but you turned them down. His place was only a few blocks away, and your hotel was about the same. You slung Charles’ arm over your shoulder, before bidding goodbye to your friends. 

“Bye Charlieeee” Logan teased his fingers waving goodbye. Another glare was shot from your eyes before Charles was carried out to the street. 

It didn’t take long to get Charles to his apartment. You insisted he sit down as you got him a glass of water, knowing he was too far from sober to do it without breaking or hurting something. Once he downed his first non alcoholic beverage in who knows how long, he changed and you put him to bed. 

You were sober and comfortable enough to walk yourself home, so once Charles was tucked in, you slipped your shoes on. Before you could get near the door though, you heard Charles calling your name. 

“What’s up?” You whispered as you opened the door to his bedroom. 

His eyes mimicked a puppy dog, pleading and full of concern. “I don’t want this to sound weird, but do you want to stay in the guest room tonight? I just don’t want you walking alone in the dark” 

Even though you knew you’d be fine walking home, you knew Charles would blame himself if something did happen to you. So, you agreed. You changed into one of Charles’s shirts that he insisted on you sleeping in, and made your way to the guest room. 

Neither of you dared to bring up what happened in Monaco. Not that anything bad happened, it was simply you didn’t know how the other felt, and it wasn’t a line either of you were comfortable crossing yet. 

Going into media day, you knew the press conference was going to be boring. It was Monza weekend, and your media group consisted of Lando, Pierre, Franco, and Charles. Having the attention on Charles was fine by you. You would be fine without the media taking your words out of context. 

With each question directed at Charles, you zoned out more and more. Thoughts of what you were going to do during the three week break crossed your mind. While traveling around the world for work was fun, home truly was where your heart lived. Your thoughts were cut off by someone tapping you. Looking to your right, Franco’s eyes met yours.

You had made some small talk with Franco throughout the day, wanting to welcome him into the league the same way you were last year. It was painful to receive the news that Logan was being replaced, but you couldn’t resent the newcomer, he just happened to be the one that was promoted.

“Is this usually this insufferable?” He whispered, genuine concern lacing his voice 

You stifled a laugh, careful not to interrupt Charles “Not this bad usually, but yeah it’s bad” 

“Great” He muttered “Thought I escaped it when I got promoted” 

The press room grew silent, leading you and Franco to press pause on your conversation. All eyes were on the two of you, while you guys gave blank stares back. 

“Did you hear the question?” The interviewer asked 

Franco chuckled awkwardly as he brought the microphone to his mouth. “Honestly? No. Bad first impression, so sorry” 

“No worries. Welcome to F1 Franco.” The interviewer said “For a fun question for the drivers: is there a certain trait that another driver has that you wish you had?” 

Franco thought for a second before opening his mouth to speak “Y/n’s friendliness I think. She was the first of the drivers to welcome me into F1, going out of her way to go to the Williams garage and introduce herself. So uh yeah, her friendliness” 

Warmth ran to your cheeks as the Argentinian turned to look at you. His smile was captivating, making your rosy glow even worse. 

“Wow, that was really sweet. Thank you Franco” You whispered before clearing your throat and picking the microphone up.

Your eyes landed on each of the drivers in the room, trying to think of any trait you would want from any of them. Charles’ ability to learn on the fly came to mind, but you couldn’t rave about Charles without revealing your feelings. 

“Ummmm, this may be team bias, but I’m probably going to have to pick Max.” You finally answered “His ability to perform under immense pressure is admirable. Going into last season as a rookie, I don’t think I could have asked for a better partner, or a better person to learn from.” 

The press conference wrapped up, the news stations leaving before the drivers could. You sat and talked to Franco a bit more, getting to know the newest driver better. Charles watched from the other side of the couch, trying not to make it too obvious. 

“Earth to Charles” Lando said, waving his hand in front of the Monegasque’s face

“Wha-what’s up?” Charles asked, snapping his head to look at Lando

“You were staring. Badly.” Lando pointed out 

“Not staring,” Charles defended, but the pink in his cheeks gave him away “Just…observing” 

“Sure, mate.” Lando smirked as he stood up, “You know, if you actually told her how you feel, you wouldn’t have to watch from a distance like a creep” 

“Really? I had no idea” Charles mumbled. He was relieved to see you didn’t hear what Lando had just said, as you were too engulfed in your conversation with Franco. 

“Just saying” The Brit continued “Everyone can see the chemistry between you two”

Charles adjusted his hat as he stood up next to his friend. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship. What if it goes wrong?” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “Or it could go right. Look at how she talks to you, how she lights up around you. That’s not just a friendship, mate. She clearly likes you.”

Charles stole another glance at you, your eyes still focused on Franco. With one last sigh, he left the conference room, almost slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Franco asked you as he looked at the now shut door across the room

“I have no idea” You admitted  “Whatever it is, he’ll get over it”

The Austin sun blazed through the sky as you entered the paddock. You always loved being back home, and of course you went all out for it. You had your hair in two braided pigtails with your favorite cowboy hat resting on top, and a matching pair of boots tucked under your blue jeans. 

Most of the other drivers played into the gimmicks that Texas brought, even if they didn’t do them right. Some donned backwards cowboy hats while others tucked their jeans into their boots, both leading you to wince. Some, like Charles, did both.

“You look absolutely ridiculous” You yelled down the paddock as you spotted Charles in the middle of a media scrum

From what you could tell, they were in the middle of an unboxing of some sorts. Plastic and paper wrapping littered the area as a box was cracked open. Both Charles and the media turned to watch you walk over. 

“What are you talking about? I look fabulous” Charles said, showing off his new hat 

“Yeah,” You replied as you approached him “Except for the fact your hat’s the wrong way and your jeans are tucked in.” 

Before Charles could protest, you took the hat off of his head (from the crown of course, you weren’t an animal) and flipped it. His cheeks grew hot, both from embarrassment and how close you were to him. 

“Thank you” He whispered before untucking his jeans 

Saturday went perfectly for Red Bull. Max won the sprint, while you took second, giving the team a few more points in the Constructor’s race. 

As your day in the paddock came to a close, there was only one thing on your mind: the Texas/Georgia game. Growing up right outside the city meant your Saturdays were spent cheering on the Longhorns, and today was no different. 

You found Charles leaving the paddock at the exact same time you were, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask if he wanted to join you. While you knew he knew nothing about football, it at least gave you an excuse to spend a little extra time with him during the weekend. 

“What’s the chance you’re not doing anything tonight?” You asked as you caught up to him.

“Easily 100%. Do you have something in mind?” He replied 

“I have an extra VIP ticket to the game tonight and a spare jersey. Wanna join?” 

“You know I don’t know anything about American football” He reminded you. Charles truly wanted to go, but he didn’t want to bring your experience down because he was an idiot.  

“Pleaseeee” You begged, flashing him a fake pout “I promise you’ll have fun” 

Charles ran his hand through his hair before sighing “Okay. But this better not ruin my race tomorrow” 

You were right, Charles did have fun. Most of the time was spent on the sidelines, getting up close to the action. Charles didn’t understand a lick of what was going on, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to. You walked him through all of the basic things he should know, like touchdowns, field goals, and extra points. 

And Charles would let you talk for days if he could. He was captivated by how your intonation changed as you explained the difference between a pass, a rush, and a kick attempt. Did any of what you said stick in his head? Absolutely not. But that didn’t matter. He was with you, and you were with him, and about 100,000 other people in the stadium.    

The rest of the weekend only got better for you. Not only were you working your way into Charles’ heart, you made your way to the top step of the podium. You knew Max was going to be aggressive going into turn one, giving you ample opportunity to sneak into the lead, where you stayed for the rest of the race. Both Charles and Max were on the podium with you, P2 and P3 respectively. 

“So would you say last night affected your race?” You asked Charles once you got to the cool down room. You quickly swapped the helmet in your hands for a towel and the Pirelli cap that were waiting for you. 

Charles chuckled “Maybe, I coulda ended up on the top step” 

You shrugged as you took your seat in the middle of the two boys. “Guess we’ll never know” 

After the formalities and shenanigans of the podium ceremony, you found yourself in the back of the media pen waiting for your turn for an open interviewer. You could feel a presence walking up to you, causing you to turn. Of all people, Franco was the one to approach. The two of you were decent friends, you being one of the first people to welcome him to the F1 grid. 

“Congrats on the win, amiga” Franco said, bringing you in for a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” You replied, “How was your first race at COTA?” 

“It was good! Definitely glad to be racing closer to home. I can’t wait for the next three in the Americas” He said 

As you and Franco made small talk, Charles was watching you like a hawk from across the pen. He listened to every laugh that came out of your mouth from something Franco said, analyzed every light hearted touch of the arm. Max was next to him, well aware of the events of the night prior. It was hard for him to not know about it, you would not stop talking about it in the paddock. 

“The way he held me? I felt like the only girl in the stadium” “He let me explain football to him, Max. No one ever lets me do that around here” “Are you sure he feels the same way about me?” Were all phrases that left your mouth earlier in the day. 

Max was positive Charles felt the same way about you that you did about him. Any of the few remaining doubts flew out the window as he listened to Charles whine. 

“Whatever he said cannot be that funny, right?” Charles asked “Like there’s no way”

Max muttered a “mhm” as he took a sip of the Red Bull in his hand. 

“I just don’t get how he does it so easily! What is it about him that makes him that likeable?” Charles asked “Is it the accent?” 

“Maybe it’s because he’s a natural flirt.” Max said “You couldn’t flirt with a brick if you tried” 

Charles’ glare left Franco and turned to the Dutchman next to him “You didn’t need to say that.” Max threw his hands up in defense.

“But what am I supposed to do if she can’t understand my flirting?” Charles asked 

“Just tell her how you feel. Ask her out on a date” Max suggested as if it was obvious. 

“That’s just asking for her to run me off the track in the next race” The Monagasque said. He ignored Lando’s advice in Monza, and he was likely to do the same to Max. 

A frustrated groan left Max’s mouth as he smacked the back side of his friend’s head. “Oh my god. Do I have to spell it out? She likes you.” 

Charles’ eyebrows furrowed as he watched you say goodbye to the Argentenian. A spot had opened up in the media pen, and Charles’ eyes followed you as you greeted the interviewer. 

“How do you know that?” He asked 

“Mate, she took you to the Texas game yesterday.  She doesn’t take just anyone. I’ve known her for years and I still haven’t gotten an invite.” He explained “In the garage, she wouldn’t shut up about how much fun she had with you last night.” 

“Really?” Charles asked. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Yes, really. Now if you don’t tell her how you feel, I’m going to do it for you.” Max threatened as he walked towards the next open interviewer.

The bar buzzed with excitement as the sun dipped below the horizon. It being your home race, you ordered both your friends on and off the grid to join in the celebrations. Most of the guys were already there, already a few rounds deep, but it wasn’t until a certain Ferrari driver walked in that you relaxed. 

Charles navigated the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of you. When he spotted you at the bar, a grin spread across his face. He made his way over, squeezing through the sea of fans and drivers. 

“There you are!” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I've been looking for the race winner!” 

“Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me since the podium” you teased, crossing your arms 

“Right, totally” He fake agreed “Now, drinks on me?” 

A playful smile broke onto your lips as you turned to face the driver. “Actually, I believe it’s my turn. You got me in Monaco, it’s only fair” 

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but you already had gotten the attention of the bartender. He watched as you put up two fingers, and the bartender quickly got to work. As he waited, he was able to catch snippets of chatter and laughter from the rest of the people in the bar. Logan made the trip out to Austin, and was in deep conversation with Oscar and Alex, while Max and Lando were cracking jokes about their battle during the race. 

You handed Charles one of the two drinks you had received “To a dominant 1-2 finish” you toasted, clinking your glass against yours

He took a sip, the refreshing taste of the cocktail invigorating “This is really good. What is it?” He asked, looking at his drink 

“Texas Cactus Water” You answered “Tequila, lime juice, and Topo Chico”

The night wore on, and with each passing drink, the atmosphere became more lively. You were in your element, charming everyone around you. You were sure to spread your attention out to everyone who came to celebrate your win, but you always found yourself going back to him.

“Want another round?” he asked after the two of you finished your drinks.

“Yeah, sure. Put it on my tab” You ordered, knowing he would have said the same to you. 

As Charles approached the bar, Franco suddenly appeared by your side, a broad grin on his face. “Looks like you’ve got quite the fan club” he joked, nodding toward Charles, who was deep in conversation with the bartender. 

“He’s just being nice” You replied, not wanting to think too much about the flutter in your stomach at Charles’ attention “He bought my drinks in Monaco, so I’ve been returning the favor.

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he likes you a little more than just ‘nice’,” he said, smirking.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Please, we’re just friends. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he looks at you differently. Just saying,” Franco teased, nudging your arm before slipping away to join some other drivers.

When Charles returned with another round of drinks, he slid next to you, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. “What’s got you smiling like that?” he asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, just Franco being... well, Franco,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah? What did he say?” Charles pressed, his expression shifting to one of interest.

“Nothing important. Just... you know, how great it is to be back in Austin,” you deflected, not wanting to reveal the fluttering thoughts swirling in your mind.

Charles studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure? Because I could always tell him to back off if he’s bothering you,” he offered, his protectiveness shining through.

You laughed lightly. “I appreciate that, but really, it’s fine.”

As the night progressed, Charles seemed to loosen up even more, the drinks giving him a playful edge. He began to get a bit flirtier, leaning closer and making exaggerated gestures as he animatedly recounted his day.

At one point, he casually brushed your arm while reaching for his drink. The simple touch sent a rush of warmth through you. You could sense the tension building between you two, an electricity that was impossible to ignore.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the lingering sensation from his touch was hard to shake off. Each time he leaned closer, you felt that flutter in your stomach intensify, battling with the excitement of the moment. 

“So, what’s your strategy for Mexico City?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation and distract yourself from the undeniable chemistry brewing between you

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Honestly? Just to keep up with you. I’ve seen how competitive you can be, and I want to push myself more.” 

You smirked, leaning close enough in to get a whiff of his cologne “Is that so? You better be prepared for a good fight” 

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “I’d expect nothing less” he replied. His voice was low, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. 

Just then, Max, Lando and Logan rejoined you, breaking the spell. 

“What were you two whispering about?” Lando asked, a mischievous grin on his face 

“Just race strategies” you said quickly, shooting a glance at Charles. The Monagasque nodded, playing along, but you could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption

“Strategies for what? How to sneak out of here without us noticing?” Logan chimed in. You shot him a glare in response. 

“Oh come on” Charles said, his eyes rolling but amusement still danced on his face “We’re just having a good time” 

Max leaned in, the smell of alcohol on his lips as he smirked “Just make sure you keep it PG, yeah? Red Bull doesn’t need any headlines about you sleeping with the enemy” 

You lightly punched your teammate, causing him to flinch. “I can handle my own headlines, thank you very much” 

The group continued to joke and banter, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Charles. He was laughing and enjoying himself, but every so often, his gaze would flicker back to you, that intensity returning.

As the night wore on, the playful atmosphere shifted to something more intimate when the music slowed down. You found yourself back at the bar with Charles, the noise of the party around you dimming to a soft buzz. Both of you had too many drinks, and it was evident by the conversation you were having. 

“Do you ever think what happens after this?” he asked, his tone serious

You looked up at him, surprised. “After what? The day? The season?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “I mean, after all this. When we’re not racing anymore. What do you want?” 

Charles’ question caught you off guard. It was a vulnerability you weren’t expecting. “I-” you started, then paused, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I want to keep doing what I love. Traveling, meeting new people, but also taking the time to enjoy moments like this.” 

He nodded, absorbing your words. “Yeah, me too. I’ve realized these moments are what make the job worth it” 

You could feel the tension building again, that electric connection almost palpable. “So what do we do about it?” you asked, your heart racing

Charles looked at you, his expression softening, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world around you disappeared again. “Maybe we should stop pretending and just see where this goes?” He suggested, finally confronting the elephant in the room

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip “You mean…?” 

He wasn’t sure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the amount of drinks, or maybe it was due to your true feelings finally being on display tonight. “Yeah, I mean if we both feel it, why not explore it?” 

You felt a rush of emotions - excitement, fear, hope. “I’d like that” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Before you could process what was happening, Charles leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. It took a second to kiss him back, but when you did, it was everything you had dreamed of since you first met him. 

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the other side of the bar, pulling you away from each other. All of the other drivers were staring at you, each pair of eyes matched with a shit eating grin. 

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked 

“Yeah, I’d like that” Charles said, taking your hand 

======

want more? check out @coco-loco-nut's sister story below!

[pierregazly]

i've got you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x best friend!reader

warnings: angsty, arthur leclerc is the villain, oscar is in love w/ the reader but wont ever admit it, no hea [963 words]

request: 💗 can i request oscar with prompt 6? please and thank you!! 😽[6. "I've got you."]

A violent sob ripped itself from your body, your hand clutching the phone in front of you, the incriminating photo in plain view as you tried to process what was so prevalent on the screen.

It had been so obvious that things were falling apart in your relationship, they had been for months. Date nights were cancelled, anniversaries forgotten, but you never thought he would lower himself to this. Never thought you’d be getting that ‘I think this is your boyfriend?’ text. 

But here you were, trying to contain the feelings flowing through you, the anger, the sadness, the heartbreak.

He had told you it was a small trip with his brothers, it was offseason for everyone, the only time they really had to relax. The lie was staring right at you, Arthur’s hands gripping the ass of an unnamed brunette, his lips connected with hers. There was no denying that it was him, the video that followed showing the two of them pulling away from each other, an intoxicated smirk on the lips of your long-term boyfriend.

You didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know if it was worth sending the proof to him, whether you should call him and ask him outright or act like it was all fake. The emotions were running through you so aggressively, you hadn’t even had the chance to properly think through everything.

How could he do this? Why did he think this was okay? How can he tell you he loves you, and then do this? Were you not good enough for him?

The variety of thoughts continued to cipher through your mind. Your body was begging your brain to stop, begging it to give you a moment to get a grip on reality, begging it to allow you a moment to think clearly.

You barely heard the repetitive knock on the door, the noises mixing in with the unrelenting thumping noises clouding your ears.

Oscar had a key to the apartment, always had. He always claimed it was a ‘safety measure’ and he needed to have one in case anything happened, or in case he ever had to get you into your apartment after a night out.

Most of the time it was used because you weren’t answering a message quick enough, and he wanted to spend time with you. 

He had been messaging you since this morning, offering to bring you pastries from your favourite bakery, asking if you wanted to get lunch, had asked more than once if everything was alright. It wasn’t until he saw the pictures, his brain taking a moment to catch up with his eyes when he realized why you weren’t answering him.

You had been friends for years, longer than any of your other friendships, had known him almost double the amount of time you knew Arthur. He had tried more than once to explain how disastrous dating the Monegasque could end up, but his attempts were futile. You were too stubborn to listen to him, too enamoured to believe that Arthur could be anything except lovely.

There was barely a thought in his mind before he was making his way to your apartment, aggressively knocking on the door; practically begging to be let in. He knew you were in there, could hear the soft sounds of you crying through the door, his heart breaking with every vicious sob he heard through the wood.

It didn’t take him long to find his key, pushing open the door with a bated breath, unsure as to the scene he was about to walk into.

You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, your body having begun the process of curling in on itself, trying to savour any sense of peace it could gather. Oscar felt his stomach drop when he finally made eye contact with you, the puffiness of them so obvious, the tears still clouding your vision.

“Oh, love. C’mere, I’ve got you.”

A small whimper left your lips as he sat down on the couch next to you, gently tugging your body into his. Your hand clutched onto his shirt, the tears still falling from your eyes instantly soaking the material when you pressed your head to his shoulder. 

“Why’d he do this to me, Osc? Was I not good enough for him? What did I do to deserve this?”

Every other word punctuated with a cry or a sniffle prompted a small grimace onto his features. The pit in his stomach grew worse and worse with every word that fell from your mouth, his own heart breaking again as he tried to console you.

“You’re more than good enough for him, I’ve been saying for years you’re too good for him. You didn’t deserve this, at all. He’s a piece of shit,” he said.

His hands continued to rub up and down your exposed arms, your tears subsiding as you melted into his comfort. The grogginess was still prevalent in your head, your eyes puffy, your brain still trying to get a grasp of what was going on; but all you could focus on was the calluses on Oscar’s fingers catching on your skin, the heave of his chest as he cuddled you closer.

He was always the first person there for you, even without having to pick up the phone and ask him to be. For him, you always came first, above racing, above his friends; he would drop everything he was doing and run to you if you asked. He would never admit that, though, ever.

“I wish it was you all those years ago, Osc. You would’ve never done this to me,” you said.

Oscar felt his own heart splitting in two. You were right, he wished it was him all those years ago, too. 

i did NOT know where to go with this one!!!! so angsty and sadness it is!!!!! sorry!!!!

[etherealyoungk]

hihi skye 💗 was thinking about shy bestfriend jihoon who always declines any offers to hang out bcs hes busy. on ur bday he gifts you an album of all the songs hes been busy writing for you 😭😭 do u think u could write a drabble on that? feel free to ignore!! love u sm 💗

tiya hii! this was such a sweet idea, i hope you like it!

it was a quiet birthday, the kind that didn't feel like much was happening. the day had been nice, there was cake with your family, and a few gifts from your friends, but there was a part of you that wished for a little more - and that little more was jihoon.

jihoon was your best friend, but he'd always been a little reserved, shy and kept to himself. growing up, you'd invite him to hangout all the time or he'd come more often than not, but lately, now that he was busy with work, he'd always come up with an excuse, saying he was busy with work or had things to do, saying he'd come hang out next time - but that next time never came.

but you knew it wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with you, it was just that jihoon was never good with people, never good with being in the spotlight, especially when it came to showing affection. he preferred staying in his own quiet space, hiding behind his music, which you understood, you didn't want to push him.

you sighed, scrolling through your phone, and then a notification popps up. jihoon sent you a message. your heart skipped a beat as you clicked on the notification and opened it.

happy birthday.

you smiled down at the screen, your fingers hovering over the screen. somehow, those two words meant more than anything else anyone else could have said but before you could respond, another message pops up.

i have something for you.

your furrow your brows as you stare at his text, your curiosity piqued and you quickly type back.

what is it?

can i come over for a minute?

you blink down at the message because that was… unexpected. he never ever came over unannounced, but you quickly type out a response.

a few minutes pass before you hear the familiar sound of a knock on your door. your heart flutters with excitement and you walk towards the door, opening it.

jihoon stands there, looking as nervous as ever. his hands are clutching something that's wrapped in plain brown paper. he's wearing his usual attire - an oversized hoodie and his hair falls messily over his eyes. he doesn't meet your gaze right away, but when he does, there's a sort of nervous glint in his eyes.

"hey, happy birthday yn", he says softly as he steps in. you can’t help but smile hearing his voice, warmth blooming in your chest. “thank you, jihoon", you say as you both walk to the couch and sit down.

he sits down and he hesitates for a moment, looking down at the brown paper package. he then holds it out to you. "i uh...wanted to give you something", he says, the tips of his ears slowly turning red.

you gently take the package from him, feeling the weight of it in your hands. "what is it?", you ask, curious but he only shrugs softly.

"it's just, something i've been working on, for you", he says. you look at him and look down at it, smiling softly.

you unwrap the brown paper, revealing a dark brown album, it was't anything fancy but there was something that told you this meant more. you see the note on top, scribbled in his handwritting.

you blink and open it and in the slot was a cd. it was plain but the the title that was scribbled on the cd catches you eye.

"all the songs i wrote for you"

you blink again, unable to believe what you are reading. "i know i'm not that good at expressing my feelings, but i wanted you to know i care about you, alot, in my own way, so i wrote all these songs for you. this was what i was doing when i said i was busy to hangout or come over sometimes. i just hope you like them", he explains softly.

all these songs were a way for jihoon to put his feelings into something tangible, a way to express his love and gratitude for the friendship he had for you - things that sometimes he couldn't say in words - so he wrote these songs instead, all for you.

you can't speak right away, the weight of his gesture still sinking it.

“these are… you wrote all of these for me?” you ask, your voice soft.h

he nods, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "i know i'm not good at saying things sometimes, but i wanted to give you something, i don’t know… it’s the only way i know how to show i care", he says.

you lean forward and pull him in for a hug. he doesn't say anything right away. there was no need for words, he just held you a little tighter, and you could feel the way his heart beat a little faster against your chest. the moment was simple and soft, but it was perfect in a way nothing else could be.

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 13 || The heavens and us

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 3k+

Auteurs note: We ballin!!

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

The people on the street are in a state of panic, and rightfully so. 

In the not-so-far distance, it’s becoming more obvious that whatever went on between the Jade Chamber and the rising waves had affected Liyue Harbor in its entirety. 

In between the mountains, the Jade Chamber lays in ruin. Even before hitting the ground, it has been fragmented into multiple chunks. And with no walls to keep all of its previous furniture inside, its contents litters throughout the paths in the surrounding area.

For a while longer, smoke surges from the wreckage—as the initial fall had set fire to the cloths and paper inside. Candles had been tossed over and caught whatever they could during the fall, burning all of the silk tapestries with the Creator’s face and history until it leaves nothing but dust in its wake.

The harbour doesn’t fare better under the destruction. 

The people in the area have had enough time to evacuate, but the docking boats and multiple shops are flooded, destroyed by the large waves that came crashing down not too long ago.

ㅤ

Often when reaching this point, you’d find out that the Adepti and the Qixing assisted the newly reborn geo Archon with his task of protecting his city. 

However, you will never find out why they are bound to fail.

Going south from Wangshu Inn, leads you through the Guili Plains once more. Your previous journey through this area had been relaxed, with little to none interactions from anyone aside from Lumine, Paimon, and Dainsleif. But with pandemonium reigning the nation ever since the Jade Chamber fell, you aren’t surprised to see the crowds grow thicker. 

Around you, people are both leaving and heading towards Liyue Harbor. You aren’t certain why anyone would be going towards the city in its current state, but you assume it has to do with people believing in the geo Archon and seeking shelter in times of uncertainty.

Of course, you are part of the same group, but your reasons for heading towards Liyue Harbor are quite different. 

Earlier, you had remembered an interaction with a certain someone who could give you clarity on the current situation. 

"Call my name." 

A hand holds yours in a gentle but firm hold.  The workers in Wangshu Inn had been occupied well before sunrise, but the morning remained fresh. Rays of sunlight hit the side of Xiao’s face, bringing forward the teal streaks in his hair and a golden shimmer in his eyes. 

His expression holds concern for something. You don’t ask him about it.

Xiao speaks again. His voice sounds clearer this time. 

"Call my name if you need me."

You’ve spent more than enough time with Xiao to know that he would help you if you needed it. Like when he suspected the Fatui to be a danger, or when he teleported you away when the Jade Chamber fell down—he'd always been there for you.

Another reason for you to remember him was the fact that the Adeptus would be at the geo Archon’s side. If you called out his name, he could tell you what was going on in Liyue Harbor.

However, when you call out his name, he doesn’t answer.

“Xiao?” You say it again, this time a bit louder.

You’re unsure if you should be concerned about the silence that follows. He’s proven to be capable of handling many difficult situations but something within makes you feel uneasy at the lack of response. 

The white haired pixie floats over to your side.

“Maybe he is busy? Whatever lights we saw flash out from the Jade Chamber during the fight, it had to have been elemental energy. Paimon thinks the Adepti might’ve helped during the battle.” Paimon turns away to face Lumine, who’s busy trying to keep the chaos at a distance from the three of you. 

And as you follow your eyes in the outlander’s direction, a strangely familiar carriage flies by. 

For a moment, your attention is captured. Instead of Lumine, your eyes are glued to the vehicle.  

At first glance, it doesn’t look extraordinary. It has a simple wooden base with a white frame, made out of cloth, perched atop it, keeping the contents inside hidden. And as you look at it, you realise that instead of the carriage looking familiar to you, it’s the man with fiery red hair that chimes familiarity. 

With a stern and concentrated look, he rides the horse that pulls the carriage along. The stranger’s red eyes are always focused in front of him to make sure no accidents were caused by the chaos on the roads. 

And then his eyes move to you. 

Your cloak should’ve been concealing you, but with the mass panic, you had assumed no one would be concerned about your resemblance to the creator. Everyone would’ve been distracted and no one should’ve noticed you. Unless they felt your aura. 

So, did he?

The moment passes as quickly as it came, for the carriage nor the red haired man stops to confirm your suspicions. Instead, a small hand settles on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts once more.

With a smile, Paimon gently tugs the cloak down for you, and once she finishes, you return your mind to the current situation: Xiao being unresponsive as Liyue Harbor remains in shambles. 

You frown, an expression that remains hidden since no one can see your face with the fabric casting a shadow over it. At last, you respond to Paimon. “Xiao might be busy, but that doesn’t help our current situation.”

Lumine looks at Paimon and then turns to you. She seems hesitant and takes a second to speak up. “Is the gnosis still working?”

Your eyes fall upon the orange rays escaping the fingers that encase the object. A soft hum of recognition is sent in response. “I think so. It’s been pulling me along towards Liyue Harbor.”

The outlander is silent for a second. Once she makes sure the crowds are safe, Lumine walks over to you. “Is there a chance that the geo Archon still has power over it?”

Confusion makes you stumble over your first words. “No. If he could, he would’ve told me or helped me with regaining my memories.” 

Then, she explains her questions. “I think Paimon was right. It might be worth it to follow the gnosis’s pull for now.” Lumine looks at the gnosis before her eyes trail back to you. She continues to talk,

“Perhaps you did resonate with it. Your aura has been growing weaker ever since we left camp in the morning, so the gnosis might’ve been absorbing your aura so it can communicate.”

Indifferently, you nod. “Maybe. Either way, we should continue. The crowds don’t seem to calm down and we’ll never know the reasoning behind the gnosis’ activation if we stop now.”

A while back, when Paimon had expressed her theory about the gnosis needing to recognise your aura, you felt like you were one step closer to figuring out what you needed to do. 

Somehow, that feeling of excitement and relief was now gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you’ve forgotten why your lost memories were supposed to be troublesome in the first place. If the geo Archon recognised you, wasn’t that enough? You are the Creator, after all. 

But then again,

if you are Teyvat’s Creator, 

where did you come from?

As you approach Liyue Harbor,  an eerie absence invades the landscape that surrounds you. Not a single soul or creature is in sight—a stark contrast to the bustling roads you previously experienced. You halt to look at Lumine after you’ve observed the roads. 

“Where did you think they went?” You ask.

She stops in her tracks. “The people?”

You nod. 

“The people…” Lumine scans the empty streets. The treelines separating you from the wilderness of the Guili Plains are completely abandoned. No birds are flying in the sky and there are no tracks of anyone else having passed this area. 

It is just you, her, and Paimon. 

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

“Paimon knows!” Your white haired eagerly interjects. “The geo Archon must’ve evacuated them.”

Your grip tightens on the gnosis, its weight a reminder of the journey ahead. 

A despondent expression settles onto your face as you caress the metal outlines separating you from the contained geo energy within. The godly object whines at your standstill, urging you to continue now that your destination is within reach. 

Despite Paimon's optimism, a nagging doubt gnaws at your resolve. It might’ve been the pull from the gnosis, or the fact that you had no idea what just occurred, but you needed to move forward.

You hear soft footsteps move in your direction until Lumine stands next to you on the hill. Her eyes follow your gaze to Liyue Harbor.

From here, everything looks still. The smoke from between the mountains has calmed down and the waters are quiet. But however still it might look, destruction is evident the longer you look at the view in front of you. 

Somehow, with Lumine by your side, you feel more confident. And despite her own destiny, time and time again, she has chosen to stand with you. It’s something you can’t properly appreciate because it means too much to you. 

Your mind drifts to Dainsleif and your last interactions with him. 

You feel bothered about his departure. Sure, there was something peculiar about him, something you couldn’t figure out, but he made you feel at home. Despite the time spent with him being sparse, it felt like you should’ve known him—as if you had met before. 

His entire appearance and disappearance felt like a puzzle you can’t quite solve. 

Why did he leave?

But with a more urgent mystery ahead, and things appearing to be more complicated as time passes, you decide to push him and your doubts aside to focus on the problem in front of you.

“Do you have any idea why those waves emerged?” You ask Lumine. 

“No.” she moves her head sideways to look at you. Her blonde hair flies over her shoulders when a soft breeze passes you. She furrows her eyebrows slightly before they relax again. Her golden eyes shine in the golden hour. “I'm not sure. Do you think that the gnosis activating is connected to all of this?”

Without looking at it, you brush your finger over the object. Its gleam has turned into a beautiful golden colour, mirroring the sun and Lumine’s radiance, growing brighter the closer you get to Liyue Harbor. The small thing continues to be a mystery to seemingly everyone around you—even the geo Archon. Aside from saving Liyue Harbor, going back with the knowledge of knowing that you’ve potentially resonated with it…

Somehow everything seemed to be falling into place.

After a moment, you remove the cloak from your head. With ease, Lumine’s eyes find yours. “I’m not sure why, but the gnosis becomes intenser the closer we get. It must mean something , at the very least.” You respond.

Paimon chimes in from Lumine’s other side with an encouraging tone. “I’m sure we can uncover what happened in the city if we work together!”

The pixie’s smile is bright and infectious, a stark contrast to your doubt, and yet it never fails to make you feel more at ease. 

Facing away from the view, you respond.

“Let’s continue. The journey won’t be long anymore.”

Somewhere between your last stop and the waypoint that’s on the hill before Liyue Harbor, the gnosis starts to freak out. The pulsations that it produces becomes less controlled— frenzied. 

If you hadn’t felt its usually softer vibrations prior to this moment, you would’ve thought the shakes were coming from an earthquake. Unfortunately, you are familiar with this feeling and know something is about to go terribly wrong.

“Wait, we need to stop.” You stand with shaking legs upon the stone and dirt below your feet. These convulsions are not coming from the city, but your hand. 

A second after you feel it, Lumine’s hands extend to her sides as she tries to balance herself. Her eyes are wide, before they dart around, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

You call out to her. “The gnosis, something is wrong!”

“What?” Her voice fades as the geo energy energy becomes louder. A buzzing sound gives you a headache. You watch Paimon lift her hands to her ears as she shakes in the air. 

Again, you try to call out. “The gnosis!”

Lumine tries to reach her hand out towards you. While you were travelling, you and Paimon walked behind her. Conversing while she kept her eyes open for danger. Now, you regretted the distance between you and her. 

You reach your free hand out to her, but then a deep rumble erupts followed by the ground shaking. Perhaps due to its suddenness, or the sheer power behind it, you stumble forward and then down. Your knees hit the ground first, and you brace yourself with your palms forward when the earth convulses again. 

The air from your lungs forcefully escapes your lips when Paimon lands on your back right after. She is much smaller than you are, so it doesn’t damage you any further, but it gives you discomfort and more disorientation. 

After a second of recovery, you pull your head up from the dirt. 

A short distance separated from you, you see the gnosis lying between small pebbles and rocks on the ground. Its golden glow shines brighter than the twilight sky, and then it dims again to a soft orange glow, before it radiates the same liquid gold as before. 

Something is wrong. Something is really really wrong.

Paimon is still recovering from her fall when you gather your arms below your chin. While the ground continues to shake with vigour, you’re able to get yourself up halfway with a push to your limbs, making the pixie on your back roll to the side and fall next to you.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Lumine down on the ground as well. She sits a few meters away from you with her hands stabilising her body at her sides. The outlander seems to have taken less of a fall than either you or Paimon did, so her agility must have aided her somehow. 

Be that as it may, something is wrong with her too . Her eyes are fixated on the skies and she seems to be caught in a stupor.  

Without the weight of a child on your back, you have free reign to move and grab the gnosis. You refocus your mind and you crawl over. 

While the ground shaking below makes it harder to reach, it’s only a few arm-lengths away. Surprisingly, the object itself doesn’t seem affected by the vibrations. But perhaps that shouldn’t have been surprising at all, considering it was made out of pure geo energy.

You stretch your arm forward and fingers curl around the gnosis. Soft flesh touches the metal, and right as you’re about to close your hold, it dissipates. 

Soft dust escapes your fingers and your eyes widen as your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

It doesn't make sense. How can a gnosis suddenly disappear in front of you? 

Your fingers grasp at the ground below, desperately trying to catch the pixels of what remains before the gnosis is fully gone. 

A flicker of vulnerability flashes through your eyes. The gnosis was your only current lead but it’s now lost, leaving you with an empty feeling. Then, your eyebrows furrow together, trying with all your power to cling to your composure and fight the storm of frustration and disconsolation raging within. 

You bite your lip when the corners of your mouth begin to tremble. With each passing moment, tension rises in your body, and then before you can break, Lumine grabs your arm and yanks you up. 

“We need to run!” Lumine looks over her shoulder, and when you follow her gaze—you see it.

An elongated structure was descending from the heavens to the ground below. With it came a palpable tension that suffused the air, thickening it with each passing second. The massive silhouette of the nail-like stone loomed ominously against the twilight sky, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow Liyue Harbor whole. 

As it continues to plummet, the ground below quivers beneath its impending impact, shaking in fear and anticipation of the cataclysm to come. 

Lumine's grip tightens on your arm. Her urgency acts as a silent plea for swift action. With every step forward, the weight of what is to come presses down upon you, urging you to hasten your escape despite the burn on your knees. 

Paimon too, is at your side. She flutters anxiously, her voice lost amidst the chaos as the world seems to hold its breath. 

Then, a deafening roar that could shake the very foundations of Teyvat itself echoes through the area as the object strikes the ground with an unfathomable force. The impact reverberates through the air, sending shockwaves in all directions. Dust and debris rise up from the area of impact, obscuring the horizon in a shroud of darkness as the ground trembles beneath your feet.  

Amid the chaos, time stands still. Flames writhe and twist amidst the smoke, painting the once blue and purple sky in hues of orange and red. Blow, the city succumbs to destruction. What once was a thriving and fortunate city, would be covered by dust before the end of the night. 

In this moment, a dreadful realisation settles in. 

Even if you had arrived in Liyue Harbor before this cataclysm, you never would've been able to protect its people— yourself . 

Reality itself seems to shatter under the weight of the unfolding tragedy. The sky unravels before your eyes as black streaks shatter the world. With a desperate cry, Lumine's grip on your arm falters, her strength wavering against the soundwave that hits you.

As the world blurs into darkness, a sense of helplessness grips at your very being, forcing you to face whatever may come next even as the world breaks apart around you. And despite the destruction cradling your very being, a single voice stands out—,

ㅤ

“[Y/N].”

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[michelle-is-writing]

Sick, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 1.2k~

Saturday nights are always date nights for me and Ben. No matter what, we always go out and do something fun together. We'll go to dinner, watch a movie, see a game, anything that sounds like a good time. We always make an effort, and nothing ever stops us from spending time together.

However, as I lay in my bed with nonstop nausea filling my throat and stomach, I feel the need to cancel for tonight. During the seven months that we've been dating, neither of us have ever canceled a Friday night, and that's always something I love about us. Once again, we always make time for each other, so when I think about calling Ben and saying I can't go tonight, I feel even worse.

Reluctantly pressing the green button on Ben's contact, I hold my phone up to my ear and listen to the ringing tone as I wait for him to pick up. As more seconds pass, I find myself trying to hug my blankets as close to me as I can while my body begins to shiver. This stomach pain is starting to cause me to feel cold as well, and it sucks.

"Hello, darling," I hear Ben's voice pick up after the second ring, making me smile. I always love hearing his voice. It carries this tone of protection in it that gives off a feeling of happiness at the same time. "Are you ready for our date?"

At his question, I close my eyes and swallow down the guilt that rises to my throat as my smile lowers into a frown. He sounds so happy - excited, almost. Do I really have to take that away from him? All because of something that could probably be treated with medicine?

As soon as the thought of maybe suffering through the pain and going on a date, another stomach cramp pushes into me, making me almost hunch over in my bed to get through the pain. "Actually, Ben," I start, my free arm wrapping around my stomach as the stinging sensation passes. "I was calling to tell you that I can't come," I explain, my ears almost catching the sound of his heart breaking through the phone speaker. "I think I caught food poisoning from my friend's food at dinner we went to the other night."

"I ate it, and I seem fine," He tells me, his words making me shake my head with an amused smile.

"That's because you have an iron stomach, Ben," I joke, hearing him chuckle on the other end. "And, besides, if you can eat your own cooking, then you can eat practically anything."

"Oi!" Ben dramatically exclaims as if my words hit him with a punch. I laugh at his silliness. "Such harsh and hurtful words from the woman I love!" He further chides as I clench my already hurting stomach from laughing. He soon joins in on the laughing before speaking once more. "But that's alright love. I understand you're not feeling well. I love you! And I'll be over in ten minutes."

Just as quick as he said his last words, he hangs up, leaving me to stare across the room with wide eyes as my phone remains resting in my hand, Ben's picture flashing once before the screen goes dark. Did he really just pull a fast one on me? Just like that?

While thinking about Ben, yet another wave of nausea rolls over me, causing me to turn onto my side with my knees close to my chest, a pained groan escaping my lips at the same time. What if this isn't food poisoning, and it's something contagious, and I accidentally give it to Ben? It's not that I don't want him coming over (I'm glad that he is), but the last thing I want to do is make him sick as well.

For what feels like an eternity, I lay on my sides, switching between the two when another cramp comes along. It isn't long before I hear keys being inserted into my front door, twisting and turning before the piece of wood opens and closes a few short seconds later. Footsteps sound throughout my tiny apartment until my bedroom door gently opens, a head full of blond hair and shining blue eyes staring back at me as I smile from my current predicament on the bed.

"There she is," Ben says with a sweet smile. Wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black sweats, he takes one step into my room before happily sighing. "And just as beautiful as ever."

Blushing, I roll my eyes and flop onto my other side to dramatically turn my back to him, only receiving a laugh back before I feel his warm body settle behind my cold one. As soon as he touches me, it's as if all of my nausea and cramping dissipate, the warmth from his body acting as a heating pad for my achey body.

Ben wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his body as he kisses my temple, his lips soft and warm like fresh pastries. At his sweet affection, I smile even more and raise my hands to rest on top of his, only for him to interlock our fingers together. Even when I'm sick and not able to do the things we usually do, he's still the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.

"Would you like me to make you some soup?" Ben asks, leaning down to nuzzle his face in my neck. Underneath the covers, his legs intertwine with mine, bringing me just enough warmth to stop shivering so bad.

"No, just lay here with me, please," I tell him, snuggling my body further in his hold as a soft sigh escapes my lips. There's nothing better than lying in the arms of the person you love - especially if they're a natural heater.

"Oh, and like I said earlier," I begin, remembering our earlier conversation. "Your cooking is something special," I remind Ben with a smirk, listening as he snickers behind me. Okay, maybe there's nothing better lying in the arms of your boyfriend and teasing him for his helpless qualities.

"I can put on a video or something, go off of that," Ben suggests, leaning his head over mine to cuddle closer to the front of my neck. "Or, I could be safe and just order something," he offers, making me smile.

"That would be nice," I tell Ben, nodding my head. Just as he goes to get up to grab his phone presumably, I tug him back down and snuggle even further into him. "In five minutes, of course," I clarify, hearing him snicker behind me again.

With a simple "okay," Ben gets himself comfortable once more before resuming holding me close. I guess no matter what, Saturday nights will always be our night and not even a stupid stomach bug can stop that.

[spiderrmax]

the end?

"50 wordless ways to say I love you"

47. staying up half the night to finish a game with them. word count: 1431 author's note: this was really fun to write because i had to remember the steps to beating the ender dragon. (im not a gamer im sorry) (also since you guys aren't speedrunning you don't finish the game)

It’s 10 pm when you have the amazing idea to start a new minecraft world. When you propose the idea, Kyle laughs, not believing you to be serious at first. The two of you are all ready for bed, his hat discarded and curls loose. However, when you scoot to the end of your bed, turning on your console, he follows suit, sitting right beside you. (The both of you ignore the heat in your face as your legs brush against one another.)

“Minecraft is a game that Ike likes.” Kyle teases, as the familiar soundtrack fills your room.

“Shut up. You mentioned never beating it before. We conquer The End tonight.” You swiftly respond, one of your elbows reaching for Kyle’s ribs. He takes the hit, before recovering quickly, nudging you back into your original spot on the bed.

“The End?” Kyle asks, watching as you make the new world. He smiles a bit when you title it with the two of your initials. You’re cute, he thinks, allowing the thought to simmer before he tries to forget about it.

“It’s where the Ender Dragon lives. You’ll catch on, you’re smart.” You explain, handing him a controller. “You’re going to be the little guy on the bottom half of the screen.”

Kyle doesn’t mention how he’s used to focusing on the upper half, allowing you to teach him the strings. It’s not like he hasn’t played the game before, again it was one Ike enjoyed a lot when they were younger. Ike just never cared to do much other than terrorize villagers and pick flowers.

The game loads up, and the two of you are in a spruce biome. You’re quick to start chopping down wood, and Kyle simply follows in your footsteps. Kyle is impressed with how swift and efficient you are, getting enough wood to make a full set of wooden tools. When you ask for his wood, he has no hesitation in giving it to you, kindly thanking you as you craft his tools too.

“Wanna explore for a bit? We’ll need to go mining at some point but we don’t need to rush the game.” You explain, leaning closer to him. (Kyle doesn’t know if it’s subconscious or not, but he doesn’t move much after that, scared you’ll realize and drift away.)

Kyle’s character mostly follows your character around. You continue to mine at blocks vital to progressing the game — more wood, surface coal, cobblestone — as you guys escape the forest. Playing the game with you is much more relaxing, even if Kyle isn’t making much of the decisions. Not that he minds, really, as it is similar to how Ike would play. If anything, the only reason it’s so tolerable is because he’s playing with you.

The two of you find a village around 11, the hour of exploring feeling like minutes as the two of you wondered around. Kyle watches as you steal from their farms, their chests, and destroys their hay; he can’t feel pity for the villagers with their silly design. Notably, you share the loot with Kyle, not keeping all the nicer items for yourself. It’s almost second nature, to give him the iron pickaxe you found. Kyle leans in closer; you don’t move even as his shoulder brushes.

Before venturing into the mines, you suggest stealing two villagers beds to set your spawn point just incase one of you were to die. Two yellow beds are placed down together, in the middle of a plains biome. Kyle doesn’t comment on your deliberate placement of your bed next to his. He does have to pause to take a sip of his water, face on fire. (It’s just a video game. One he’s playing with you, one he’s enjoying despite the open world. He wonders if you are picking up on his internal struggles, or if you are too focused on the game.)

Hours pass, and the two of you have made more progress than Kyle ever has. You guide him through getting enough diamonds to craft a pickaxe in order to make a portal to the Nether; he wasn’t even aware of the other dimension until you explained it to him.

Despite being prone to raging whenever he dies in game, he doesn’t care when a blaze burns him to a crisp. He watches as your character gets his stuff — “it’ll despawn, I promise to give it back” — and hides in a corner, waiting for him to safely get back to you. He thinks of playing with his friends, who in comparison, would’ve kept his stuff joyfully, and smiles down at you.

You have to get enough blaze rods to get to The End — five, preferably. Once you have that you get to leave the dreaded dimension. As you enter the portal, you show your first signs of exhaustion, yawning and reaching up to rub at your eyes, and Kyle looks up to see it’s one in the morning. 

“Hey it’s getting late. Do you want to head to bed?” Kyle’s voice is soft, peering down at you with such genuineness you can’t stare at him long.

“No, I’m okay. Let’s keep going. We still have to get ender pearls.” You mumble, voice clearly affected from your tired state.

Enderpearls come from Enderman, Kyle learns as the two of you wait for it to be night. In comparison to the five blaze rods, you need 12 eyes. Just in case, you’ll never know how many spots are full at the portal. (You explain things to him with such passion, despite being exhausted. Your hands wave slightly, and Kyle has to take the control from your lap to prevent it from falling. He’s never cared so much about Minecraft.)

Kyle’s first Enderman kills him, coming from behind. You conviently left out how they teleport, and watching him stumble around has you giggling with delirium. Purposely, this time, you lean closer, head tucked against Kyle’s arm. He can feel your laughter, and doesn’t mind being the source of your amusement. As he respawns, he shifts a bit, to allow you to fit better.

You yawn again, and after a moment, a second time. Your character is not moving as efficiently as it once was, and although you haven’t died, you aren’t fighting the mobs either. Kyle is doing most of the work, and almost is cocky with how smooth he can kill Creepers without them blowing either of you up.

At 2:48, you guys finally have gathered 12 pearls. Enderman spawn less frequently than other mobs, thus making it harder to hunt them down. Over the hour you have continued to sink into the warm of Kyle’s hoodie. If it was the morning, with people to witness, he thinks he would be a flustered mess. With the world asleep, it feels right to have you at his side; no one awake to argue with him.

Your character has stopped moving, and Kyle peers down to see if you’re asleep, too. Slowly, you blink up at him, confirmation of your (barely) consciousness. Kyle grins, and pressing a kiss to your forehead comes naturally. A sleepy grin appears on your face, but you don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

When the sun rises in the game, Kyle takes your controller to save the game. Your grip too weak to have any fight, and once the game finishes saving, he turns off the TV. Kyle yawns too, stretching as he stands for the first time in hours. You can barely keep yourself up, and once Kyle’s joints are no longer stiff, he helps guides you back up against your pillows.

“We didn’t get to the End.” You mumble into the comforter, shifting around to create space in your bed for him. He slides in, perfectly designed for the other half of your mattress.

“We can play another day.” Kyle murmurs, pushing hair from your forehead. Your eyes are shut now, and Kyle can’t help but smile from the simple domesticity of it all.

“Thanks for staying up with me.” You cuddle closer, those words acting as your goodnight as you can no longer force yourself to stay awake.

Kyle doesn’t say anything for a moment, yawning himself as he finally lets himself feel exhaustion from being up until three AM.

He tries to think of something romantic to say, like they would in the movies, but he doesn’t need to. The arm he curls around your waist, the way he eases into your mattress, and the relaxed look on his face tells it all.

[cinnamooniee]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 [part 2]

Characters : college student jungkook x college student fem reader

Genre : Angst but comfort later on, fluff??

Warnings : Mentions of alcohol.

read part one <3

The sight of his name, even in that small font, made your stomach twist all over again. You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to answer, to hear what he had to say, to let him try to explain himself—or maybe even apologize. But the other part of you, the part that was exhausted, that was hurting, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

With a shaky breath, you silenced the call, letting it ring out as you stared out of the window. The quiet hum of the car and the rhythmic flicker of streetlights through the window felt soothing, like a balm over the jagged edges of your heartache.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text.

Jungkook: Y/N, please pick up. We need to talk.

You felt a fresh wave of frustration as you read his message. The nerve he had to act like he cared now, after all those hurtful things he’d said. All you’d wanted was to understand, to find some kind of way back to the closeness you once shared. But instead, he’d pushed you away, dismissed your feelings, and thrown blame at you as if you were the one at fault.

Another text buzzed through, then another.

Jungkook: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say those things.

Jungkook: Can we just talk? I need to explain.

Your phone continued buzzing, message after message lighting up the screen. Each one made you grip your seatbelt a little tighter, fighting the urge to respond. You couldn’t—at least not right now. The words wouldn’t come, not when everything felt so tangled and raw inside.

Finally, there was a pause, a minute or two of silence. You exhaled, trying to ground yourself in that temporary calm. But the quiet didn’t last long.

Maybe you’re asleep already… I’m sorry for bothering you so late.

A pang hit you as you read that line. Did he really think you could just sleep after everything? He knew you better than that—at least, you thought he did. But maybe you’d been wrong all along.

Another text followed, slower, like he was second-guessing himself.

I just hope you got home safe.

You swallowed, feeling an ache settle in. He was probably picturing you curled up in bed, phone on silent, dozing off without a second thought. But here you were, staring at his words in the dim glow of your screen, unable to find peace in any of it.

Ok. I’ll check in tomorrow then, sleep well, Y/N.

The last message hung there, a final thread connecting the two of you, but it felt frayed—worn thin by all the words left unsaid, all the pieces you didn’t know how to put back together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, you roll over to see your phone blinking with unread messages. You try to ignore it, but a knot of guilt tightens in your chest, knowing exactly who it’s from.

You can’t keep avoiding him forever. The thought pops up, uninvited, with a mix of dread and determination. It feels like every time you ignore him, it only makes things worse.

With a sigh, you open the texts. His messages are there, unreadable yet loud on the screen—probably asking if you got home safely, wondering why you didn’t reply. A wave of conflicted emotions rolls over you; you want to explain, but part of you is also tempted to stay hidden.

After a long minute of hesitation, you finally type a reply:

"I was tired last night."

Then you erase it.

"I got home fine, thanks."

Delete.

"Thanks for checking in on me."

Another delete.

With a frustrated sigh, you run a hand through your hair, feeling ridiculous for spending so long trying to find the perfect words. You don’t owe him an explanation; there’s no need to apologize or over-explain.

Finally, you settle on a message:

"I got home safe."

Plain, simple. It’s just enough to let him know you’re okay without giving away too much. You hit send before you can change your mind, then set your phone down, wondering if this will finally ease the tension… or make things even harder.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning drags on, and you keep glancing at your phone, half-expecting a response from Jungkook. But the silence only amplifies your nerves. Just as you’re about to drown yourself in the endless sea of homework, your phone buzzes, and it’s him.

"Hey, can I come over?"

Your heart races at the thought of him showing up, and you hesitate, staring at the screen. You want to tell him no, to reinforce the distance, but the words just won’t come. Instead, you let it go unanswered, hoping he’ll take the hint and change his mind.

Two hours pass, and just as you start to relax, a sudden knock on your door jolts you from your thoughts. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice comes through, slightly muffled but unmistakable. “I brought you something.”

Your stomach sinks, surprised that he actually came over. You take a deep breath and make your way to the door, opening it just a crack. Jungkook stands there, looking a bit disheveled, holding a small bouquet of flowers that looks like it came from the local convenience store—a few wilted blooms tied together with a fraying ribbon.

“I, uh… I got these for you,” he says, awkwardly holding them out like a peace offering. “I didn’t want to come empty-handed. Can I come in?”

A wave of frustration crashes over you. He really thinks this is okay? After last night, he just shows up with cheap flowers? “Why do you think that’s going to change anything?” you snap, your anger bubbling to the surface. “You yelled at me and acted like it was no big deal . What do you mean? We had a fight and you dumped me--maybe?! And now you're just...

You don't even have the words to explain your frustration right now.

His eyes widen in surprise, and you can see the realization dawning on him, but you don’t give him a chance to respond. “Oh, and let’s not forget how you flirted with that girl right in front of me! And that you went right back to it after we fought."

He looks taken aback, mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but you cut him off once more. “I don’t even know what you want from me! You show up here like nothing happened. Do you think some wilting flowers are going to fix this?”

His expression shifts from surprise to guilt, and you can see he’s struggling for the right words. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, Y/N. I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” You scoff, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “What’s there to talk about? You decided to bail when things got tough, and now you’re here with a lame excuse for an apology?”

“I didn’t bail! I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “I thought maybe if I came over, we could sort things out. I’m sorry for how I acted. I care about you, okay? I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

You roll your eyes, your heart racing with anger. “Care? If you really cared, you wouldn’t have treated me like that. You think I can just forget that?”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, and he looks down at the flowers in his hands, the weight of your words clearly hitting him. “I know I messed up. I just thought—”

“Thought what? That this would all be okay just because you showed up with stupid flowers? You’re delusional,” you cut in. “I can’t keep avoiding you, but I’m not just going to pretend like everything’s fine!”

He looks hurt, his eyes searching yours for some sign of understanding. “I just wanted to fix things. I thought you’d want to talk about it too.”

You take a step back, feeling overwhelmed by everything—your anger, your confusion, the weight of his gaze. “I’m busy, Jungkook. Just… just go.”

Please,” he finally says, his voice quiet but firm. “I just want to talk to you. I’m not leaving until we sort this out.”

“What do you want me to say?” you shoot back, your frustration boiling over. “You come here with flowers like that fixes everything, and you expect me to just let you in? You really think I’m going to be okay after last night?”

“I know I messed up!” he replies, his frustration matching yours. “But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how it would come across, and I want to explain myself. Can we at least talk about what happened?”

You stare at him, the determination in his eyes making it hard to look away. As much as you want to slam the door in his face, a part of you is curious—maybe even hopeful. But that hope is buried deep under layers of anger and confusion.

“I’m not interested in hearing excuses,” you finally say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’ve already made it clear how you feel.”

“I know,” he admits, his voice dropping. “And I get why you’re angry. But please, just give me a chance to explain. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, and a hint of the connection you’ve had with him. You want to scream at him, to tell him to leave, but another part of you just wants to hear what he has to say.

“Fine,” you say finally, your voice low. “But you better not waste my time.”

As you step back and open the door wider, Jungkook enters, his gaze focused on you as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. He looks around your room, a hint of nervousness in his posture.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice softer now. “I just… I messed up, and I’m trying to fix it. I didn’t mean to flirt with that girl; it was stupid, and I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I get that it made you feel uncomfortable, and I should have been more aware. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

You hold his gaze, searching for sincerity in his eyes. “You don’t get to just play around with my feelings, Jungkook. You can’t expect me to just forget everything because you’re suddenly apologetic.”

“I know, I know,” he replies, desperation creeping into his voice. “But I’m here now. I want to make things right. Just tell me what I need to do. I’ll do anything.”

You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to soften. “You don’t get it. It’s not about flowers or grand gestures. It’s about respect and understanding. If you want to be with me, you need to start acting like it.”

“I will. I promise,” he says, leaning forward, his sincerity palpable. “I care about you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that.”

You stare at him, the walls around your heart feeling like they’re starting to crack just a little. But the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “Just know that I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he replies, a small smile breaking through the tension. “Just let me try.”

You give him a reluctant look, still wary, maybe—just maybe—this could be a step toward something better..? Maybe he meant it. Maybe he truly was sorry.

As the tension hangs heavy in the air, Jungkook shifts slightly, a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his expression. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and it stirs something within you—an urge to let go of the anger, if only for a moment.

He leans closer, and without thinking, you hold your breath, your heart racing as he reaches out. His fingers graze your arm softly, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you. Then, in a surprising yet gentle motion, he cups your face, tilting it toward him.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispers, his voice barely above a murmur. “For everything. Last night was a mess, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Before you can respond, his lips brush against yours—soft and hesitant at first, as if he’s testing the waters. The kiss is sweet, laced with an apology that goes deeper than words. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a fleeting moment, the anger dissipates, replaced by a wave of emotions you thought were buried.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breathing heavily. “I swear, nothing happened with that girl. It was all just… nothing. I don’t want anyone else but you, Y/N. You mean too much to me.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and he continues, his voice earnest. “You’re amazing. You’re smart, beautiful, and so much more than I deserve. I take back every single thing I said last night. I was an idiot. I was half drunk, and we had been fighting for weeks before that- and I just didn’t know how to handle it."

You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you see is raw honesty. “I messed up,” he admits, his expression vulnerable. “But I want to make it right. I want to show you that I care.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at your heart, and you find yourself softening. “It’s just hard for me to trust you right now,” you confess, your voice wavering slightly.

“I get it,” he replies, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “But I’ll prove it to you. I’m here, and I want to be with you. Just give me a chance.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. In that moment, everything else fades away, and it’s just the two of you—raw, real, and vulnerable. You nod slowly, your heart racing as the anger you held onto begins to melt away, replaced by something warm and hopeful.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… show me.”

Jungkook’s expression brightens, relief washing over him as he leans in once more, capturing your lips with his in another soft kiss. This time, it feels different—deeper, more meaningful, as if it’s sealing a promise between you.

As you pull away, you can’t help but smile a little, the tension easing between you. “You better keep that promise,” you tease lightly, though your heart still flutters at the warmth of his presence.

“I will,” he assures you, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and sincerity. "I love you Y/N, I really do"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

tags<3 : @thelittlecatonthecake

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

"I am sorry I have not texted you since Sunday. Danielle knows about me having an affair and I have been thinking about my options," he texted you, his thumbs typing rapidly on his phone. His message was plain and simple and you always knew that your secret encounters had an expiry date. 

"I understand. You should focus on your marriage first and foremost," you wrote back, trying to sound supportive, but what he responded with surprised you.

"I do, but I also need to see you again" you received, the unexpected message causing your heart to skip a beat and, while you considered your response, another message popped up on your screen.

"I want to fuck you one last time at least," Cillian he wrote before sending you a third message. "Using your yet unexplored hole" he stated boldly in his last text message to you, causing you to drop your phone.

The unexpected demand left you reeling, your heart racing as you wondered how far he would go. It seemed his infatuation with you knew no bounds, his desires escalating beyond anything you could have imagined. And yet, you found yourself wanting to give in to his demands, your curiosity piqued by the thought of taking things even further.

"Okay," you eventually typed back, your fingers trembling as you considered what else to say to him.

"When and where?" you then asked, intrigued by the idea of giving in to his desires.

"Tomorrow night at your house," he replied quickly, his fingers flying across the keys, knowing that both of your parents were on nightshift that day.

"Okay," you texted back again. "How about eight?" you responded quickly. 

You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. Were you ready to take this intimate affair to such a daring level? And yet, there was something undeniably enticing about pushing boundaries with someone like Cillian, who seemed to share your appetite for adventure.

"Eight sounds good. See you tomorrow night," Cillian sent back and your pulse began quickening with anticipation.

***

You spent the rest of the day with your friend Emma, shopping for lingerie and other things and, just as you looked through something nice to wear, you brought up Cillian's request.

"Have you ever had anal sex?" you whispered to her while she unpacked her shopping bags. Your cheeks turned crimson as you said it, suddenly regretting your choice of words.

"Oh god, no, I haven't," she admitted hesitantly, looking at you with wide eyes. "Why?" she then asked, and you began to blush.

"No reason," you stammered while taking a good look at the black lace lingerie you had purchased for tomorrow's encounter.

"Does he want you to try it?" Emma asked, her eyes widening, and you nodded reluctantly, a tender blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Has he done it before?" Emma asked, clearly curious about his experience.

"Not with me," you replied quietly, feeling a mixture of anxiety and excitement about the idea. "But he seems experienced, so I would say yes, maybe with his wife or some other older woman he has been with," you explained, not trying to think about Cillian having sex with anyone else.

"Honestly, I have heard that it hurts, a lot but for a man like him, I would probably just take the pain," Emma laughed, knowing very well how attracted you felt towards Cillian. 

"Well, I guess I can handle some pain," you said, a hint of bravery coloring your tone. "Besides, it's only one last time," you told her, and Emma nodded in agreement, understanding the impulse to explore new territories, especially when fueled by intense feelings towards someone like Cillian.

"One last time, huh?" she asked nonetheless, not believing a word you had just said and you nodded again.

"Yes, one last time. This has to end. It's becoming too dangerous for him," you explained, telling her that his wife knows about him cheating on her, although she did not know who with. 

****

Later that night, when you arrived home, you found your mother had already prepared dinner, setting the table with your favorite foods - steak, potatoes, and fresh vegetables.

The smell of cooking wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. Your parents usually ate together at night, leaving plenty of leftovers for you. Tonight, however, you didn't have much of an appetite. Instead, you went straight to your room, undressing slowly, savoring the anticipation building within you. You slipped into the black lace lingerie Emma had helped you pick out earlier, admiring your reflection in the mirror. You felt incredibly sexy, your skin flushed with desire.

Tomorrow night, you knew that this new acquisition would come in handy, making you look incredible for your older lover.

As you drifted off to sleep, images of Cillian danced in your dreams, his hair tousled from our encounter, his strong hands possessing you completely.

Your body ached with longing, your desire growing stronger by the minute as, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

You slipped on a robe, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you opened the door to find Cillian standing there, accompanied by his wife Danielle. 

"Come inside," you breathed, beckoning them in, your heart pounding erratically in your chest, thinking that Danielle knew about your affair with her husband. 

"Everything alright?" you then asked, glancing at Danielle, who was standing next to Cillian. She gave you a faint smile, seemingly unfazed by your question. 

"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied casually, turning away and heading towards the kitchen.

You watched her go, a sense of unease settling in your gut. "What brings you here tonight?" you asked Cillian, unable to ignore the elephant in the room.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. 

"I am here to see Frank," he said, unphased and somewhat casually, ignoring your presence. 

"He's asleep. Shall I wake him?" you asked, causing Cillian to nod, his eyes saddened. 

You did as he asked and walked upstairs, waking up Frank and your mother, Sarah and, after about two minutes, they both stormed downstairs where Cillian and Danielle were waiting for them.

"What happened?" Frank asked, panicking, before Cillian spoke. His heart was heavy.

"Aunt Linda passed away today,"

Cillian said, looking somber. His voice cracked slightly, revealing his deep sorrow. Sarah and Frank exchanged worried glances, not knowing how to comfort their guest.

"I am so sorry for your loss Frank, and Cillian of course," Sarah expressed, offering her condolences. Cillian nodded in agreement, appearing sympathetic but also distant.

He had never been as close to his aunt, but Frank lived with her for three years while studying in London at the time and thus Cillian knew his brother would be affected by the news.

Frank took a moment to compose himself, clearing his throat before speaking.

"When is the funeral?" he asked, his voice shivering slightly.

"On Saturday, back in Cork," Cillian replied and Frank nodded.

Cillian understood that his aunt's funeral wouldn't be an easy event, particularly for Frank, who had been closer to her than him. "Will you be okay?" he thus asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yes, I will be," Frank answered softly, giving Cillian a small smile before continuing. "We'll stay with family, spend some time together, yes?" he asked, causing Cillian to nod.

"Danielle and I will be driving down to Cork on Friday. Max is staying with Danielle's mum and, if you want, you can stay with us at the house in Cobh," Cillian suggested gently, trying to provide comfort to his brother. He knew how much the aunt meant to Frank.

"That would be great, thank you," Frank responded gratefully, reaching out to clasp Cillian's shoulder briefly, their gazes locking for a brief moment.

"Can I bring Sarah and Y/N?" Frank asked, looking over at your mother who nodded and said that she would be taking the weekend off work to support him.

"Thank you, Sarah," Frank smiled, his voice full of gratitude. Turning back to Cillian, he continued, "And, Cillian, thanks letting us stay with you and Danielle."

"Of course," Cillian nodded, his face expressing relief at seeing his brother accepting his help while Danielle glared at you with a sense of unease.

Her jealousy was palpable, her eyes filled with suspicion. You could almost taste the venom dripping from her tongue as she turned her attention back to Cillian, who pretended not to notice.

Did she know, you wondered, sensing her apprehension towards you, or did she simply dislike the fact that her husband was a well sought after man, attracting a wide array of women across different age groups.

Whatever the case, you couldn't help but feel the cold glare she shot at you whenever you were around, and now, as the five of you sat around the dining table discussing arrangements for Aunt Linda's funeral, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Y/N, would you please get us some water?" your mother interrupted your thoughts.

She needed a break from the somber conversation, and you obliged, getting up from your seat to fetch a pitcher of water from the kitchen. You refilled four glasses, handing one to each person sitting around the table. As you served everyone, you noticed Danielle staring at you with an expression that bordered on contempt. Her eyes were hard, her lips pursed tightly, and her hands clenched into fists underneath the table.

"Thank you," she said nonetheless, her voice laced with caution. "For the water, I mean," she added quickly, catching herself before revealing more than she intended.

You nodded silently, turning away from her hostile gaze.

You returned to your seat, feeling the weight of her disapproval pressing heavily upon you.

Cillian looked at his watch and sighed. "It's late," he stated. "We should all get some rest. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow."

"Indeed," agreed Frank, stretching his arms and yawning.

"I will see you out. Thanks for coming all the way to tell us in person," he then went on to say to his brother who gave Frank a tight hug. 

"Any time man," Cillian said before, eventually, leaving you be.

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie

[rip-quizilla]

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying (Eddie Cries While Watching Tarzan)

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 27: You'll Be In My Heart

WC: 653

A/N: Okay... so I may have gone a bit rogue on this one. I know the prompt list explained this one as 'navigating love on the road', but when I hear the words You'll Be In My Heart I can't think of anything BUT Tarzan. So here's the weird little bit of fluff I came up with.

Tags: College!Corroded Coffin, crying, Eddie thinking about motherhood and the role it's played in his life, surprise at the end. It's an AU... but not the way you might think.

Divider created by @strangergraphics

In one of the smallest dorm rooms on the USI campus, four twenty-somethings had gathered around a glowing screen on a rainy Tuesday night.

“Wait, she’s taking the baby into a fucking tree?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Yes, Grant, she’s a gorilla. Gorillas climb trees sometimes.”

“But what if she drops it?”

Gareth scoffed, chiming in. “This is a Disney movie, idiot, that isn’t gonna happen.”

“I just watched a baby gorilla get mauled by a cheetah!” Grant yelled, incredulity plain on his face as he pointed to the TV. “You think they’d show that but draw the line at babies falling from trees?”

“A leopard mauled the baby gorilla.” Jeff corrected. “Cheetahs live in the savannah, dumbass.” 

“Would you all kindly shut the fuck up?” Eddie silenced them all, eyes trained on the TV with rapt attention as he watched Kala climb up the gnarled branches of a jungle tree, Phil Collins’ You’ll Be In My Heart crooning through the speakers. “You’re missing it.”

The other three looked at each other, confused but too scared to ask why he cared so much about some kids' movie, and continued to watch until-

“Dude, are you crying?”

“No!” Eddie sniffed, wiping furiously at his eyes. “You’re crying!”

Gareth’s nose scrunched up. “Bro, nothing sad is even happening, the mom got a new baby and the baby got a new mom-”

“They’re happy tears, jerkwad!” Eddie bit back, punctuating his reply with another sniffle. “This whole scene is about motherhood and loving your kid no matter what and it’s fucking beautiful, if you had a heart you’d be crying too!”

Jeff and Grant were laughing- to their credit, it was quietly and mostly to themselves. Gareth put on a mask of mock-sympathy as he grabbed a tissue and handed it to Eddie. “Those are some big feelings you’re having there, huh buddy?”

Eddie scowled at Gareth, swiping the tissue from him aggressively. He blew his nose into it, but not without giving Gare the finger first. 

Gareth patted Eddie’s back. “That’s okay, let it out big guy.” 

Eventually, the chuckling subsided until everyone’s focus returned to the movie. However, that scene still lingered in Eddie’s mind- the message about motherhood that this movie drove home for him every time he watched it. How Tarzan wouldn’t have grown into the man he was without Kala; a man so sure of his decisions, who trusted himself because his mother trusted him first. How no matter what happened, she stood by him and allowed him to chart his own course in life. 

Discreetly, Eddie pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping on his screen until he’d opened up a text thread. Quickly, he typed out a message. 

Love you, mom ❤️

The reply was instant, as it always was. 

I love you too bud! Everything okay?

Eddie smiled to himself as he typed out his response.

Yeah, all good! Just feeling extra thankful for my mom today :)

He turned his eyes back to the movie after hitting send, keeping his attention on the screen until he felt his phone buzz once, then again a few seconds later.

Aw, buddy! 🥹 That made my day!

I’m so proud of the man you’ve grown up to be. I raised a good one 😌

Eddie smiled, pride blooming in his chest. He and his mom had been through a lot, but they’d made it through because they’d had each other. Eddie couldn’t imagine what life might have been like for him if he hadn’t had her by his side. Who would he be? What kind of man would Eddie Munson have become? 

Now, here he was at college with his friends- his band- with a world of possibilities ripe for his picking. Could he have even gotten here without her support every step of the way? 

Maybe, he thought, but I would have been a hell of a lot more lonely.

[pussydestroyer10110]

The screen flashes to life after a while showing this was an older model, the video then appeared on the screen revealing a man with cropped hair and an unimpressed look on his face. This was Jake Sully - the man you had heard so much about but never actually seen.

Jake x Avatar!reader x Neytiri

Someone please tell me how to easily do a word count

Chapter 2 - Nearly at the good bits

(Thank you to everyone that supported the first chapter!)

♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡

After a while longer of staring up at your Na'vi body, you realise you've been left alone, a note left on the table beside a computer. The note had said to turn on the computer as Norm had set up a few old call logs for you to study, the infamous call logs of Jake Sully.

You watched his call logs and like your friend you are baffled about how a seemingly uninterested and simple man like himself managed to climb the ranks of the Omaticayan hierarchy. You were rapt with the videos, watching as the call logs switched from the plain and simple base to the old shacks up in the Hallelujah Mountains, you truly envied him.

What caught your interest about his logs was the evolution of the bond between him and Grace, you could see the disapproval in her eyes as he called the treasured plants of Pandora 'glowing things'. Then you saw how over time he became sickly looking with Grace reprimanding him, the former marine had been lured in by Pandora and now couldn't escape.

The logs only made you more excited to view the outside world through you're newly crafted yellow eyes. However you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of going out into Pandora alone with no one to experience this with you.

Soon enough the call logs ended so you rose from your seat feeling a numbness begin to course through your legs. You left the link/incubation room and went into the main communal area where the rest of the newbies sat along with the seasoned scientists, dinner was about to start and the food looked strange.

The food was a combination of both earth and Pandoran food, a new shipment of packaged goods having come in with your arrival, the earth food made up a few bits of dried beans and rice while the Pandoran food consisted of a strange meat. The meat was almost purple in colouration even after it had been skinned, when it was placed on the pan it sizzled violently before developing a charred surface signifying it was ready to be eaten.

A few people you had yet to know the names of, evenly cut the meat into strips and placed it on top of the beans and rice then the bowls were passed around the circle. You got your bowl last as you had sat on the end. You prodded the meat with your fork, it had the same texture of meat back home by the looks of it but you were still skeptical.

"What type of meat is this?"

You asked the question out of curiosity, open to the new experience.

"Hexapede"

The cook replies giving you a soft smile. You had studied Pandoran wildlife and recalled the hexapede as a deer like creature that roamed the forest of Pandora, a common delicacy amongst the natives.

"The Sully family gave it to us a gift, they still visit often to check up on things"

Norm explains to us and you immediately think of the call logs. This meat was provided by the man you had been watching mere minutes ago, except it wasn't him as he had transferred his conscience into his avatar. He had become one of the people.

Norm then makes a sound as if he'd just remembered something, he finished his mouthful before turning to you.

"I forgot to tell you, Jake will come to the lab tomorrow and meet you, he will help you around for a bit when you finally take out your avatar"

You look at him in shock which quickly turned into excitement, you couldn't believe it.

"Really?"

You ask almost not wanting to believe it incase he was just pulling your leg. But you were soon reassured by the chuckle Norm let out and then further confirmation that he was in fact being serious, you were going to meet Jake Sully.

Once your excitement wears off slightly you finally begin to eat your food. The meat was slightly tougher than what you were used to, it had a strong meaty flavour which you could dilute with the accompaniment of the rice and beans, it tasted almost primal. The meat back home is bred to be tender and of a certain flavour but this was obviously meat that had never been tampered with.

The main meal was followed by a dessert of new fruits. Each fruit opened was more vibrant with some being yellow, some pink and some even blue; each fruit hid its colourful flesh in either a dull skin or armoured shell, hiding its beauty and food to potential predators.

The fruits were handed around like the previous meal and you happily tried each fruit. The pink one reminded you of a sweet grape, the yellow like a mango and the blue was slightly bitter that ended with a creamy aftertaste - most similar to a slightly underripe avocado.

You enjoyed the fruits, it made you feel further connected to the foreign world even though you had yet to step foot on its soil.

The group soon dispersed and the newbies were lead to the sleeping quarters, you following. Everything seemed quite bare and basic with the sleeping quarters consisting of hammocks and army type beds in contrast the blankets were thickly quilted as the nights of Pandora often brought a chill.

You climbed into your hammock and soon fell asleep, dreaming of finally becoming your avatar tomorrow.

[auxins-insanities]

heeyyyyyy guys

i was doing a writing contest with my friends to make an AvA fic based off of a pre-existing episode. i did the flashback and im actually really proud of this, so without further ado, here it is.

Eye Strain and Hand Pain - The Flashback

TW/CW: swearing, mild blood/gore (i wasn't allowed to do too much), implied cannibalism, implied self-harm

Word count: I don't remember, but somewhere around 2,000

fic below the cut :3

~~~~~

For being a horrible atrocity, the killing spree was pretty fun. The poor civilians' frenzied shrieks, the two siblings' laughs as adrenaline pumped through their veins. Splotches of red covering their clothes, they didn't mind destroying anything they came across.

After all, why would they?

Destruction was all they knew.

Dark took a wheezy breath into his inhaler before tucking back into his stained jacket pocket and flying over to Chosen. He was shouting something incoherent at people running for their lives. 

Dark tapped his shoulder, fidgeting with the broken zipper on his jacket. Chosen spun around, eyes glowing bright crimson. "Un autre ? Ils continuent à venir comme s'ils le voulaient..." (Another one? They keep coming as if they want this...) he said with a manic smile, fading as he realized it was his younger brother.

"Hey, Cho!" Dark said quietly, a smile on his flushed face. "I.. I think we might have to wrap this up.. It's getting dark and my chest hurts a bit." 

Chosen nods, seeming a bit spaced out. 

An offhand comment of "Ever wonder what those fuckers taste like?" and the two siblings found themselves sitting around a campfire. Dark's heavy eyelids eventually closed, his head on Chosen's lap. The latter didn't mind carrying the former home.

~

Dark unclenched his jaw to drink some of his water. It felt good on his dry throat and eased the hunger clawing at his stomach. He hadn't moved from his computer for 14 hours now. 

Originally, the standing desk seemed like a good idea, but Dark's scoliosis has gotten worse over the years and now standing for so long just made his back hurt.

Hence the bottle of ibuprofen beside the computer. He had taken 5 now. 

Staring at the small numbers and letters on his computer screen was giving him a pounding headache that not even the painkillers could help. He ended up having to squint harder than was comfortable to even see much of what he was doing.

But with a final hit of the enter key, Dark was done. He felt like he was going to pass out. A quick glance at a clock told him it was either 10:30 or 1:03. Either way, it didn't matter. He finally finished his project, ending a 2-month hyperfixation. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had eaten or slept, which further explained why everything was aching. He was ready to just curl up on the floor and go to sleep and forget about the world, the animator, the hurt, when Chosen opened his door, even the soft click of the door ringing in Dark's ears. He turned his hearing aids down.

"Dark, I honestly don't care if I have to drag you out of here, you haven't left this room in 14–" Chosen starts, quickly being cut off. "Cho! Cho, I finished! You wanna see? I- I did it! Finally! It'll be just like you.. like we always wanted!"

Chosen chuckled softly. "Alright, alright... Since you say it's 'so incredible.' Just take it down a notch, okay? You're talking really loud." 

Dark rolled his eyes. "Just turn your hearing aids down." He paused. "But- But anygays, I have my thingy to show you!" He darted back to his computer, stimming excitedly. 

"O-okay, okay, so.. So, this is the ViraBot! I've been working on it for, like, 2 months! It can do a ton of- A ton of cool shit! A-and.." Dark's tone was shifting from excited to just plain manic. Chosen placed both hands on his shoulders. "Deep breaths." 

Dark did as he was told and started over with a sigh. "This, my dear brother, is the ViraBot." 

"It looks like a spider, but missing a few legs."

Dark shot Chosen a glare. The latter shrugged.

"But anygays, this thing has a ton of features, like..." Dark typed a couple things on his computer and the ViraBot on the wall suddenly had a bright red spike on the end of its... limb. Dark smiled. "And that's just the start."

He took the spike, its sharp end glinting in the warm sunlight. He forcefully stabbed his globe with the the spike and it immediately dissolved into some bare code, along with its stand. Dark grinned, his coal black eyes shining. "We can destroy the world, Cho. And anyone who would fucking dare hurt us the way that cursor did."

Chosen just stared in horror for a moment, his chest tightening painfully. 

Not another bloodbath.

Not more innocents' screams.

Not more fire and tears and broken bones.

Why would Dark want to go back to that after all this time living normally?

But then again, why wouldn't he?

Pain and death and killing was all he knew.

Dark loaded the ViraBot into its launcher, carefully contained in a red-and-white casing. 

"Dark. We don't have to do this."

Dark's excitement died down for a moment. His smile faltered. "...wh-what?"

He quickly puts his smile back on. "Come on, Cho! It's what we always wanted to do! Obviously we've gotta start with our biggest problem, the..."

"Dark..?"

"...cursor, who can fucking burn in hell. Like, how could he do those things to you? To us? Nobody can just do that..."

"Dark."

"...but I digress, this lil bitch will end up on his computer and fuck him up just as bad as we did! And then I can finally go to sleep. And drink water, it's been a hot minute since I've done that..."

"Dark."

Dark's hand was hovering over the button, either quivering from excitement or just outright shaking from the exhaustion of not sleeping for so long.

"What? Oh, do you wanna press the button? Yeah, that's only fair. After all-"

"Dark, stop."

"But.. What? This is what-"

"Dark, shut up! Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want this? That the whole world doesn't fucking revolve around you and what you want?"

Dark felt the all-too-familiar sting of tears forming in his eyes, but he swallowed and blinked them back. Fine then. Be like that, he thought to himself. I'll just... do it myself..

Shaky hands.

Breath hitching in his throat.

Hand lowers.

Rough hands, firm grip on Dark's shoulders.

"Dark, what did I say? We can't do this!"

Dark wanted to explain to Chosen why they had to, why it would be the best decision ever for them, why he had gotten a total of just 56 hours of sleep in the past two months. But as he prepared the explanation, the words died on his tongue. He couldn't force them out if he tried. 

So he just went for the button again.

This time when he was met with the rough hands, he ended up on 

the cold tile with his nose bleeding, a new crimson stain soaking into the collar of his shirt. He felt his hands heating up and unstifle-able tears welling up in his eyes.

A few seconds later, a wall crumbled.

Just like Chosen and Dark's once perfect relationship.

Soon things devolved into what was pretty much a fistfight, but with a few more broken walls. Everything blurred around Dark as he ran for the button.

His revenge.

His closure.

Only a moment after Dark's palm hit the smooth red plastic, he felt a small explosion and found himself in the air, falling.

"I thought you wanted this."

~

Chosen took a deep, shaky breath as memories of him flooded his mind.

In and out.

Hands ignited.

He got a sort of adrenaline rush from all this, and he hadn't flown in months. It was kind of nice to do it again. Feel the cold wind on this face, see everything from beautiful views.

Maybe once this was all over, he could go fly somewhere. Though, it wouldn't be the the same without Dark...

That's okay, times change. And who knows, maybe he'll-

Impact.

Chosen pulled away from the light blue barrier that the ViraBot had so easily gone through, coughing weakly into his arm.

That's gonna hurt later.

It took a painfully reddened hand to realize that no amount of punching would do anything.

~

Dark felt himself hit the ground with a... Well, he wasn't sure what it sounded like, but it sure as hell could've been the loudest thing he had ever heard. It at least felt that way.

With a soft groan, he rolled over from his back to his side.

"God, I think I broke... everything.." he muttered, taking a few moment to collect his scattered, betrayed, hurt thoughts before picking himself up, pleased with the fact that nothing seemed actually broken at the moment. He quickly looked himself over, wincing as he noticed the sheer state of his body. Through the charred and still warm hole in his shirt, he could see dark, black burns, deep red oozing from melted skin.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit..." Dark stumbled to his old... pitifully small house? Shack? Place...? He was honestly too disoriented to remember what the small structure's original purpose was, and his shaky ankles that, in hindsight, were probably sprained or something, threatened to give out at any moment.

Dark all but collapsed on the floor.

Down on his hands and knees.

Panting.

Saliva dripping from his mouth.

Tears dripping from his eyes.

He dug through the supplies stored under the table and pulled out some disinfectant, a shit ton of bandages, and a spare T-shirt.

He gingerly took off his current, very burnt one and set it aside. It was horrifically bloodstained anyway.

Mentally preparing himself for the burning sensation, he poured some disinfectant straight from the bottle onto the mess of stuff he didn't even want to look at.

Once he figured he had screamed and cried enough, it was onto the bandages.

From experience, bandaging yourself can be difficult, but not impossible after enough practice. Now, if your skin just stopped actively melting, that changes thing a bit, but Dark didn't really have a choice.

So he wrapped the slightly dusty gauze as tightly as he could around his chest and stomach, using a few too many pieces of tape to hold it in place. He then awkwardly pulled on the also dusty shirt and smoothed out some of the wrinkles. For the sake of being able to walk more comfortably, he also wrapped his ankles, which seemed to work wonders when he stood up and they only somewhat ached.

Maybe that was just his fast healing, though. If there was one pro to being created, it was that.

Dark let out a long, pained sigh before standing up on less-than-steady legs and pulling up the ViraBot code on his computer.

He glanced at the three whiteish scar lines on the back of his wrist.

Maybe they could use a fourth one to match.

~

Through strained eyes and sheer willpower, Chosen managed to break through the barrier.

A chilling sense of nostalgia gripped him as he traveled in the empty space leading to the PC.

He wanted it to stop.

His breathing picked up.

Tears stung his eyes for a moment.

If he was being honest, he really didn't want to go back to that place, but-

Another impact.

Okay, fuck what I said earlier, this hurts now.

More eye strain and hand pain got Chosen inside the PC.

The fight with the ViraBot was unpleasant, to say the least. Chosen didn't enjoy the metallic-tasting red in his mouth or the way his vision blurred and doubled after a while if he wasn't focusing on anything. But really, he didn't like that he and Dark's relationship was even more strained than his ruby-red eyes.

As Chosen left the PC, he gave a small nod of acknowledgement to his creator.

As he went back to face Dark, he couldn't help but feel like he was no better.

~~~~~

fun fact: this is my longest oneshot :3

heyyyy uh

the SH warning was there for a reason, but i mustve forgotten to copy-paste two lines, so i went back and fixed it TvT

[xiaoheart24]

An Angry Blindness 2/2

Is time all one has or is time the last you expect to lose.

After getting dried Cole went to Garmadon, trying to understand what Nya meant. 

“That’s stupid Kai” A voice came from behind getting the attention of Cole, looking back at the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“Can’t be that stu-” 

‘Smack’

“HEY!” 

Cole was at a loss of words, looking in the direction he knew Garamdon was waiting for him then back to the hallway where the voices keep talking.

“I’m gonna pull a Jay” Cole thought dumbfounded and turned his body around heading for the sound.

“Leaving is unnecessary” Cole whole body froze. “What?!” 

He tiptoed his way slowly to Kai’s bedroom door where the voices got louder, opening the door gently he peeked in and inside he saw Nya arguing with her brother who was packing his bag!!!.

Kai wasn’t wearing his gee anymore but had options on a simple dark red jean, plain white shirt and a black jacket, even his hair had changed! What was once was spiky messy hair like a fire was now down and in a ponytail.

“It’s not like I'm leaving for good” He says, pulling the bag on his back. “It'll only be a few days” He smiles at Nya who only sends him a disapproving look.

“I just need some time to think” He comments, then turns his attention to the door, giving Cole only seconds to hide. 

A moment of silence.

"Take care" Cole peek in again to see Kai open his window stepping through.

Before he jumps out he turns to his sister with a smile. “See you again lil sis” He waves goodbye then jumps out, leaving silence.

Cole was half mined to reveal himself but fate had other plans.

“Cole” 

He froze even more, craning his neck to see Garamdon looking suspiciously at him.

“What are you doing there?” 

"Busted" He thought, looking like a deer caught in a headlight.

“Meeting room- Gather them” Was all Garmadon said in a tone that left no room to decline.

Nya went past him without comment closing the door, heading after Gramadon.

Left alone in silence, Cole could only look down as he made his way to summon his team.

“I'm done for it”

_____________

“Any sign yet?”

“Sigh’ Empty” The tired voice of Cole came 

It’s been over a week since Kai disappeared and Cole couldn’t even begin to explain how crazy the week had been, between Gramadon giving one of his all to know lecturers and the team contacting every person that could help in their search for their brother. 

But after countless tries and zero progress with their hotheaded brother being nowhere to find, the team was about to throw in sword. 

“That‘s it!” Jay flopped down on the couch after another day searching. “That boy is not to be found”

“Maybe we can tr-'' Nya couldn't take her eyes away from the monitor screen going over Ninjago map.

“Nya” Placing a hand on her shoulder Zane gave a sad expression.

“Perhaps it’s best to leave it alone”

“But Kai -” She turned around to face Zane but he interrupted her.

“Isn’t required to be open,” Zane resured. 

“Kai is not obligated to tell us everything in his life, and is allowed to go out” Zane continued.  “Kai will be back, we just gotta go about our ways and be patience” 

Nya started back at Zane for what felt like an eternity but the ice master didn’t stay bothered as long as he got her to calm down.

“Sigh” Nya lowered her head before turning to the computer and turning it off. “Okay”

_________

While the rest was having lunch back home, the master of earth was still looking for his brother. His search had led him on a wild goose hunt to many places, all which in one way or another was connected to Kai, from his old home to Skylor’s noodle restaurant to his favorite shopping mall and the park Kai used to take walks on but to no luck in finding him.  

Cole’s comlink beeps multiple times during the day, his family trying and failing to get him to come home and take a break but he ignored their advice and continued his search for his missing brother.

“Come on dude” He leaned to the edge of his dragon rock ytrying to spot Kai in the crowd below. “Give me a sign”

“HELP!!” 

Cole pulled at the leash to stop his dragon and try to spot where the yell came from.

Then he saw it.

“Lucky I am” He said in a flat voice rubbing a hand over his face as he saw the trouble. 

Down in the park by the pond was the same guy that the team had fought against a week ago and put in jail looked to have broken out alongside some few other people and was traumatizing the people again. 

As if on cue his comlink beeped.

“Cole, an alert ha-” Cole took his comlink and replied, 

“I see it,” With that he maneuvered his dragon to fly down.

Twitching his dragon Cole managed to grab one of the guys  by his collar and sent him into the pond gaining the attention of the other’s.

“YOU!” The leader yelled.

He jumped off his dragon. “It’s me. Time to go back home to jail” He replied.

“Oh sooo scary” Waving his hands. 

“I don’t think so” The man moved to the side revealing one of the guys holding a hostage. 

“Let them go,” Cole demanded.

“It seems we have a problem in hand” Pulling out a gun aiming at the hostage head. “As I have plans and I refuse to be bested by some kid” He growled. 

Time seems to have stopped and before Cole could react his body was moving on its own, running straight into the guy holding the hostage sending the three rolling down the hill. As they came to a stop the hostage began running away but failed to notice the other guys aim their weapons at them but Cole abandoned his opponent who he had managed to knock out and dove for the person using his body as shield.

Cole waited for the end strike but it never came.

“And you call me selfish” A new voice came, sounding amused bringing the familiar smell of smoke.

Cole lifted his head to look in shock and joy at his hotheaded brother standing infront of him with a smudge look. “I leave for a week and yet you need my rescue in the end” He teased.

"Kai!" Cole got up, taking a good look at his brother.

Kai had his gi pants on and with his jacket tied around his waist leaving him in a sleeveless white shirt, he had multiple scars on his arms and one on his cheek. His hair was still in a ponytail, Cole could also see something hanging from his left ear, his angel prevented him from seeing exactly what. 

“How about we finish this, then talk? '' Kai interrupted Cole’s thoughts, turning toward their attacker who was making their way to them.

“R…ri…right” He complied, slamming his hands.

The battle went fairly fast surprisingly, the others hadn’t even made it there before the group was escorted into the police van.

“Cole” Cole was talking to the cop, once he noticed his team making their way over he excused himself which the police officer nodded.

“Bad guys stopped and headed on a one way trip to Ninjago prison” Pointing a finger at the van leaving. 

“Good job” Lloyd patted his shoulder. “You did very well”

Cole's smile grew. “Well… I had some help” He murmured then stepped aside.

“KAI” 

They all shouted as they saw their fury brother stand tall and happy infront of them.

“Hey guys” He waved. “Did you mis- Uhmp'' 

Kai didn’t get to finish before he was engulfed in a big hug sending him stumbling to the ground, his sister thighing her hold.

“You big dummy,” She mumbled.

A small laugh escaped Kai before returning the hug. “Yeah yeah I’m your big dummy” 

“Kai,” Kai lifted his head to meet his team's relieved faces. 

Kai gave a smile waving his hand. “Bring it you guys” Needing no further words the team all piled in the group hug.

“You gotta tell us what you did with your time away,” Jay asked out of the blue.

He was met with a scoff.

“Like that’ll will ever happen,” Kai replied.

“Aw man” 

More laughter filled the air.

[hunter-whitehead]

Bounty Hunter

The Colorado sun beat down heavy on her shoulders as she casually picked away at her guitar. The stranger was leaned against her motorcycle, a classic American style street bike, hard to come by in this day and age. On the side of its engine was a snarling white wolf with the words ‘Lobos Blanco’ written underneath. The guitar she picked was a classic too, travel size, made of non-modified wood. Her wide brimmed hat protected her eyes as she concentrated on the frets, deftly jumping from one bluesy note to the next.

In front of her sat an old two-story house with minimal modifications. Most older houses in 2055 had tech additions to give stronger signal or allow for cyber-splicing capabilities. This one just had a radio dish with some small mods, presumably to boost signal in the Central Plains. A remote area for an already remote region. The only noise out here was the soft wind against the golden grasses, flat for miles aside from the occasional stubborn line of trees. The house was painted a faded sky blue with white trim and had a rickety looking porch with a screen door. Unremarkable by all accounts, except for the man who was in it.

The stranger stopped her picking when the screen door swung open and an older man stepped out, a cigar in his mouth and a revolver in his hand. He was in his late fifties with a full greying beard and a buzzed receding hairline. The arm that held the gun was cybernetic, jet black with the occasional purple light. It was scuffed and worn from years of use and repairs. He wore a black tank top tucked into a pair of blue jeans with brown hiking boots. His eyes were mismatched, the one on the left a steely blue, the one on the right a purple cybernetic that glowed faintly in the shadow of the porch.

“Maria…long time.” he greeted in a voice like sandpaper, stepping further out into the morning light. Scars striated from his cybernetic eye, illuminated by the sun. Maria set down the guitar next to her, leaning it on the bike. She stood up and tucked her thumbs into her belt. Her amber eyes regarded the man as a mixture of regret and sorrow welled up in her chest.

“Yeah, it has been Henry. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you were alive after all these years.” she responded in a strong voice. He nodded his understanding. Maria noticed that the gun was still at his hip, aimed in her general direction.

“Well, you been in the life as long as I have, you pick up some tricks. Speaking of…the Lobos. They’re gone?” Henry asked hesitantly, though Maria could tell he already knew the answer. She took a few casual steps forward, meandering as she studied the horizon.

“Five years now. Corporate snakes caught wind and they just…never let up. It was a slow death for the gang. Many went out with a bang, though.” She recalled grimly, memories flashing violently through her head. Henry said nothing to that but instead pulled the cigar from his mouth and gestured to the guitar with it.

“See you still play, sounds good. I’d prefer something a little more full-bodied myself.” the old man said with a sniff. Maria chuckled, turning to face him.

“Hard to pack a full-size guitar on a bike. Besides, I had a good enough teacher that I can make her sound full.” Maria replied warmly. A wistful smile overtook the man’s face for a moment before dropping. He put the cigar back in his mouth and started puffing. His stance changed.

“Why are you here, Mari? You didn’t come all the way out here after seven years to talk picking six strings and old gang shootouts.” he said and Maria nodded, looking him in the eyes.

“The corporate snakes got me too, Henry. They got the support of the US. If I want to stay free, I got to do bounty work for them. You just happened to be on the list. They didn’t link you to the Lobos but, well, you do have twenty-five years of smuggling and gun running even if you didn’t help start the gang.” Maria explained, a hand snaking its way to the hilt of her own revolver. Henry blew air out of his nostrils like an irritated bull. A tired bull. He leaned against one of the posts that held up the porch overhang.

“Uncle Sam always gets his due, even when he’s on a corporate leash. Learned that as a young man. Guess I was just hopeful I could die peacefully. But he’s got a long memory, Sam, and he don’t forgive.” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked past Maria at the vast expanse of plains. Wind turbines spun lazily in the distance. Finally, he stared at Maria and the gunslinger could feel his gaze burn through her soul. But she held it.

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to turn back? For both our sakes.” Henry asked, and Maria knew it wasn’t him pleading for his freedom or even his life. It was him bargaining for her sanity. She shook her head, fingers wrapping around her revolver’s chestnut grip.

“I have people I need to take care of Henry, not just myself. If you come with me, you can live out the rest of your days.” she offered, trying desperately to keep the despair out of her voice. Henry just gave a derisive snort.

“A corporate prison ain’t living.” he growled and in an instant his gun was level with her head. But Maria had been expecting it and she dove to the right, rolling as a bullet slammed into the earth where she was just standing. Her revolver cleared leather and she fired twice before the old smuggler could squeeze the trigger. Both rounds punched through his chest and he staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. A weaker person would have been dropped by those shots but Henry raised his iron again and fired wildly. Maria ducked but still felt the searing sensation through her arm as a bullet grazed her. She responded by aiming center mass and squeezing two more off. The old man’s body jolted and shuddered as the gun slipped from his hand. He slid sideways down the wall and thudded on the wooden porch.

Maria held her position for a moment, chest heaving as she kept her revolver trained on his motionless body. A streak of blood was smeared against the blue wall and as she approached him, she could see crimson dripping through the floorboards of the porch. Maria holstered her gun and kicked the man’s revolver away. She sat down next to him and took his bloody hand. His chest was rising and falling but it was getting slower by the second, she knew he wasn’t long for this world. Henry looked at her with a steel eye. The bounty hunter had killed more than a few people in her life, and many went out with fear and panic. But Ol’ Henry only had understanding and maybe a glint of satisfaction in his eye. Then it was gone and she was alone.

Around his neck hung a medallion, circular with the image of a snarling white wolf on it. Proof of the kill and proof that he was a founding member of Lobos Blanco. She had lied when she told him the corps didn’t know. Of course the bastards knew he helped found it but maybe he would have surrendered if he didn’t know. Maria knew now that was a foolish hope. A man like Henry would never be placed in chains willingly, least of all if a monopoly was doing the binding.

Maria took the medallion and stood up, slowly walking back to her motorcycle. A strong gust of wind billowed her raven hair and she put a hand on her hat to keep it from flying away. A storm was approaching. It would wash the blood from the house. Maybe it would wash the blood from her hands as well.

[cherryatombomb]

The Haunting of the Miller House

John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

a/n: for now, this is a oneshot, but could turn into a series depending on reception! this is a buzzfeed unsolved au, where soap is a paranormal investigator, and ghost is his demon companion. he's unaware he's a demon, of course! no warnings apply, besides a few minor descriptions of violence that comes with hauntings. read on ao3 !!

The video starts. Two men stand aside one another; one is shorter, though in reality stands at around 6”0. He has a mohawk and is dressed in relatively light clothes – a flannel shirt over a white, plain tee, and faded blue jeans. He’s wearing trainers and excitedly smiles at the camera. His companion stands impossibly tall, at 6”5, and is wearing a darker outfit then his friend. A beanie covers his head, black and plain, and the lower half of his face is covered by a plain black facemask. Despite it being late at night, he’s wearing sunglasses. A black hoodie with skeletal ribs around the right area on his stomach, black jeans, and combat boots finish his outfit off. In every way, he looks like his partner’s opposite.

“The Miller household was once a lovely house in a nice suburban area, bought by a young, budding couple, excited to start their new life together,” The smaller one begins to speak, his voice dramatic, clearly getting into telling a story. His accent is Scottish, though it isn’t too thick, at this moment. “As soon as they moved in, however, things began to seem out of place. A bump in the night, lights switching on and off, or a TV being on when they had definitely turned it off. Things came to a head, however, when they claimed to see a figure in the night-”

A scoff escapes the taller man. The smaller man shakes his head in amusement and continues.

“-One that continued to haunt them. Scratches, bruises, furniture being pushed around, and perhaps one of my favourite pieces of evidence to date.” A picture shows on the screen of a dark room. Outside the window appears to be a figure, peering at the window, though it's only the outline – there are no discernible features.

“Photoshop,” The tall man muses.

The Scotsman rolls his eyes, though his smile betrays his affection. “I’m John MacTavish – though you can call me Soap, and this is my ‘partner’,” Soap nudges his partner’s side, giving him an expectant look. The man in question blinks slowly at him before he seems to register what’s going on.

He huffs.

“I’m Simon Riley. Ghost.”

“A man of many words, aye?” A snicker escapes John, and it’s difficult to see Simon’s reaction – though his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners.

“Either way, I’m a wholehearted believer in ghosts. My partner is a skeptic. In this series, I tour some of my favourite haunted locations, whilst also trying to prove to him that ghosts are real!” Soap’s hands clasp together excitedly, and as an intro begins to play, the ironically named Ghost mumbles a few things about ‘photoshop’ and ‘hallucinations.

The intro gives some music, and some more information about the house, as it plays some shots of the house in the background. It looks like a generic house on the outside, though its inside clearly reflects its abandoned state – classic interior, fitting of the past. The Miller House is a hot spot for paranormal activity, apparently, thousands of believers from all over the world come to visit and come away firmly in belief of the paranormal.

The intro finishes with a flash of the title, before returning to the two partners. They stand inside the house, now – Ghost is forced to crouch to get through a doorway without hitting his head.

“This is the living room. Where the TVs used to turn on without anybody being there – the lights often switched off and on in this room, too,” Soap explains, looking around the room with trepidation in his features.

“Maybe the ghosts just wanted to watch TV. Did they think about that?” Ghost questions, his voice amused, even when his face betrays nothing but seriousness.

“Well, when paranormal activity occurs, there tend to be problems with electricity, so it might be that-”

“They definitely want to watch TV. All ghosts are from the medieval period, right? I’d want to watch TV without it killing me. Maybe the Simpsons. Maybe just the news.”

Soap does his best to seem annoyed with his words, his arms folding across his chest, but an amused laugh escapes him, nonetheless. It seems to put him at ease, more relaxed in the dark house, now. “It’s a nice living room,” He finally relents, grinning.

“Better than ours,”

“Our living room is lovely!”

“Remember the wine-”

Ghost is cut off by a glare from Soap. The look lingers, before the shot changes once more.

Now, they stand in front of the stairs, looking up at them. There are a few pieces of leftover decorations along the wall by the stairs, just a few paintings, but it’s nothing that daunting. It’s dark upstairs, and both men have different expressions on their features.

Ghost looks nonplussed. Even behind the mask, everything about his stance reads casual and calm. Soap, on the other hand, is staring upstairs like it might kill him, immediately.

“Maybe we could… put some lights on, eh?”

“No. Gotta prepare you for your solo run, MacTavish,” A hand is placed on his shoulder, and it’s difficult to see behind the mask, but Ghost is grinning at him. Soap huffs right back in response, before gesturing to the stares, “Ladies first!”

A chuckle escapes the man in hand, but he allows the other to hide behind him as he walks upstairs. When he reaches the top, followed by Soap, his eyes flit around the long hallway, before focusing on a single spot. His eyes narrow momentarily, catching even his companion’s attention.

“See somethin’?” More of Soap’s accent slips out when he’s nervous, apparently, anxiety intensifying thanks to the skeptic's sudden focus.

There’s a momentary silence as he simply continues glaring. The camera zooms in to where he appears to be looking, and there seems to be nothing but empty space.

“Nice painting,” that silence is suddenly broken, and the camera pulls back in time to see Soap’s eyes widen, then let out a laugh.

“Ye right scunner!” Soap exclaims between laughter, nudging his side in what seems to be a chide for scaring him. Once more, his accent thickens with his emotions – now with righteous indignation at being frightened by his partner. A knowing look in his eyes betrays that this isn’t the first time.

“English, MacTavish,”

“Och, fuck you,” Despite the seeming irritation in his words, he’s grinning fondly. The duo walks to the end of the hallway and step into a nearby room. It’s the bedroom, clearly.

“This is where Elizabeth Miller and Daniel Miller were sleeping peacefully one night before a loud crash woke them up,” Soap begins to explain, and he looks enthusiastic about this explanation. He looks around the room, gesturing wildly as he speaks.

This time, Ghost does not interrupt him. Instead, he watches, fondly.

“Both got up to inspect the crash, together, knowing that they’ve had a few incidents with the paranormal before, when Elizabeth sees a figure in the corner. Before she can warn her partner, the figure rushes forwards and sends her flying across the room. Daniel is sent the same way. They both rush out of the house, different items being flung at them – plates, glasses, even a book – before they make it out.”

“I’d love to fight a ghost, one day,” Simon interjects, seeming unable to resist.

Seeming typical of the two, John just stares at him for a moment, before forging on.

“They go to hospital, get treated for their injuries – some scratches, like deep claws, and Elizabeth broke a rib. Daniel made it away with only a sprained wrist and scratches. This room is considered the most haunted place in the house – different paranormal investigators have come here, and have claimed to hear voices, whispers, or the sensation of being touched.” His explanation finished, Soap looks around the room, as if expecting someone to jump out at them at any time.

“If any demons would like to… steal my heart, they’re more than welcome to,” Simon begins, walking around the room like he owns the place, “Hell, whilst you’re at it, why not steal Johnny’s heart? Just take it out. Maybe throw us across the room. Let’s fight. I can fight.”

“Don’t drag me into your shit, eejit!” Soap complains at him, backing away as if to form a physical barrier between them. “I like my heart where it is?”

“You’re no fun,” Simon sighs softly, as if truly forlorn, but his shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

Once more, the scene shifts, back to both being outside. Simon is wearing a helmet with a camera on it, able to catch his face without having to use his hands. There are walkie-talkies in both of their hands.

“Welcome to my least favourite part of the investigation – the solo investigation! This time, both me and Simon will work through every room in the house, trying to reach out to whatever ghosts – or demons! - inhabit the house, separately,”

“I look ridiculous,”

“You look… handsome?”

Ghost glares at Soap. The latter grins unrepentantly, before shooing him inside.

Once more, the camera shifts – this time, it’s a close-up of Ghost’s face as he walks through the house. It’s dark, and his eyes can be seen drifting around the room, looking the epitome of calm and relaxed, despite being in a supposed haunted hotspot. The video shifts between different clips of him taunting his namesake:

“Reckon I could take a ghost in a fight,”

“You want to scratch me up? Come on, then. Wait, that sounds…”

“What did the ghost say when it crashed the Halloween party? I’m here for the boos,”

At the last pun, the camera snaps back outside, to where Soap is sitting comfortably in his seat. “I bet he’s telling shitty jokes, the asshole,” fondness drips from his tone, “getting them all riled up for me, I’m tellin’ you! Next time, I’m goin’ in first. Then we’ll see who gets freaked out,”

The camera snaps back, just in time to see Ghost hit his head against the door he’s trying to walk through. He glares at the camera as if trying to inform every viewer not to say anything about it, before making his way upstairs.

His journey skips to the bedroom, once more, uneventful. The room is dark as he steps inside, and this time, he remembers to duck down to avoid hitting his head.

“This is where that picture Johnny likes was taken,” he muses, looking over at the window. Closer, he wanders, then uses his fingers to make the ‘I’m watching you’ sign as if there’s something he can see out the window. “Any demons want to use me as a vessel?” He asks, turning and lazily spinning around in the room as if to try and tempt them. There's amusement in his tone, lazy confidence, like he knows there’s nothing here, or, if there is, that it would never dare to touch him.

“Time’s up, Ghost,” Johnny calls through his walkie-talkie.

“See you next time, demons. Give Johnny a fright for me. He hates hearing footsteps in other rooms. Nothing more, though. Don’t want to give him a heart attack,” he muses, beginning the trek downstairs. There’s a tapping sound on the wall as he walks past, a tap, pause, then another tap. He walks on like he doesn’t notice a thing.

There’s a change in perspective as Ghost steps outside, so both are in view. Rather dramatically, Ghost staggers out of the house, staring at his partner with wide eyes.

“What?” Immediately, Soap is moving closer, concerned.

“They spoke to me,”

“What?” Soap looks frantic, terrified, and intrigued, all in one.

“I can hardly boo-lieve it,”

A groan escapes John. He gives Ghost a look like he killed his cat.

Ghost just looks proud of himself.

There’s a pregnant pause, before the camera switches, and Soap is the one in the house. His shoulders are drawn, tense, walking around the house. “C’mon, ghosts. Give me something. Wanna… tug on my shirt? I’ve got some nice arms; you want to touch them?” As his arms lift, showing off his biceps, footsteps ring out from upstairs.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Somehow, even in the night vision of the camera, it’s clear all the colour has left his face.

“That’s fine. Yeah, everything’s fine. Better than fine,” He continues his walk through the downstairs rooms, now in the living room, “I can walk around, too. See? Hear my feet?” His feet thud loudly against the floor.

There seems to be no response.

“Yeah! That’s what I fuckin’ thought! Ye bawbags, nothin’ but cowards!”

Perspective shifts and they’re outside for a moment. Ghost is standing with a walkie-talkie in his hands, seemingly mid-conversation with someone behind the camera, before indecipherable Scottish yelling is heard from the building. He seems to be taunting the ghosts.

“He’s yelling at them already? Thought he’d last longer,” Simon deadpans, staring at the camera for a few moments longer. It falls silent, apart from the sounds of John’s panicked yelling.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, indicating a smile, just as the perspective shifts back to Soap.

The man has made his way upstairs and is staring into the open bedroom door with fear in his eyes, but also some feral anger. That’s how he copes, it seems.

“This where you were stompin’ ‘round earlier? C’mon out!” He steps inside, looking around the room manically. “Show yourself! You wanna fight? I can fight! I can handle some scratches!”

Various threats of different levels are sent into the still room, yet this time, there’s no response, no footsteps.

Relief floods onto his face as the walkie-talkie crackles to life, and Ghost’s voice speaks up, “Your five minutes are up, now,”

“Coming!” Soap calls, and he rushes downstairs.

Three taps echo out from the bedroom just as he reaches the front door, and he’s rapidly closing it behind him to avoid dealing with that.

Once more, the camera shifts so they can get a proper view of the duo. Ghost walks over to help Soap out of his gear. “See many ghosts, MacTavish?”

“So many.” He grumbles.

Ghost snickers.

Once more, there’s a shift. John is now out of his gear, and Simon is standing with him, looking at the camera together.

“I think it’s fair to say it’s difficult to know what’s wrong with the Miller house,”

“Nothing. Bit old fashioned, though,” Simon hums.

“It’s spooky!” John insists.

Ghost chuckles.

“Well, whatever we believe, skeptic or not, there’s definitely a strange story that comes with the house,” Soap amends, shaking his head in fond amusement. “And I don’t think we found enough proof to swing it either way. So, for now, whether or not the Miller House is haunted remains… unsolved.”

Outro music begins to play, faint, at first, and it’s quiet enough to hear Ghost question ‘Is that a thing, now?’.

The video ends.