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lightsoutletsgo · 2 months

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anxiety gremlin — op.81

pairing: oscar piastri x anxious!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of anxiety and generalised anxiety disorder, description of physical symptoms including; nausea, headaches, sweaty hands, stomach pains, brain fog, mental struggles, mentions of panic attacks but reader doesn’t experience one, mentions of food and making food related decisions. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! hello loves! this one is very personal to me and it was a pretty selfish write tbh... I wasn't sure if I should post it but I decided to do it in the hopes that it brings people some comfort. Oscar's dialogue at the end is a message that I, as the author, want to remind you all. you've got this, even if it doesn't feel like it! happy reading love mimi

Sometimes, it felt as though the world was out to get you. You faced the world and your flight, fight or freeze instincts kicked in. When you woke up, it seemed like it was going to be one of those days. That unexplainable feeling of nausea turning your stomach and an unexplainable headache pulled at the back of your head. Your jaw tensed as the nausea hit you in another wave and you forced yourself to roll over and close your eyes. Maybe if you could get back to sleep you’d wake up feeling better. Your mind however, had other ideas. Instead, deciding to send you down the spiral of impending doom - a lovely gift first thing in the morning. Thoughts whizzed through your head; Why did you feel so nauseous? Why did your head hurt? Had you forgotten something? What were your plans for the day and was that why this horrible feeling was creeping up? You sat up, accepting that you wouldn’t be falling back asleep and decided to get ready for the day. Perhaps a shower would help? The warm water was soothing as it rushed over you and whether it was the heat or the steam or the fact you were doing something to distract yourself, for a moment you felt a little better. Exiting the shower you decided that while the nausea had subsided, it would be a good time to start hydrating and maybe think about eating something. Your phone rang and dragged you from your internal rambling, “Hi baby!” You smiled, despite the fact that your boyfriend couldn’t see you, “Good morning angel,” You could hear Oscar’s dopey lovesick grin through the phone, “how did you sleep?” You set him down on loudspeaker as you got dressed, “I slept okay! How about you?” “I would have slept better if you didn’t keep stealing the blankets…” You gasped, “I do not!” Oscar laughed, “You absolutely do! One night I’m going to record you for evidence.” You giggled, “You do that baby.” Oscar nodded then realised you couldn’t see him, “I’m just calling to find out what you want for breakfast? I figured I’d stop off at that little cafe that you like on my way home.” You gulped, you had no clue what you wanted or how to decide, “I’d love that, thank you handsome!” You thought frantically for a solution, “Uhh you can choose for me! I trust you!” There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Are you sure angel?” “Yup, mhm, so sure!” “O-okay…” After making Oscar promise to drive safely, you hung up.

You realised that for a moment while talking to Oscar, you hadn’t even thought about feeling anxious but it was as if that realisation had summoned the feeling back. All of a sudden your hands felt shaky and it was hard to focus on anything but the disconcerting feeling in your chest. Sitting down on the couch you did your best to control your breathing. Sometimes you wished that it would just turn into a panic attack and be done with. Anything would be better than this on-off-on-off situation. It was like feeling a sneeze that wouldn’t leave your body. Unsatisfying and unsettling.

The front door opening made you snap your head up and you realised that subconsciously you had been rubbing your hands on your sweatpants to try and get rid of the clammy feeling. You shook your head and smiled as Oscar walked through the door, you were just a little bit anxious, it was no big deal.

Oscar beamed at you as he entered the living room. He noticed that you seemed distracted and almost a little shifty. Your eyes kept darting around the room and your hands were absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the hem of your t-shirt - a habit you usually despised because it had the potential to ruin your clothes. He said nothing, just walked through the room to the kitchen and placed down the paper bags filled with breakfast. “You okay there angel?” You nodded at him but it wasn’t enough to reassure him, “Are you sure?” You nodded once more, why now of all times were you feeling sick again? You sat there grinding your teeth together and clenched your jaw, feeling too sick to open your mouth and reply. You wanted to reply, you really did! But your brain had decided that words were a step too far. “Did you do something while I was out, hmm?” Oscar joked but all it did was make you more anxious, ‘was he angry?’, ‘was he going to shout at you?’, ‘breakup with you?’, “Come on troublemaker, you can tell me!-” “Nothing! Nothing happened! Now will you please stop asking.” You snapped, immediately clapping a hand across your mouth in shock before the tears were welling up in your eyes. “Oscar I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry baby I shouldn’t have snapped… Please don’t be angry!” You rambled a million miles an hour as your hands began rubbing and grabbing the material of your sweatpants again, not even realising your breathing had turned heavy and you were sweating. Oscar stood there in shock, he had never seen you like this before, was this because of him? He slowly approached you, not sure of the issue and not sure how to resolve it. “It’s okay angel, it’s okay” He held his hand out to you but you shook your head, talking through a clenched jaw in the hopes it would help the queasy feeling in your stomach, “Hands sweaty.” Oscar nodded, “Okay then, can I sit next to you?” You nodded, he gently took a seat next to you, careful not to jostle or jolt you, “Is this a medical emergency?” You shook your head, “do I need to call an ambulance?” You shook your head once more, feeling like you wanted to cry.

How embarrassing that you were having an episode like this in front of your boyfriend after hiding it so well for so long. And even more embarrassing that you couldn’t tell him what was going on let alone why you felt the way you did, “Is this a panic attack?” You shook your head no. Oscar made a little ‘oh’ and sat quietly next to you, unsure of what to say or do. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to open your mouth, despite how heavy your tongue felt. “I’m just a bit anxious.” “What about?” You shrugged, “Nothing. Everything. Hard to explain.” Oscar smiled at you through your one word answers and short sentences, “Well I can wait, it’s okay.” You nodded, hands starting to tingle with how long you’d been rubbing them against fabric and you winced as a sudden cramping feeling started in your stomach. Oscar seemed to notice your discomfort, “Please let me hold your hand angel, I promise I don’t care if it’s sweaty and you think it’s gross, I just want to help okay?” You nodded, breathing deeply and letting him take your hand in his.

As soon as your hand was in his, his thumb was rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hand. A soothing motion that you let your eyes focus on. Watching his hands and how they moved, anything to keep your attention off of the anxious feeling.

As he sat next to you Oscar wondered how he should approach you to talk about this. Clearly there was something you weren’t telling him. He thought he knew what it was and he understood why you hadn’t told him. He knew that people got anxious, hell he was always anxious before a race, but he also knew that for some people it went beyond unsettling feelings. He guessed that that’s what you were dealing with too. He’d seen Logan feeling like this a few times and so he wracked his brain to try and remember what the American had told him was useful. How about distraction? It was worth a shot! “Want to watch a film?” You nodded, eyes still laser focused on Oscar’s hands. “I knew you had a thing for my hands but you are allowed to blink you know.” He joked, cracking the smallest sound of an exhale of laughter from you, that was a start. “What film should we watch, hmm?” He grabbed the remote to start flicking through options, his hand never leaving yours, but aware that there was enough space between you so you didn’t feel smothered. “I think something cute and funny? Yes that’s a goooood plan Oscar.” You gave a weak smile once more as he talked to himself and he smiled at you, “how about Tangled?” You nodded and he selected the film, settling back into the couch, head looking at you once more, “Do you want to cuddle?” You shook your head and he just shrugged, wanting to keep you as comfortable as possible, “That’s okay, you just let me know when you do, okay?” You nodded and he squeezed your hand to comfort you, “Do you want to sit back on the couch?” Your body was still tightly wound and feeling like a live wire so you shook your head, physically unable to relax. And still all Oscar did was smile at you.

As the film started, you did your best to focus on it, finding yourself unable to stop smiling and releasing some of the tension in your shoulders at various points when your boyfriend spoke the lines along with the characters, with facial expressions. You watched on screen as Rapunzel and Flynn entered the Ugly Duckling Pub and you realised your body finally felt relaxed enough to sit back against the couch. Oscar silently breathed a sigh of relief, all he wanted to do was fix it for you but he knew that he could only do so much.

By the time the next song had finished, your body was subconsciously leaning against him. Your head rested on his shoulder and he gently tilted his head to rest on top of yours. You gave a little contented sigh. As you sat there, a wave of tiredness hit you, the physical symptoms and mental strain you’d been feeling since you woke up taking its toll. With Oscar’s warm body next to you and the comforting sounds of one of your favourite movies on screen, it wasn’t long before you felt your eyes beginning to slowly close. Oscar looked down at you and saw that your lashes had fluttered shut. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and let his own eyes slip shut.

When you woke up a couple of hours later, the TV was off and you were laying on the couch with a soft blanket covering you. You sat up and sleepily rubbed your eyes, “Osc?” You heard low music drifting through the door to the kitchen and you could hear Oscar mumbling to himself and humming along, cursing occasionally when pots and pans clanged together. He poked his head out from the kitchen door, “There’s my pretty girl. Good morning angel.” He cooed at you and the way you blinked back at him sleepily. “What time is it?” “It’s lunchtime! I was just reheating breakfast.” You nodded, sitting up and pulling your knees up to your chest as he padded across the room to take a seat at the end of the couch by your feet, “I’m sorry.” Oscar’s eyes searched your face as you looked down at your hands in your lap. Oscar’s hand rested on your knee, “Angel, you never have to apologise for something like that…” He trailed off, hesitant to ask you his next question, “do you want to talk about it?” You inhaled slowly, nodding, “Yeah I think I would.” He gently nudged you with his elbow and you shifted back to let him sit in front of you, both of you sitting cross legged. He held his hands out to you and you took them with a shaky exhale.

“Umm… I’m not exactly sure how to explain it?” You admitted, your fingers playing with his own in an effort to keep yourself grounded as that familiar feeling of your shoulders tightening and nausea creeping up began to settle in. He followed your gaze, “That’s okay, we have all the time in the world. Explain it however you feel is easiest.” You nodded once more, “So obviously you noticed that I was feeling anxious,” He tilted his head to one side to show you he was listening as you continued, “That’s because I have generalised anxiety disorder. And the thing is… I feel like that most of the time.” You admitted shakily, desperately willing yourself not to cry. If Oscar was surprised or taken aback he didn’t show it, instead just linking your hand with his and squeezing, encouraged you continued,

“There are good days and there are bad days but I’m always anxious… There’s this constant feeling of underlying panic or anxiety or this sense of impending doom.” You looked up and noticed how Oscar’s eyes searched yours, willing you to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, “I feel nauseous, I feel shaky, my hands get clammy, sometimes it’s like I forget how to breathe, my head and stomach hurt for no reason, my head goes fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on anything but the feeling of how anxious I am…” “Baby…” Oscar breathed, you gave him a watery smile, tears filling your lash line,

“It makes me irritable, it makes me bitchy, it makes me snap at people I love, it makes me sensitive and emotional, I cry a lot, I cancel plans at the last second, I keep to myself and I build my walls up…” You trailed off, meeting his gaze and noticing that his eyes were filling with tears too, “Sometimes it feels like I’m two people. Me and my anxiety.” You couldn’t help the way the tears fell with a choked sob, “Angel, can I please please give you a hug?” Oscar pleaded, itching to pull you into his arms and comfort you.

You nodded through your sobs, finally feeling the huge emotional release that had been building since you’d woken up. He reached for you, gently grabbing your arms and pulling you forward onto him. Falling back against the arm of the couch with you against his chest as you both stretched your legs out. He held you for what felt like forever, tightly wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair, gently murmuring to you and kissing your forehead. When your sobs had subsided a little, he wiped your cheeks, “My sweet girl…” He gently pressed kisses across your face, relishing in the way your crying eased and you let out a little sigh after each one, “Thank you so much for telling me angel.” He paused, “Can I ask why you didn’t tell me before?” He asked gently. You sighed, fisting his t-shirt in your hand as you fought the nervous feeling that made your stomach flip. His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion as he felt you tense up in his arms, “I’m not mad at you baby, I just want to know what I can do differently in the future. I’d hate it if you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me for help.” You nodded, nuzzling into his chest, attempting to block out the world and focus on Oscar. Just Oscar.

“Everyone I’ve told has left…” You mumbled sadly, “Hmmm?” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to scare you out of answering, “I told a few people growing up, uni friends and stuff, and they would always answer with the usual ‘oh yeah I feel anxious too’... Until I explained I had diagnosed anxiety disorder and then,” you sighed, “then they would tell me it was too much for them to deal with, or they would get mad at me for ruining plans, or tell me to just get over it when I tried to talk to them about it.” Oscar’s hold on you tightened a little as he felt a spark of anger burn inside him. How dare they? Anyone could see that you were trying your best, he gave you his full attention as you continued, “I guess all of those things mean that I have a hard time opening up and trusting people with the knowledge of my diagnosis because it’s always backfired… Please don’t be mad at me… I do trust you, I just…” “Hey,” Oscar’s voice was low to ensure he didn’t trigger you, “I’m not mad or disappointed at you baby, I’m frustrated with myself for not noticing sooner.” “I’m pretty good at hiding it,” you admitted, the two of you led there in silence for a moment before Oscar spoke again, “Well I’m beyond proud of you. For dealing with it everyday and for opening up to me.” You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, “Thank you for listening.” He smiled back down at you, “Of course.”

You summoned up the courage to ask him the question that had been on your mind for a little while, “H-how did you know how to help?” Oscar breathed deeply for a second, “There’s someone on the grid who uhhh, struggles with the same thing. They’ve opened up to me and explained what helps them so I figured I’d try?” You pushed yourself up to look at him in surprise, “Someone on the grid?” Oscar nodded, “I won’t say who, because it’s their thing to disclose and explain,” You nodded, “Of course!” “But they’re doing their best to work on things and ask for help and they’ve been doing really well.” Oscar made a mental note to ask Logan if he would consider talking to you. “Well, Tangled was a great choice!” You giggled as Oscar nuzzled his nose into your neck, “Yeah? I wanted to pick something that wouldn’t make you feel worse.” You couldn’t help the way you threw your arms around him and cuddled into him, so thankful for him and the thought and care he gave to you. “I love you.” It was muffled against his chest but he knew what you wanted to say and so with a chuckle he kissed the top of your head, “I love you too, angel.”

You stayed there for a moment before he was gently pushing you to sit up so he could look into your eyes, “I want to say something.” He hesitated and you nodded at him to continue. He gently held your chin with one hand, keeping you looking at him as his other hand found yours in your lap, linking his fingers with yours and squeezing, despite the way your hands were starting to get a little clammy again, “You may have anxiety disorder but it’s not who you are, baby.” Your eyes widened, he continued, “You are not your diagnosis. There is so much more to you than that. You are kind and caring, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re creative.” Your heart melted at how passionately he was speaking. “You’re loved and valued by me and so many others, angel… I love you, the anxiety gremlin that comes with you and all.” You giggled at how he referred to it, “Anxiety gremlin… I like it!” He smiled, kissing your nose, you scrunched it up and he kept talking, “I know I can’t fix it and make it go away, believe me baby I wish that I could. But I promise that I’ll be here through all the bad days and the good days. I’ll do everything I can to make it easier and more bearable for you.”

You couldn’t help the way you started crying again, happy tears this time, Oscar’s thumb gently wiping them away, “So when you’re feeling up to it, we’re gonna sit down and talk about how I can help. What I can do when you’re having a bad day, the things we can do together, how you like to be distracted, how I can help when we’re out in public, maybe a codeword?-” You giggled as he started speaking faster and faster, you stopped his rambling with a soft kiss, pressing your lips to his, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek, “That sounds perfect baby, thank you.” Oscar kissed you once more, pulling you into him, “You just let me know when you’re ready.” You nodded, “I will, I promise.” “Good! But for now, we still need to eat our breakfast!”

#mimi.writes #tw anxiety #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 angst #f1 fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri oneshot #f1 oneshot

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your-bestamericangirl · 28 days

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Midnight Love || ch. 3 - white ferrari

Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!reader

previous: ch.2 - golden || next: .4 - april || masterlist

a/n: not proofread sorry baes <3

now playing: slow dancing in the dark by joji

She was sat on her bed, the passing clouds cast fleeting shadows over her room, enveloping her in a familiar wave of frustration. Throughout (Y/n)'s life, there had been countless instances where she wished she could freeze time, if only for a moment. In her experience, time never seemed to align in her favour; nothing ever happened at the 'right time,' and she often had to work tirelessly to make things happen. Unfortunately, her life hadn't witnessed any miracles yet, and there seemed to be no signs of any on the horizon to rescue her.

Currently, the clock displayed 5:47 PM.

A river of clothing continued to spill out of (Y/n)’s wardrobe, forming several piles scattered across her floor. Various textures and colours now adorned every crevice of her room. What started as simple 'yes,' 'no,' and 'maybe' piles quickly multiplied into categories like 'yes-if-the-weather-stays-nice' or 'maybe-but-it-would-look-better-if-my-hair-was-up'. Defeated, (Y/n) slumped from her bed to the floor. Choosing an outfit wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly in this context.

5:50 PM

Now would’ve been the perfect moment for her first miracle.

As she stared at the chaotic array of clothing before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. It wasn't just the prospect of selecting the right outfit; it was the nagging uncertainty about the evening itself, looming on the horizon like an unanswered question. After all, it wasn't like she was getting dressed up for media day, it was just the rest of the team. She found herself second-guessing the decision to go at all. With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) pushed herself off the floor, resolving to make a decision one way or another. As she stood there amidst the scattered clothes, (Y/n) tried to rack her brain for what had compelled her to agree to this outing in the first place.

***That morning

"And good Lord, right then and there, I wished I could’ve just gotten killed earlier on when I was in that shark tank because my mom appeared, mad as hell, and was ready to slap the shit outta me-”

Absentmindedly, (Y/n) hummed in agreement as her eyes scanned the fully stocked shelves. The aroma of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery section wafted through the air, making (Y/n)'s stomach growl in protest at its emptiness. For the past four aisles, KK had been recounting her so-called horrifying dream from the night before, all from inside their shopping cart. While the first 30 seconds had been captivating, (Y/n) soon realized that KK was far from done. This dream had been so 'emotionally and mentally impactful' that KK felt compelled to act out her car chase scene, resulting in her abandoning the cart. After the fateful crash, the two found themselves with a worker trailing them from behind, ready to intervene with KK’s boisterous antics if needed.

The restock of the week was greatly needed. With the pantry, kitchen, and fruit bowl left with nothing but dust, both girls’ moods had increasingly deteriorated from the day before. As KK continued to recount her experience, (Y/n) was left with the task of finding what they needed. “Mhmm, sounds traumatic speaking of that. What else do we need?”

KK gave her a look. “Yeah, it was. Thank you for your consideration.”

“Always for you. But you didn’t answer my question—what else do we need?”

Realizing that KK couldn’t wring out any more sympathy from (Y/n), she shifted her focus from recounting her painful nightmare to recalling the items on the grocery list she conveniently left at home—a detail she kept from the older girl.

“Uh, okay damn. I think like… meat?”

The cart suddenly jerked to a halt, catching KK off guard. She lurched forward, instinctively steadying herself on the shopping cart. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead felt too intense for the early morning, casting stark shadows across the aisles.

KK turned around to face her roommate, ready to berate her for the sudden maneuver. However, the words of distaste dissolved on her tongue as she beheld (Y/n)'s expression. The older girl stood before her, eyes closed, brows furrowed in the middle, teetering between disbelief and strained patience. KK would be grateful to come out of this conversation unscathed.

(Y/n)'s tone was short, “KK.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

With a deep inhale, (Y/n) gripped the shopping cart, her fingers tightening around the metal handle as she suppressed the urge to vent her frustration. Swallowing back all the profanities that came to mind, she managed a strained smile.

“What type of meat?”

“You know, like, bruschetta… maybe some bacon-”

“Maybe?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, her patience waning.

KK chuckled, the sound bouncing off the fluorescent-lit aisles. “Nah, just kidding. We definitely need bacon. And also… Oh shit… Ice?”

(Y/n) blinked, the abrupt shift in conversation catching her off guard. “...Ice? KK, are you good? Because last time I checked, you were the one who brought up meat in the first place.”

In response, KK stood up from her position in the shopping cart, the metal rattling as she shifted her weight. “No look, it’s Ice.”

Following KK’s gaze, she then spotted Ice Brady in the next aisle. The 6’3 forward struggled to fit numerous bags of chips into her shopping basket, her arms stretched to their limits.

With a resigned sigh, (Y/n) began to maneuver the cart containing KK towards Ice's location. The wheels squeaked in protest against the linoleum floor, the rhythmic sound echoing in the bustling store. Despite her being a D1 athlete, she found herself growing weary of playing the role of chauffeur for her friend. Yet, as she glanced at KK’s expectant expression, she knew there was no escaping it.

“Ice Brady," KK sang, her arms outstretched in a theatrical gesture as the cart rolled to a stop. The spectacle drew the attention of nearby shoppers, who paused to witness the unfolding scene, transfixed by the unexpected drama. "Would you care for some assistance today?"

Ice, caught off guard by the flamboyant greeting, turned her attention from the bags of chips to KK's infectious smile. Amusement danced in her eyes as she surveyed the scene before her. With a nod of acknowledgment to (Y/n), who was still navigating the cart into a suitable parking spot, Ice responded, "I mean, if you hopped out of the cart, I could put my stuff in, but I wouldn’t want to trouble your highness."

“Oh!” KK’s hands came together in childish glee, pleased by Ice’s answer, “How considerate of you, but it's alright, I’ve been feeling courteous today.”

“So now you’re feeling ‘courteous’?” (Y/n) deadpanned as she made her way around the shopping cart across from Ice. As KK made her stellar attempt to climb out of the cart gracefully, (Y/n) stood behind her to help lift her out, “I’ve literally been pushing you around all morning, babes.”

She then made her way over toward ice to give assistance with the various chip bags enough to feed a family for christmas dinner.

“So,” KK started her smile towards Ice, selectively choosing to ignore her roommate’s comment “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Y’know, working had to feed the kids, and all that. You guys sure eat a lot”

“Wait,” KK gaped, “This is all for us?”

“Have you checked the group chat?” Ice questioned. In fact, they had not. Though she had been added days prior, (Y/n) had decided to keep her distance from that group chat. The two girls turned to look at each other, proceeded by KK quickly checking her phone.

Soon enough, her eyes ignited from within. “Hell yeah, party time,” she sang.

“K, you’re being dramatic, it’s literally just the team,” Ice laughed.

“Theres a hangout tonight?” (Y/n) questioned, her stomach forming knots at the thought of being in a room with all of the UConn Women’s Basketball team.

“Yup, everyone, including you two, are coming over."

(Y/n) glanced between KK and Ice, her expression shifting to one of mild apprehension. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of resignation.

Both KK and Ice exchanged a knowing look before simultaneously replying, "Nope."

6:15 pm

During her first official collegiate-level game freshman year, (Y/n) led her team to a resounding victory, later that night earning her the coveted title of 'The People’s Princess' of the NCAA.

Beneath the blaring lights of the stadium, (Y/n) was radiant. It was a moment she had long envisioned, the culmination of years of relentless dedication and unwavering determination. With her eyes gleaming and her words flowing with confidence, she effortlessly captivated the reporter and everyone in attendance. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the crowd, drawing them in with her infectious smile and undeniable talent.

In the weeks that followed, (Y/n)'s reputation soared to new heights. However, amidst the high, a subtle unease began to gnaw at her. She quickly realized that the pedestal on which she had been placed came with its own set of challenges.

Despite her remarkable achievements on the court, she found herself confined by the weight of expectations. The public's perception of her became increasingly polarized, with praise often overshadowed by harsh criticism. She was both celebrated and scrutinized for her gentle demeanour, her commanding presence, and even her choice of attire.

The constant contrast between adoration and disdain left her feeling unsettled, she was constantly walking on a tightrope between two worlds. Over time, she became acutely aware of the need to separate her on-court persona from her everyday life, a process that had equally drained but benefited her.

Yet, as she immersed herself deeper into the complexities of her newfound fame, (Y/n) couldn't shake the nagging feeling that appearance had become everything. In a world where perception was predominant, she grappled with the notion that her worth was measured not by her character or accomplishments, but by the image she projected to the world.

All this to say that unfortunately, (Y/n) had been second-guessing tonight’s event over and over again. Only two individuals had truly seen beyond the facade she meticulously maintained: KK and, in a distant past, Paige.

As (Y/n)'s life flashed before her eyes, her gaze fixed on the door before her, its weathered surface worn by years of use. The soft hum of chatter from beyond the door drifted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of pizza and anticipation that hung in the hallway. Each groove in the wood seemed to whisper secrets, a silent witness to her inner turmoil.

She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edges of the doorframe. The cool touch of the wood against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of the reality awaiting her on the other side. What would they think of her? Did she look presentable enough? Doubts gnawed at her confidence, threatening to unravel the facade she had carefully constructed.

With a steadying exhale, (Y/n) pushed open the door, crossing the threshold into the unknown. The soft click of the latch echoed in her ears, signaling her descent into the realm of uncertainty.

The scene unfolded before her, intimate and genuine, a tapestry woven with the bonds of teammates. The UConn Women’s Basketball team occupied every corner of Ice’s condo, their laughter mingling with the warmth of the confined space. Despite the inviting atmosphere, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in this vibrant gathering.

With each step forward, (Y/n) sensed the weight of her decision. The events of this evening would undoubtedly shape her relationship with the team for the rest of the year.

Luckily, no one had noticed her entrance yet. As (Y/n) scanned the room, she searched for KK among the multitude of bodies, most of them towering over her. Despite her efforts, KK remained elusive. Frustration etched her features as uncertainty gnawed at her. She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror, regarding herself with unease.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Lost in her inner turmoil, (Y/n) failed to notice the door behind her slowly swinging open.

As the door swung shut, the breeze proceeded to cause a shift among her hair. Shoving away all distractions, (Y/n) straightened her back, took a deep breath and prepared for her next step further into the house.

“You gonna move? Or do you need help, princess?” Paige's voice cut through the air, shattering (Y/n)'s concentration. All prior thoughts dissolved from her mind at those words, her focus instantly shifting to the unexpected encounter with Paige.

Despite the familiarity of seeing Paige's face plastered on banners around UConn, the proximity still rattled her. She had thought she'd grown accustomed to it, but the reality of facing Paige in person was an entirely different experience.

She had an image to maintain, (Y/n) wouldn’t shy away at simple words anymore.

With a subtle steeling of her resolve, she turned to face the taller girl, meeting Paige's gaze head-on. Though she found herself looking up at Paige, she refused to give any ground in their exchange.

The tension between them crackled in the air, each word laden with unspoken history and unresolved emotions. (Y/n)'s jaw tightened, but she refused to let Paige see any hint of vulnerability. She squared her shoulders and held Paige's gaze with unwavering determination.

"No need for assistance, thanks," (Y/n) replied evenly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside her. "I can handle myself just fine."

Paige chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Of course you can, Your Highness," she quipped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "But it wouldn't hurt to let someone lend a hand every now and then."

(Y/n) bristled at the implication but forced herself to remain composed. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied curtly, stepping aside to let Paige pass.

Paige's lips quirked into a knowing smirk, but she didn't press the issue further.

While Paige moved past her, (Y/n) couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that lingered in the air. Despite her best efforts to maintain her facade of confidence, there was a vulnerability in her interactions with Paige that she couldn't seem to shake.

As (Y/n) made her way further into the room, she found herself enveloped in a warm atmosphere. Smiles greeted her from every direction, genuine and welcoming, easing the tension that had knotted in her stomach.

“Damn, girl, I was just about to check if you had been kidnapped! What took you so long.” Exclaimed KK as she searched every inch of (Y/n). The younger girl’s gaze soon turned towards Paige suspiciously suddenly recounting the day prior, eyes snapping back and fourth. But then quieter KK added, “Hm, okay, I see, I see…”

A chorus of laughter bubbled up around them at KK’s dramatic statement, the sound infectious and light-hearted. (Y/n) couldn't help but smile in response, the weight of earlier uncertainties melting away in the warmth of their acceptance.

Any lingering tension between them dissipated in the face of the group's genuine warmth, replaced by a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

After making her rounds, (Y/n) went to sit by the couch, where a mini circle had formed as the team watched Azzi and Aubrey in their death match of Mario Cart. The room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of controllers and the occasional whoops and groans as players navigated their virtual karts through the colourful tracks. Azzi and Aubrey were locked in intense concentration, their eyes glued to the screen as they jostled for the lead. The competitive banter between them added to the lively atmosphere, punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful teasing from the rest of the team. (Y/n) leaned back, taking in the scene with a contented smile.

As the night progressed, (Y/n) found herself settling in, enjoying the easy connection of the team. Their genuine willingness to engage with her put her at ease, dispelling any lingering apprehension. After wrapping up a conversation with Ashlyn about her cats back at home, (Y/n) decided to take a brief respite. She excused herself and made her way to the kitchen, feeling a headache creeping in as result of the loud atmosphere.

The cool touch of the glass along her fingers was well welcomed as (Y/n) took a sip of water. From her position in the kitchen, she had a comforting view of the apartment. As her gaze swept from Azzi and Aubrey fighting about wins and losses, to KK and Aaliyah filming their third tiktok of the night, her eyes landed on Paige.

Obviously, people change as they grow up. Physically, Paige was taller. Her dark blond roots peaked out like a halo. But, the space between them seemed to grow as well.

With a sigh, she turned to grab another sip of water. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, hummed with activity. The tiled floor gleamed underfoot, a testament to the cleanliness maintained in the shared space.

Unfortunately, right as she turned, she bumped into the one and only Nika Muhl.

“Oh, shit,” (Y/n) jumped, the water in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

Before she could react, the collision resulted in the water spilling on Nika, the droplets now flowing from Nika’s shirt onto the tiles below. (Y/n)'s heart sank at the sight

“I’m so sorry, let me help you,” she stammered, scrambling for a nearby towel, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Nika waved off (Y/n)'s apology with a chuckle, her easygoing demeanour putting her at ease. "Don’t worry about it, (Y/n). Accidents happen." Nika took the towel she offered and dabbed at her shirt, trying to contain the spill.

(Y/n) winced, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to, I was just lost in thought."

Nika leaned against the counter, a small smile playing on her lips. "No harm done. Do you want to talk about whatever was on your mind?"

(Y/n) hesitated, not wanting to burden Nika with her concerns. But Nika's warm gaze encouraged her to speak up. "Yeah, I'm just trying to find my place with the team, you know? Sometimes it feels like I'm still the new kid."

Nika nodded in understanding, crossing her arms casually. "I get that. But trust me, (Y/n), you fit right in. Everyone likes you."

(Y/n) felt a warmth spread through her chest at Nika's words, and she couldn't help but blush. "Thanks, Nika. That means a lot."

Nika chuckled, nudging (Y/n) playfully. "Hey, don't mention it. And you know what? Even Paige couldn't stop talking about how excited she was when she found out you were joining."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Paige. "Really?"

Nika nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Yep, really. It seems you’re quite the People’s Princess, (Y/n)."

Feeling a mix of emotions, (Y/n) leaned against the counter beside Nika, both of them watching the group outside the kitchen enjoying themselves. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

However, (Y/n)'s attention was soon drawn to the sight of everyone getting up and preparing to leave. "Where is everyone going?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Nika followed her gaze, her expression turning playful. "I guess it’s about that time now.” Nika then stood up to trail the team out of the apartment. “Team tradition."

Now playing: white ferrari by frank ocean

The night enveloped the surroundings in a tranquil embrace, casting a serene aura over the playground. The soft glow of the moon and stars illuminated the path ahead, casting gentle shadows on the playground equipment.

Amidst the laughter of her companions, (Y/n) found herself immersed in the peaceful ambiance of the night. As she followed behind the group, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant city lights.

With each step, (Y/n) felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of serenity. She took in the sight of her newfound teammates friends ahead, their silhouettes dancing against the night sky, and allowed herself to be relax the moment, grateful for the new joys she would encounter with this team.

As they made their way onto the playground, the flash of red and blue metal bars pierced the air, bringing back memories of a time when playing D1 basketball was just a distant dream.

Following close behind, (Y/n) ended her destination at a swing set that shone silver and gold against the night sky. The chains groaned in response of her weight, their link rattling together, forming a melody long forgotten. As her world slowly swung on an axis, (Y/n) couldn’t help but finally be at ease.

As (Y/n) allowed herself to sink into the comforting rhythm of the swing, she became aware of a presence nearby. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Paige making her way towards the swing set, her silhouette cutting through the darkness like a shadow. Despite the tension that often lingered between them, there was something oddly comforting about Paige's proximity in that moment. With a silent invitation, (Y/n) watched as Paige settled onto the swing beside her, the chains creaking softly in protest under their combined weight.

For a moment, there was only the soft whip of the wind that passed by (Y/n)’s ears, occasionally broken by the rattling chains and the laughter that drifted from the playground. Though things between the two girls were complicated, (Y/n) missed their time together.

With a sigh, her eyes searched the distant lights above. Her mind filled in the blanks and connected the dots of the stars in the skies. Unbeknownst to (Y/n), Paige had been doing the same since she arrived.

“Ursa Major,” Paige murmured, the name of the constellation unintentionally slipping from her lips.

At the sudden break in the comforting silence, (Y/n) glanced over to her, giving her full attention.

"Is it still your favorite?" Paige asked, her voice soft with genuine curiosity, her gaze falling to the side to find (Y/n)’s surprised expression within the darkness.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) spoke softly, her mind filled with the countless nights they searched the sky together. An unexplainable wave of yearning and sadness washed over her senses, “it is.”

Paige then turned her attention back to the sky above, all while (Y/n) was still processing the fact that she remembered her favourite constellation.

“You still remember?” (Y/n) asked, the question slipping from her mind out to the world before she could stop herself.

Paige felt her blood rush scarlet. “Yeah, you know… how could I forget?”

Paige’s answer stunned her. She assumed that since they parted ways, Paige would’ve also tried to erase the memories from her mind. For (Y/n), it had been too much to remember.

Paige's response lingered in the air, the weight of its meaning hanging heavy between them.

Paige hesitated, her gaze searching (Y/n)'s face for any sign of recognition. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat at the question, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. "Miss what?" she replied, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft glow of the stars.

Paige's gaze softened. "Us," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through (Y/n) at Paige's question. Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. The weight of their shared history pressed down on her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

Yet, amid the turmoil of conflicting emotions, a flicker of longing ignited within her.

Everyday.

She wanted to respond.

I’ve never stopped missing us.

She hadn’t expected such a question from Paige. Though she had been hoping, deep down, she knew that Paige might not have the same space for her in her world. After all, a sun doesn’t need a moon to survive.

Over time, their dynamic had shifted, revealing that (Y/n) relied more on Paige than the other way around. But those words brought into question whether (Y/n) had been wrong about them all along.

Her eyes swept to the side to meet Paige’s expectant gaze, her eyes reflecting the silver moonlight.

“Always.”

Neither Paige nor (Y/n) had been expecting the answer to be spoken. At the revelation, the corners of Paige’s lips curved into the slightest smile.

As soon as the conversation started, silence drifted between them, The two girls drifted back into their quiet comfort. Only now, they both shared the same information. Possibilities of the upcoming sprung up into (Y/n)’s mind. Things would be different then she expected, but maybe that was a good thing.

(Deleted scene)

“Nah, Paige is occupied at the moment,” KK laughed, her voice carrying over the chatter of the group. With a deft swing from the monkey bars, she landed next to Aaliyah, where her phone was propped up to capture their talents. As they continued their antics, the live chat exploded with questions about (Y/n) after the idea of getting Paige on the stream was quickly shut down.

“Damn,” Aaliyah murmured, her eyes scanning the flood of messages, “y’all really love her, don’t you?”

A chorus of affirmative responses flooded the chat. Meanwhile, Azzi's voice cut through the background noise, calling both Aaliyah and KK over to witness her latest feat on the monkey bars. With a shared grin, the two girls left their spot, drawn by Azzi's infectious energy.

In the darkness of the night, the bottom right corner of the screen was illuminated just enough to make ou two silhouettes together on a swing set. The descovery sparked a flurry of speculation in the chat. Messages scrolled rapidly as viewers attempted to decipher the identities of the mysterious figures. Within moments, messages began pouring out as Paige and (Y/n) were finally identified.

(Y/n) and Paige: Sparks Fly on Live Stream

Fans were treated to an unexpected sight during teammate KK Arnold's recent live stream, as basketball stars (Y/n) (L/n) and Paige Bueckers made a joint appearance. Their presence together immediately set social media abuzz, with fans reigniting dating rumors that have followed the pair for years. Despite both athletes maintaining silence on the matter, the resurgence of speculation has divided fans, with some eagerly shipping the duo while others advocate for their privacy. As (Y/n) and Paige continue to focus on their careers, fans remain captivated by the possibility of a romantic connection between the two athletes.

a/n: yuhh chapter two done! sorry for the wait, it's been a tough week lmao! anyways, im begging you PLEASE LISTEN TO WHITE FERRARI WHILE READING THE NIGHT SCENE ITS SO GOOD

anyways, thanks for all the love and support you guys are the best, loving all the comments <333

also for future chapters, does anyone live in seattle? cuz mc is gonna be from there and i need a highschool that was good at basketball or just one in general. LOVE YALL SO MUCH SEE YOU NEXT TIME

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @juphey , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung , @ktaerssoi , @evangelinexo , @c999sh

#paige bueckers headcannon #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #wlw #uconn wbb #wlw fic #uconn huskies #x reader

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months

Text

You're a dick Stroll! - Lance Stroll x Engineer! Reader

Plot: You created the best car for the 2024 season however after some harsh comments from Lawrence Stroll about a female engineer having been the reason his son crashed out in Bahrain turns out after investigations from the FIA people owe you an apology!

A/N: Obviously this is fanfic so its dramatized so in no way does this portray anyone in a realistic light and is just for the drama and the vibes.

Credit to micksradio for the GIF

"You innovations have been amazing this year Y/N all thanks to that brain of yours!" Mike Krack the team Principle for Aston Martin tells you, holding either one of your shoulders shaking them in delight at the new car in front of him.

You had been at Silverstone working as the lead mechanic/ designer on the new car throughout the last half of the 2023 season.

"Thank you, but you know it was a team effort right?" you smiled back, it really was a team effort.

"Well, we actually wanted to offer you a promotions of sorts!" he exclaimed a look of shock crossing your face.

"Excuse me?"

"We figured that you know the car the best and we want you travelling with us to make adjustments as and when needed. Last year was a struggle when we didn't have you here, you are the quickest we've seen and having you on the road with the team would really help.

"This is amazing, yes I'll do it!" you exclaimed happy that you were finally able to travel around the world with Aston Martin.

A month later and you were in Bahrain for pre-season testing of the 2024 year, everything was looking good on both the car, they were running well and the data figures looked good to you and your team.

You'd stayed late with a few other team members making sure everything was ready for the most important Sunday of the year, this race was the one that usually set the drivers mentality for the year. Nobody wanted to crash in the first race and no-one wants to not make it into the points.

You left, once you'd finished your checks on both cars, some people still working around.

"Okay, I'm off guys and ill see you for the big day tomorrow!" you smiled at them before heading back to the hotel that Aston Martin had placed you in. It wasn't a long ride, and you splurged on an Uber considering how much overtime you'd just done in the garage.

You did share a hotel with the drivers, as one of the lead engineers in Aston Martin you got the privilege of the nicer hotel compared to some of your colleagues.

As you entered, you could see some of the drivers sat in the bar, Lando Daniel, Max and his girlfriend Kelly were all sat together taking pictures, obviously for the .jpg accounts.

Charles, Pierre, Carlos and Lewis were also there sat at the bar, drinks in hand. However, with your attention directed elsewhere you felt yourself bump into something.

"Oh my gosh I am so sorry" you exclaimed looking towards the person you had bumped into that was now holding your forearm as if to steady you so you didn't fall back.

"It's er okay, you seemed distracted are you... okay?" you hear the person ask and look up to see your teams youngest driver.

"Oh Lance I'm so so sorry!" you say noticing it was him.

"It's okay" he says awkwardly before shuffling off. You watch as he walks up to Alex and George who were also sat with one another. You continue up to your floor before showering and passing out in your bed.

The next day your alarm was set extremely early, you came straight to the track having gotten ready in a record speed time. Your hair was whipped up in a ponytail and you'd nearly put your green Aston Martin team top on back to front.

You got to the track for when Mike told you to meet him there, he wanted you the radio engineers and the strategists to all talk before the race. Considering it was only 7.30 in the morning there were already loads of people in the paddock, from all different teams.

Where it was your first time you didn't know the protocol or anything for greeting other teams, so you just stayed your typical friendly self sending a smile and wave to everyone that you passed and made eye contact with.

Once you'd got into hospitality Ben Mitchell, Chris Conin and Peter Hall were all there, Peter held a coffee out to you with a small smile.

"Thanks" you smiled before you all started to talk about the race ahead, you guys checked the weather patterns and the track temp before trying to plan the race for both drivers.

By the time you'd done your final checks it was time for the race. Lance had placed P7 the day before and Fernando had placed P10 which was an amazing start to the year for Aston Martin.

"How's the car looking?" the social media girl asked, she was looking at the screen of data rolling in from the car but not understanding what the figures actually meant.

"It's performing phenomenally. Its definitely better than last year. Its also original and completely initiative, I've heard Horner and Vasser talking about it!" you explain having heard them interviewing about the grid and a little season preview.

She nods, and you talk a little before she leaves to go and try and film some social media stuff while there isn't too much excitement on the track.

However only 2 laps later Lance was reporting his breaks being stiff, which from the figures looked to be impossible. Before his race engineer could even ask for your advice, Lance went into a turn too quick skidding off the side taking Gasly with him. You looked up at the screen in shock, a hand covering your mouth.

Lance's car had gone sideways before flipping over Gasly's car. Lance and Gasly were both out of the race.

"What the hell happened!" Lawrence screaming coming over to you, all the pit crew who had just pulled Fernando's car in stopped what they were doing and came over to you.

"Sorry?" you asked pulling the headphones off genuinely not having heard him.

"What happened! Your the engineer who was here late last night. What did you do to my sons car, he's an impeccable driver and he has DNFed because YOU cant do your job" he screamed and you flinched taking a wide step back.

"Look i didn't do anything, I wasn't even the final engineer here last night. I think he was just unlucky sir" you tried to explain, but his face like thunder had you a stuttering and stumbling mess.

"Yes you did! Just admit you either sabotaged the car on purpose or your so damn incompetent at your job that you didn't build the car right! You know you should be fired for this, its completely unacceptable and I'll be speaking to Mike about having you removed because you clearly" he starts but one of the crew members behind decided enough was enough and stepped in front of you.

"Hey, sir with all dew respect there are camera's everywhere in here recording so just think about your image" he directs and Fernando having finally got out of his car and having seen what happened to you.

"Lawrence, i think its best that you take a step back" Fernando advises seeing how close he had gotten to you.

Instead he just storms out of the paddock, you release a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding in everyone swarming round you take make sure you were okay.

BREAKING NEWS: FIA LAUNCH INVESTIGATION INTO HEAD OF ENGINEERING AT ASTON MARTIN AFTER STROLL CRASH VIDEO OF LAWRENCE STROLL RIPPING INTO Y/N Y/LN HEAD OF ENGINEERING AT ASTON MARTIN INTERVIEW WITH LAWRENCE STROLL AND MIKE KRACK GETS HEATED AFTER INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED

It only took 4 hours for the public to find out who you were and your social media handles as you had a few people following you. One of which was McLaren who you had worked for under an apprenticeship scheme.

The only thing you really wanted right now was have a drink, so the hotel bar where you were certain would be safe from the public eye. You came down from your hotel room, you weren't in anything fancy and felt out of place the minute you sat down at the bar. Most of the drivers were there celebrating wins, or drinking away the loss.

It was like you had this beeper on you, as when you entered the room and walked to the bar all the drivers seemed to notice you. I mean it wasn't hard, your hair was thrown up in a ratty bun and your eyes were red from having read all the hate messages sent to your inbox.

"She's the one they're investigating because of Stroll's crash! His dad went in on her after the race"

The whispers all around you from people in the bar had you shrinking in your seat.

"So your the one that made me crash!" Lance exclaims from behind you, you turn round seeing his face, angry and upset and expression nobody liked.

"Look, I didn't do anything to the -" you start but are slowly interrupted.

"No you did, you know nothing and you shouldn't be in this job! Everything they are saying about you online is true, you could have killed me and Pierre because of that accident. So careless!" he shouts, which shocked the other drivers as Lance wasn't really one to raise his voice.

"Please Lance, I've already had enough..."

"No, you haven't had enough! You shouldn't be in this sport if you cant build a car properly, it's shit! It's not powerful and you clearly cant build a car like Andre last year!" he says, you could tell he was getting frustrated and it made you take a step of your seat.

"You're a dick Stroll! Andre didn't build the car. I did that's why i took the position this year as he wasn't performing as Head Mechanic so yeah. I didn't do anything to the car, the data was fine maybe you just are as good as a driver as you seem to think you are" you say before storming out of the bar.

Two weeks later, where you'd lazed around all day at home was when you'd got that expected call. You were currently on suspended leave where you were still under investigation. Mike had been facetiming you on and off asking for help to try and speed up the pace of fixing the car before Saudi Arabia GP.

It was in fact Mike calling again, however this time he was telling you to open up any socials and see what the FIA had posted.

CHECKS HAVE BEEN CONDUCTED INTO THE ASTON MARTIN CRASH SHOWING HEAD ENGINEER IS NOT LIABLE AND HAS SERIOULSY BEEN MISSTREATED - FIA FIA COME OUT WITH EVIDENCE THAT ASTON MARTIN HEAD ENGINEER IS NOT TO BLAME FOR STROLL'S SAKHIR CRASH - SKYSPORTS CLEARED FOR DUTY Y/N Y/L/N TO MAKE RETURN AT JEDDAH - F1

"Are you serious?" you say, the first piece of enjoyment in your life in the last few weeks has just occurred.

"Yes, we need you on the first flight out to Saudi, someone's waiting for you at Heathrow to bring you" he exclaims, you jump up cutting the call short and start to rush, packing a bag by slinging clothes in it not bothering to fold. You make sure your uniform is all packed as well as the essentials before running out the door and running to the train station.

You came into the terminal, shooting a text to Mike, not knowing who to be looking for. You look around to see if you can see one of the other mechanics or maybe Mike's personal assistant but you come short.

"Come on Mike" you whisper to yourself looking at your phone.

"Y/N?" you hear from behind you. You knew that Canadian voice all to well.

"Lance?" you ask with a slight sneer to your tone, you were still angry and upset with him and his father for jumping to such outrageous conclusions.

"Mike wants you there asap, so I suggested you come with me" he says guiding you down a secure back path to where it leads out to the jets.

"Your kidding me right?" you ask as he walks you out onto the den where his dad's private jet is waiting.

"We needed you there as soon as possible the car is in literal pieces without you there!" he exclaims, having heard from his father than things had been slow in the garage.

"Well, do you now trust me to build you an effective car?" you ask halting your steps, you didn't want to work with him anymore if you didnt have his trust. Throughout your suspension you had both McLaren and Mercedes reach out to you offering you a job with them once it all blew over.

"I do trust you, I just got angry when i crashed the car in the first race of the season, my dad blamed it on you and to me that seemed the most logical. I am sorry for what its worth" he says awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"For what its worth... you're still a dick. But i think i can put up with that" you smile, before following him over to the pane ahead.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll fanfic

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omegalomania · 1 year

Text

the full apple music interview with zane lowe is out! we got snippets of it when love from the other side dropped, but they finally rolled out the full thing. here are some highlights that stood out to me :)

patrick describes pete's lyrics as what gets him out of bed in the morning. if pete doesn't send him lyrics, he doesn't write a song.

andy and pete used to draw fake snake tattoos on each other using magic markers as kids omg?

so evidently patrick was the one who got covid during hella mega tour. and he hated it and he was miserable and that's when he called neal avron about the new record lmao

patrick says that joe was hesitant at first and he was the one who said that for this record he wanted to make something that they could all savor and spend time on and patrick was immediately on board with that

pete says patrick's job is to interpret him because pete calls his mentality a "little bit off" but patrick is capable of understanding him and translating it

patrick describes his and pete's creative relationship as "twin speak." it's not linear and it's like living in his brain a little bit. he calls it the "weirdest thing i've ever seen" when pete can just Tell that some words that patrick adjusted weren't ones he wrote despite not remembering writing them. patrick says he's gotten better at connective tissue and knowing how pete would say things

pete: back in the day patrick was like, "what's the difference between cry and weep i will KILL YOU. THEY'RE THE SAME THING. I'M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT NOW."

zane says patrick's vocals are next level for this album. pete agrees that he kills it on this album and said he never would've expected that voice coming from him when they first met. zane says patrick could sing a recipe and it would be good. he then passes patrick a recipe and patrick. sings it???

patrick: i'm not gonna belt it. (starts belting) NINE INCH PIE PLATE ROLLING PIN

patrick says that pete doesn't mean to have rhythm to his words but there's a rhythm to them all the same and patrick can find this syncopation in his words and thinks it's amazing

more talking about patrick and pete's Magical Mystical Transcendent Soul Bond. patrick says "if we were one guy, we'd be an INCREDIBLE DUDE"

patrick and pete say that interviews with all four of them are hard because it's chaos and everyone's talking at once but it all makes perfect sense to them and no one else. zane says that sounds like fun flkjdfd [i agree please do this more it's a joy]

pete says joe really stepped up and wrote a lot for this record!

patrick: "joe is kind of a conundrum because he's this really talented...he's a brilliant writer, a brilliant player, but pete and i became the "team" and it wasn't really a plan, but that's just kind of how it happened. [brief tangent about the hiatus] we come back from the thing and joe is this fully-formed writer with a very distinct - he has one of the most distinctive writing voices. when i hear his parts, when i hear his ideas, i could pick them out of a crowd. like i know the way joe writes, and it's VERY joe." part of the process with post-hiatus was integrating him into the writing process more.

discussing the hiatus and fame and pete says his life kind of "blew up" and took it pretty hard. apparently during production for folie paparazzi actually broke down the gate to neal avron's house

patrick goes on a big tangent about how bad things got during the height of pete's fame. "part of my role is to tell his story. i'm a composer. that's what i like to do. i work on movies, i work on shows, and i work on pete. pete has a story that needs music, and if he's removed from himself, if he's not even able to access himself because he's behind all of this stuff, i don't have a story! so not only did i not have my buddy, which was heartbreaking in its own way, but then i also don't have a purpose as an artist."

patrick says that andy is always ready to play but when you get him happy to play, it's another level

"and trohman, there were these moments where he...he got so excited."

patrick describes writing what a time to be alive as wanting to write the saddest, most desperate song you could hear at a wedding. pete bursts into laughter and calls it "so twisted"

talking about other endeavors outside the band - patrick talks about composing and said joe's been super busy with his book and writing for tv and because there are so many deadlines for stuff like that, it's what hammered home to him that fall out boy needs to not be that. "there's something special about this that can't be...this has to be passionate and art."

discussing how scared patrick was of his own voice while the band took off. patrick was really scared of the song saturday at first because there are some really exposed vocal moments. he describes saturday as a song where everyone in the band lets each other go for it.

zane calls fall out boy the "emo blueprint" and says they were unapologetic in being emotional. patrick immediately says, "that was pete. i don't think we could've done that without him." he and joe were basically kids and patrick was too anxious to talk on stage.

zane says, "i remember interviewing you in the early days and i felt like every time i asked you a question i was bullying you." pete IMMEDIATELY loses his shit.

"in another life where i didn't have a pete...cause saturday, i did write most of that by myself...so there's a world where that song exists without the band. there's no world where i sing it in front of people without pete."

pete says every night before they put out a new song he calls patrick up and gets really scared and wants to back out and patrick talks him down every time

they talk about how scary it was when arm's race released and performing it at the amas. patrick starts laughing rly hard as they get into how there were giant crickets on stage and the crowd was just stone-faced and utterly nonresponsive and their stage manager was utterly panicked

towards the end patrick really loosens up and starts swearing more dlkfjdfd

#fall out boy #*making poasts #they kept being SO SWEET ABOUT EACH OTHER LIKE. I CANT HANDLE IT #patrick and pete are like lets tell everybody about our magical soulbond for 1 hour straight. thanks guys.

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gisellaswrld · 6 months

Text

every night you’ll hold me and tell me i’m much more than my past; oh how i wish i could believe

lh43 | after a phone call from your father, you end up losing yourself. yet luke is there to pick up the pieces, as he always is.

(a/n — this is one of my heavier pieces. i’m not at all intending to glorify this situation. i wrote this during a very hard time for me, when i just needed some comfort. know your limits before reading.)

Luke stared at the mess in front of him. The scattered broken glass that was mixed in with the clothes and papers sat on the floor. Tears were spilling down your covered face, your body curled up on the floor. You didn't even know Luke had gotten back. This wasn't the first time this happened, it was at least the third or fourth.

It wasn't some spontaneous breakdown, you only got this way when something bad triggered you. You weren't the type of person someone had to walk on eggshells around, nervous to say the wrong thing. Years of therapy kept your emotions at bay. Yet, tonight ruined you.

Luke was worried, even just staring at you made his skin crawl. You looked absolutely empty, drained of color and emotion. It was like you were in a coma, no thoughts in your mind.

Luke, at this point, had two choices. Either he got scared from your mental disorders, or he stayed and helped you. And unlike all of your previous significant others, he stayed.

"Y/N, baby?" You were startled by the boy, jumping slightly at his voice. "What happened?" Luke's voice was in a quieter tone.

You finally lifted your head, eyes still focused on the mess. This was then that Luke realized the blood that was dripping from your hands. His breath hitched, mentally disappointed at himself for not seeing the signs.

Luke was too busy invested in hockey that he didn't realize the lack of dishes when he arrived home late at night. He didn't notice the way you was picking at your lips until they bled. Luke didn't realize the long showers you took, or how steamed the bathroom was when you got out. He didn't fucking realize.

That made him even more disappointed in himself than hockey ever could.

"Baby, what happened?" He asked once more, taking a step closer to you.

"I-," You paused, shaking your head. Your eyes still avoided eye contact with him.

Luke took a deep breath. He moved around the pile of clutter. You were nervous, anxious for his reaction. You was used to people leaving you to pick up the messes you would make in their life. They were usually too scared to deal with the after math.

That's what made Luke different from the rest. Luke always stayed to put the pieces back together, calming your mind to a sense of ease. Luke always told you he loved you, but his actions always spoke louder.

Luke bent down next to you, gently grabbing your bleeding hands. The blood and small cuts must be from the miscellaneous glass shards on the ground.

"Can I?" He spoke softly, seemingly unnerved from the situation. You just nodded in reply.

Luke wrapped his arms around you, picking your limp body up off the ground. You stayed silent, your focus now on the blood that poured from your hands. You really had no idea what happened, everything felt like a black hole in your memories. Your brain felt empty, a lack of any knowledge.

Luke carried you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet seat. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbing a wash cloth. Luke drenched the cloth in warm water, ready to tend to your wounds.

You kept your hands in her lap, palms up. All you could think about is what happened earlier. How could you not remember a thing? It's like you blacked out entirely. Nothing made sense, nothing clicked in your brain.

Luke kneeled in front of you, pressing the warm cloth to your hands. You flinched, the cuts burning from the pressure. The pain enough was electric zap to your brain, slowly bringing it back to life. The touch from Luke was another zap.

"Baby, I'm not going to ask. I just need to know what you're thinking." Luke kept his voice at a normal tone. He didn't want to get loud, he didn't want to make you fear him. Luke didn't want you to think he was mad or angry. Luke just wanted to know.

"I don't know." Your voice was hoarse, causing Luke to look up at you. He could tell that you were clueless at what your own brain made you do. That chipped at his heart, his own brain swirling on how to take care of you.

"It's okay." He spoke, still dabbing the cloth on the wounds. The blood had been cleaned up, some wounds still slowly trickling with the red substance. He couldn't see any visible shards of the glass.

On the outside, you were such a happy girl. Everyone on social media loved you, you weren't often receiving hate. People could tell the impact you put on Luke's life, the positive impact. But on the inside, you had deep rooted trauma that ruined you.

"Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?" He asked, nervous for your answer. Luke cleared his throat, tossing the cloth into the sink.

You finally looked into his eyes. You could see the worry that flashed in his eyes as you couldn't give him a clear answer. You dug at your brain for answers, fighting for any sort of memory from the previous hours.

"Luke, I don't know." You answered, truthfully, darting your vision away from his once again.

Luke slowly nodded, staying silent. The silence between them was tense, at least you thought it was. Luke wanted to know what happened, you were worried he'd leave. Tears started to sting Luke's eyes as he rolled up the hoodie sleeves. His body burned with a sad, heavy feeling.

As he seen the opened scars that he once watch heal, his heart broke. Luke could've helped prevent this. If he wasn't go focused on that damn sport, he would've been able to see that his girlfriend was struggling. He could've seen everything. Luke was so disappointed in himself, unsure of what to think in the moment.

Luke's mind worked irrationally, quickly. He stood from where he was kneeling and left the bathroom.

Outside the bedroom, Jack was sitting at the kitchen counter. He knit his brows together in confusion, looking at his brothers sad look. Jack was somewhat knowledgeable as to what can rarely happen.

"You good?" Jack asked, his eyes peering at Luke.

"Yeah, yeah. Y/N just - something happened. I don't know what yet." Luke answered, digging in his hockey bag.

Luke leaving left you in a state of shock. A familiar lump reappeared in your throat. The sobs that were once silenced by the comfort of Luke, had reappeared as you brought your knees back up to her chest. Though it was normal, you thought for once maybe Luke would stay. You thought Luke was different, but he left.

Luke, on the other hand, had just left the bathroom to regain his focus. The focus that was to help the girl he loved. He moved swiftly, searching his hockey bag for the first aid kit that he was required to have. He thought it was a stupid requirement, considering if they got hurt there was an athletic trainer that tended to the injury. But now? He was thankful he had that stupid thing.

Luke found the plastic box and rushed back to the bathroom. That's where he seen that you were now sobbing. Luke set the box on the sink.

"Hey, it's okay." Luke sat back down in front of you, placing a comforting hand onto your thigh.

You removed your head from your body, coming to the realization that Luke was still here. He hadn't left, yet. Luke was still there to help you, his love showing more and more.

"I need to see your arms so I can clean them, please." Luke asked calmly, opening the first aid kit. He dumped the supplies onto the ground, searching for the right items

Luke reached out for one of your arms, which you hesitantly gave to him. Luke rolled up your sleeve, watching as you looked away from the fresh cuts. He opened an antiseptic wipe, ready to clean the cuts.

"This is going to burn, you know this will burn. Just try to breathe for me baby, okay?" Luke squeezed your hand in comfort, you nodded as a reply.

Luke pressed the wipe to the wounds. You hissed at the burn, trying to find something other than the pain to focus on. You had racked your mind as you tried to comprehend what had sent you on this spiral. The harsh pain on your arms were quickly bringing your brain back to life. A gasp fell from your lips.

You remembered it all. You were watching Luke and Jack on ESPN, unable to go to the game due to the homework you had. Your homework and the game had been forgotten when you received that phone call. There it was, your dad had called you. He was reminding you of how shitty it was of you to leave him struggling. Reminding you that boyfriends aren't forever and that family was. Your dad didn't forget to insult you, either.

In fact, he called you every derogatory name in the book.

"My dad called me." You stated, voice quiet.

Luke's eyes flickered up to yours, realizing that your brain was coming back to life. "What did he say?" Luke continued cleaning your arm until all the dried blood was gone.

"The normal." Simple sentence that carried a heavy meaning. Luke knew what 'the normal' was when it came to your father. The normal wasn't a civil conversation. The normal was your father full blown screaming at you until you broke. It reminded Luke of the many times he'd rushed to get you after your dad argued with you.

Luke didn't answer, he just took the other arm into his hands and cleaned the wounds on that arm. The silence was more comfortable now that there was less confusion. When Luke finally finished cleaning all your fresh wounds, he threw everything away. The small trash bin in the bathroom was now overfilled with medical supplies, antiseptic wipes, and bandage wrappers.

"I'll get you clothes to change into, you can take a bath and lay down. I'll clean up the room." Luke stated, standing up in front of her. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"No, I'll clean it, I made the mess." You responded, feeling suddenly guilty for the fact he had to pick up your mess. You hated that Luke had to deal with your mess, your baggage. It was an insecurity from the first time something bad happened in your life while you were dating Luke.

Luke quickly shook his head, starting to run a bath for you. You were still curled up on the toilet seat, your hoodie now on the ground. Luke went back into the bedroom, grabbing a new sweatshirt and pants for you. He placed them on the sink.

"I'll wait out here, come out when you're done." Luke pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, turning towards the exit.

"Luke?" He paused, turning back to face you.

"Thank you."

Luke left his bedroom, going out the the main room where Jack was now watching film on the iPad. Jack looked up at Luke, patting the spot on the couch next to him. Luke collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

"How bad was it this time?" Jack asked, setting the iPad next to where you left your laptop.

"Not the worst one." Luke replied, running his hands down his face. "Her dad called her again, I'm probably going to make her change her number or something."

"That's for the best, probably." Jack answered, watching his brother. Jack leaned over, patting Luke on the back. "You are doing good, Luke. Many people would've ran away after that. You really love her, kid."

"I do, I really do."

Luke had gone back to the room, quickly cleaning up the mess of glass and letters. He recognized the letters as ones you kept from when you were a kid. From when your dad was still in prison. Luke didn't want to keep them, but he did. Even though your dad was a shitty person, the letters meant a lot to you.

Luke laid down on the bed, using the remote to turn on the TV. Luke turned on your favorite show, waiting for you to be done in the bathroom.

A few moments passed, you sluggishly walking out from the bathroom. Luke quickly turned his head to look at you. You laid down next to him in the bed. His arms quickly slid around you, pulling you close to his body. He placed a kiss to the top of your head, smoothing down your hair.

"I'm sorry, Luke." You apologized, hiding your face from him.

"Baby, it's okay. You know I won't get mad about it. I'm always going to help you through this shit." Luke quickly replied, his hands now holding your face in his hands.

"I just feel so guilty. You already have so much stress from hockey, I don't want to add to the stress." You admitted, a single tear falling down your cheek.

"Y/N, you don't stress me out. I love you, and this is just something that comes with loving you. I would rather stay here and help you than run away from this. This is something I can handle, something I've always been able to handle. Okay? We don't have to talk about this right now, baby, you need to sleep."

"I love you, Luke." You mumbled, cuddling further into his body.

Luke pressed another kiss to your head, watching as you fell asleep. You had a hold so strong on Luke. A hold that no one has ever been able to break or alter. A hold that would last forever through it all.

#nhl #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey #luke hughes #hockey imagines #lukehughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes angst #luke hughes oneshot #jack hughes

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twitteringthings · 1 month

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Fresh Thoughts Chapter 57

After reading spoilers on twitter (no spoilers here though^^)

The way Yoneda uses bl stereotypes as a tool while also rejecting some aspects of the genre is so interesting to read. In most bl I've read, sex is seen as the epitome of love - the culmination of two characters' pining and is seen as the end goal that suddenly fixes everything. The dick and brain are one and suddenly everything magically makes sense. But in Saezuru, Yoneda uses sex to unravel the characters while twisting them up even more-so. I believe that sex has never been and will never be the answer for Doumeki or Yashiro, and I think that is what she’s getting at. That is the point of all these sexual encounters that yield no real progress. You need more than three words and some head, ding dongs!

Doumeki thinks that all he has to do is give Yashiro passionate and gentle sex to make him realize that he loves him and imo he has it all wrong. It’s almost like Doumeki doesn’t truly hear Yashiro when he speaks. There's a pause and then a kiss or a continuing of sex as we've seen. I really wish he would’ve probed even further with the questioning instead of giving into desire and kissing Y. To me, it looked like Y was ready to talk more or hear what Doumeki had to say in response to his ‘confession.’

I don’t think D realizes that this is about Y and his view of himself. It doesn’t matter if Doumeki treats him kindly and calls him beautiful. Every person in Yashiro’s life has had an agenda against him or a plan to use him for something (nana excluded). There are always, always strings attached and his heart cannot accept anyone having no intention at all, except to love him purely. I do think D is on the right track though, making Yashiro chase him in a way. Not giving anything away as to make Y either trust his intentions or distrust him, Y needs to choose for himself.

It’s so interesting how the relationship between the two of them is outwardly focused on the physical aspect (which is definitely important), but the story is about the hearts of men. Twisted and broken men. Men with baggage and secrets and deep wounds. Men who seem to be the upmost composed but in reality, the soft touch of a feather can send their entire fortress crashing down. That's what we have here.

Yashiro’s coping mechanism protects him but is also the cause of his continuous pain. Saezuru is about choosing the right pain, the pain that will numb you and have you walk through life as a ghost, or the excruciating discomfort in accepting a foreign act of kindness that you know will save you. And for Yashiro, being saved means there was something wrong done to him in the first place - which I don't think he completely realizes yet. This would mean everything he ever told himself was a lie, and that he deserved none of the cruelty. The truth that would destroy him the most if he truly chose and accepted kindness, is that he is a good person and that he deserves to love himself and to be loved. With Doumeki, this has always been Yashiro’s battle.

Vile actions accompanied by cursed words are what has held Y back all his life from the moment he was raped by his stepfather and throughout the continued abuse, even up to the most recent events post-timeskip. And I think the exact opposite is needed from both sides to finally free both of them from their mental prisons. They just need to hold out and to talk to each other for more than five minutes. I hope they'll get there soon.

Lastly, I'm sure it wasn't her intention to make such an impactful story that subverts a genre and goes against the grain - in a wonderful way. I saw something another person posted that said this story and these characters are just a result of good storytelling and great care and I could not agree more.

I haven't posted anything of actual substance in a while (stupid work is stopping me from my true passion - alas!). These are some messy thoughts; I can't wait to read the actual chapter for true understanding! I need to analyze every pen stroke, blush, and body placement. I just had to get this out of my head, now back to my essay that's due at 11:59 *sobs*

Edit 1:55 am: Still have not started essay

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #doumeki x yashiro #yoneda kou #saezuru spoilers #saezuru fandom #messy thoughts #twitteringthings rambles

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folkwhorerain · 1 year

Text

Just like clockwork.

Sam Carpenter x afab!Reader

gif not mine.

summary: Sam proves you that you don't have to face everything alone.

warnings: description of PMDD symptoms, depression, mood swings, insecure reader, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, bad writing (english is not my first language). Feel free to tell me if I should add more!

(Maybe a little out of character for Sam, but I needed to write this for my own benefit.)

author's note: I got diagnosed with premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) two weeks ago and I did not take it well at all. I just had another PMDD episode and it was really bad, so I wanted to write something to get it out my chest and since Sam is my current comfort character I wanted to write a ff about her comforting reader.

Please remember that this is based on my experience with this disorder and I do not intend to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Enjoy!

It hit you suddenly.

You were fine days ago until you weren't.

It intoxicated your brain without you noticing. You just thought you were being overdramatic as always but, like it happened almost every month just like clockwork, your mind proved you wrong.

It started with a numb sensation on your legs and an inexplicable fatigue, after a few days you started sleeping excessively and leaving the bed was more and more difficult everytime the blanket rocked you in its embrace.

Next you began feeling that heaviness inside your chest that haunted you just six or five days before your menstruation started. Again, just like clockwork. It doesn't happen every, single month but when it does, it's tough dealing with all the symptoms that accompany it.

"Shit." You whispered at the realisation that your PMDD was at its peak again. You will never get used to it. Everytime your period passed you mentally mocked at how much you overreacted, gaslighting yourself into believing that you were just being dramatic and that your disorder wasn't real, which it was actually. It was very real. You just needed to get into the next wave of depression to realise it, just to curse yourself for being so dramatic when your period passed again. It was a cycle you couldn't break.

As it always happened during these excruciating days, you were lying in bed with a urge to cry and a fatigue that came out of nowhere. You knew your symptoms would disappear as soon as your period started, but right now you just let yourself go at the inevitable sensations your disorder provoked you.

Your friends noticed you were detached from them and everytime they would offer you to spend time together or watch a movie, you would always refuse, taking a snack from the kitchen and heading immediately to your room, leaving your friends with a confused look.

You weren't ready for people to know about your disorder, so you only told your favorite sisters and Quinn since she's so nosy that she eventually figured out something was wrong.

"Is Y/N okay?" Chad asked with a hint of concerne in his voice and Tara attached to his sleeve. "She hasn't come out of her room for the past two days."

"I hope it has nothing to do with us," Mindy joked with her mouth full of food. Anika was at her side, stealing some chips from her girlfriend, who was too busy looking at Sam for some sort of explanation to notice. "We're good company, so that would offend me."

Tara looked at Sam with a knowing look. Her face held the same concern as the rest of the group and it only worsened when Sam stayed quiet, too lost looking at the calendar app.

Like the good girlfriend she is, she tracked your period just in case you needed extra help with your PMDD, so when the phone in her hands gave her the confirmation you were about to get your period, she immediately knew what was wrong and it almost annoyed her you didn't tell her like you promised to.

You were never one to ask for help or even talk about your feelings. You would rather walk on lava than saying something was bothering you, and Sam understood that. She was never open about her feelings herself and just suck them up until they didn't bother her anymore or she learnt to live with them. But when it comes to you and your health, it's different so she stood up from the couch of the apartment you, Quinn, Tara and Sam shared and walked towards her room which was now yours as well since Quinn moved in with you and took your old room. Not that you spent a lot of time in it anyway. You were always with Sam and most of your stuff was already in her room anyways.

"Y/N?" You heard Sam crack open the door and slowly walk towards the bed. You had your back to her, body fully covered by your weighted blanket. You stayed still. Hopefully she wouldn't hear you cry and just leave you be.

When you didn't answer the brunette thought you were asleep and contemplated if leaving was the best decision, but when she heard a sob escape your mouth (much to your dismay), she climbed into the bed and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's that bad again, isn't it?" She asked sympathetically as she stroked your back slowly. Her heart sank knowing you were feeling like this again and you decided to deal with it all alone.

You turned to look at her with red, puffy eyes. It took you a while to nod your head yes, not wanting to bother her with something that was only your problem and would probably just drag her into your spiral of sadness. But hiding was no use, it was clear as the sun that you were feeling shitty. "I wanna be alone, though."

Sam sighed quitely and squeezed your shoulder. "Don't push me away, Y/N, please. I'm not leaving you. I just wanna help."

You usually loved how she knew you like the palm of her hand, but as of right now it just annoyed you and it took all the strength you had in your already aching body to not snap at her. Therefore you took a deep breath and gave yourself some time before saying something you would regret. You weren't even angry at Sam. You didn't know what you were so angry about. You just were. You always felt like you were on the verge of exploding.

"I just–" you couldn't finish your sentence as you covered your eyes with both your hands and let out an annoyed groan.

Sam frowned sympathetically, both of her hands gripping gently your wrists in an attempt to not let you hide your feelings from her, no matter how bad they were. But you were persistent and there was no way you would've let her see you this way, so your hands didn't move. Not even a inch.

Sam took a deep, shaky breath as she thought about what could make you feel better. Keeping her composure was hard in a situation like this, but she knew it wasn't easy for you first. After all, it was you who had to deal with it in the first place.

You uncovered your eyes when you felt the weight on the bed was gone and your girlfriend had disappeared.

You pouted and tears started streaming down your face again, both from sadness and anger towards yourself. You couldn't believe you felt sad she left when you were the one who told her to leave you alone in the first place.

"Why do I have to be like this?" You whispered as you pulled yourself up and sit on the bed, throwing your phone on the bedside with too much force.

You hated it. You couldn't believe you had to feel like this because of something so… natural. Periods should be associated with life and birth. Hell, in some historic culture a menstruating person was considered sacred, you couldn't believe you had to deal with it in such a painful way.

You can't even say you couldn't wait for your period to start, because once you start bleeding, your ovaries feels like they're being stabbed over and over again.

Mentally excruciating PMS and painful menstruation. Great combo.

After a few minutes you heard the door open again and your girlfriend was standing there with a tiny smile and a glass of water accompanied by some snacks in her hands.

Your gaze softened at the sight and you wondered how could someone like you ever deserve someone as caring as Sam Carpenter.

"I know you forgot to take your meds, so here…" She cooed as she gave you the glass and your pills, which you gladly took but not before smiling appreciatively at the brunette. "I understand you want to be left alone and I accept it, but I just want to be with you throughout all of this. Please, let me take care of you."

"Sam–"

"We don't have to talk. We can just stay here and exist together." She was standing in front of you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to give her permission to stay.

You took a few moments to think about it and meanwhile you got lost in the sight before you.

She had bags under eyes due to the tiredness two shitty jobs can give you and her usual jeans and sweater were replaced with pajama shorts and a blue tank top you were sure she stole from you. You loved how her black locks were styled perfectly even after a six hour shift and her dark eyes glistened with hope.

You must look like shit compared to her, not having the strength to comb your hair or eat a proper meal. You were even surprised you menaged to take a shower and brush your teeth. You'd probably look at yourself with disgust if you had a mirror in front of you. No way someone else would look at you differently.

Yet there she was, still looking at you like you were her whole world and when she looked at you like that it was almost impossible to say no to her, so you smiled weakly and patted the place beside you on the bed.

She smiled widely before she sank into the bed, covering her body with your favorite blanket. "Do you want me to hug you or you don't feel comfortable being touched?"

You suddenly felt a urge to be comforted and held, so you took this opportunity before you felt the need to be alone again and welcomed her in your arms. She wrapped her arms around your body, legs now entangled with yours. Her left hand wiped away your tears and the other stroked your arm slowly.

Guilt made its way through your body and that painful weight in your chest became heavier.

You hated yourself for being such a burden.

You didn't want people to deal with you when you were at you lowest. If you could, you wouldn't even deal with it yourself. But it was your mind and body, so ignoring its needs was not an option. But your friends and family had the opportunity to leave, to tell you to fuck yourself when you'd yell at them without an apparent reason, yet they didn't. Even when you pushed them away just like you did an hour ago and they decided to spend time together anyway. Of course that made you silently sob as you saw they could live without you.

It wasn't fair to think like that, you knew. But it wasn't you who had control of your mind when your depression was at its peak, it was your disorder and you could not disobey its will. No matter how much it hurt you.

"I'm so pathetic." You whispered with eyes full of tears again. Your thoughts were the worst part of these episodes. The voices telling you that you're not enough were persevering and it was hard to not listen to them. "I'm sorry you have to endure all of my shit. I would leave if I was you."

"That's not true, Y/N. You know you don't really think that." She whispered softly, placing sweet kisses on the crown of your head. "You're not pathetic for feeling this way. You didn't choose it."

You stayed silent, feeling paralyzed. The only thing you did was hug her tightly and stroke her hip affectionately.

Sometimes it scares you how much she knows you and how you think.

"I'm here no matter what. You are not your disorder. I knew there were gonna be ups and downs when I chose you, but just like you knew it when you chose me." She stopped talking just to give a few kisses on your neck, easing a little bit of the tension you felt. "If we gotta be honest, I'm the daughter of a serial killer who almost got herself and her friends killed just because of that. If there's someone who should leave, that's you."

A weak chuckle escaped your mouth at that last phrase. You weren't gonna leave her for that. Hell, you would rather be attacked by Ghostface than leave your girlfriend.

It didn't matter what Sam did or who she was. You knew the real her and you thanked the universe everyday for being able to see parts of her she hardly showed to anyone else.

You knew how hard it was for her after Richie turned out to be Ghostface and she decided to move to a city where people saw him like the victim and her like the villain.

Trusting new people wasn't an option for her and you were no exception when you responded to the anonymous ad of when her and Tara were looking for a roommate.

The first time you met her it almost looked like you were being interrogated, but when you left aside the thought of how pretty she was and you recognised her as one of the survivors of the Woodsboro attack, you understood why.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt her lips on your shoulder, and when you turned your head slightly to look at her, you saw she was already staring at you with a glint in her eyes she reserved just for you. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

She bit your shoulder playfully at your comment making you crack a smile. "I love you."

"I love you, too Sam." And with that she gave the palm of your hand a kiss, next she shifted to your neck, your jaw and finally your lips.

You couldn't help but smile as you tried to ignore the heaviness you still felt in your chest.

It was hard dealing with you when you felt like this but, everytime you needed, Sam was there.

Just like clockwork.

That's all, people!

As usual, I hope you liked it.🫶🏻

If your PMS is so bad that it effects your daily activities, please talk to your doctor about it. It may be sign of PMDD or other premenstrual disorders.

Remember you are not alone and I'm always here if you need to talk.

I love you all. <3

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #scream #scream 5 #scream vi #melissa barrera #ghostface #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #quinn bailey

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camcanime · 6 months

Text

I had the craziest angst dream last night

It was based on an RP my bestie and I had been working on but, man, my brain knows how to toy with my feelings. Words cannot express how I felt after having this dream, my heart was racing. (Will do this in the form of x reader coz damn)

That day was a tragedy, a devastation to yourself and everyone who knew you. No one could have foreseen such a thing and, yet, a heavy blame was taken upon the two men who had cared for you most. You were all fresh into beginning your careers as heroes, barely a year out of graduation, and it didn't last long for you. Somehow, a group of especially dangerous villains had managed to get the jump on you. They beat you to a pulp and took you into capture, falling out of the radar and becoming completely invisible to anyone who may have had a chance to save you.

You were held in captivity for almost two years. Two years. They tormented and verbally degraded you to no end. To say it was torture was an understatement. You may as well have been crucified and left to hang amongst the vultures awaiting the sweet, bitter end to life. Unfortunately, these monsters were not merciful creatures. At first, they attempted to coax information out of you, seeing if they could unlock all of the inner workings of the pro heroes and utilise this for their nefarious deeds. When it became clear that you weren't so easily broken, they decided that you would make a decent venting dolly. You sought to escape once.

"That was a big mistake... hero."

Due to your weakened state, they quite easily recaptured you and they were not happy. They could have just killed you. Part of you wishes they did. No. Instead, they opted for a more fitting punishment: they took away your quirk. More ridicule and abuse is all that followed, is all you had to keep your wavering sanity occupied.

You felt close to your end.

An eventual rescue tore you away from your imprisonment but at what cost? You couldn't even discern the reality from a nightmare at that point. Your saviours, some heroes on the other side of the country, made sure that you were immediately admitted to a hospital. The physical wounds were in need of major attention but the mental scars ran so much deeper.

It probably would have been easy enough to call all of your friends, to ask for help from a familiar face, but a chain would heavy your hand any time you'd reach for the phone. You couldn't even bring yourself to call your two favourite boys.

With months of gruelling therapy out of the way, you now have a home - a new home - that you can call yours and a typical civilian job to keep the money coming in. You may be somewhat established back into society but you are merely a shell of what once was, a sauntering after image of the person you used to be. It had taken countless sessions just to counter your agoraphobia but a slithery vine is quick to entangle your spine any time you choose to leave your home. The darned thing clenches and digs its thorns in, threatening to jolt your head into a spasm but you always fight the urge.

That day wasn't much different. To begin with, at least.

After your usual mental prepping and throwing your cap on, you take the leap of faith from your doorstep and trudge along for your weekly grocery run. All in all, it seemed it was going to be fairly standard; weave in and out of people, make no eye contact, get the goods, and go home. It wasn't like it was late on your way back either but, with the winter season, that night was soon rolling in. You notice another set of footsteps trailing behind you, which certainly isn't helping. It could just be that pesky paranoia settling in but this person has been hot on your tail for a few minutes now. Still having some streets to go, you curse your blunder in not choosing a location more in-city. In an attempt to get home faster without displaying your fear, you ever so slightly pick up the pace. The individual appears to do the same and you are ready to run. The muscles in your calves tighten in anticipation of a quick escape.

That's when it happened: a chance encounter that reduced you to tears.

"Hey!" an all-too-familiar voice beckons from behind you.

Anxiety prickles your skin for different reasons than before. There's no way it's him. Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

The great hero Dynamight had been making his rounds in the city, keeping an astute eye out for anything amiss but also for you. It may seem outlandish for him to still be looking for you after almost three years but this is Bakugo. He's not one to give up. That's probably why he's grown more calloused in this time. He hasn’t been able to heal. To move on. The night still haunts him though he never lets that show. His cold heart had grown even heavier and colder since that day. He barely says a word - more so than usual. The man eats at himself over the whole situation. What could he have done differently? Is there actually anything he could have actually done? If he can’t even save a comrade, a person he cares so deeply about, is he even worthy of the title of hero? Perhaps that is another driving force to keep searching for you. It may seem crazy but at least he hasn't lost his hope. Not like they did. How could they all just assume you dead like that? How could they give up on a friend? A fellow pro hero? Not him. Not ever and nor Kirishima. That redhead, as much of an idiot as he may be, is the only one who stuck by Bakugo's headstrong tenacity over the years. He shakes the thoughts from his head for about the umpteenth time just that day alone.

It seemed as though it would be another afternoon of quiet. One might say that's a nice change of pace but some individuals like to be kept busy. Bakugo stopped for one of his annoying fans when he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It almost looked like... no. It couldn't be. Wait... is it? His gaze has never once failed him before. The calls of the young boy were lost to him, his feet moved without his consent. He'd recognise that stupid hat anywhere. It wasn't even a matter of questioning the legitimacy before he was practically tailgating the unsuspecting individual. It didn't take long until it was just the two of them walking along the darkening street. His heart hasn’t beat this hard since that terrible day. He shakes his head, almost grows angry. What if it is you? What will he do? A deep breath. Just keep focusing on the task at hand - one that seems to be slipping from him the longer this cat-and-mouse chase drags out. His tracks aren't exactly subtle given how the freshly falling snow crunches and groans beneath his weight. The speed picks up and he knows he has to say something before his "prey" runs off. He has opened and closed his mouth several times to speak up to her but he backs out every time. Goddamnit Bakugo just say something. He growls to himself and closes his eyes. His fists clench beneath his gauntlets. He can’t believe he is about to do this. He must be crazy.

Finally, somehow managing to find his own voice, he calls out. "Hey!"

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to call out that name in case his assumption was wrong. The figure stops and slowly turns around to face him. Bakugo stares a moment longer before slowly walking over to get a closer look. His heart punches against his ribcage when he's no more than a meter in front of that familiar face. There have been some changes, of course, but he would recognise those eyes anywhere - your eyes. He looks back and forth between them before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on her shoulder, an action that is hesitant but proves the reality of your existence at this moment. All he can do is keep his eyes closed as everything tries to catch up to him. Eventually, he takes in a deep sigh and slowly looks up at you. His expression holds a mixture of sad and relived and some exhaustion like he just got done with a war.

"How long, (Y/n)?"

At first, you haven't a clue what he's talking about until it hits you like a steel pipe to the cheek. You had gotten so caught up in the situation, Katsuki Bakugo slowly trailing towards you with an unease you had never witnessed in him before. Not like this. A million and one thoughts spurry around your head but, at the same time, you are also completely blank. Crimson eyes pierce right into your soul, attempting to coerce your tongue for the words but still nothing. You can't help the nausea in your stomach when it dawns on you just how mad he may get. You already envision the blade of his teeth slicing through you.

"They... I was discharged from a hospital in Hachinohe almost... almost four months ago."

It all comes down on him like a sack of bricks. Understandably, he is pissed - unequivocally burning in damnation of the truth that you are alive and have been roaming the streets for so many months and against his knowledge no less. It doesn't matter if he had been in the middle of a battle; he would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Growing more painful, he rubs at the migraine pounding against his temples. He wipes his forehead as if making up for the fact that there are no tears to dry. He doesn't know how to cry right now. The pressure and strain amidst his palms shake his nerves to no end.

"And you didn't call?!" he screams over his crackling throat. "I would have come for you! We would have come for you!"

How could you call? You were so sure that everyone was better off without you, that you weren't needed in their lives. By the time you had been freed, everyone had become more well-established heroes in society. They don't need you. They moved on. That's how you thought of it, at least. Your attempted explanation of this only angers him further but he breathes past the frustration when he realises how worked up you're getting. What happened to you for you to think such awful things?

"I'm not sure where you got this narrative of not being needed," he sighs and looks away. "Do you have any idea what it has been like without you, dumbass?"

The old nickname slips off his tongue so naturally. He'd always call everyone an idiot, stupid, nerd ironically enough, but dumbass? That was reserved for you and for you only, so for it to be said - to be heard - after two years breaks you.

It had been quite a sight, watching you crumble down to the snow-covered floor. He had knelt down, waiting for you to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again. As cohesive as you could against the waves of rainfall spilling from your face, anyway. When things had eventually calmed, he took you back to your apartment and gave you the chance to speak. You managed to tell him little about what you had been through. Each sentence dwindled beneath the weighing sickness that bubbled in your throat any time you tried to get into detail. One thing really stood out to Bakugo, however. He envisioned the mass murder of those bastards for having done this to you, for rendering you quirkless and making you believe such self-deprecating lies.

That was two days ago. Bakugo insisted on you staying around his just to keep an eye on you. You know better than to refuse his help and it's for his own piece of mind as well as yours. He even took the liberty of calling off work for the rest of the week just to make sure you're okay. He never does that, which is probably why a certain redhead is standing at his door, wide-eyed, gawking at you. Once he had caught wind of Bakugo's absence at the agency, he raced over to make sure everything was okay. He could have never anticipated seeing you. The two of you stare at one another, unable to say anything. You take a stand and open your mouth to say something, anything, but the wind is pushed from your lungs when Kirishima gulps you up into his arms. He cries. God, this man cries and sobs with no yield as he just holds you. Restraints don't appear to exist anymore and you spill again, clutching onto him with unceremonious content. He doesn't ask any questions and just weeps into your shoulder, fearing the worst if he were to let go.

Everyone else had assumed you were dead. Why wouldn't they? After two, almost three, years, why would you believe a person to still be alive? Not them. They kept looking, searching, and scouring every last mineral in this damn country to try and find you. Now they have you back in their lives? They swear by All-Might that you will be waited on, pampered, loved, and cared for until they see the remnants of your old self again. It will take time but they waited this long for you, right?

No time in the world is more worth it.

It's probably worth mentioning that I could very clearly hear the chorus to Childish Gambino's song 'Heartbeat' when Kirishima went in for the hug and now it's stuck in my head.

I should also probably work more on WSA but I think I need to do a few one-shots just to get me back in the groove. I hope you enjoyed and sorry if it feels a bit rushed in some areas :')

Did I proof read it? Unfortunately not.

#x reader #kiribaku x reader #bakukiri x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #mha #bnha

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d34dlysinner · 7 months

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Said iI'd make another, couldn't resist after listening to Amen. I need some Angstsy ahh shi to live, but with good ending lmao, kings + Lucifer, our lovely butcher devil, sitri, and Zagan. (and anyone else if you feel someone wld work for this lmao) With a mc who was highly religious and devoted to our lord and savior Jesus h Christ, stemming from past loss of a lover. Y'know how people sometimes after loss turn to religion to help get through it. idk brain not braining typing this whole typing am essay for my Paleobiology class lmao. And well, y'know when they meet the reality of heaven and hell it's like.

'Aw shi-' cue internal mental crisis as they find out their faith was a lie, God is dead. And angels want their soul but not for the good reason.

So it's like, the grief starts all over again n'they're just sitting in the corner vibrating ready to claw the next angel they see in 'WHERE TF IS [insert dead partner]' and probably tried to out of sheer gremlin energy. It's like, they're going through the emotions again n'feel like an idiot for believing such things. Y'know musing over the loss all over again, yadda yadda In the end they come to terms n'shi and move on for real for real.

Ik this is a lot but it's a thought I had how things would go on an mc who was really religious and experiences well, that the religion was a lie xD. Bonus Angst points if the religious belief started to help quell the person after a loved ones death. Lol

Ok enough rambling, I need to finish this essay before I get thrown out a window again.

(Hope I interpreted this well- thanks for the ask!! XD keep on brainrotting)

There you were shivering in the corner of a small room as your mind started to race. Pictures of angels and your dead lover flickering through your mind as you started to doubt what reality and truth was. Your eyes pricked as continuous tears poured out. You seemed too deep in your thoughts. Almost to the point where you cancelled everything and everyone around you.

Satan could feel your rage and happily fed of from it. But at the same time he felt useless as he saw how shattered you seemed from learning the truth.

"I know that humans learned from the angels lies, but I promise you some sense of relief during this battle when we cam finally put an end on them...", he said as he wasn't the best to console someone who was as broken as you were right now. He didn't understand how you felt tho.

Beelzebub understood your anger. He wouldn't show it himself, but he was angry too. Of course he wants peace and to relax. This can't happen when there are angels literally hunting him and other demons. He would sit with you and allow you to cry it out before trying to convince you to join him. He promises to aid you to fight the angels. Even when you can't see him.

Mammon stared down at your saddened frame as he stood in front of you in silence. He took some time before trying to speak to you. "If you're sad about them taking away what's yours. Then demand it back from them. Or make them pay.", was all he said. He wanted you to feel determined to take back what was yours. But he had to he honest that it saddened him to see you so greedy for a past lover and not him.

Leviathan looked down at your form. He didn't know why you cried. But he felt as of he should be jealous. Where you crying for another? Or was it for him? It didn't matter at that moment as he said: "I don't know why your crying. But let's stop using time on crying when you could possibly avenge what your crying for by fighting angels." He isn't the best at consoling others. He is someone who likes to do things efficiently.

Lucifer did enjoy the tears that streamed down your face. What he loved even more was knowing that these tears came to be because of the betrayal and anger you felt towards the angels. Yes, he was an ex angel, but he just as any other demon wants and needs to put an end to the torment that the angels put on the demons. "Join us and fight. It's better to seek for some sense of peace than to do nothing in a tiny room. You could help us and put a stop to those who lied.", he says as he referred to the angels.

Andrealphus could only smell revenge. He knew how you felt and tried to convince you to fight with him. He wishes for you to join and help and hoped that it would give you some sense of peace as you go against the thing that ruined your life even more.

Zagan wasn't a man of many words, but that didn't mean that he would wait out with you and listen to you vent. When you were done he would only nod, stand up and reach a hand out to you. "If you hate them so much... please fight against them with us. We're stronger with you at our side...", was all he said as he waited for you to accept his hand.

Sitri heard your sniffles over your heartbeat. It saddened him as he sat next to you and tried to embrace you. He waited it out and was set on protecting you while you vented incase anyone tried to hurt you during this time. Only when you were somewhat calmed down did he dare to speak. "Solomon...", he started referring to your ancestor again. It somewhat made you feel inferior, but for now it didn't matter as you understood that the demons like you also lost someone dear to them because of the angels.

"I hope you're willing to fight at our side. I understand that this might be a huge change for you since you like other humans were misled by the angels. Please, understand that we also need you.", he said as he stood back up, reaching down to you.

Whether they could console you or not. You appreciated that they tried as you yet again see how wrong those lies of the angels were. You understood that like you, those demons also lost things they thought were precious. You accepted their request as you want to atleast have answers and see if you can atleast find some peace with your lost.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb satan #whb beel #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb sitri #whb zagan #whb andrealphus #whb lucifer

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aclowntiny · 8 months

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Ska Day- Woozi x GN!Reader (Soulmate AU)

Word Count: 2.1k | Soulmate AU, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: none

Y’all on the poll said complete this 💁🏻‍♀️😂 Inspired by my often unshared love of ska lmao anyway wooahae enjoy this lowkey crack 😆 went to a ska show for one of my favorite bands like 2 months ago n it was so fun

It's hard to say what kind of day it's going to be when you wake up with a song about Canada stuck in your head. Jihoon wasn't even aware he knew a song about Canada, but there it was in his head, trumpets and all as he brushed his teeth. Lots of brass, actually, which he might have dug if it wasn't layered over the pop-punk guitars, too. Who writes a song like that?

When did Jihoon listen to a song like that?

He entered the practice room singing even the French bit under his breath as he swung the door open, AC sweeping in a chill wave toward him. "Canada oh Canada, I s'il vous plait..."

"Are you singing in French?" Mingyu asks him from his seated position on the shining polished floor.

"Don't get me started," Jihoon shook his head at the cursed mental brass, trumpet tune making it hard to get a clear thought into his mind. It was really catchy, too, darn it. Let’s go to Canada, let’s leave today…

“Who’s singing in French?” Jun chimes in.

“No one,” Jihoon sighs.

“Woozi-hyung,” chimes Chan.

“Why?”

“Let’s just practice,” Jihoon sighs, shooting the maknae his best ‘not another word outta you, Dino’ look.

The sweet, sweet relief when the Canada Song faded away, no longer stuck in his head. Jihoon put on one of his chillest samples as he sat down in the studio just to clear his ears like the coffee beans in cologne stores were supposed to, sinking into the leather of his chair after the strain of both dance practice and all the Canada. As the simple beat filled his brain, he sighed, preparing to add the next layer when…

…Another even catchier song entered his head. The backing guitar was similar, but overall the electrics were more prominent. The trumpets were even more rousing, the voice singing triumphantly about this and that all in English this time. Something about singing a song, ironically. Jihoon was very confident he’d never heard that song either, and this time it was far more vivid than simply having something stuck in your head. It was playing as if through headphones with the volume turned up, like God himself was trying to blast out the sampled beat he’d wanted to work with. Fine, then.

He turned it up. The music in his head turned up, too. He fought back with his chill beat. It fought back just as hard. You asked for it…music.

Jihoon had plenty of upbeat songs to work on, too. Closing the relaxing song-in-progress, probably something that would be going to the vocal team, he opened up one of the hip hop unit’s demos, the loudest one they had, and started playing that. It needed some fine-tuning before the next album anyway. Finally the trumpets faded out of his head as he got some work done, tweaking the autotune back to keep the members’ voices at the forefront. This time, neither the brass nor the guitars returned. Ha. Victory was his.

“What song is that?”

“Was I humming?”

“Yeah,” Soongyoung nods, “it sounds like a nice song.”

“It isn’t.” Jihoon crosses his arms as the music fades into his ears. “It’s just some song about a pool party.”

His friend smiled. “Sounds like fun. New concept?”

“No, it’s not mine.”

Soonyoung’s brows furrowed as he swiveled in his chair, clunking plastic sounds accompanying the motion. “Whose is it, then?”

His head fell into his hands. “I wish I knew.”

He spent the rest of the day ready to strangle Soonyoung, who liked the pool party song enough that he kept singing it long after it was done playing through Jihoon’s head.

A song about skateboards? Ok, kind of a good idea, just maybe not one so goofy. Had a trumpeter died and seen fit to haunt one Lee Jihoon for his musical proclivity?

Something was going on. This wasn’t natural. His dancing time was suffering unless he listened to the practice song in headphones. His lyricism failed him, other instruments blurring out his careful, sentimental mixes in whirlwinds of skateboards and time bombs and foreign countries. The songs could have been worse, in fact Jihoon was getting a bit too comfortable with the catchy one about something or other in school and singing, but in his line of work no one could afford distractions. Especially distractions that literally got louder every time he tried to drown them out as if they wanted him to know they hated him.

He excused himself from practice, slumping down against the wall with his chin in one hand, the other digging in his sweats pocket for his phone, praying Google would have some answers as to what would cause this.

A shadow fell over his vision. “Hey, are you ok?”

Glancing up, he saw Jeonghan standing over him, hands wringing in concern. “I know this has been a tense week for you, but the others were saying something about music? About singing in French?”

Jihoon sighed, sliding his phone back into the warmth of his pocket. He let it all fall out, all the brassy details of his past week rushing forth. How it started with feeling a song he’d never heard stuck in his head and continued into sometimes hours-long segments of invisible headphones tuning him into unfamiliar ditties.

“I- I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Jeonghan rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not going crazy. Have you considered that it’s your soulmate?”

“My soulmate is a bunch of disembodied ska?”

“No,” Jeonghan suppressed a laugh, “some people hear music when they’re close to their soulmates. It gets louder when it’s closer to your time to meet.”

Jihoon cocked a brow, shifting a bit on the hard floor. “Then why does mine sound like pool parties and Canada?”

“I’m…not even going to ask what that means,” Jeonghan shot back, hands steepled, “but you hear what your soulmate is listening to. They’ve probably been hearing bits of our practice or anything you’re working on.”

“A-ha!” Jihoon finally lit up. “That’s why it stopped when I worked on the hip hop demo!”

“Maybe they were listening,” Jeonghan confirmed with a smile.

“My soulmate,” Jihoon shook his head in disbelief, partially having believed he wouldn’t have one as such a recluse, “my soulmate who probably thinks I’m a rapper now. And who listens to…” He pulls google back up to the page with the pool party song artist. “A band with a bunch of grown men who dress like superheroes.”

Jeonghan squinted at the image on the proffered phone, a bunch of spandex-top-clad men in dynamic poses holding their instruments, eyebrows raising. “Those guys look like dorks.”

“I think it’s comedy? They have a song about pizza too. And aliens. And skits on youtube.”

“Well, I guess opposites do attract. Have you tried following the music?”

The jaw drop was practically palpable. “Following it? I’ve been running away,” Jihoon chuckled.

“Well, it’ll only get worse until you find the person, you know,” Jeonghan lowered himself into a seated position at his side, “so if you want no more brass, I’d suggest-”

“Running around like a chicken with my head cut off.”

“I was actually going to say ‘leaving the Hybe building for once in your life’, but that works too. Who knows,” the older singer shrugged, “maybe it’ll get louder. Maybe it’ll stop on someone you really like. Your soulmate could just be a friend, you know. A friend of mine’s soulmate is her best friend and both girls are straight.”

“Alright,” Jihoon puts his hands up, “alright. I’ll do it, I’ll find them just to get the music to stop.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jeonghan offers, standing up and holding out his hand.

Ignoring the hand, Jihoon stands up on his own. “What, for the show?”

“For moral support! …but yes, also for the show. I can’t wait to see what your soulmate looks like,” Jeonghan grins.

After rinsing off and changing out of sweaty practice outfits, the dual vocalists exited the Hybe building to the sound of trumpets…well, if you were Jihoon, that is. It really was like he was the unwilling recipient of a mostly-ska music subscription directly, forcibly installed into his brain.

The light outside was harsh for someone like him who wasn’t used to it. Even Jeonghan blinked a bit as they made their way onto the sidewalk, skirting around a planted tree.

“Ok, we’ll start with going this way,” Jeonghan said, “tell me if it gets quieter or louder.”

Jihoon felt his frown tighten, which made Jeonghan laugh. “Let me guess…we’re getting closer?”

He laughed again at the dry nod he was given in response, pointing down the street where they’d turned left. “Then we keep going that way.”

They passed about five buildings before the sound was practically unbearable, every brass note an echoing assault on Jihoon’s cranial walls despite the considerable skill of their players. Hey, assaulted or not, he was a musician at the end of the day, one who had to respect the lungs on a fellow wind or even brass player.

Looking up from the blare, he saw a bookstore of all places. "This is it," he nodded toward the doors at Jeonghan before disappearing inside.

Mazelike walls of grey shelves bearing rainbows of books greeted him, but Jihoon didn't need to go far for the music, this new song an entirely different man and woman singing about gas in a car in a rapid-fire chorus, drowned out all perception. Tables sporadically dotted the area, and one of the closest ones drew him like a magnet, bringing him closer and closer...

...Until like an act of mercy, the sound abruptly stopped, Jihoon's eyes fluttering closed in sweet relief, a laugh almost escaping him at the returned use of all his cranial real estate. Relief was all he felt, the relaxing sensation washing over him hard enough to keep him frozen there, all but forgetting where he was until a voice cut him off.

"Hi, did you need something?"

Descending back to reality, Jihoon opened his eyes and fixed them upon the speaker, the lone occupant of the table he'd stopped at sitting there with a laptop. Call it a rush of sentimentality, but the first thing he noticed about you was the kindness of the smile on your face as you removed your headphones.

That wasn't what he came there for, though. "What are you always listening to that music for?" He asked.

"Uh, I'm a music major?" You responded, head tilted and tone questioning. Kind of cute.

"And you listen to ska?"

"I like it," you defended with a shrug, "and besides, I'm writing my thesis on the influence of ska on various sides of counterculture like its greater punk umbrella and the serious topics it can be used to convey through the light style, like faith, how people judge your views based on their expectations of your expression of them, or even feelings of self-doubt and fear of judgement that are conveyed in one of the most famous songs. The singer himself has even talked about how his social anxiety inspired the lyrics, which many agree really exemplify a human experience."

The concept of his soulmate being a scholar, or even just being a real non-psychopathic person, had barely occurred to Jihoon in light of all the trumpet torture, but now that you were before him, his ire was rapidly melting away, weeks of beating himself up over diminished performance replaced by the one stronger feeling: sheer curiosity.

"Oh, wow. I had no idea, and I'm a producer."

Your face lit up with surprise. "You're a producer?"

He just hummed and nodded.

"I'm really more interested in songwriting, but that all goes hand-in-hand," you said, "but hey- how did you know what I was listening to?"

There it was. The reason Jihoon had taken to, in the words of one Yoon Jeonghan, who was perusing books two tables away, 'leaving the Hybe building for once in his life'. "I've been hearing practically nothing but for, yeesh, how many weeks now?"

"You're the guy listening to all the kpop songs over and over?"

"It's my job."

"And that rap demo?"

"Also my job."

"It really threw me the first time my sound got interrupted."

"Yeah, think how I felt," Jihoon remarked drily, meeting your eyes.

Several heartbeats passed before you burst out with a laugh, and something about the sound of it coupled with the tail end of the relief wave was so infectious Jihoon found himself laughing, too.

"Here," you waved a hand over a chair, "sit down and I'll play you another Skankin' Pickle song."

"Another excuse me?"

"'90s ska band."

Brass-filled 'Nam flashbacks. "I'm good."

"Well, now that I've suggested something worse," you grinned, sending some part of Jihoon's heart flipping, "hopefully it'll sound better if I ask my soulmate whose name I still don't know on a date."

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #woozi #woozi x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #soulmate au #this is for you poll voters 😂

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partyanimal167 · 1 year

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The Hot Neighbor- Zoro x F!Readee

I saw this art on tiktok and kept enjoying this little idea in my head. It's pretty simple and cutesy.

CW: fluff, suggestive, modern au

You really didn't believe someone could be so dense. But then again, this was working in your favor.

Your neighbor was not like what you expected to be when you first moved into your new apartment.

You had just finished moving the last box inside and was sipping your water in the Sun by the moving truck. It was a nice summer day, and you wanted to enjoy the weather before you went inside and hyperfixated on unpacking.

You looked up to see one of the most gorgeous men you've ever seen.

Sweat dripped down his face and some of his green hair was slick on his skin. He was totally sweating through his green hoodie, and you wondered what type of workout he was doing. His gray sweatpants slightly hung low on his hips, so there was a peek of skin you could see. You caught yourself eyeing the man and blushed when you two made eye contact. He nodded in your direction as he passed by and you weakly returned the gesture. If that was what you got see every now and then, you definitely chose the right place.

...

The next time you see the man was when you heard someone roughly jiggling your door handle as if they were going to break it.

You cautiously approached your front door with a skillet in your nondominant hand. You peeked into the peephole and was surprised to see the handsome man looking annoyed.

"Oi Luffy! Let me in!"

You were confused but seemed to understand there was some type of misunderstanding here. You opened the door a bit and stepped to the side. "Uh, I think you might have the wrong apartment."

For a moment, there was a surprised look on his face before he grumbled. "Shit, not again." He apologized sincerely and even though you had no idea how someone doesn't know where they live, he seemed nice. You exchanged names and goodbyes. You giggled mentally as your eyes lowered, watching him walk away. Let, right, left, right.

~~~

Zoro turned out to be a unique character who you got to know more through him randomly popping at your door and seeing him on his daily runs. You still had no idea which apartment was his, but you assumed he was at least in the same building as you.

There were times when he lost his key and his roommate wasn't home, so he did end up at your place purposefully to hang out. His company was pleasant, and you two typically watched a show while drinking.

After months, you figured he was going to catch onto you ogling him, but if he did, he never said anything. You knew there were some things that weren't really important to him, so you felt fine enjoying the eye-candy.

It was another tv night, so you had gone to the kitchen to grab your favorite snacks. As you grabbed a bowl, you heard a muttered cuss from you companion. You continued on getting ready and turned to leave.

You froze right in your tracks.

You always wondered what muscles were sculpted and hiding under his clothes, and for whatever reason, they were right in your view as Zoro leaned both arms on the wall as he blocked the exit. He looked down at you lazily.

"Oi y/n, I spilled my drink. Got anything I could wear?"

You brain was short-circuiting as you stared blankly at his chest and how big he seemed taking up all that space. You heard his question, but other more inappropriate thoughts were flooding your mind. You took a deep breath and smiled innocently. "Oh yeah, uh, sure." you took a step forward, but Zoro didn't move at all. "What is it?"

Zoro grinned at you before moving aside. "Nothing." You walked passed him and couldn't help feeling his gaze on you.

You rushed to place the snacks on the coffee table before going to your room hoping to find something that would fit the man. You were trying to stop your mind from going absolutely feral. There was something mischievous in Zoro's glance that you hadn't seen before. Your face warmed as you finally pulled out a large sweatshirt. You turned just as Zoro arrived in your doorway--taking up space again. You handed him the shirt.

"Din't think you'd have anything in my size."

You shrugged. "It belonged to my ex. Still might be a little snug." Zoro as halfway through putting the shirt on before he reversed it and tossed it on your bed. "Hey! What's wrong?"

"Tch, I'm not wearing anything your shitty ex wore." Zoro grunted.

You rolled your eyes. "What else are you going to wear? Besides, I'm over them. It's whatever."

"I rather stay like this."

You looked at him blankly then at his chest and up again. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" He grumbled.

~~~

Seriously, how dense could this guy be? You shook your head and pointed at the shirt. "Now." You enjoyed as the man reluctantly clothed himself and how the shirt clung like a second skin--big chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath. "Okay let's finish our show."

You walked passed him and squealed as Zoro pulled you against his back and rested his head on your shoulder. He chuckled as he gently held your hips. "How about you let me take this off, so you can really check out the merchandise."

Thanks for reading!

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #mine #stewie writes #partyanimal167

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themuseandantarctica · 5 months

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* 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏

sentence starters from joanne greenberg's novel i never promised you a rose garden. change however necessary. i never promised you a rose garden is a semi-autobiographical account of a young girl admitted to a mental hospital for treatment for her schizophrenia, which means...

tw: mental hospitals, medical, self-harm, suicide, suicidal ideation, ableism, ableist language

it should look as if we trust her. she must feel that we trust her…

they call it a mental hospital, but it's a place where they put people away.

we should have expected them. why should we be so surprised?

i told you the truth about these things you asked. now are you going to help me?

you are just in time for the patient's soothing tea and the end of the world.

it was considered advisable to terminate the interview.

well, i'm a hundred square yards sane.

you will not have to give up anything until you are ready, and then there will be something to take its place.

the prisoner pleads guilty to the charge of not having acute something-itis and accepts the verdict of guilty of being nuts in the first degree.

someday i hope to help you see this world as other than a stygian hell.

it seemed like a good life -- a very good life she had. now they say it wasn't.

i can't really see you and i can't really hear you.

they think that both of us would be too much just now.

it's without a cause, you see, and that's what is so frightening.

i hated it and had no talent for it. it was one of the flags to capture, you see, and he had to try to win it, even through me.

it's going to cost us -- everything. you know that, don't you?

am i not what you wanted? do you have to correct my brain, too?

you see, she knew, in her own way, that she was not attempting suicide, but making the call for help, the call of a mute and confused person.

waiting for the blows… and then there came a time, later -- a time where she began to arrange for blows to fall.

i swear to you that i will not use you.

they never said they were sorry, not one of them.

is this… forever?

that was not my doing. i was not even in on the consultation.

you are walking around your destruction and poking a little finger at it here and there.

it's funny… i never figured that kid was really sick.

i scratched my arm a little -- that's all.

do you know what a coldsheet pack is? i'm going to set one up for you.

this is the little tart i was telling you about.

there are flowers in a hospital and strength, too. you will live and be strong.

i could not be sure. i am good at getting deceived, you know.

you know… the thing that is so wrong about being mentally ill is the terrible price you have to pay for survival.

there is no injustice being done.

don't hit me, [name] -- don't hit me! i know how hard you can hit!

once i greeted my best friend and she turned from me. when i asked why, she said, "after what you did?" she never spoke to me again, and i never found out what happened.

none of the others laughed, really. you were only afraid that they might laugh. you alone made yourself lie.

there are other deaths than death -- worse ones.

we might someday… have to be "well" and be in the world.

i didn't want to hurt you -- to make you sicker.

when i get around to it, i'm going to do your portrait.

my hair feels dirty.

it is my selfness and it is poisonous. it is mind-poisonous.

another camouflage is to blame it all on someone else. it keeps you from having to face what they really did to you, and what you did to yourself and are still doing.

somewhere there is a thief who has heard that people bury and hide their gold and jewels. can you see the expression on his face when he comes on what i have buried!

i like being somebody's punishment; it makes me feel needed.

their religion doesn't permit them to commit suicide.

i found out about being insane. it really is something.

lay off [name], will you?

do you think the sick people are all in hospitals? do you think you have a corner on suffering?

you ought to know mental trouble when you see it.

it's envy! the best and smartest are always envied. walk straight and don't let them know if they touch you.

i thought i was going to die, but at last they came back.

that kid looks through me as if i'm not here at all.

i am a hair in my eye, and so are you.

a pacifist is one who uses his open hand.

i never promised you a rose garden. i never promised you perfect justice, and i never promised you peace or happiness. my help is so that you can be free to fight for all of these things.

it's because of the maybe. it's because of the little, little maybe.

she never took your world at all, don't you see?

what do they want with me, broken into and spoiled already? i'm not good enough for anyone else.

i could still be crazy if i wanted to?

i wish i could have made it to that narcotics cabinet.

are you calling me? is it me you want?

you have quite a number of bits and pieces all copied down on those papers of yours.

who ever told you that learning facts or theories or languages had anything to do with understanding yourself?

there is nothing you can do to me that my own craziness doesn't do to me smarter and faster and better.

i'll be around. you could even get privileges to come and visit me.

i never could ask for anything. i thought you knew that. when i have to ask, something happens to me and i… well, i start to fight.

i always wondered why those reports seemed to be more about [name]'s thoughts than about her body, like pulse or temperature.

maybe the cannon blast we were fearing was only what we heard.

you are captive and victim. we did not want you to escape.

it's going to hit -- please -- it's going to hit harder than i can stand up under.

god, they build their tortures cunningly!

everyone is so afraid of getting blood on the living room floor. "i can't stand to see suffering," they say, "so die outside!"

i think now, though, that you are little too happy with yourself for this trouble you have.

mommy and daddy are shelling out plenty on that bitch who isn't fit for saving.

get away from that door, [name]. you have no business there.

you are trying to hurt yourself now. what happened?

don't forget what i know about you!

i had known all those years and years how sick i was, and nobody else would admit it.

if you're seeking objective reality, this is one hell of a place to start.

even if you didn't really talk out loud, it was that look you get…

i'm not giving up; i'm just tired, that's all.

occasionally, others are damned by you to punish you.

this you have earned. i don't often give presents either, so take it.

this is one-by-one from the jawbone!

my difference is not my sickness.

when i get upset… i usually have trouble seeing properly.

did i hurt anybody? did i hurt anybody?

kid, i never knew you had it in you. you can really fight!

if i want to die, what am i saving myself for?

you've seen this… awfulness before; why are you so shocked?

measure the hate you feel now, and the shame. that quantity is your capacity also to love and to feel joy and to have compassion.

i would be worse than wasteful to give a moment's time to a hopeless case.

you will find no shortage of moral issues and hard decisions in the real world.

i have decided not to be immoral, because of what happened to [name].

where is what you used to scratch this?

it is why you need a hospital.

you are worn out, but no longer so very frightened, are you?

what am i doing here with all these crazy people!

i don't want to think anymore! i'm tired and scared and i just don't care anymore what happens.

i like an anger that is not fearful and guilty and can come out in good and vigorous english.

we just didn't get on. we didn't like each other. i think perhaps we were too much alike…

you've only got one kind of cold, the kind coats can fix.

you may not even have to do anything about it. you may not even have to think about it.

it was just a simple statement in my mind that i was going to live, to come up alive.

what hurts is being kicked by the forces that everyone else lives by and years of being nuts and not being able to tell anyone and have them believe you.

i tried to go easy. i hope it didn't hurt too much.

grapevine never told me you were back.

it can be very, very tough, but people are sometimes better than you think they will be.

somehow lately, there's been something like a caring in her.

now, am i crazy or did you make that story up?

you can have something on which to model yourself.

stop it! will you never end it!

if everybody would stop dying over the big secret, it'll be a lot easier.

you're not here that much. i want to see you this week.

no, [name], he was weeks ago -- i just went to the party with him.

when she blows, she's going to cover the ceiling.

sometimes you have to fight what won't yield and put yourself where it's safe to be crazy.

whose idea was this in the first place?

if i weren't scared to death of it, i would be so grateful!

you're not just rubbing it in good to get a little free suffering out of it?

alive is fighting. it's the same thing. i still think [name] could have made it.

well, i hope you like the room.

now, when you have come again to the world, you are able to remember what was also there with the darkness. much of it was darkness only because it was balanced against the light of loving and experiencing truth.

what about your new friend, [name]? do you still see her sometimes?

the one place i could never go… the one hunger i could never admit.

do they know how beautiful and enviable their lives are?

i can't go back to my merry high-school days again, volleyball in the gym and teeth-teeth at the school dances.

could you call them for an appointment?

just… well, i liked to think of you being outside and starting along, that's all.

hey! you know what happens when you burn yourself? you get burned, that's what!

is it true that you bring me beauty lately only when you are threatened?

if it's okay with the people down at that place she mentioned, i'll be ready whenever they are.

say "hello" for me. throw something at her and be rude so she'll know it's me.

she is prompt and obedient and never insane in the classroom.

does it all have to go? do we pile it up and throw it all out?

i will never have that. not by fighting or study or work or withstanding will i be able to walk with one of them or be warmed by their hands.

we had to call your landlady and tell her you weren't coming back there tonight and that you were here.

you rotten whore! let me go!

i am going to hang with the world. full weight.

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence meme #sentence starters #prompts #rp prompts #writing prompts

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dvzaiosamu · 4 months

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just a rushed oneshot about osamu dazai, once again. This one is about how he was never happy; nothing could fill more his heart, for he will live forever in the solitude. But he has you, he does, but for him, it doesn't feel enough. Dazai x fem.reader. This has two parts.

tw: suicide, self-harm mentions, depression, not mentally stable, sensitive topics, blood mentions, ect...

song recommendation: the lobotomy by maebi and old doll, mad father.

parts: 1/2

note: In fact, I already had the oneshot for this post done... but, when I wanted to schedule its publication, an error occurred and everything I did was deleted, leaving only what you are going to read below. I literally cried :( I hate my fucking luck. I'm tired now so I won't be able to upload the second part, I'll upload it one day when I feel motivated.

A night with a single moon, a strangely bright starry night. There have never been as many stars as there are today, or at least not as visible as the ones he glimpsed. His heart gave small muffled beats, an audible sigh as he stared at his already fired gun. On the ground lay the body of a weakness that did nothing, was only pierced by a bullet in that dark street full of dangers where he, Osami Dazai called himself the boss of the dangers of those streets, a mere attempt to disconnect from his intrusive thoughts.

He knew better than anyone what was going through his mind; Thought after thought, tiredness once it was over and tired of life, a strangulating stone blocking his throat, a pain and suffering that this world housed him. How was he going to die? He tried and failed, he didn't succeed. In a weak attempt he rubs his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache... Thoughts or headache? Headache or thoughts? Not even he knew it. He was overwhelmed by the burden of living.

In the darkness he continued to find himself, a pool of blood was created in front, obscured by the poor lighting. He couldn't care less about the life of a citizen. He tried to hide it, drown out his thoughts by killing. He thought that if he killed he would be happier, that at least it would be a distraction to get rid of everything. It wasn't like that.

Darkness took over this night, giving it an eerie appearance. Osamu used to love nights like this, when he most enjoyed scaring and then shooting his victims without any remorse, without mercy. He was a cruel murderer.

On the other side you were, considerably far from the young man. You were at your house, a house shared by you and Dazai. It was spacious and quite cozy: it had simple windows that were covered at night by lowering the blinds, for the sole reason that people could clearly see what was going on inside. It was itself a two-story, two-bathroom, three-bedroom house with its own amenities, space, and beds. One of the rooms was yours, the other was Osamu's, and the third was guests'. On that same floor (upstairs) was one of the bathrooms, with all kinds of luxuries, but minimalist in its own way. On the ground floor was the living room with its respective large and long sofa accompanied by a rug, television, shelves for books on one side, some furniture to store things and that's it. Then you had the kitchen and dining room where you were currently, preparing today's dinner, eagerly waiting for your partner to show him another wonderful dish that you decided to prepare.

You finished cooking and preparing a copious table, and you waited, waited and watched the clock tick, with its sound memorized in your brain that repeated like a broken record: tick tock, tick tock...

He always came around the time you finished cooking and getting everything ready for a cozy night in for Dazai after hard work in the mafia. You were worried that something had happened to him, that maybe Mori had detained him a little longer until he finished his missions or that he had simply forgotten that you made him dinner every time he wasn't home, it frustrated you at an end that he had forgotten, but then it quickly melted into worry, you didn't know what to believe and you were confused.

"Why does he takes so long to arrive? It's been over half an hour now and I have no calls, texts or messages from him." The question stood out and resonated in your head: why? Why did it take so long? You sighed and let time move forward. "Guess I'm just going to call him."

Moving your hand to your pants pocket, you grab your phone, tap its screen, and deftly enter your phone's password. Biting your lip repeatedly, you nervously reach his profile and press the call button.

The phone vibrates as you wait for Dazai to answer on the other line, a characteristic sound as you wait impatiently: vzzzzzt. You wait a few minutes and the wait ends with a message: ‘Osamu has not responded.’ Your condition worsens and you press the ‘call again’ button. This time you will finally be able to witness how the young mafioso accepts the call. "Hello Dazai, are you okay? How are you?"

A short two-second pause, overwhelmingly giving off a bad vibe. "I'm fine, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to know where you are. I made dinner and you were nowhere to be found, and look, that's the time you always show up. Something happened?"

"You see... Maybe I dallied on the way home, but you don't have to be so desperate, I'm already on my way, it won't be far away," He explains to you on the other end of the phone, with a carefree voice, still maintaining his soft but icy tone. In the background you can hear his footsteps stepping on the asphalt.

"Well, I guess I'll wait until you get there... Take care, I love you," You hang up the call with a sigh.

Back to Dazai, the youthful mafioso, crude and indifferent. He was walking through some very dimly lit streets. The crickets sing while there is a silence so unusual that it seems pleasant to the ear. There was no wind or noisy people talking on those same streets, there was just him. He was alone.

On the way home, he repeatedly thinks about jumping off an icy water bridge he was passing over. He didn't know what else to do, he wanted to die but without pain, he wanted to die but without losing close ones and friends, he wanted to die but find a reason to live. There were only knots in his mind, he was tired. He thought about committing suicide once and for all with his gun, drinking poison on purpose... So many ways to die and so few possibilities of achieving it.

*sigh*

#bsd #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd headcanons #angst

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whalyrae · 1 year

Text

On the roof pt.1 | Niragi Suguru x gender neutral reader.

Word count : 2.4k

Trigger Warning : mention of school abuse, bullying, violence, death, maybe Niragi is ooc idk I did my best...

AO3 link

Author note : ok, I'm sooo nervous to post this...! this is the first time I post something on tumblr, it's no proofread at all and english isn't my first language so be kind please !

A second part will come, I don't know when, but there will be another part with... more action

Hope you'll like it...!

You were on the roof of the Beach. Thanks to Ann - you still don't know how she got there anyway - she managed to get a notebook, a pencil and an eraser, at your request.

Days at the Beach could be long and boring. Thankfully, you spent a lot of your free time in good company; Kuina was a lovely person, and even though Chishiya wasn't the most talkative, you managed to get along and have interesting conversations. Usagi and Tata were also very good companies. As for Arisu, you saw him as a big brother, you had the same centers of interest, the fictional universe as well as video games, you could talk about that for hours.

You were pretty well surrounded. But sometimes you felt the need to isolate yourself, to clear your mind. Living in this country was not easy, and every day was a tough and trying test for the physical, but also the mental.

The only thing that was able to relax you was drawing. Sometimes you isolated yourself on the roof of the beach, and you drew the landscape that offered itself to you, animals, you drew the portrait of your friends, or simply the first thing that crossed your mind. You were just alone with yourself, your thoughts, it wasn’t really healing, but for some hours, your only thoughts were turned to the strokes of pencils on this sheet of paper.

This time, you were drawing the pool beside you. There were a lot of people who were playing, dancing... having the time of their lives, like there's no tomorrow.

Your friends knew you had this habit of isolating yourself from time to time, and they respected that. However, today, someone you never expected came to disturb your moment of tranquility.

« Hey, what are you doing here? »

That male voice startled you, eliciting a laugh from the disruptor.

You had turned around to find yourself facing the right arm of the leader of the activists. The one everyone feared, always accompanied by his sniper taped to his shoulder.

Shoulder-length black hair, face and tongue piercings, a predator, ready to get rid of anyone who got in his way.

Suguru Niragi.

What was he doing here? What did he want from you?

« Saw you from the pool, so what are you doing here? He asked, approaching you, his free hand in his pocket. - I… hum, just drawing, you answered, showing him your notebook. »

He leaned slightly to take a look at what you were doing, then straightened up.

« Hm. It's not bad, he hummed, nodding his head. »

You looked up at him, surprised. Niragi giving you a compliment? It wasn’t something common. You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, a big smile appearing on your face.

« Really? Thank you! It's just a simple sketch I did it in less than an hour, and then I'm not excellent at all with perspective ... It has always been my weak point. I rather prefer to draw characters or animals... Ah, sorry, I have a bad habit of talking too much when it comes to drawing.... I can come down if I disturb here... »

He arched an eyebrow when he saw you get up, you didn't want to upset him or anything.

« You can stay. Just checked you weren't some weirdos who were up to something fishy. - Oh, thanks! »

You greeted him with a smile and saw him turn on his heels, already leaving. An idea crossed your mind. You knew it wasn’t good. Especially about him. You knew you were going straight into a wall, that he was going to snub you, probably insulting you. But your words went faster than your brain and your reason.

« Wait, Niragi! Can I … Can I draw you? »

He stopped. And you regretted immediately your request. He wasn’t that kind of type to just sit down and pose while someone drew him.

« I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Forget what I s- - ‘kay. »

You looked at him, again. You couldn’t hide your surprise, which made him laugh.

« I have nothing to do, my shift is over, and I’m kinda bored. Don’t fail me, though. - Don’t worry about that, you answered with a smile, showing him the last portrait you did, it was Mira taking her daily cup of tea, I don’t have many skills in life, I’m not beautiful, nor smart or even physically strong, but drawing isn’t a part of it! - What kind of bullshit are you saying. Seriously. He rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed, well. We’ll see. The result will decide whether you will live or not. »

Seeing your face decompose at his words, he bursts into a nasty laugh.

« Just kidding princess, relax. - Don’t call me like that. »

You frowned. You knew this request was useless, if he wanted to call you like that, he would, whether you wanted or not.

Minutes passed where none of you spoke. You were too focused on your drawing, he was probably lost in thought, or something like that. Niragi was similar to Chishiya on certain points. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, what his next words or actions would be.

« You were a drawer before landing here, right. - Hm? You looked up at him, nodding, I assisted a mangaka for the inking, yeah all that. My dream was to publish my own manga, one day, but… »

You let out a laugh, shaking your head.

« But what? Have you been refused? The world of drawing is as cruel as the world of video games, tho. - You were working for the video game's industry? - I was a game engineer. »

Wow. You were really impressed. You’d never thought that this man was doing something like that. Well, you never doubted that Niragi was more than that kind of person he was showing to everyone at the Beach.

Borderland was showing the worst side of every human. You weren’t an exception. You had to do things to survive. Things you shouldn’t regret, even if you did.

« Are we amazed, princess? He asked with a grin. - To be honest, yeah, I didn’t expect that from you, you answered, ignoring his surname, but you were wrong for something, I… you paused for a few seconds, and sighed, I’ve never submitted my project to any magazine or something. I never had the chance. »

You felt a gaze land on you. You looked up to meet Niragi's, but directly broke eye contact, shaking your head.

« It’s nothing, I’ve always been unlucky. »

You sighed.

« I agreed to hang around here with you while you draw me, you owe me few answers. »

He was kinda right. Even if he saw that those answers hurt you. This man didn’t really have any empathy ? Or maybe his need to know was hiding something else ?

Nice. Now you were curious.

« Fine, I’ll tell you. »

You rolled your eyes.

« I wasn’t that popular in High School, you started, focus on your drawing, sometimes, you gave him little glances, but only for your drawing, of course, my classmates loved to play with me. Hiding my class notes, my bag, my shoes, throwing food in my hair you know, like the teacher used to say… - Just children games, yeah, I know. »

You looked at him. Surprised. Was he… no, it was impossible. Niragi was so confident, so scary, so cool ? Yeah, despite everything about him, you always found Niragi kinda cool. Just like Chishiya, you admired his intelligence and self-confidence. He didn't care how people looked at him, what they thought of him.

So him ? Being bullied ?

« Niragi, you… - Shut up. Keep talking. - Fine, fine… So… I had this notebook, a pretty black notebook, which I’d decorated myself, all my ideas for my manga were there. It was a story in a fantasy world, all the ideas, the drawings about the world building, the chara design, the story was there… I had it since I was twelve. »

You took a small break. Those memories weren’t really that far. Maybe one year or two.

You inhaled deeply, without stopping your drawing. You had to stay focused on something. You felt Niragi's gaze on you, but you couldn't face it.

« Don’t know how this happened, but they found my notebook. One thing led to another, they reduced this notebook to ashes, your voice was shaking, like your hands, the pages torn, burned in front of me. All my life, all my dreams, hopes, flown, ruined. »

You made a pause, taking deep breath to not cry. You didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. In front of anyone. You didn’t want to be that weak person you were in the past ever again.

« It could’ve ended like this. But no. They didn't have enough. I don't even know why they were like that with me, why they hated me so much that they hit me with that belt and broke that glass bottle on my head. I never knew why. But they did. »

Your eyes were burning. You did your best to hold back your tears.

« I spent weeks in the hospital, I had broken ribs and head trauma. After that, I finished my studies at home. - What did they have, those assholes who did this to you ? He finally asks, his voice seemed calm, but he was angry. - Nothing, just some few hours of detention, I think. Never saw them again. »

You shrugged, and took a deep breath.

« You wanted to know, happy ? »

Your voice was more aggressive than you thought. It wasn’t against him. You were just angry about those bullies, about your High School who did nothing, against the whole world for having made your life so complicated and shitty.

You didn’t know what he was thinking right now, maybe you suspected that talking about it had probably brought back painful memories for him, and you suddenly felt bad for not thinking about it sooner. But he’d insisted that you talk, and you hadn't connected the dots about his own experience as you told. He would have stopped you if it was too hard for him, right ?

« I’m sorry if I brought back so bad memories… you started, nibbling your lips, ah, there, I’m done, you added, giving him your notebook, sorry for the vent, I know you don’t care about my childish stories. - Shut up. I care. I’m angry, and I want to kill those bastards for what they did to you. »

You stared at him, meeting his angry eyes. Again, like for you, it wasn’t against you.

« Did you… take revenge on them ? You dared to ask, biting your lip nervously. - No, I didn’t. - I’m… sorry. You whispered, you didn’t deserve to endure all of that, Niragi. - You didn’t deserve it, you too. »

Your tears ran down your cheeks without you controlling it. It was the first time you heard these words.

It wasn’t your fault.

You put down the notebook, and turned your head slightly, lifting your hair and showing him a long scar on the back of your head, and you heard curses, maybe too many curses.

« I have more on my body, that’s why I’m always wearing a jacket, you gave him a sad smile, wiping your tears, ah, and I’m crying now, amazing. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you a hug ! »

You chuckled and got up, tearing off the page containing his portrait, which you signed on the back before handing it to him.

« Take it, it’s a gift for thanking you. For this moment. It’s been a while since I hadn't spoked to someone who understood me… no, in fact, it's the first time ! Thank you very much, Niragi. »

You gave him the paper, and a warm smile appeared on your face.

You understood that he had gone through the same thing, too. The pieces of the puzzle had come together on their own. Why was he acting like this at the beach and with everyone.

He understood you. He was the only one who truly understood you.

Because he's been through all this shit, too.

That's why he made you talk, tell him what you had been through, why he didn't cut you off.

Why he didn't blame you.

Every person who heard this story did, the doctors, your parents, your therapist. In their eyes, it was your fault, you hadn't made enough efforts to socialize, drawing, videos games, dreaming about a fantasy world were weird hobbies.

You've been criticized more than once for not being "normal".

Your eyes had filled with tears that you couldn’t longer contain, your body had begun to shake, and you hated it for abandoning you like this, for being so weak, so vulnerable.

Why couldn't you be strong and brave like Niragi was? Why couldn't you fuck the world off, too?

You felt a hand land on your head. Your eyes looked up to meet his again, while he was patting your head. You knew Niragi wasn't the kind of guy to be good at reassuring, consoling or god knows what else showing affection, but he had done something. You felt your face heat up, but it didn't last long. Something else took place in your mind, a thought you had once had, but always suppressed it because you were ashamed of it.

In this world ? In the Borderlands ? Being ashamed for those kinds of thoughts had no place, because there were very few consequences.

Revenge.

« I… you began, voice shaking, not very sure of what you were about to say, I want them to pay for what they did, they don’t deserve to be happy too… - Say it, it was an order, you could feel his hand running gently through your hair, which surprised you slightly, what do you want, y/n ? - I want them to die, Niragi. »

You heard him chuckle before patting your head. As if he was satisfied with your words. As if he’d guessed that you had always wanted him deep inside.

Of course, he knew, he had been through the same thing as you after all.

Maybe this world poisoned you more than you thought.

#alice in borderland #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi fanfiction #niragi alice in borderland #niragi x you #niragi suguru x reader #niragi suguru x you #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland fanfiction #aib #aib x reader #aib fanfiction #aib imagines #aib x you #alice in borderland x you #imawa no kuni no arisu #imawa no kuni no arisu fanfiction

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fandom-junk-drawer · 5 months

Text

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 9

Geralt and Jaskier very quietly rearranged the living room. It was after 10pm, Yennefer had gone to bed about an hour ago, and it was go time. It was dark outside, the living room lit only by the little bit of light from the streetlights that managed to filter through the blinds.

There was some uncoordinated manuevering, a bit of stifled grunting, a little whispered arguing, and some quiet cursing when Geralt put the couch down on Jaskier's toe.

"Owowowow!"

"What?"

"My toe--it's on my toe! *lowercase squealing* "Motherf**ker!"

*quiet grunt*

After a few moments of quiet cursing, Jaskier deemed his toe only mildly squished, and they continued with their task. Several moments of arguing, grunting, and swearing at each other later, and the task was complete.

A waterproof tarp was very quietly unfolded and added to the arrangement, along with a few ropes threaded through the tarp grommets to add structural support and keep the tarp in place.

Now it was ready for the complicated part. They had to move fast. This stuff needed time to sit for at least 6 hours before they could use it, so it had to be finished before Yennefer got up.

Geralt sneaked outside and ran the garden hose through the living room and into the tarp-lined space between the couches.

The water was turned on and Jaskier poured in a bucketful of some mystery substance that Geralt had only heard about yesterday. He wasn't really one for keeping up with the latest and greatest, but this had grabbed his attention.

Once they had added the correct amount of 'fun stuff' to the water, Jaskier went back to bed, and Geralt went to Yennefer's room to make sure she didn't get up and discover their handywork.

Morning, and Yennefer, found them sitting in a swimming pool made of two couches and a tarp, and filled with thousands of water beads. They were eating cereal and watching Saturday morning cartoons.

Jaskier and Geralt turned to look at her as she came to stand beside the surprisingly well-designed construction.

Yennefer heaved a mental sigh. She supposed she should be grateful they were literally just sitting quietly and not doing something really f***ing stupid, like jumping off the roof. And at least they weren't naked. She noted they were wearing swim trunks. Thank the gods for small miracles.

"It's 8am on a Saturday. It's too d*mn early for this." she said.

"It's never too early for an orbeez pool party!" Jaskier replied haughtily as he shoveled sugary cereal into his mouth.

"Ugh, can't you two w*nkers ever act like normal human beings?"

"I can't," Geralt responded, "I'm not a human, I'm a Witcher."

"So what's your excuse?" Yennefer asked, rounding on Jaskier.

"He's an idiot."

"Excuse me!"Jaskier squawked indignantly, spraying cereal over the side of the 'pool'.

"You're excused, just try to work on yourself, maybe try not being a f**kwit."

"B*tch!"

"A**wipe!"

Your face is ugly!"

"Your mom's ugly!"

"GeRaLt!!!!"

Yennefer took herself off to the kitchen, leaving Geralt to deal with his bard's whining.

They spent all day lounging in the water beads. The only time one of them got out was to get another plate of pizza rolls, drinks, or to use the bathroom.

A wrestling match broke out close to evening when Geralt took the last pizza roll out of Jaskier's hand.

"You unscrupulous b**tard!"

Yennefer looked out of the kitchen, where she was trying out a new soup recepie, and saw Geralt holding Jaskier at arm's length, trying to keep the bard away from the last pizza roll he was holding.

"Give it back!"

Geralt shoved Jaskier's head under the water beads and shoved the pizza roll into his mouth. Jaskier surfaced with an indignant screech. He took one look at Geralt, who was chewing like a dog worried it's owner was going to take the food out of it's mouth, and tackled him.

They both disappeared into the multicolored beads. Yennefer wandered over to watch as they stood up, continuing to grapple and shove.

She was going to tell them to stop. Eventually. For now, she was going to enjoy the show. No way she was going to pass up the opportunity to watch two wet, bare chested, hot men roll around and put their hands all over each other.

Yennefer got a very nice full frontal view of Geralt when Jaskier pulled out the Dirty Fighting playbook and yanked Geralt's swim trunks down. Geralt immediately whipped around. Jaskier, who hadn't had time to stand back up and was still at crotch level, got smacked in the face.

Yennefer ugly laughed as Jaskier sputtered in shock. The look on his face was priceless.

Jaskier.exe has stopped working

She could practically hear the old AOL dial-up sound as his brain rebooted.

Jaskier stood there, a confused look on his face, trying to work out how he felt about getting slapped in the face with a d*ck.

New Kink Unlocked...?

He didn't have enough time to really process it though, because Geralt picked him up and flipped him over his shoulder, dumping him into the water beads.

Jaskier rose in a cascade of beads, arm raised. There was a sound like a gunshot, and Geralt jumped, stiffening up with a yelp. A red welt in the shape of Jaskier's hand glowed on Geralt's right a** cheek.

Jaskier saw the look in Geralt's eyes. Oh, he was f**ked.

"Now hold on a minute!"

Geralt growled, then hissed and started towards him.

"I-I barely touched you!" Jaskier stammered and started flailing to the edge of the pool as fast as he could, Geralt slogging towards him purposfully, like and unstoppable juggernaut.

Out of desperation, Jaskier considered all his options, and went with the most reasonable, logical, least ridiculous one.

He looked at Geralt and said sternly, "SPSPSP!"

It had zero effect, aside from earning him another hiss.

Jaskier slipped and flailed, trying to shuffle to safety, a naked, angry Witcher slogging towards him. Yennefer was laughing the entire time, but then realized her mistake. She had gotten too close to the edge of the couch, and now her laughter turned into a shriek of surprise.

Jaskier made a desperate leap and grabbed at Yennefer, trying to use her to help pull himself out of the pool. Geralt pawed at Jaskier, massive hands trying to find purchase.

The witch tried to run, but it was too late. Geralt managed to get a good grip on Jaskier, grabbed him around the waist, and gave a mighty heave.

Yennefer and Jaskier both screamed as they were yanked into the pool. Geralt was knocked off balance by the extra weight hitting him, and the three of them fell into the orbeez pool.

One of the ropes holding the pool together gave up the ghost, and the pool burst. Various exclamations of surprise were made as they spilled out of the pool, and the living room was flooded with thousands of orbeez.

They laid there for a moment, collecting their wits. Geralt and Jaskier sat in the middle of the destruction, looking stunned. Jaskier looked at Geralt and had the audacity to start giggling.

"You ar**hole!" Yennefer snapped, smacking him on the head, " Don't laugh! Look at this mess!"

She rose, brushing herself off. "Clean this up, now! And Geralt, put some d*mn pants on!"

They spent the rest of their evening finding every single last orbee.

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