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bestworstcase · 10 months

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i do think the key to how things will fall out regarding death on remnant is the jabberwalker, bc like

the brothers created death by creating him

the god of light, fearing they had disrupted the balance, tried to get rid of him. the god of darkness refused to countenance this, and they fought about it.

they leave the ever after. jabber remains, implying one of three possibilities: 1. dark ‘won’ the argument and both brothers agreed to let jabber live, 2. dark recreated jabber one last time in secret before they left, or 3. jabber came back later a la modern humans. given light’s general inflexibility my inclination is 2 or 3.

in any case the tree seems to accept jabber as part of the ever after and the presence of his figurine on the blacksmith’s worktable implies that he will continue to exist in some form.

during the creation of remnant, the brothers agree that death will be permanent. their reasons are not yet fully clear, but light was the only one concerned about enforcing this rule; i think it is almost certainly a rule that originated with the god of light.

“but balance cannot be restored by force or calculation; true balance finds its own equilibrium”

force = destroying jabber. calculation = creating a new world with permadeath.

—

the god of light conceives of balance as a fragile order that must be meticulously maintained or else fall apart: his purpose, as he sees it, is to maintain order. everything he does comes from this. he cannot tolerate change because he lives in abject fear of ‘disrupting the balance’ again—as he believes they have already done once, by creating jabber.

so there is a certain narrative equivalency being drawn here between removing jabber and making death permanent for remnant. both decisions are predicated on a fundamental misunderstanding of what balance is.

thus the problem of death is not that it exists, per se. the problem is that death is the locus of light’s anxiety about change.

he first attempts to fix the ‘problem’ by getting rid of jabber, eliminating death. but he can’t, because dark won’t let him. so plan b is to leave the ever after and create a new world where death is part of the design—which isn’t contradictory at all if the intention is to prevent disruption of the existing order.

and something to keep in mind here is that 1. the cat and the jabberwalker were both deathless and unable to ascend, and 2. the brothers created death by mistake. for light these are crucial factors that must be accounted for in the new design. the only way to ensure that the disruptive introduction of death can never happen again is to include death from the start, transforming the accident into a deliberate choice.

which is all well and good except for one teeny, tiny wrinkle: for humans, death is not actually annihilative. they don’t simply cease to exist when they die.

i think it’s extremely likely that wasn’t supposed to happen. in a system where death is final and forever, spiritually immortal humans pose an obvious risk of disruption—and the ‘afterlife’ is evidently just permanent unconscious stasis, so it doesn’t seem like human souls were preserved for any purpose.

if your aim is to design an orderly system that can be maintained exactly as-is forever, and one of your core building blocks is that death is permanent, no exceptions, then why would you ever create beings capable of rising from the dead? you wouldn’t!

but once humans with immortal souls exist you’re sort of stuck with them, aren’t you? and i think that dilemma makes the most sense of why light’s afterlife is… like that. the souls of the dead ‘resting’ in everlasting oblivion in another realm that living humans cannot enter is the same in practice as annihilative death as long as every being capable of reaching the afterlife follows the stated rules.

the instant dark decides to make an exception, the whole system collapses. it reveals to salem that death isn’t inherently final or forever—that this is an arbitrary rule that the brothers decided, and one of them is open to the idea of changing those rules. then the gods make her immortal and light reprimands her for failing to understand how important his rules are (rules his brother just broke with no consequence except that light got mad), but ultimately what she learns is that the brothers are fallible and their rules can be changed. her rebellion is underpinned by this revelation.

the divine order suffers one small disruption and almost immediately, catastrophically fails, just as the god of light feared.

but that failure did not happen because of the disruption; the system failed because it was artificial. the brothers designed it a certain way and then light focused all of his efforts to keeping it that way, unchanging, forever—because their world wasn’t an ecosystem so much as it was a lawn in arizona. that lawn can only exist for as long as someone is doing the work to keep it on life support.

anyway the point i’m getting to is that remnant still isn’t in stable equilibrium, largely because of salem’s immortality and ozma’s reincarnations but also in the more general sense: the people of remnant are spiritually immortal but made to spend the vast majority of their existence essentially comatose because One God is afraid of change.

you can’t bring remnant into equilibrium by eliminating death: killing the jabberwalker isn’t the right answer. and you can’t restore balance by restoring the old system of divine rule and rigid adherence to the original design, because that system was a spindly papier-mâché machine that imploded the second somebody breathed on it wrong. and you can’t just yank the dead back to ameliorate your grief because that isn’t your choice to make, that’s an ethical position the narrative has made very clear.

which… really leaves changing the nature of the afterlife as the likeliest direction. death isn’t the problem, the afterlife of eternal stasis is. death isn’t the problem, light’s refusal to allow beings with immortal souls to keep going after their first life ends because the rules say death is final is the problem. because that finality is just… not reality. a person’s soul persists after death, ipso facto death isn’t the end.

but the reverse idea that death shouldn’t happen at all is not reality either. salem can’t die and her immortality is isolating and endlessly painful. ozma can’t stay dead and it’s eroded him down to a miserable shell of who he used to be. afterans choose to leave their memories behind when they ascend—nothing can happen to you in the tree except what you want to happen. without destruction, creation stagnates. death is part of life, not its enemy.

i doubt very much that the endgame here is for afteran ascension to be directly ported over into remnant—these are different worlds, different peoples, different systems, and while people from remnant can spiritually connect with the tree they are still fundamentally not part of it. afterans are emanations of the tree; humans and faunus are not. when afterans ascend they return to the roots of the tree and flow upward to blossom again from its crown, and that is, to put it mildly, not a system of reincarnation that physically makes sense for remnant, where things reproduce and have babies instead of new lives budding from the cosmic tree. if reincarnation brings equilibrium to remnant then it will presumably happen in a manner more natural to remnant’s people, and may not even involve passage through the tree at all.

it’s also not the only possibility: for example, there’s no reason that remnant’s afterlife has to be eternal sleep. it could just be… a new realm, a new world to live in after your life on remnant is ended. the brothers’ departure from the ever after into the boundless potential of the unknown is as likely a model as ascension. maybe remnant’s dead can’t return except by an act of god, but “gone from remnant forever” can coexist with the afterlife being… alive, as opposed to cold storage for inconveniently immortal souls.

basically the narrative setup isn’t toward rejecting death, it’s toward rejecting the state of affairs where you die and then millions of years later a god wakes you up and you have no awareness or memory of your existence since the moment of your death because you were kept unconscious until that god needed a servant. the point is that death isn’t the natural end of existence (because souls are immortal, on remnant as in the ever after) and remnant’s dead shouldn’t be held in stillness by light’s futile effort to make the facts of reality conform to his intended design.

the jabberwalker has existed for eons without bringing the ever after to ruin; the balance shifted, things changed a little, and life went on. remnant is existentially threatened by the factual reality of life-after-death only because light is so convinced of this danger that he is determined to prohibit it by any means necessary, including “demolish everything and start over from scratch.”

even a god can tilt at windmills.

#it’s also just darkly hilarious in a way #afterans are eternal #the cat was immortal #jabber was immortal and light TRIED and FAILED to unmake him #the b r o t h e r s a r e e t e r n a l #they make a world where death is supposed to be The End #and then fill it with beings #MADE OF THEMSELVES!#MADE WITH THEIR OWN NATURE!#light rattling the cosmic blueprints #what do you mean humans are eternal #WE AGREED THAT THINGS SHOULD DIE #THIS IS A DISASTER #dark like you SAID you wanted to make them like US #sorry for listening to you bro it won’t happen again #by the way i gave them magic instead of eradicating the grimm like you asked #they’re exploding beowolves with fireballs now it’s awesome #light like WHY ARE YOU THIS WAY #it’s hysterical. the divine blorbos

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teaboot · 2 months

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Feels weird leaving an ask, like I’m walking up to a sage on a mountain and asking advice but that sage is likely just some guy in his pj’s eating cheese. Anyway any advice for how to be okay with being perceived? It’s hard to not feel like everything I do whilst in someone eyeline is embarrassing

I'm actually eating Pierogi in the bathtub right now so this is perfect

Okay first off, currently working my way out of the wet paper bag that is Social Anxiety that once had me agoraphobic and melting down on my way to buy groceries, just so you know what you're working with

Care about how you dress, but not in like, a fashion way. Just a "I like how I feel in this shirt" sort of way. And not so much, "I look good in these pants so I will wear them to be perceived Correctly", as, "I feel great in these house slippers and when I feel good I'm confident and when I'm confident I give less of a shit what the haters might think". Wear what feels good. Cut your hair and do your face and nails whatever way feels good. Appearance is secondary to vibes.

Lean into the funny. I waited 10 minutes in line for a coffee order that had already been set out for me this morning, and when the barista noticed, we both had a good laugh. Five years ago that would have killed me. Now I'm glad these poor workers will have a funny story over their bland ass shift. When I was in retail that would have been adorable and hilarious! And so, my goofemup is a gift. I am full of blessings

Get louder and watch as nothing bad happens. Take up more space and watch as nobody yells at you. Wear brighter or skimpier or janglier outfits and bask I the glory that is "Nobody gives a shit except the nice strangers who give me compliments". Marvel at how far you can push the envelope before anyone so much as comments on it. This will free you.

Say yes to terrifying opportunities to be Seen. Karaoke, dance, improv. And if you can't do it sincerely, embody a caricature of yourself. It's terrifying and it sucks eternally and forever and ever and ever like hellfire until suddenly it doesn't. Then have fun.

Be honest. Not unkind, but blunt if you need to. "I'm having a bad time". "This kinda sucks for me". "I know you hate this song but you can deal with these last 30 seconds because I need it to live". Mostly people will think it's a joke but respect it anyway. God bless

Please keep in mind that I am flying by the seat of my pants here and this is just stuff that's worked for me. I am still a nervous disaster crying into the void. Good luck space cowboy

#Teaboot advice

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pucksandpower · 9 months

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okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

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screeching-bunny · 9 months

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may i request a yandere god/angel? The idea of something so pure..the one thing you have faith in is actually the thinkg keeping u trapped in their obsession bubble is so appealing to me. having no hope left anymore. just them <3

Yandere! God Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

🌟 Yandere! God embodies profound wisdom and possesses knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. They have a mysterious aura and speak in riddles, often challenging his followers to seek enlightenment and often confusing the hell out of them. He’s very unpredictable and playful. He finds joy in playful interactions and enjoys surprising their followers with unexpected twists while they worship him. He lives for drama and will one hundred percent mislead his followers.

🌟 Yandere! God is starstruck when he first sees you. He can’t believe that such a cutie is worshiping him and is such a devoted follower. Any prayer that you wish for, he immediately tries to make it become a reality. Since he’s an all powerful god, you can best believe that he will misuse his powers when it comes to you. What’s this? You met a cute guy at work and flirted with him? Well too bad he got struck by lightning five times and died on the spot. Truly unfortunately. He’ll do his best to isolate you from your friends and family. You’ll be so lost that the only thing you can do is just pray to him whenever you can. The thought of this has him kicking his feet up in the air and twirling his hair.

🌟 Yandere! God plans out exactly how and when you guys will finally meet in person. After watching you for many hours he wants this moment to be as perfect as possible. He makes sure to be as dramatic and extra as possible, revealing himself in a very flashy way. Some lightning here and there and some cool looking smoke for his entrance. One day your just praying to him and poof he’s out in front of you.

“WHAT THE— WHO ARE YOU?!?”

“Some people want to meet me, some people don’t believe me, and some people claim to be me. I am…?”

“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE BATMAN?!?!”

“Yes it is— WAIT NO!!!”

🌟 Yandere! God eventually stops speaking in riddles around you because of your inability to get the correct answer. It’s just the only way that he can communicate with you properly and have you understand what he’s saying. Don’t worry though he still loves you nonetheless even if you are a total airhead. He will, however, personally tutor you if it ever really comes down to it. He still speaks in riddles to everyone else but you.

🌟 Yandere! God enjoys watching you pray to him. You view him as someone to look up to and ask about life questions. He makes sure to manipulate you by giving you advice that causes you to become a social outcast to the rest of the world. Who needs friends or a lover when you have him? Whenever his servants hear him say these things to you they just side eye him. They don’t try to do anything about it though because there’s no stopping him when it comes to love.

🌟 Yandere! God uses his followers as entertainment. They’re like his own personal reality tv show that he can control whenever he wants. He loves dropping random things on them and watching them freak out about it. Do you remember the time when a bunch of archeologists dug up an ancient rock with diamonds around it? Yeah, that was his badly made art craft that he threw away years ago. Do you also remember that hurricane that nearly destroyed a country a few months ago? Yeah that was also him, he just accidentally sneezed in the wrong direction that day. His followers believe that anything he does has a meaning behind it. Those natural disasters that have been happening recently must be a test from him. When in reality it was just you messing around with the weather because you we bored.

🌟 Yandere! God would make a new flower and name it after you. His love for you is infinite and would like to spend all of eternity with you. When you first met him you thought that he was supposed to be a generous and pure being. It was because of this thought that you never really saw his advances towards you as romantic. You just brushed these thoughts off and thought you were crazy for even thinking this was. When he found out what you were thinking he nearly ripped his hair off.

🌟 Yandere! God uses the idea of enlightenment to forever trap you by his side. Ditch all the people that you once knew and live with him. This is the only way for you to reach your full potential. People are just vial and disgusting so just jump right into his arms. He’s honestly so good a gaslighting that you don’t even question him and just do exactly what he says. To him it’s almost comical but he couldn’t be prouder of you. If you ever tried to gaslight him it wouldn’t work. I mean you can’t out gaslight the original gaslighter. He was literally the blueprint.

🌟 Yandere! God is terrible at cooking. This is understandable because he is a god and doesn’t need to consume food in order to survive. You, however, do need it. He tries his best to cook food for you but whenever you eat his food you always get food poisoning and need to run to the toilet. He always looks so proud when handing you the dishes that he made that you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t want it. So you usually just suck it up and shove it right down your throat.

🌟 Yandere! God is aware that you are a mortal and will one day die. So he tries various ways to make you immortal whether you like it or not. The thought of you dying just pains him and he’d do anything to prevent it from happening. He would destroy and sacrifice the entire universe if it meant that you’d be safe with him. Being with him is so suffocating. He’s like a clingy dog that always bites for attention. There is honestly no quiet moment where you get to be alone in your own thoughts because he is always watching you.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #gn reader #yandere god

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captainfern · 8 months

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Morning After Dark

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

["Morning After Dark" by Timbaland]

[18+]

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• summary - after a mission gone wrong, gaz is very happy to see you lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4k • warnings - fem!reader, heavy pining from gaz, sub!gaz? yeah, oral [f!receiving], unprotected piv, begging, praise, fingering, this man is in love with you, strong language, a bit of violence at the start?

decided to break the writers block by writing for GazFest - go check out @glitterypirateduck and read through the other works !!

enjoy the smut lol

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

The entire mission was a complete and utter disaster.

You don't even know what really happened. One moment, you had split up from your task force to clear an enemy compound. The next, the building was collapsing around you.

You struggled to get out in time. Insurgents kept you busy, emptying their mags as you sprinted down the dark hallways, alarms blaring, lights flashing. You dodged bullets that flew hot past your head, the ceiling crumbling behind you and blocking the rest of the hallway.

Your legs were burning, lungs straining, heart hammering painfully against your ribcage. You could taste dust in the air, copper coating your tongue. Black particles flew around in the air in flurries, your vision becoming increasingly blurred.

You spluttered, squinting through the flashing lights and long shadows. As you ran down the hallway, you checked each passing doorway in search of your task force. You found nothing.

The compound rocked again, another explosion sending you off your feet. You flew forward, skidding along the dust-covered floor, the air being pushed from your lungs. You took a gasping breath, crawling back to your feet as the ceiling above you fell through. You scrambled out of the way just in time, a slab of concrete slamming into the ground with an ear-splitting thud.

"Oh my god..." You breathed, shuffling backwards. You pressed at your communication collar, trying to get through to anyone.

The only voice that filled your ears was your own as you called out for your comrades. Your comms were cut, buzzing with static.

You cursed, continuing down the hallway as the compound shook and shuddered around you. You could smell smoke now, the narrow hall filling with an acrid grey cloud that made your stomach churn.

You needed to get the hell out of there.

A surge of adrenaline taking hold of you, you kicked down the nearest door. It flew off it's hinges, and you ran inside. You swept the small room, finding it clear, before you rushed towards the window. As you ran towards it, you fired your gun, the bullets shattering the glass. Then, crystal fragments of the windowpane still falling like snowflakes, you leapt out the window just as flames began ripping down the hallway behind you.

You hit the grass and rolled, slicing your arms on the shards of glass. When you stopped rolling, you lay flat on your back and took several deep breaths.

But there was no time to lay down. With adrenaline still coursing hot through your veins, you got up and ran.

•º•

You searched everywhere. For hours, you searched through the debris of nearby compounds, also returning to the one you escaped from, combing through the chunks of concrete and steel. You couldn't find any signs of your captain, lieutenant, or fellow sergeants anywhere, dead or alive. You weren't sure if that gave you hope or not.

After what seemed like an eternity, you decided to fall back from the area. You knew there was a safe house a few miles out, and you just hoped that some of your task force had made it there.

So you ran.

Usually, you would never have willingly ran that far. But your body was drunk on adrenaline, your heart pumping so fast you felt as though it'd explode out of your chest at any second. So, clutching your assault rifle, you sprinted as fast as you could continuously for several kilometres in pure darkness.

Once the adrenaline wore off, your body would be not be happy with you.

You reached the safe house in the early hours of the morning. It was still pitch black in the area surrounding the house– shadowed woodlands to one side, dark farmland to the other.

You could still taste smoke and blood in your mouth as you climbed up the front steps. Coughing, you stumbled inside, and was immediately met with a gun to your forehead.

"What the–?" You stuttered through a cough, the muzzle of a pistol pressed between your eyes.

Behind the gun, Gaz let out a loud, relieved sigh. "Sarge, oh my god." His sentence was full of disbelief and shock. He lowered his gun and took a good look at you, his eyes widening. "Oh my god..." He repeated, more relieved this time.

He wrapped his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. Your face was pushed between his pecs, and you didn't have the heart to tell him he was literally suffocating you.

"I was... oh my god, I was so worried about you," he said, letting you go and closing the front door. "You weren't answering comms, and I was scared–"

"My comms are fried," you grimaced, yanking your collar off. Meanwhile, you kicked off your shoes and put your gun down too. "Where're the others?"

Gaz nodded behind him. "Soap got hit, so he's resting in the back room. Ghost is with him. Price's asleep. I was meant to be on watch–"

Your mouth dropped open. "Is Soap okay? Let me–"

You went to move past Gaz, but he stopped you with a hand to your shoulder. "Hold on, sarge, he'll be asleep. You can see him in the morning."

You released a short breath, nodding. Gaz smiled sympathetically, squeezing your shoulder. He continued to hold your shoulder as his eyes scanned your face.

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

"You're a bit cut up," he whispered, bringing his other hand to your face. He pressed his thumb to a cut on your cheekbone, and you hissed in pain. He retracted his thumb. "Sorry. Let... let me clean you up."

"I'm fine." You yawned, shuffling away from him and sinking onto the couch. A cloud of dust lifted when you sunk down onto the cushions, making you sneeze.

"Bless you," Gaz said, appearing in front of you with a first aid kit. Where'd he get that? "And you're not fine, sarge. Just let me clean you up, eh?"

He situated himself beside you, opening the kit and producing some antiseptic wipes. You peered at him suspiciously as he tore the packaging open and held the small white cloth towards your face.

You jerked away. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

He smiled. "Not really."

He pressed the wipe to the cut on your cheekbone and you hissed out again, cursing beneath your breath at the sting. The pain was sharp, but his touch was gentle– one hand holding your face while the other wiped the dirt and dried blood away from the wound.

"You're not supposed to use antiseptic wipes on cuts, Gaz." You mumbled as he pulled the wipe away, your skin tingling.

Gaz tossed the wipe aside. "Why didn't you bloody tell me that?"

"Forgot," you told him. "And, hey, don't blame me! You've been in the military longer. Haven't you learnt this already?"

Gaz was now fishing some saline solution from the first aid kit. He uncapped the small bottle, then proceeded to flush the wound. The solution was cold on your cheek, and you shivered when a droplet rolled down your jaw and neck.

"Probably," Gaz said, a small smile cracking across his face. "But I wasn't really paying attention."

With his thumb, he smeared the small streams of saline across your cheek, inspecting the wound. He put the bottle back in the kit, producing a small plaster and tearing off the plastic backing. Carefully, he stuck it over the wound on your cheek, his other hand still cupping the side of your face.

Gaz's eyes fell across the rest of your face, darting between your features. His expression was soft as he held your face, his thumb rubbing along the edge of the sticking plaster. Dark eyes trailed the shape of your face through the semi-darkness, and you could feel the warmth of his hands against your cheeks.

Your heart was pumping, remnants of adrenaline lingering in your veins.

"Is this why you weren't paying attention during your med training?" You joked with a coy smile. "Got distracted?"

His eyes fell to your mouth briefly, before darting back up to your eyes. His brows furrowed slightly, giving him an expression of puppy-like confusion. "What?"

You laughed lightly. "Nevermind."

You could visibly see his heart rate pick up by the way his breathing quickened and the way his pupils began to slowly expand. You couldn't help but feel warm with the way he was looking at you, the way he was cradling your face like you were made of porcelain. You imagined you looked a mess with blood and dust across your face, sweaty and frazzled from your sprint through the forest.

But the way he was looking at you... your stomach was fluttering.

"Gaz..." You whispered, and his mouth dropped open a fraction, a breathy whine escaping. That surprised you, and you couldn't help but smirk at him. "What're you doing?"

He looked you in the eyes, whispering, "Sarge..."

"Yeah?"

"I really want to kiss you right now."

You almost choked on your inhale. That caught you off guard.

"What?" You blinked.

"I really want to–"

"Okay, no, I heard you, I'm just–"

"Gaz, mate, have you–? Oh."

You and Gaz's heads snapped over to the hall leading to the bedrooms, Price strolling into the room and immediately pausing. You and Gaz jumped apart, with you smoothing your hands down your face in an attempt to refocus yourself. Gaz dropped his hands nervously into his lap.

Price raised a brow. "O...kay. Are you two alright?"

"Yep." You and Gaz both answered at the same time.

Price gave you both another skeptical look, before he was picking up his own assault rifle from a nearby table, fishing a cigar out of his trouser pocket.

"Right, I'm going on watch for an hour, so I'll be outside if you need me," he said slowly, inching towards the front door. "And... the side room's free if..." He stopped himself, shaking his head as he opened the door. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Just keep in mind that Soap and Ghost are asleep."

"Bloody hell, captain." Gaz grumbled as Price closed the front door behind him.

You couldn't help but laugh, Gaz's head dropping in embarrassment. You shuffled towards him, placing a hand on his knee, and his body responded immediately, jolting beneath your touch.

"Gaz?" You prompted softly.

He looked up, clearing his throat. "Hmm?"

"You can kiss me. It's okay."

•º•

Gaz kissed you all the way down the shadowy hallway. He kissed you as he backed you into the side bedroom, closed the door and guided you back onto the bed. He kissed you as you whispered his name into his mouth over and over again as he pulled your dirty clothes from your body.

Everything about him was so warm. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, warm and solid. The whispered whimpers he released into your mouth as your tongue met his were warm, too, heating your body up.

His hands burned a scorching path down your bare skin, smoothing down your sides, down your waist, circling your hips. His fingers pressed to the curve of your arse, forcing your hips up to grind against him. He was warm against your bare core, the material of his boxers damp with pre-cum.

When did he take his pants off?

You don't know. And you didn't care. You were focused on the way your body sweltered beneath his touch as he pulled and pushed the flesh of your arse and thighs like dough. The way he lifted your hips to press into his made you arch, your tits snagging against the tight compression shirt he had been wearing beneath his outer shirt.

Gaz finally pulled away from your mouth as you mewled, a string of saliva following and snapping as he sat back on his heels. His hands moved, massaging along your thighs and legs as his stare raked over your body. He let out a low moan, before he was ripping his shirt off and rolling down beside you. You gasped when he snatched your hips off the mattress, dragging you with surprising strength to sit you across his upper chest.

"Gaz?" You whispered down at him, and he moaned. You giggled, placing a hand to his mouth.

He could feel your bare cunt against the swell of his pectoral muscles, and he moaned into your hand again. You were throbbing against him, slick pooling against his burning skin.

"Ssmm-uhmmm-mmhmm."

You giggled again as he tried to speak into your palm. You tentatively lifted your hand. "What was that?"

"Sit on my face." He said a bit too loudly, and you were slapping your hand back across his mouth again.

"Gaz!" You scolded in a whisper-shout. "You have to be quiet."

His brow furrowed, before his hands were coming to grasp your arse cheeks again. He began grinding you against his chest, getting a full view of your face and tits directly above him. He moaned against your palm, eyes rolling as he felt your slit drag against him, warm and wet. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp, your swollen clit moving against the smooth mound of his muscle. The grip he had on your arse was vice-like, and you wondered whether you'd feel it in the morning.

Well, it was the morning.

Soft, orangey-pink hues filtered through the thin curtains, bathing you in the colours of the sunset. The pigments shimmered against your skin, making you look like an absolute dream. Gaz clearly agreed, because he moaned beneath your palm again, eyelids sinking low.

He continued to grind you against him, listening to the soft pants falling from your lips. You opened your eyes and looked down at him, finally moving your hand. Instead, you placed your fingers around his neck. You didn't squeeze, but the obvious pressure made Gaz whine out your name, hips bucking behind you.

"Sweetheart, please, fuck, please let me–" He grit his teeth as a moan bubbled up your throat, your core throbbing against his chest. "Please sit on my face. Please, baby, please, just let me... ah fuck, just let me taste you, please."

You shushed him gently, removing your hand from his throat. You smiled down at him, beginning to lift your hips so that you could move your hips over his face. But he beat you to it– hands against your arse, he pushed you forward so quickly you lost your balance and had to grab onto the headboard. He pulled your hips down, licking a stripe up your dripping slit before he was shoving his tongue into your hole, burying his face against you.

Now, he could be as loud as he wanted with his voice being lost inside you. He moaned against your folds, the vibrations making you keen. Gaz moaned again, his tongue pressing deeper inside you, in and out, in and out.

You bit your lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out. You were hyper-aware of Soap and Ghost sleeping across the hall. And your captain somewhere outside.

But Gaz couldn’t care less. He was whimpering and moaning as he tasted you, dragging his tongue through your folds until he found your clit. He circled it, before sucking it into his mouth.

Your thighs clamped around his head, and he felt his cock twitch in his boxers, pearls of pre-cum staining the fabric. Fuck, he was so hard.

One hand still on one of your arse cheeks, he moved one down to grab his cock out of his boxers. He fisted it, tongue stuttering against you. He was so sensitive, so needy for you. His pace resumed, and he dipped his tongue back into your throbbing hole, pairing the movements of his fist with his tongue.

"Gaz," you whispered down at him, waiting for him to look up at you before you continued. His dark eyes were glassy, pupils blown. He whimpered against your cunt when you flexed the muscles of your thighs, tightening around his head. "M'gonna come, Gaz." You whined, rocking your hips against his mouth.

"Please, please, please." He mumbled against you. You had no idea what he said, but he knew. He knew he was begging you to come in his mouth and he wasn't embarrassed to admit it.

You put a hand to your own mouth as you came, a moan falling from your lips and muffled against your palm. Your entire body shuddered as you came around Gaz's tongue, and he was disappointed he didn't get to hear you properly. He licked up your release, the loudest thing in the room being the sound of his lewd slurping.

It made your brain short-circuit as you came down from your high, and you managed to lift yourself away from his mouth. He tried to pull you back onto him, but you resisted, shakily climbing back down his body. He immediately sat up and chased you– slamming his mouth to yours and stuffing his tongue past your lips. You could taste yourself on him as you straddled him.

"Want you so bad, sweetheart," he said against you as he somehow managed to pull his boxers the rest of the way down his legs, tossing them across the room. "Need you. Come on, baby, please."

Gaz had one hand on your hip, the other around the base of his cock as he guided it up and down your slit. He collected your arousal against his sensitive tip, and he breathed out your name. You braced yourself with your hands against his shoulders as he clumsily knocked the weeping head of his cock against your hole.

"You have to be quiet, Gaz," you whispered into his ear, sucking a mark beneath the lobe. He whimpered, hips bucking, tip prodding at your sopping cunt. You smiled against his skin. "Can you be quiet for me?"

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, please." Gaz babbled quietly, squeezing your hips, circling the head of his cock against your hole.

You sat up, tits pressed flush with his chest.

"Kiss me." You whispered and he did. As he rushed upwards to place his mouth on yours, you sunk down onto his cock. He removed his hand, grabbing both of your hips, moaning your name into your mouth as you kissed him.

You took him all, and he whined the entire time you sunk down onto him. When you stilled, pelvis against his, clit pressed to the dark hair at the base, he whispered your name into your mouth and rubbed circles on your hips.

"You okay?" You asked, lips brushing his.

He had his eyes closed, panting. You lifted a hand to cup the back of his head, and he opened his eyes. When he saw your face, how pretty you looked, his head dropped back and he released a whiny moan. Your other hand was quick to slam over his mouth.

"Gaz," you whispered sternly. "You have to be quiet if you want to fuck me, okay? Can you do that?"

He nodded quickly, trying to rock his hips against you. The sensation made the both of you whimper. Even behind your palm, his sounds of pleasure were still louder than yours.

You slowly lifted your hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet, baby, I promise," he panted, slowly beginning to rock up into you. "Yeah, I'll be quiet, baby. I'll be good... fuck, I'll be good..."

He was muttering beneath his breath as his steady pace began, fucking up into you and nailing that perfect spot over and over again. You trapped a moan between your teeth, clutching at Gaz's shoulders as he fucked you. He watched you the entire time, eyes never leaving your face as his cock filled you. His cock making you feel so good.

The bed creaked lightly, the colours of the sunrise washing over the both of you as your bodies melded together. Gaz panted and whined beneath you, sucking kisses along the swell of your breasts and the curve of your neck and shoulders. You whispered his name, too, over and over again. The days extremities suddenly gone, the cuts on your face and arms suddenly painless.

All you could feel was Gaz.

He was doing so well.

And you wanted him to know it.

You looked down at him. Unsurprisingly, he was already gazing up at you, eyes misty and full of adoration.

"S'that feel good?" You whispered, bringing a hand down to stroke his face as he continued to thrust up into you. "Is this what you wanted? Yeah?"

Gaz nodded, humming his approval behind closed lips. If he opened them, he was scared he'd moan too loud. You were so warm and tight around him, so wet– sucking him in so well. It felt like you were made for him.

"Yeah?" You repeated again, cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was over quickly, and he whined in the back of his throat.

"You're being so good," you whispered, meeting the thrusts of his hips and fucking yourself back down onto him. "You're such a good boy... being such a good boy for me, Kyle."

The government name.

His eyes rolled, and his mouth dropped open. He moaned your name loudly, before his words stretched out into breathy whimpers. His hips stilled, and you felt his cock twitch once, twice, before he was coming inside you. Your eyes widened as he filled you, string after string painting your insides hot. He whimpered through it, face now buried between your tits, hips rocking desperately as he rode out his premature high.

"Gaz..." You whispered, continuing to rock yourself against him. You were full of him, his cock semi-hard inside you, but you were so, so close.

"Fuck, m'sorry," he uttered into your skin. "M'sorry, baby, I didn't mean–"

"It's okay, Gaz, it's okay," you reassured him. "You did so well, it's okay. Just– ah, fuck, m'so close–"

With a groan, he pulled out of you and sat you back on his lap. He took two of his fingers and eased them back into your cunt. He plugged his cum back inside you, thrusting his fingers deep, curling against your walls.

It was your turn to moan loudly, and Gaz had to stifle the sound with his mouth. He kissed you as he added another finger. Three of his digits moved in and out of you, wet sounds echoing around the room, mixing with your breathless pants as you struggled to maintain a kiss.

"Come on, sweetheart, come on." He whispered against your mouth. Your orgasm built quickly in the base of your tummy, and you felt your thighs begin to shake, your cunt fluttering around his fingers.

"Kyle." You whimpered, and Gaz felt himself beginning to harden again.

"Come for me, baby, please." He whispered, and your body listened straight away.

You came around his fingers, walls clamping around him. You managed to keep your moan lodged in your throat– the only thing escaping being a whisper of his name. Your entire body trembled as you fizzled down from your high, and you slumped against Gaz with a content sigh. He caught you, lowering the both of you back into the mattress, removing his fingers from your cunt.

You stuck them all in his mouth, and you whined, slapping him lightly on the chest as he hummed around them.

"So good." He murmured, and you tapped his chest again.

"You're impossible." You mumbled tiredly.

He grinned. "Thank you."

"Oh my god–"

•º•

An hour or so later, the task force regrouped in the living room, gearing up for the evac. Gaz helped you fasten your tac-vest to your torso, running his fingers along your waist as he did so. You couldn't help but smile at him, and he winked. You could still feel him inside you.

Across the room, Price cleared his throat. "Alright, you lot, let's get moving."

Soap laughed from beside Ghost near the front door. "And don't worry, you two, we'll walk slow. Since, you know, you didn't manage to get much rest."

Gaz's eyes widened. "Well, wait–"

Your mouth dropped open. "Soap, you fucking–"

The Scotsman laughed again.

You and Gaz clearly weren't quiet enough.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

remember to go check out @glitterypirateduck and the other gazfest works !!!!

#captainfern #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz smut #gaz call of duty #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz x female reader #cod smut #captain'stimbaland #gazfest

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

hard truths | mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 2 to disapproval - read part 1 here

after charles' comment sent you spiralling, you realize that the only person you can truly rely on is the one who will never be deemed good enough in your brothers' eyes, but that doesn't mean he's giving up on you.

word count: 3.4k warnings: none again except kind of asshole brother charles and a bit of poorly translated french, so sry

There was no way you could take Charles' call, not right now, not after just waking up and seeing that comment. You didn’t want to hear his half-assed, hungover apology. It wouldn’t mean anything.

All you could do was sit up in bed, the hotels’ white duvet pooled around your waist as you waited for Mick to get out of the shower, which seemed to take an eternity. When he did finally open the door, a cloud of steam following him, not even the sight of a towel sitting painfully low around his hips was enough to distract you. Your thoughts were too preoccupied on how the media was going to undoubtedly spin this.

“What happened?” Mick asked, knowing right away that something was wrong. He recognized the strained look on your face and when you glanced up from your phone, his heart shattered at the sound of your timid inhale.

As you started to explain the chaos that you woke up to, Mick began to get dressed. When you started going off for what seemed like the five hundredth about why your brothers were such assholes, he gave you his undivided attention as if this was the first time you were complaining about them.

Mick always knew what to do and say. He knew that you preferred to be heard than to be given advice. He knew that when you were angry, especially at one of your brothers, the best thing that he could do was show you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He let you pace back and forth in the hotel room as you started transferring your fears into spoken word, which was something that Mick had actually encouraged you to do months ago. He said that voicing your thoughts helped you realise how irrational they were, and you had to admit, he had a point.

But this time was different. You knew it. Mick knew it. Your worries were valid.

Mick suggested that the two of you head to the next race location earlier than everyone else. Not only could you take a few days to relax before needing to see Charles in the paddock, but it was also Monaco, your home. Your apartment was there, your friends were there, you’d feel more at ease in the comfort of your bed than you would in another hotel room.

So you packed up your bags and Mick called the front desk to have his car brought around front. The drive was a few hours, but maybe that was for the best. Five hours in a car with Mick seemed ideal, especially when you thought about turning your phone on airplane mode to silence out the rest of the world.

Mick grabbed both your luggage and his, rolling them behind him as you made your way to the elevator. When you stepped inside, you briefly checked in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look like a complete disaster, but before you could reach for concealer or mascara, Mick leaned down and kissed your cheek, not needing to say anything. That simple gesture alone meant that he would always think you looked beautiful.

The ride down to the main floor was tedious itself, but when the elevator doors finally opened, time froze.

Standing there, waiting to enter to presumably go up to his own room, was Charles. The dark bags under his eyes and the energy drink clenched in his hand gave away just how much last night had affected him. But regardless of how exhausted he looked, there wasn’t a single ounce of remorse on his face.

Nothing that indicated he felt even a little sorry for that comment.

He just stared at you, lips slightly parted as if he was going to say something but there was nothing for him to say. His eyes darted towards Mick who had tensed up the second he spotted your brother, but Mick didn’t say anything either.

There was a lot he probably wanted to say but this wasn’t Mick’s place to intervene, not yet at least.

The elevator doors tried to close because of the lack of movement in the cart but you were quick to slam the palm of your hand against it to activate the sensor, keeping the doors open. Charles flinched, as if thinking you were about to hit him. You should have.

“Nothing?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “You have absolutely nothing to say?”

“Oh now you want me to say something?” Charles raised his voice, not bothered by the handful of people in the lobby that were within earshot. “I tried calling you earlier and you didn’t answer!”

“I had just woken up!” You yelled back and Mick raised his hand to your back, a gentle reminder that now was not the time nor place to start a screaming match with your brother.

You glanced up at Mick who’s glare was still firmly locked on Charles and you shook your head helplessly, looking back at the person who was supposed to be there for you, supposed to support you and be happy for you. He was family for christ sakes.

Your phone chimed again, another notification that would certainly cause your blood to boil should you choose to open it.

“Media’s going insane with this. C'est ton problème. À toi de le réparer.” This is your mess, it’s up to you to fix it. You jabbed your finger against his chest and Charles backed up, not saying another word as he stepped out of the way for you and Mick to exit the elevator.

Mick grabbed the two suitcases and led the way towards the front door. You made sure to keep your head down. Even though this hotel was rooming mostly drivers and people from various teams, the last thing you needed was to be bombarded with questionable stares.

When you finally got into the car, Mick reached across the middle console to rest his hand on your thigh. You knew it would stay there for most, if not all of the ride. When he offered for you to pick the playlist, nothing came to mind.

Feeling defeated and helpless in this situation, Mick put on a playlist the two of you had created together and gave your leg a firm squeeze. When you glanced in his direction, Mick leaned forward to crash his mouth against yours.

You hated PDA and you knew that his windows weren’t well tinted, but at the moment you didn’t care who outside the car saw you kissing your boyfriend. If anything, this was a giant fuck you to your brother. His immature comment and lack of brain cells wasn’t going to stop you from being with the man you loved.

You just hoped this would all blow over soon.

“A fucking Instagram story apology?” You screamed at Charles through the phone about a minute after you stepped into your apartment, switching between cursing him out in French and English. Mick picked up on a few words here and there but he kept raising his eyebrows when he had no idea what it was you were saying.

“What else do you want me to do?” Charles yelled back, his voice was muffled and there was a lot of noise in the back. Wherever he was, it meant he wasn’t giving this situation the attention it deserved.

“I want you to not lie on social media and put some fucking effort into getting along with Mick!”

You made the mistake of trying to unpack while on the phone with your brother because every few seconds, whatever you had in your hands would just get crumpled between your fist or you’d throw it out of anger.

Mick stepped towards you, taking your hand in his to unclench your fingers to release the shirt you were currently digging your nails into. He gave you a look that basically said stop trying to multitask, you suck at it.

“Give me one good reason why you don’t approve of me dating him,” You ordered and Charles went silent on the phone. You waited about twenty seconds before you scoffed into the receiver, “Tu ne peux pas." You can’t.

Finally, Charles blurted out, “He’s older than you.”

“By two years.”

“He doesn’t have a career.”

“Maybe he’s not currently driving but that doesn't mean he’s done for good,” you retorted, standing up for your boyfriend.

“He can’t support you.”

“I can support myself.”

You heard Charles sigh loudly, “You shouldn’t be dating a driver, Y/N, okay?”

“Just because you were a shitty boyfriend to your ex-girlfriends doesn’t mean Mick is going to treat me poorly too.”

Mick’s eyes went wide at that comment. It wasn’t like you to bring up his past and you both knew how delicate of a topic his relationships were. No one in the family talked about what happened, Charles kept it to himself. But between you and your other brothers, you sort of put two and two together that whatever happened was his fault.

Mick reached for your hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs. He ran his fingers over the back of your legs, the light touch making you shiver, but he knew you needed this type of comfort right now.

You draped your arm over his shoulder, lazily sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you waited for Charles’ response, but all you could hear was quiet breaths and voices in the background.

“Charles, I don’t know what happened in your relationships,” you started off hesitantly, “but whatever fear you have, whatever you did…Mick isn’t the same guy. He’s not you, he’s-”

“Better,” Charles said under his breath and you actually chuckled. Mick heard it too and smiled.

“I mean, yeah,” you agreed and Mick tried to hide his laughter by reaching for your hand, kissing the back of it. “And I get it, you want to protect me but this isn’t how you go about it. You’ve just been cruel and closed off and you haven’t even tried to see Mick for the guy he is. Do you even know how happy he makes me?”

Charles went silent again. That could have meant two things. Either he truly disassociated himself from your relationship and had absolutely no idea the smile Mick brought to your face, the joy he brought into your life. Or Charles saw everything and he could see how much Mick meant to you, even if he tried to ignore it.

You looked directly at Mick, resting your palm against the side of his cheek, “I love him.”

Mick’s blue eyes quite literally sparkled. He mouthed the words back to you. ‘I love you.’

The next thing you heard was the dial tone.

Mick heard Charles’ hang up and he took the phone from your hands before you could throw it or break it or crush it between your fingers, which he was confident you could do. He tossed it onto the bed behind him and pulled you onto his lap.

“I don’t get it,” you whispered, eyes starting to gloss over. “I don’t want to keep having this conversation with him. I want him to be happy for me, for us.”

“I know,” Mick nodded, the worry lines in his forehead coming back as his eyes darted all over face, thinking of the ways he could try to make things better.

“And I don’t need his approval but-”

“But you want it,” Mick could read your thoughts, he knew you so well. “He’s your brother, it makes sense.”

“I don’t even want to go to the race this weekend if he’s going to be acting like this.”

“You don’t need to,” he backed up that idea without any hesitation. “Why support him when he can’t do the same for you?”

But that felt wrong. You had a huge heart, you loved Charles and you wanted to see him succeed and especially in Monaco of all places. Not being there for this race just seemed so horrible.

And people would definitely speculate if you weren’t there to cheer your own brother on.

“I have to,” you eventually said.

“You have a few days to decide.”

Mick titled his chin upwards to press a kiss to your cheek. Obviously it made you smile and that smile only grew when he continued to pepper quick kisses all over your face. Your hold around his shoulders tightened and you pushed him backwards so he landed face up on the mattress with you still on top of him.

“I love you,” he told you, his gaze dropping from your eyes to land on your lips for just a second before looking up again. “I will always love you, Y/N. Nothing is going to get in the way of that, I promise.”

“Not even stupid brothers?” You asked and Mick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not even stupid brothers.”

You dropped your forehead to rest against his, letting your hair fall around his face. Mick slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt and the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sent a chill down your spine in the most comforting way. Your nose nudged against his and just like every other time before this, when he kissed you, your entire body felt like it was on fire.

Mick had the ability to light a match within you from just a simple touch. You were electrified when you were with him and you couldn’t get enough.

He pushed your shirt further up as your kiss deepened. His tongue traced your lips, just enough to leave you breathless and Mick took that opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You could practically taste the coffee he was drinking in the car and you loved it.

You sat up suddenly, giving yourself a few seconds to pull your shirt off because it was bound to come off anyway. You tossed it behind you and Mick pushed himself up as well, attaching his lips to your throat. Your head rolled back when his teeth grazed over your skin and you knew that if you didn’t stop him, he would leave a mark.

But you just tugged your fingers through his hair, your faint moan encouraging him to keep going. You didn’t care what people would think if your makeup failed to cover it. Let them know how much you love Mick. You wanted people to know that you were his and that wasn’t going to change.

Mick trailed his lips upwards, his kisses were soft in comparison to the merciless sucking on your neck a few seconds prior and the contrast was driving you insane.

He was the sweetest, most caring guy you had ever met. With kind eyes and a heart bigger than anyone deserved, Mick was truly the most lovable person on this planet.

But good god there was another side to him. A side you only ever saw when it was just the two of you alone and you craved it. He had the ability to flip a literal switch and take complete control over you. Mick would have you begging in seconds, he knew exactly how to please you and how to leave you wanting more.

Which is why you were more than irritated when his phone started ringing in his pocket. You could feel the vibration against your leg and you pleaded for him to just let it go to voicemail.

Mick laughed against your skin, pressing a kiss to the spot right below your ear, “You know I’d love to sweetheart but-”

“-but you can’t,” you groaned, finishing the thought for him. Just because he wasn’t a full time driver didn’t mean he got out of F1 obligations. You adjusted yourself on his lap so he could pull his phone out. Charlotte’s name lit up the screen, head of PR for Mercedes.

Mick answered the phone, still keeping his other hand on your waist. You overheard some of the conversation just from being in close proximity but when Charlotte asked if Mick could join a Zoom meeting, you rolled your eyes.

“Say no,” you whispered, wanting to get back to what you were doing.

Mick covered the speaker with his hand, “I can’t say no. Mercedes has to do a bit of damage control before the race this weekend.”

You groaned loudly and you were certain you heard Charlotte laugh from the other end of the call. Mick kissed your cheek before you climbed off of him, reaching for your shirt to put back on.

“Blame your brother,” Mick told you as he grabbed his laptop from his backpack, heading into your office. He shut the door behind him and you just knew you wouldn’t see him again for at least three hours.

You reached for your phone and flopped yourself on the bed. As much as you should have been staying off social media, you couldn’t help but wonder what people were saying about this whole situation.

It was endearing, and slightly humorous, to see that some fans hated Charles’ apology as much as you did. But it was painful knowing that they too saw the distaste your brother had for Mick.

When you opened instagram, you noticed that Charles had deleted his story post. He probably did that after you told him how horrible it was. However, it just meant that there was still a mess he had to clean up.

You didn’t like how the conversation with him ended. He hung up so abruptly. And even though that was not the first time he’d done that, you didn’t want him to get away with it. The two of you needed to talk, you needed to put an end to this bullshit.

So you called him, only for it to go right to voicemail.

You waited a bit and called again, same thing.

Not wanting to get too in your head about it, you reached for the remote to turn the tv on. If Mick was going to be in meetings for the better part of the evening, you could at least catch up on some shows.

As the day went on, you kept trying to get a hold of Charles, but to no avail. Eventually you texted the one person who should have at least had an idea as to where he was.

Defeated, you tossed your phone aside. You got up out of bed and made your way down the hall. The door to your office was still shut but you pushed it open the slightest bit. When the hinges squeaked, Mick turned around in the chair and smiled at you.

There was something so humbling about seeing your Formula 1 driver boyfriend sit at your pastel pink desk with the cheesiest grin on his face.

“Almost done, I promise,” he told you, glancing at his watch. What you assumed would be a three hour meeting had turned into a five hour one, but at this point they were probably discussing everything for the week so Mick could spend more time with you before the race weekend.

“It’s okay, take your time,” you said, blowing him a kiss. Mick reached his hand up in the air, pretending to catch said kiss.

“I’ll order us something to eat, yeah?” he suggested, grabbing his phone. You nodded in agreement to that idea before retreating out of the office.

There wasn’t much to do as you waited for Mick to finish up so you started tidying up. Your apartment wasn’t messy by any means but you had to distract yourself. Otherwise you’d just start thinking about what Charles is up to and why he wasn’t answering your calls and you didn't want to pull Mick away from his work to help you out of whatever self-destructed spiral you would surely fall into.

When there was a knock on the door, you paused. Usually delivery drivers would use the intercom buzzer on the main level to gain entry into your building. You also weren’t sure how the food managed to be prepared and delivered so quickly.

“Mick!” You called out. “Did you give the delivery driver my access code?”

There was no answer, but there was another knock at the door.

Not wanting the food to get cold, you reached for the door handle and pulled it open.

Only, it wasn’t food.

And for the second time in less than twelve hours, your older brother’s unpredictable actions had left you feeling a little confused and terribly surprised as you came face to face with the man whose eyes bore so much resemblance to yours.

part 3 here

---

tag list @spicyclover @leclerc16s @totally-random-person @majx00 @lighttsoutlewis @ellethewitchbitch @grimmducky @lucyhotchner @clintsupremacy @sussyzee @fock-smash @that-aesthetic-chic @alma23f1 @sbgal @h0e-xoxo @ivegotparticulartaste @sachaa-ff @emiiarmenn @konsti081 @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @melagemo0263

#mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #f1 social media au #f1 one shot #f1 requests #f1 #charles leclerc

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cemeterything · 3 months

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how do you give your ocs last names that both fit the character and sound like a real plausible name? your oc names always sound really good and I can never figure out how to give mine last names without them sounding too fantasy

mostly i just cycle through name ideas until i find one that clicks. i usually have a vague theme in mind which guides my research on common surnames, word etymology and variations throughout language, culture and history. for example, giving annie, emery and jocelyn the last name "crane" came from wanting a surname that evoked both slender elegance and undertones of creepiness and/or the gothic, since the crane family is a gothic horror family associated with spider motifs. cranes are elegant but also slightly grotesquely proportioned birds, and "crane" is the protagonist's last name in the short horror story the legend of sleepy hollow, which has gothic themes. it also rolls off the tongue following the names "annie" "emery" and "jocelyn", so it checks off all the requirements. "tanaka", chiyo's last name, is a common japanese last name that translates literally to "center of the rice paddy", which reflects chiyo's humble origins as the daughter of rural rice farmers in the north of japan, while her first name translates to "thousand (years), eternal", reflecting her aspirations to achieve immortality either through a legacy of art or literal transcendence from the flesh to the machine/digital consciousness.

sometimes i also settle on last names before i choose first names, because it can be easier. "lincoln ray" started as "ray", a name that is both masculine and strong and also evokes light and hope, and "lincoln" followed as a first name because i wanted him to have a traditionally usamerican-sounding name with an implied hint of bloody violence (which, since president lincoln was assassinated by being shot in the back of the head, fits the bill). nicky's last name, dyatlov, is a fairly common russian surname which means "woodpecker". woodpeckers have black and white feathers; nicky has black and white hair. it's also a name associated with death and misfortune; the infamous dyatlov pass incident being of course the most obvious example, but also the surname of the deputy chief engineer on duty on the night of the chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster. nicky is a fairly unsettling figure whose presence usually means something unfortunate is going to happen, so it was fitting. "nikita" or "nicky" followed as a first name because nicky is nonbinary, and "nikita" is a gender neutral name. it also sounds rather cute and charming, which reflects nicky's deceptively polite, perpetually smiling nature. it actually means "unconquered" or "victor", which also neatly reflects nicky's iron willpower and relentlessly obsessive tendencies.

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shrowded-eng1ma · 9 months

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What happens after your death?

Fandom; SAGAU

Plot; People believe you to be a imposter and kill you, this explains what happens after you die.

CW:Death, Impostor Au, Nightmares, Isolation, Trauma.

——

After your public execution Teyvat celebrates your death and create a holiday to celebrate the death of the imposter.

A few days go by with nothing strange happening, until it does.

Everytime when people sleep, they hear the quite tears from you, and feel your sadness and pain.

Archons who don’t need sleep, are now fainting at midnight and reliving their trauma again, and again, and again. Only that it gets worse.

Hillichruls and The Abyss Order seem to attack and kill any human in sight, as they wail out in anger and sadness.

Teyvat itself begins to rip itself apart, disgusted at the actions committed by your worshipers. Not wishing to house ‘Monsters’ who killed the being whom created them and just wished to walk among them and be loved.

Everyone is confused and scared, when humans sleep, they hear your cry’s, beings that don’t usually need to sleep are now forced to sleep and relive their trauma but it gets worse everytime. When it’s daytime they need to protect themselves from never ending attacks from Nature and Hilichruls/Abyss Order. Along with that they FEEL your eternal sadness and bear your eternal wrath.

Even those who believed you ARE the creator can’t escape your blind wrath and sadness, but they don’t blame you, the people have brought this upon themselves.

They all then learn that you truly WERE the creator. Fearful, Desperate, and Saddened by their actions and the discovered truth, they pray to your statue harder, begging for forgiveness. But the statues are destroyed, either by Lighting, Earthquakes, Meteors, Falling Buildings, or any other natural disasters.

They lost hope, you cant EVER forgive them, once all the statues are destroyed they hear your voice “I just wanted to be among you. Why… why did you hate me!!!? I LOVED YOU ALL, FOR ALL YOUR TROUBLES, FOR ALL YOUR TRUMA I LOVED YOU!!!! and you repay me… by KILLING ME!!!!!”

The ones who believed you and helped you got a different message “You… you were one of the few who helped me.. thank you, but I still died. I will reward you with a painless death”

They all then fall to the ground, Teyvat roars by releasing a massive earthquake, The Hilichruls roar like a tiger and begin mutilating humans, The Abyss Order are angered and begin to destroy the world.

And your followers? Their distraught, they don’t even fight back at whatever happens. They now forever FEEL your sadness, pain, isolation, after feeling the joy and excitement you felt when you descended, they now just cry forever, they can’t do anything but accept it.

They chant apologies to you, but it falls on deaf ears, they slam their hands together and make a fist, pleading to you as blood drips from their hands and it turns pale, but YOU refuse to accept these.

No one is spared, in your blind anger everyone is to blame, Men, Women, Children. They ALL won’t die, oh no, they’ll LIVE forever and they will only feel YOUR pain YOUR sadness and relive any Truama they may have, or any insecurities they have will be exploited.

This is not the wrath of the creator. This is simply the creators, Sadness and Pain, that was brought upon him by the followers who devoted their entire existence to him, THIS IS THEIR DESTINY.

——

No I’m not back yet, I’m still somewhere with weak internet so don’t except another post anytime soon

#gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #genshin impact #sagau #sagau cult au #sagau impostor au #sagau x reader #sagau x male reader #sagau x female reader #sagau x gender neutral reader

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10yrsyart · 12 days

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Logos- the Word of God Erebos- darkness, gloom

i don't remember where i heard this analogy, but it really stuck with me. you can't stay on the fence of belief/ unbelief forever, because the devil owns the fence. he owns all the religions of the world, except for the only faith that can save you: faith in the blood of Jesus Christ. the Son of God came down, lived a sinless life, took our sins upon Himself in death, and resurrected so we might have life too. because He LOVES us.

the truth is, you don't know when the end of your life will be. when you come to stand before the Just and Righteous Judge, will you be covered by Jesus' perfect blood, shielding you from punishment? or will you still have all your sins covering you because you rejected Him?

i don't write this to condemn, but because i love you and want you to have an eternity of joy and peace. so i warn you with love: Jesus is returning soon, to take His people away before God's Wrath and judgement begins (Revelation 3:10, 1 Thessalonians 5:9).

signs in the sun, moon, and stars. wars and rumors of wars, people's love for each other turning to hate. the increased intensity of natural disasters and strange behavior of animals. every other week some expert talks of world distinction events in our future (AI, or famine, or disease, or WWIII). God has sent dreams and visions to all people about the times about to happen. you can feel there's something weird about the world right now. God is speaking loudly.

now is the time to repent, accept the sacrifice for your sins and put your faith in Him. now is the time to step into the Kingdom of Life that will never pass away 💙✝ "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life (...) There is no judgment against anyone who believes in Him. But anyone who does not believe in Him has been judged already, for not believing in God's one and only Son." (John 3:16, 18)

transcript:

Helel: What did they say that gripped your attention so much?

Girl: Prince Helel. She was just telling me about life in the Logos Kingdom compared to the Erebos Kingdom. I haven't really decided where I want to live yet.

Helel: Pffeh, I can assure you, she greatly exaggerate. I've been to the Logos Kingdom. Those people are practically in chains and they don't even realize.

Girl: ..But you rule the Erebos Kingdom. Doesn't that make you a little bias? Either way, I'd still like to decide for myself.

Helel: Of course, of course! Take all the time you want. We'd love to have you!

(years pass)

Girl: Helel, what's happening?!

Helel: That, my dear, is a curtain call.

Girl: I don't understand-

Helel: It's time you came with me.

Girl: Wait-! But I never picked a kingdom! I'm still on the fence-

Helel: Oh, I'm terribly sorry for the confusion! You see, I OWN the fence!

Girl: No! Get off me! I thought I had more time! Stop-!

Girl: King Yeshua!!

Helel: No, sshe'sss mine! Sshe waited too long-

Yeshua: (Release her. Serpent.)

Helel: (Fine. But they won't all want sssaving~)

Girl: Thankyou, thankyou, he almost had me! If You didn't... I'm so sorry. Please don't send me back to him-

Yeshua: I came to you when you called, didn't I? You made your decision. And I'm so Glad! Allow Me to welcome you home, Dear One.

#christianity #jesus christ #God #faithstuff #faith #rapture #tribulation #bible verse #bible scripture #religion #religious art #satan #lucifer #yeshua #digital comic #my art #long post.#end times

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palms-upturned · 1 year

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My ideal Kim and Cuno dynamic is “guy who thinks he’s in some kind of eternal tormented rivalry with a guy who’s just normal” where Cuno is the normal one

Kim’s like seething to himself like Cuno might have Harry fooled but I know kids well enough to know he’s a disaster waiting to happen I can’t turn my back for half a second or he’ll start causing chaos!!

Meanwhile Cuno is like hey bino look how many rocks Cuno can fit in his mouth at once

#meg talks #disco elysium

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kiwioala · 5 months

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here’s a ton of discrepancies on the island now: ( i think a lot of these can be brushed off but Idk… )

when the island was cleaned up on the QSMP livestream, all of the halloween and día de los muertos decorations were missing, but now they’re back?

the original (burnt down) one is still located near favela, however, there is now a second big ben right outside of foolishs dragon that is in perfect condition

i haven’t seen anyone point this out yet but cucurucho left a book for forever on his desk a few days ago and now it's gone too.

the black concrete remains at the residents houses/personal areas, but is pretty much entirely cleaned up from the general areas like spawn. with a few exceptions being; a few blocks on the outside of NINHO, the museum, & the adoption center.

which, funnily enough, was almost exactly how it looked before the residents had left for purgatory (ik there was a TON of black concrete during the vegas trip but iirc it was pretty much almost entirely cleaned up.)

and just a reminder, this is what the island looked like 8 days ago:

and this is what it looked like 3 days ago:

onto stuff the eye said yesterday, we have:

“I would permit you to leave, but I must ask, do you desire to leave? I think your place is much better by at my side, you would thrive under my command. Consider it, but know this is the only time you will be given this opportunity (to leave).” To ElQuackity

“You want to return to your little island prison. Comparatively, I’m pretty nice to you all. I just tell you to suffer and let you go on your merry way.”

“You desire your eggs. Unfortunately for you, our games aren’t over yet. We will play just a couple more games for my enjoyment.”

“Congratulations on surviving purgatory, it was lovely having you here. In fact, it was so lovely that you should stay here. I remember catching some sentiments from some of you that you’d like to stay here— how about we make that happen?”

“An eternity in purgatory. An eternity as my plaything. That’s your fate— forever here.”

“Remember, the true end of purgatory rests solely in my hands. Safe travels, sinners. Enjoy the chaos.”

right after that, the screen saying “loading new games,” and “loading new disasters” appears before cutting out right as the new team announcements load. obviously this could be a teaser for the global event but, with the survival instinct event being announced, it could be for anything. plus there’s so many loose ends regarding purgatory too like, the cursed team and forever’s judas thing never happening and i’m sure the admins would’ve asked him to get online to do it seeing how much he apparently wanted to do it.

#qsmp #qsmp theory #?

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 2 months

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sometimes I see David Tennant's face in Doctor Who as he monologues about time travel/immortality/the eternal loneliness and I go...that's him. that's my rotten lil guy. my wretched wreck of a dude. wreckage in humanoid form. the lonely divine corrupted by himself forgiven by himself made by himself made by his companions made by the universe. horrible and horrifying and far too human and not human enough. the worst thing to ever happen to so many (Martha, Adelaide, Astrid, everyone else who flashed through that whole montage thanks to Davros). a corrupter. a corruption. a cleansing. a man carved out of grief and love and pathos and hatred and grudges and forgiveness who can only make the worst decisions with the best, most selfish of intentions. a man who loved until he lost everything. a man, more than any other doctor, who should never be left alone, and yet he dies alone, with the shortest regeneration speech of any doctor. desperately lonely, desperately tragic, a disaster of a man who is too careless with everything and everyone around him.

And yet I care about him so much, because he is also the man who at the end of it all, after he lost everyone and everything he held dear, after he lost rose and donna and sarah jane and jack and martha and mickey left him and he was more alone than he's ever been, he does the right thing. the kind thing. he stops the time lords from descending on the earth. he once again gives up his people because he understands that the Time Lords Victorious cannot and should not ever be the way to go. he steps in and he saves wilfred mott. he lets himself become the doctor once again. he doesn't want to go, but instead of taking that one final step into godhood, he gives his next self a chance at being a better doctor than he ever could be.

#I DID IT AGAIN #stupid rambling #meta #tenth doctor #character study of sorts #doctor who #my writing #eleventh doctor #hey ten's character arc and his corruption and his tragedy and his callousness and his grief and the way love splits him apart speaks to me #he loves and he loses and he's guilty of so many big and small horrors but at the end he makes himself the doctor again #he is in more pain than he has ever felt #has given up his planet & his people & his companions but he still gives up one last thing- his own life- & trades it for something better #he gives it all up for wilf #and for his future self #and I REALLY want a fic where Eleven went back to see Wilf now #david tennant #russell t davies #wilfred mott

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allmyocsarebritish · 29 days

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Happy birthday Angel Dust!!

Pairing: Angel Dust X Reader

Warnings(?): fluff, brief mentions of drinks and drugs, we love Angel <33

A comfortable silence engulfed Angel Dust's room as you lay on his bed, lovingly stroking Fat Nuggets. Angel sat backwards on the chair by his dresser, facing you as he rested his chin in his palm, another of his hands twirling a cigarette absentmindedly.

"You know," he began in a serious tone, a sudden break in the banter you had been sharing prior to this moment. This caused you to pause and devote your attention entirely to the star. "This is probably best day I've had in a long time, despite the, uh, moments."

You both laughed softly at the memory of Charlie's attempt to make Angel's birthday special, resulting in utter chaos filling the hotel. It had begun with decorations, which had been torn to shreds by cat alastor, a strange new arrival at the hotel. This was followed by the princess herself dropping the cake, having been tripped by one of Sir Pentious's eggs. The mess was extremely distressing to Niffty, as she had just finished waxing the floors.

Later events also did not go quite to plan, with Angel's party being crashed by Cherri bombing down a wall. This turned out to be a positive turn, though, as she was his best friend and made the day vastly more entertaining. The final disaster was when Niffty, ever the lightweight, became rather tipsy quickly, and proceeded to tidy away everyone's drugs and drinks.

Despite all this, you knew that the day had been more than ideal for Angel, and just what he needed, following the long week he had in the studio. As evening drew out, you and Angel joined Husk at the bar for some celebratory drinks, laughing and joking together long into the night.

"If your birthday is today, does that make you an April fool?" Husk asked intently, a slight smirk playing on his lips, as you stifled a laugh when Angel's response was to flip him off.

Eventually Husk decided to retire to his room, and, as he didn't trust either of you unsupervised around his alcohol (even more so when together) you were forced to head off to Angel's room. So there you were, surrounded by comfort brought only by your favourite person in your favourite place, talking and cuddling the night away.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm grateful. For everyone at the hotel, but, especially you, toots." His voice was slightly wobbly, not noticeably so, but you still picked up on it.

"I'm grateful for you too, Angie. I don't know what the fuck I'd do without you." You hopped off his bed, making your way over to the chair he was sat on and wrapping your arms around him. Angel hugged you back immediately, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you joined him on the chair, practically sitting on top of him.

"Thank you, for being here." He whispered against your skin.

"Of course." You gave him one last tight squeeze before pulling back and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You know we love you, Angel."

His smile grew at your words, followed by your own. "And I love you the most."

"I love you too." He responded, hand rising to cup your cheek.

"Happy birthday, Anthony."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Of course, following the theme of the day, your sweet moment was interrupted. Biting back a laugh at the irony of this continuously happening, you looked down at what (or who) interrupted this time. Met with a cold, wet snout pressing against the back of your hand, you leant down and scooped up Fat Nuggets, sandwiching him between you and Angel. Leaning your head against his fluffy chest, you let out a sigh of contentment. All four of Angel's arms were put to use, the lower set hugging you and the little demon pig close, one gently running through your hair and another petting Nuggets.

"Y'know, I really can't consider this eternal torment." You whispered. "Not when I'm with you, baby."

"Me neither, toots. Me neither."

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5starluvr · 28 days

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Night active

Paring:Bang Chan x Reader

Genre:Angst,fluff at the end?

Warnings:none

Spider Kids

This chapter didn’t come out to my liking at all (i rewrote this 5 times and decided to scrap everything and completely redoing it just a few hours before

Rain lashed against the windowpanes, mirroring the storm brewing inside Y/n. Another text. Another "running late, sorry babe." This time, the excuse wasn't even creative. Just another night sacrificed at the altar of the recording studio, another date with Chan turning into a solo act for Y/n.

She stormed out of her apartment, the crumpled reservation for their fancy dinner clutched in her hand. The address was meaningless now, another casualty of Chan's workaholic tendencies. The neon glow of "JYP" mocked her from across the street. It was a familiar sight, a beacon that usually promised exciting new music, but tonight, it felt like a prison holding her love captive.

Pushing open the heavy metal door, Y/n was met not by the expected cacophony, but by an unsettling silence. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and burnt popcorn, remnants of late nights spent chasing sonic perfection. Yet, the mixing console was untouched, the keyboards lay silent, and the screens displayed static ghosts of unfinished projects. A knot of worry tightened in Y/n's stomach.

"Chan?" she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the empty studio.

She navigated the maze of cables and instruments, checking the sound booth, the vocal recording room, even the dingy kitchenette - all deserted. A growing sense of unease gnawed at her. This wasn't like Chan. He might be late, he might be stressed, but he wouldn't simply disappear from his own studio, not without a message.

Desperation clawed at her. She tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Panic bloomed in her chest. Had work finally pushed him over the edge? Had something bad happened?

The crumpled reservation slipped from her hand, forgotten on the worn floor. The fancy dinner, the carefully planned evening – all insignificant compared to the gnawing worry that had taken hold.

Y/n knew this wasn't just about a missed date anymore. This was about Chan, and the terrifying possibility that under the relentless pursuit of his passion, he might be lost.

The studio walls seemed to close in on Y/n. Each unanswered call, each ignored text, resonated like a hammer blow. Panic transformed into a cold dread that gnawed at her insides. She tried calling the studio again, just in case, but it went straight to voicemail once more. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the glow of the computer screen.

Desperate for any sliver of information, she frantically searched the news. Traffic accidents, building fires, even a report of a rogue squirrel causing a power outage – nothing. Then, a headline jumped out – "Spider-Man Thwarts Bank Robbery, Two Villains Apprehended!" Relief washed over her, so sudden it almost made her dizzy. Chan was alive, that much was clear. But the elation was short-lived.

Spider-Man.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Her usually reliable, grounded boyfriend was also the city's hero. The missed dates, the late nights, the cryptic excuses – it all made a horrifying kind of sense. But where was he now? Was he injured? Had he gotten caught? The image of Chan, hurt and alone, flashed in her mind, and a fresh wave of terror threatened to consume her.

Y/n knew waiting at the studio was pointless. Grabbing her jacket, she raced out into the rain-soaked night. Chan's apartment was the only other place he could be. The journey felt like an eternity, every car horn, every siren, a potential omen of disaster.

Reaching his building, she sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, ignoring the burning in her lungs. Her trembling hand fumbled with the keys, finally unlocking the door. The apartment was dark and silent.

Calling his name, she flicked on the light switch. Empty. The air hung heavy with a familiar cologne, a ghost of his presence, but no sign of Chan himself. Disappointment clawed at her, a cold companion to the gnawing worry. She checked every room with growing desperation. The kitchen was spotless, his usual mess of takeout containers and forgotten mugs absent. The living room held no sign of struggle, just the usual clutter of his life – books, instruments, a half-finished model airplane. Finally, she reached his bedroom, the last bastion of hope and dread.

Pushing open the door, Y/n's heart hammered against her ribs. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, revealing an unmade bed, clothes strewn across the floor – a familiar, comforting mess. But the sight that made her blood run cold wasn't the scattered laundry.

A figure perched on the windowsill, back to her, clad in a sleek, crimson and blue suit. The unmistakable mask with its large, white eyes sent a jolt of terror and… something else, a flicker of recognition, through her.

"Chan?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

The figure remained motionless, but a soft sigh escaped it. It turned slowly, revealing the familiar face beneath the mask, etched with exhaustion and concern.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" His voice, distorted by the mask's modulator, was a low rumble.

Y/n stared, speechless. The pieces clicked into place – the missed dates, the frantic exits, the news reports – it all pointed to this. Her boyfriend, the reliable, music-loving Chan, was also the city's hero, Spider-Man. A bewildered laugh escaped her lips, laced with a touch of hysteria.

"You... you're Spider-Man?"

Chan winced at the laugh, a sound devoid of joy, and carefully climbed off the windowsill. "Look, Y/n, I—"

He started to explain, but Y/n cut him off, her voice surprisingly steady. "Hold that thought. Right now, I just need to know you're okay. Why weren't you answering my calls? Where were you?"

Relief flooded his features, momentarily pushing aside the guilt. He reached out, but stopped before his hand could touch hers. "I was... busy with something. I couldn't risk taking my phone out."

His explanation was thin, and Y/n's gaze narrowed. "Busy with stopping another bank robbery as Spider-Man, you mean?"

Chan flinched again. The secret was out, hanging heavy in the air. He sighed, deflating. "Y/n, I... I didn't want to lie to you. Being Spider-Man is a huge responsibility, and it takes up a lot of time. But I never meant to hurt you."

He took a tentative step closer, but she remained rooted to the spot. "Did it never occur to you that maybe I could understand? Maybe I wouldn't want you to give up saving people, but I also wouldn't want to be kept in the dark."

Hurt flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a pleading look. "Y/n, please. Give me a chance to explain everything."

He gestured towards the bed.

Chan sat there, the mask tucked under his arm, his face etched with worry. He sat beside her, a comfortable distance maintained.

"You said you wanted to explain," Y/n said, her voice quiet.

He took a deep breath. "It started a few years ago," he began, his voice low and sincere. He recounted the fateful night he was bitten by the spider, the awakening of his powers, and the dawning realization of the responsibility thrust upon him. He spoke of the fear, the exhilaration, the constant battle to balance his life with that of a masked hero.

As he spoke, Y/n listened intently. The anger began to recede, replaced by a grudging respect. She saw the burden he carried, the sacrifices he made to keep the city safe. But his words also revealed a crucial flaw.

"You never gave me a chance to understand," she said once he finished. "You treated me like I wouldn't handle it, like I was too fragile to know the truth."

Chan looked down, shame flickering across his face. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, of you judging me. I thought keeping you in the dark was protecting you."

"But it wasn't," Y/n said softly. "It pushed me away. It made me feel like our relationship wasn't important enough to confide in."

Silence stretched between them again, heavy but not without hope. Finally, Chan spoke. "Y/n, I love you. More than anything. This whole… Spider-Man thing, it doesn't diminish that. I just want a chance to show you."

She met his gaze, the hurt still lingering in her eyes but softened by a flicker of understanding. "I need to know if there can be a balance," she admitted. "A life where you can be a hero and still have me by your side."

Chan reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. "There has to be a way," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I won't give up on being Spider-Man, but I also won't give up on you."

Y/n squeezed his hand gently. "Let's talk it through," she said, a glimmer of hope returning to her voice. "Together."

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