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priniya · 3 days

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 BEFORE US! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. ollie bearman x webber!reader.

summary. a drunken encounter leads to a history straight out of rom–com, turning the world of a formula 2 driver upside down.

notes. reader tells ollie the plot of before sunrise. also, reader is said to be ollie’s age (kinda self-indulgent LOL) maybe part 2 of them meeting in spa? 😁

it was eleven in the evening, while you were having a good time on the streets of hungarian capital city. your actions were not exactly responsible as you were there with a friend of yours that you met online a few months ago. also, you weren’t exactly sure how you managed to strain away from your father and oscar. well, alright — there was a possibility that a train, a sweet smile and a promise to be safe were involved.

honestly, you don’t even know how you ended up in that small bar, but in the larger point of view, you were happy that you let lara drag you there. you already had a few drinks in, you were going back to your booth, when you accidentally bumped into a muscular, tall guy, spilling the drink on your white dress.

“shit, i am so, so sorry.” the boy — because you could easily notice that he must’ve been similar to you in age — spoke relatively slowly, probably out of kindness as he couldn’t tell if you were fluent in english or not. some would call it offensive, but you considered it slightly endearing that the boy tried to be as considerate as possible, knowing that not everyone in the world speaks english.

his face fell to your chest for a tenth of a second, a small cough escaping his lips, before his cheeks tinted pinkish from embarrassment that he even let himself be so blatantly disrespectful towards you. what made it even worse was that the once white dress became see-through.

“shit, shit, your dress. i– here, take this.” he stuttered, swiftly taking off his grey hoodie, letting you take a glimpse of his toned stomach for half a second as his shirt rolled up.

people around you two, suddenly stopped existing and maybe the alcohol you’ve consumed that night was at fault — or maybe it was the charming aura around him, but you honestly couldn’t care less. he was the only guy that wasn’t trying to harass you or make your night less fun and definitely more stressful.

“you shouldn’t apologise, it’s all my fault. i wasn’t paying enough attention.” your voice was loud, but yet still soft enough, so only the boy you bumped into could hear you. “i’m yn, my friend lara is there in the corner booth, do you… um, maybe wanna join us? so i can get you a drink for bumping into you?”

it might’ve been a risky move — he could always say no, laugh at you and go away, thinking you were the most embarrassing person in the entire bar. or he could think that you were a pretty cute, interesting girl that he’d like to spend a july evening with. and, fortunately for you, ollie introduced himself with a quick breath of relief (that he didn’t know he was holding), said that he’d love to join you and buy you a drink, but he was there with two other guys and one of the friends’ girlfriend.

so, upon hearing that, as a responsible human being, you… suggested that they should join you as well, because you really felt like getting to know ollie a tad better. upon hearing that he wasn’t there alone, you nodded with a small smile, before suggesting that it’s not really a big deal and that maybe the four of them would like to join you and lara, who wouldn’t have anything against it since she was a social butterfly, loving bigger crowds.

two and a half hour later, you ended up walking down the cobblestone pathway, while your newfound group of friends was a few steps ahead. lara quickly got along with kimi, eliska and gabriele, so you felt less guilty that you got so occupied in the endless conversation with ollie, slowly trailing behind the group. a month or two later, you were told by eliska that she saw the way you and ollie click and made sure you could get along.

you weren’t sure where the six of you were going, budapest was a gorgeous city, but keeping your eyes on bearman was pretty much enough. he had your arm hooked around his as you slightly started to stumble from the tiny gaps in the path. a giggle escaped your mouth as he whispered a really cheesy joke, his lips inches away from your ear. then, your drunken mind thought that you should come clean with the cute boy about why you’re actually in budapest.

“i have a confession.” you started quietly, your words barely above a whisper. ollie let you continue as he simply nodded. if you weren’t tipsy from all the strawberry daiquiris you had at the bar earlier, you would notice how his body tensed slightly, almost as if he was afraid of what you were about to say.

the first thing that came to his mind was that you had a boyfriend somewhere in monaco, while he was really getting a vibe from you that maybe you were interested in getting to know him as much as he wanted to get to know you. just half a second later came the thought that you knew who he was and it was just as awful. he hasn’t been in the spotlight of motorsport for a long time yet, but he was aware of how people’s perception on things change once they realise what he does, and he really, really didn’t want it to be the case with you.

“this is not something i usually tell people on the day i meet them, but you’re so genuine and so, so nice to me.” your words were coming off as rambling, though despite the lump in his throat, the prema driver couldn’t help but think that maybe he could live with the thought of you bumping into him on purpose if he could listen to your cute rambling for a few more minutes. “and i’m really enjoying spending time with you right now, and-and i don’t want you to think that i’m like a liar or something, because i really am not.”

“hey, breathe. whatever it is, i don’t think i’m gonna perceive you as a liar.” his quiet chuckle with a nervous undertone was enough for you to calm down a bit. his hand dropped to yours, squeezing it for a little more reassurance.

“that’s what i’m really hoping for.” you whispered, looking down at your jointed hands, a ghost of smile lingering on your face. “so, there’s this sport you might’ve heard of — or not, honestly if it wasn’t for my dad, i don’t know if i would, but — gosh, i’m sorry i’m rambling again. alright… there’s, um, formula one, right? i guess you know, because it is a big thing in england, i suppose.” oliver nodded once again, a pit in his stomach growing.

“the thing is… i’m in hungary for that exact reason. there was the grand prix this weekend and i came here with my dad, because, um… he’s a manager of, um, one of the drivers. oscar? he won today, yesterday, technically.”

ollie couldn’t believe what he just heard. he was so scared that you were pretending just to boast about hanging out with formula 2 and formula 3 drivers, while you were having an inner turmoil of your own, weighing pros and cons of telling him that you were the daughter of the mark webber. he could see the nervous expression on your pretty face and his heart swelled, knowing that in those two and a half hours of constant chatter he gained so much of your trust to be told that.

for other people it might seem like it was nothing, nevertheless ollie knew how much fake people you must’ve met in your life, who liked you for your father’s achievements and not you. god, for a moment he felt like crying.

“i was there too.” he gave you a shy smile. before you were able to overthink every possible scenario with the worst possible outcome, his smile widened, his hip gently nudging yours. “i’m racing for prema in f2.” he chuckled at your surprised expression.

bearman, as he was a tad more sober than you, could easily notice the weight falling off your shoulders, once you recognised him, quickly replaced by a blush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks.

“that’s why i thought i’ve seen you somewhere.” you muttered, scrunching your nose, gears in your brain working overtime. “i’m sorry, it’s— i haven’t really been up to date with formula 2. but i remember you from saudi, i wasn’t there, but my dad was really impressed. everything makes sense now, though.”

“no need to be embarrassed or anything, i’m glad neither of us recognized each other. you made me feel like a normal teenager for once.” he grinned down at you, your face matching his as he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer, but you couldn’t really complain.

you didn’t remember the moment, when your night turned into a reenactment of one of your favorite rom-coms — before sunrise. gabriele, kimi and eliska had to go back to their hotels, suspiciously at the same time, when lara’s curfew was coming. it was truly reckless for you to stay out with ollie till your train back to the place your father had rented for the four days stay in hungary. once you were alone, he made sure to keep you close to him at all times, so if an emergency occured, he’d be able to protect you.

“i feel like i’m in a movie.” your admission was soft as you slowly sat down on the grass in the park, the state of your white dress long forgotten as it’d be green once the sun was up.

“a movie you like?”

“my favorite one.” ollie smiled.

“tell me about it.” he suggested, plopping down next to you, uncorking the wine you two bought earlier in one of those 24/7 shops.

“it’s about two people that met on a train going across the europe.” you started explaining, ollie’s free arm slung across your shoulders once again, making you realize what his love language must be. “he’s american and she’s french, once they stop in vienna, he asks her to get off the train with him and walk around the town with him till he has to go to the airport, because it’s his last day in europe. she thinks it’s crazy, but she agrees and they spend the entire night together. nothing kubrick-esque happens there, all of the action happens during their dialogues. they share opinions and stuff. it’s kind of silly, but they end up in a park, too, with wine and stuff.”

“like us.” he commented, his eyes still lingering on your face as they were, while you were skimming over the plot of the movie.

“like us.” you repeated softly.

“so, what do they do in the park?” ollie asked another question, earning himself a small hum from you as you shifted closer, his thumb absentmindedly drawing shapes on your shoulder. your stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies as he asked all the right questions, made all the right moves, giving you all the right smiles.

“they kiss.” a whisper left your lips, tilting your head to get a better view of his face.

“they kiss.” it was the prema’s driver’s time to repeat the short sentence as you just nodded, noticing the way his eyes flickered to your mouth.

sweet silence embraced the two of you as bearman took his chance and leaned forward an inch or two, cautiously testing the waters. when you didn’t pull back, a smile tugged onto his face, before cupping your cheek with his free hand.

however, ollie didn’t kiss you for a moment that felt like eternity. his mouth just hoovered over yours, giving you a chance to back up, to show him that he read the signs wrong, but you didn’t. your eyes locked with his, before his lips were moving against yours in a sweet, gentle and almost tantalising manner. you couldn’t tell how long were you kissing for, but when the two of you finally pulled away, his mouth was tinted with the red shade of your lipstick, both with messed up hair and slightly swollen lips.

it was almost seven in the morning, while you were sitting at the train station with your hand clasped in ollie’s. the silence between you was truly the most comfortable thing in the world at the moment. budapest was slowly waking up in the background as you enjoyed his presence beside you.

“what do they do in the movie before they part ways?” he interrupted the silence.

“they promise to see each other in a six months time in the same place. they don’t exchange numbers or anything, though.” you recalled, wondering where was he going with this.

“and do they? meet, i mean.” he asked, already expecting the answer as you’d told him it was a trilogy.

“not in the set time. she can’t make it to vienna again, because her grandmother dies, but he does.” you nodded. “but they do meet each other again, eight years later, this time in paris.”

“good thing we’re not jesse and celine.” ollie joked, a grin tugging on your lips as you nod in agreement. “i do have your number, and we can see each other in spa on thursday, if you want to.”

“i do.” this time, you were the one to press a gentle kiss on his lips for a brief second as your train arrived. bearman just grinned back at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “i’ll see you on facetime then, and in belgium.”

ollie stayed for another five minutes after your train departed. his gaze dropping to the phone in his hand before he quickly sent you a message.

ollie: thank you for making this night amazing for me x

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper.

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching.

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake.

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug.

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him.

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you.

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.”

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching.

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise.

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with.

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves.

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him.

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully.

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face.

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.

“There a problem?” He asks.

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms.

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body.

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.”

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties.

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug.

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.”

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.”

“There you go again. Disrespectful.”

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion.

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts.

You blink, “you don’t know me.”

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.”

“I don’t want it,” you insist.

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts.

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone?

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks.

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again.

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you.

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe.

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him.

“Now smile,” he demands.

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day.

You force a smile.

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers.

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down.

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble.

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.”

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.”

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front.

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest.

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest.

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life. If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back.

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark.

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone.

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing.

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around.

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up.

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time.

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you.

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice.

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment.

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.”

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice?

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you.

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says.

You snort, “sure she did.”

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours.

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back.

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact.

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.”

Can be.

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?”

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...”

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner.

“I appreciate the ride but--”

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.”

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching.

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--”

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?”

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.””

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges.

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod.

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out.

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.”

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him.

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls.

“I can--”

“Just be careful,” he snips.

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better.

#destroyer chris #destroyer #chris x reader #series #bad guy #dark!destroyer!chris #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

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verstappentime · 2 days

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divorce verse for your wednesday <3 this is from after max & dan break up. (the rest of this verse is here) (the scene previous to this will get finished but this is what i have today <3) The first night Daniel’s gone, Max walks into a fucking wall trying to go to the bathroom.

It’s happened before, because his depth perception is awful and worse in the dark and worse sometimes than others, but usually he hits knee-first or something. Nope, just a wall right to the orbital bone.

It’s not something Daniel could have saved him from, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. Daniel’s not there to be woken up by his cursing a blue streak and ask if he’s alright, to sit him down and put ice on it and make him feel less pathetic.

His head is throbbing, in a normal person kind of way. He’s going to have a massive goose egg. He finally gets to the light switch, very, very carefully, and tempts himself to go down the hall with the promise of crying about it afterward.

It’s easier, with the bedroom light illuminating the way. He makes it there and back okay.

He needs to not call Daniel, but he’s groggy and worked up and he gets confused at night and– he’s just going to lose it if he can��t talk to someone.

Daniel picks up on the first ring. He must still have Max excluded from do not disturb. Must be sleeping with the ringer on.

“I walked into the wall,” he says, before Daniel can get anything out.

“What?” He can hear Daniel sitting up, sheets rustling. He should be scolding Max for calling in the middle of the night. He doesn’t. “Are you hurt?”

“I hit my head. Or, like, my face. Both.” Max touches where the bruise is forming on his head. He kind of forgot what hurt that’s not coming from the inside feels like. He pokes it again. He’s lucky he hit on bone, probably, and that it wasn’t a corner and he’s not bleeding. “I don’t know,” he says, voice cracking.

“Okay.” Daniel’s all calm. This kind of stuff never bothers him. Max wants him to be here. “You sound alright. You weren’t, like, running, right? Do you have a headache?” “No. I think– I think I am okay.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, just to see how bad it hurts. “This is shit, Daniel.”

“We need to get you some of those lights you can turn on with your voice, yeah? I’ll look in the morning.” We. He’s going to have to stop that. Not right now.

“I can– I’ll do it.”

“I’ll remind you, then. What do you want to do right now?”

“I don’t know,” Max says again. “I don’t want to get up again.” He presses his knuckles to his teeth, something awful in his chest. “I feel shit that I called you already.”

“I don’t care. It’s good you did. I was scared that you wouldn’t. Makes me feel better.” Daniel pauses. “Not that I’m like, glad you walked into a wall.”

“It sounds very stupid when you say it out loud.” He knows it’s his fault, but he can’t help it: “What am I going to do? Just call you always?”

“You can, baby.” Daniel never tells him no. Daniel let him leave because he never tells him no. “You have other people, though. They’ll be happy to answer. You can call your mum or Victoria or Charles. But also me, if you want to.”

Max wants Daniel to tell him that’s unfair. But the idea of being cut off from the only person that really knows what it’s like for him makes him want to throw up. Charles would laugh at him for this one, even though he wouldn’t mean to. Max says, “I think I want to go back to sleep.”

“Good idea. You want me to stay on?”

“No. That will be very boring for you.” Max lays down, turning over on his side, his back to where Daniel should be. “Are you sleeping too?”

“Yeah, Maxy, I’m going to.”

“Okay. Then we will both go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Daniel says, all gentle. “I’m going to text you tomorrow, okay? It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me after that. But I’ll remind you about the lights and ask about your face.”

“That’s fine.” He can’t know if he’ll remember, and he really does not want this to happen again, and– and now he knows for sure he’ll hear from Daniel tomorrow.

There’s a beat where neither of them know what to say, but Daniel’s the bravest and he says, “I love you. Goodnight.”

“I– Me too, Daniel.” He can’t lie. Not about that.

#maxiel #maxiel fic #my fic #divorce verse #happy fp1 eve eve

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oscconfessions · 22 hours

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Now that the askbox is back open and it has been a couple weeks:

The II twist is good and you all are misinterpreting it

When Steve Cobs said 'Mephone didn't just make the show, he made you' he means that Mephone created the contestants as real living people of whom are equitable to original characters

This means YES you CAN SHIP MEPHONE WITH HIS CONTESTANTS as that's just like you shipping yourself with your oc.

THIS ACTION THAT MEPHONE DID WAS SOMETHING HE DIDN'T REALIZE HE WAS DOING. He unintentionally created the contestants with his powers. This is why when he is asked by Cobs 'Why (he) did it', he responds with a very confused sounding '...What?'. That means he didn't put thought into their flaws and attributes, all of those things were unintentional.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, THIS MEANS THAT ALL THE CHARACTERS ACTIONS ACTUALLY DO MATTER. They all ARE real people. The show IS REAL. Just because Cobs told them that Mephone created them doesn't mean that they are not real in universe.

ANOTHER THING!!! WHEN COBS IS TALKING ABOUT MEPHONE AS IF MEPHONE IS A CHILD, THIS IS A TACTIC USED BY ABLEIST PARENTS TO MAKE THEIR ADULT CHILDREN SEEM AS IF THEY NEED TO BE CONTROLLED BY THEM. THIS IS LITERALLY AN ABUSE TACTIC. Yes there are people who do need to have support from their parents but Mephone4 has been proven to be able to function without the help of Cobs. That being said, IF YOU BELIEVE MEPHONE IS A CHILD, YOU ARE BEING MANIPULATED BY STEVE COBS TOO!!! YOU ARE BELIEVING HIS LIES!!! Yes, Mephone4 has done actions that are very immature, but, get this, Mephone4 is very developmentally disabled!!! It's literally shown to be a trait of his throughout the entire show!!! He can't do the things other Mephones are able to do while at the same level as them! Mephone4 is developmentally disabled, and Steve Cobs is using that flaw to make it seem like he's a child, WHICH HE IS NOT, in order to gain control over him.

Now, onto my theory for the next part of ii16;

Cobs will use this information against Suitcase and Knife. Cobs will most definitely make it seem like Mephone has been lying to them all this time about the competition. Cobs will most definitely try to manipulate them to get what he wants; control over the show and therefore Mephone4's actions. Now I know for sure Knife will not get this easily swayed by Cobs; Knife's entire arc in season 2 has consisted of trying to get people to stop being manipulated by others. Suitcase however... as strong as she has been throughout the season and as strong as she's slowly gotten, I am still unsure on whether or not she'd be able to see through Cobs. Part of me believes that she'd immediately believe him and decide that the only good way things can 'end' is if Cobs has control over Mephone4.

Anyways. Really needed to get this off my chest bc Jesus mcfucking christ ppl's media comprehension is TERRIBLE!!!!!! Go outside and touch some grass!!!!!

thank you anon for saying what needed to be said-📻

#confession #/ii #/ii/mephone4 #/ii/steve cobs #the truth

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rosenclaws · 9 hours

Note

Hi!!! I love your writing so much <3<3

I was wondering if you had any thoughts about taking Leopold's virginity? Because I saw you mention that you think he might be a virgin :))

HI YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS!!

This is with an afab!reader who is not a virgin in mind but no pronouns are used.

warnings: MINORS DNI!! oral (m and f receiving), soft sex, leo being a bit of a switch/sub

Leopold’s first time headcanons

Okay so Leo is a virgin but because he’s a prude or because there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with him. I mean damn the first scene of the movie is girls basically fawning over him lol. I think he views sexual intimacy as something that needs to be cherished.

It should be something romantic. A true, deep connection between two people who have given their hearts to each other and Leo has never felt that way until you.

When it comes to Leo’s first time I think there's a lot of lead up. Like a nice dinner and a bath together maybeee. Candles, I mean the whole thing.

Its slow and sweet and a little awkward but the kind of awkward that makes the two of you laugh in each others arms.

You 100% suck him off to start. I mean he’s gorgeous, so pretty and handsome that he deserves to get his dick sucked u know what I’m saying.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands at all. Like he doesn’t know if he should touch you, touch himself. They keep moving. First they’re gripping the sheets, then they’re above his head clenching into fists, and finally you guide his hands to the sides of your head. Winking as you pick up your pace.

He also is a little loud. He tries at first to suppress his noises but he can't help it. His moans are heavenly. So desperate. He whimpers too btw. Like 100% that is a man who whimpers.

He doesn’t last long. Look Leopold is no stranger to. Getting himself off but this is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. So warm and wet and your hands are on his thighs and its a sensory overload that he can’t help but come hard in your mouth.

Even though it's his first time he really really wants to go down on you. He wants to make you feel good so badly. To make you moan because of him.

He's a little hesitant at first, not sure what to do but after some coaxing he dives right in. At first you think he's a dirty fucking liar about never doing this before because holy shit he is filthy without even trying.

Sloppy and wet and needy as hell as he buries his face in your cunt. He listens eagerly to all your instructions. What you like, what you don't like. He plans on studying you until he remembers every little thing that drives you insane.

HE LOVES TO BE CALLED A GOOD BOY!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He has a praise kink too. Loves to talk about how wonderful you are, how good you taste, how lucky he is. Oh my god call him a good boy and tug on his hair and he's a fucking goner.

"Such a good boy, so pretty."

He loves eating pussy btw. Like he's can't help himself and slowly humps the bed as he feels himself start to get hard again. He could live between your thighs.

Anyways when it comes to actually having sex you ride him for the first time. Wanting to give him nothing but pleasure. He watches with wide eyes as you sink down on his cock. He needs a second to just process it all. His arms wrapped around you, face buried in your chest as he slowly rolls his hips.

It's slow for the first time. You just riding him nice and slow as you whisper sweet things into his ear. He can't stop telling you how much he loves you. How happy he is. He can't get enough of you, especially when you moan his name. (He's def whimpering again)

After a little bit he'd switch positions to be on top. Missionary but he's got one leg hooked on his shoulder. His hips move slow but get harder with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back with every thrust and it turns him on a little more.

He's kissing every bit of skin he can while he's making love. He loves your neck. The whole experience is just overwhelming to him. It's amazing and wonderful but overwhelming. Every one of his senses are being overloaded with you and he can't get enough.

He makes sure you finish before he does of course. Asking you in a desperate tone what you need and how he can do it for you. Begging you to finish because he's going to explode soon.

"Please, please my love. Tell me what to do. Need to feel you."

When he finishes he (reluctantly) comes on your stomach, rolling over onto his back for a minute. He needs to catch his breath, a smile on his face that won't go away. He just feels completely blissed out.

When you try to move he stops you, wanting you to stay comfortable as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. Kissing every inch of you as he does so. Thanking you for this and telling you how much he loves you. He just can't help himself.

He falls asleep pretty quickly after. Holding you close in his arms as the exhaustion takes over.

It's a pretty soft and sweet first time, fueled by love. Leopold is gentle and kind and I think this is the perfect time to for him to show that in a more intimate setting.

Anyways I am obsessed with Leopold he deserves the world okay ty!!!

#leopold mountbatten x reader #hugh jackman x reader #kate and leopold #leopold mountbatten #leopold mountbatten smut

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half-oz-eddie · 2 days

Text

I do not want to do discourse but I am quite tired so feel free to scroll past this or ignore it idc

First and foremost I do not care if other positivity projects exist. They can exist in unique ways for unique reasons. It's a beautiful thing. I'm sure people love what they do and they're doing it for fun. Personally? I love what I do. A normal amount. And I do it my own way. Kinley Café is my heartbeat and it's always been a project that I deeply enjoy and that I am passionate about. I ask for nothing in return except the chance to touch other people's lives and make them smile by sending out your orders.

I am so comforted by the amount of love and support I receive. It's motivating and has helped me through difficult times. I have been so distracted spreading joy that I've basically breezed through what is usually the most difficult month of my life.

And yet. And yet!! I have been reported as spam so the café does not come up in searches (it's limited/partially shadowbanned I guess you can say. I constantly worry that this affects people getting notified when they receive treats because I want them to know someone is thinking of them. But I have been communicating with Tumblr about it, so don't worry too much). I have received phishing links in DMs and on the order form. And more recently, a password protected blog that hasn't had any activity in 40 days receives nearly a dozen notifications out of the blue because of a months old post circulating as some sort of gotcha, and I find out someone is telling people that I copied an idea (from myself btw) and sent out anons trying to encourage people to call me out over...stealing my own idea?

And I don't wanna hear "they didn't know it was me" because nobody asked me shit! I didn't show anybody any disrespect. In fact, I was being supportive! I showed love! I took the time out to make something because I wanted to continue to encourage the spread the positivity.

And yet, people made accusations even though I was being kind? Do you want a trampoline since you like fucking jumping to conclusions?

KC has been open for FIVE weeks. And I've dealt with all this in a short period of time for absolutely no reason. I've been nothing but kind and supportive of others. I genuinely and sincerely try my best.

I don't wanna let this taint something beautiful or let anything discourage me from doing this again. But I swear to god.....this shit is getting really annoying and bringing out the worst in me. lmao why am I fighting for my life during this little hiatus? I'm dedicating my free time to creating things, and collaborating with others just to spread love and kindness. I don't want anything but peace and quiet.

What's next? Do I have to keep dealing with dumbassery? Or can I go back to sending out treats and going on about my fucking business? Because I do not have time for this. I do not want all this static!!!

I've turned off reblogs. If you want to talk to me privately that's fine but this has been a little overwhelming and I just wanted to get this off my chest.

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rahuratna · 2 days

Text

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most.

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars.

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times.

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

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fleurrreads · 2 days

Text

pretty little rich girl

pairings: benny cross x fem!reader

warnings: some unwanted comments, bit of angst, happy ending(?)

author's note: based on this request! honestly don't know how i feel about this one, i might write more for them in the future.

Benny has seen many girls in his lifetime, but none of them have downright turned his world upside down. Until he met you. It was supposed to be just another night at the bar, until you walked in. All pretty in a little dress, pearls around your neck. You look expensive. Benny's eyes follow you until you sit down, probably with a friend. He steps closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You sit down with a huff, "Where did ya bring me, Kathy? Ya hang out 'round here?" You look around wildly at the bikers crowding the little bar. Kathy laughs. "Don't worry, darlin'. They won't do anythin to make you uncomfortable or somethin'. They're good people." Kathy finishes, looking over your shoulder, spotting Benny standing a few metres away. She smirks, "Okay listen, I'm gonna go get us some drinks, you want a pop? I'll get ya a pop." Kathy rambles, before walking off to the bar, leaving you alone. You look around warily, the bikers closest to you looking at each other, then at you, and then laughing among themselves. You look down, fiddling with your fingers. 'Hurry up Kathy' you thought to yourself, and a split second later someone sits down in Kathy's chair. But it's not Kathy.

You look up, seeing the prettiest blue eyes and you nearly gulp. Holy shit you think as you let your eyes travel the stranger up and down. He's gorgeous. The stranger looks in a daze, as he crosses his arms over his chest, muscles on full display. Before you say anything, he speaks and you think you could melt right there.

"I'm Benny." he says, his face nearly in a pout. You nearly laugh, the situation being so unorthodox. "I'm y/n. And you're sittin' on my friend's seat." you say, making him throw his hands up in feigned innocence. "Really? I didn't know. My bad, darlin'." He says in a husky voice, his eyes never leaving you.

You smile, "Yeah, but listen I gotta get home, so it was nice meetin' ya, but i gotta get goin'." You stand up, not bothering to look for Kathy, you'd call her later. Unbeknownst to you Benny gets up and follows you outside. As you make your way to the door you hear whistles and calls, making your stomach turn. One comment made you stop in your tracks. "Look at this pretty little rich girl, playin' where she doesn't belong." one of the bikers said, and you frowned.

Yes, you were from a wealthy family, but that doesn't make you just a rich girl. You have ambitions, you have dreams. You can be something other than a rich girl too.

You shake your head, pushing past people as fast as you can, trying to calm the tears that are threatening to spill. As soon as you get outside you take a cigarette from your bag, and sigh. "For fuck sakes. Where's my damn lighter." you grumble, emotions on high. Benny walks up to you, lighter in hand. Without saying anything he brings the light to your face, to your cigarette. "Thanks" you mumble, taking a drag.

You just want to go home. The past hour you've been here has probably taken three years off your lifespan. You sigh, kicking around a rock with your polished shoes. You would be able to enjoy this life, the freedom that comes along with it, if it weren't for people and their stupid comments. You'd finally find a place where you belong. Because it certainly wasn't with the rich kids. They always thought you were weird for having dreams like moving to a farm and building a life for yourself. Or moving to California to surf and working at a surf shop. That's why that guy in the bar's comment frustrated you. If you didn't belong at home, and you didn't belong here, then where do you belong? Benny clears his throat, you jump, forgetting that was there.

"Y'know, they didn't mean it like that. What they said back there. They 'just never seen a girl like you in our bar." he says, as if reading your mind. You scoff, taking another drag from your cigarette. "Yeah whatever, I don't really care. Probably won't see 'em again anyway. But you have a good evenin', Benny. It was delightful meetin' ya." You stomp out your cigarette, walking to the bus stop.

Benny offers you a ride home, because of course the busses don't run at 2am anymore. So you give him your address. As Benny takes a turn into your street you think of how vastly you differ from him. Him in his dirty leather jacket, his hair unwashed for probably a while, and his grease stained shirt underneath with his leather boots. To you, a girl polished by her parents to embody elegance, even though you were far from it. A white dress, pearls probably worth more than his bike, shoes polished and your hair neatly in a bow. A doll. A doll standing on a dangerous cliff, ready to jump down to whatever world Benny was involved in.

Benny pulls up to your house, and he takes a moment to study your house. A double story house, white picket fence, gorgeous porch running around the house. You were rich. He hears you sigh as you get off the bike, and he blurts out a question. "You wanna go to a meetin' with me tomorrow?" He looks at you, pretty dress now stained from sitting so close to him on the bike. He quite likes it. Him tainting your pretty little life. He can sense that you might like it too. You smile, "Yeah, why not. I don't have anythin' goin' on anyway." you nod, making your way to the white picket fence surrounding your house. You look back at him, his eyes sparkling with something you've never seen before.

"Well goodnight, Benny." you wave, making your way to your door.

"Goodnight, princess." Benny hums, leaning against his bike. Yeah he likes you, a lot. He's not going to let you slip out of his fingers. He's already obsessed with you. His princess.

Six weeks later, you married him.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

#fleur's blurbs 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 #benny cross x reader #benny cross x fem!reader #the bikeriders

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k-aalia · 2 days

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Breathtaking

Joey knows it's bad manners and probably distasteful. Really, he does.

Despite what others may think, he really is a gentleman. Tries his best to be, at least.

Unfortunately, his mouth has always run quicker than his brain. Usually it just gets him into a bit of trouble he can't talk his way out of, but every now and then it just leaves him embarrassed and humiliated in front of pretty people.

He will not let this be a repeat of that situation though. Not when the girl who's grabbed his heart is the most gorgeous, ethereal woman that he has ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon.

Especially not when she's Seto Kaiba's fuckin' personal assistant.

It's not often Joey comes to KaibaCorp -- okay, he never comes to KaibaCorp -- but Yugi had invited him along for one of his weekly matches with the man himself.

And for the first time in his life, Joey just cannot focus on the game playing out in front of him.

Not that seeing Yugi and Kaiba duel isn't always some sort of spectacle -- and these days, filled with so much innuendos and flirting it's like watching a particularly captivating trashy TV show -- but no matter the dramatics or the plot twists, Joey's attention is firmly held by the pretty woman sitting next to him in the spectator stands.

Kisara, Joey knows her name is after hearing Kaiba bark commands at her. Silky white hair flowing over her shoulders and curling round her pale face. Her eyes are a beautiful sparkling blue, intensely focussed on the laptop sitting on her knees.

"Hey, how's it going?" Joey says to her and fights the urge to wince.

Really? That's the best he can do?

Kisara blinks and turns her head to face him, concentration broken as she looks at Joey like she's only just realised he's there.

"Oh, hi. I'm just working," she tells him with a quick smile and fuck is it breathtaking.

She turns back to her laptop and Joey curses silently as he realises he'd missed the opportunity to say anything more, too captivated by her stupid pretty smile and now if he tries again it's gonna be awkward and god, what if he makes her uncomfortable?

Kaiba and Yugi's duel finishes soon after and Joey practically runs up to Yugi to try and escape his spiralling thoughts. The two of them are halfway to the door when Kaiba grabs his arm and pulls him back.

Joey whirls around, a taunt on the tip of his tongue. What's wrong, rich boy, want me to beat your ass too?

But he stops when he sees Kaiba's sneer.

"Don't hit on my assistant." He warns "Kisara is too good for a mutt like you."

Joey feels himself flush, pulling his arm out of Kaiba's grip.

"Fuck off man, I was just being polite!" He snaps back.

Seto's sneer falters slightly as he narrows his eyes, looking Joey over like he's some fun new puzzle to solve.

"At least wait until she's off the clock. I can't have you distracting her."

Seto stalks off before Joey can get another word in, Kisara at her bosses side in an instant. Despite recieving Kaiba's blessing -- which he didn't want or need, by the way -- Joey is almost certain it's not gonna do him any good anyway. Kisara is way out of his league, as usual, and totally not interested in him. As usual.

Joey suspects he has a type.

But just when he thinks he's done for, Kisara looks over his shoulder to shoot him a wink and a smile.

Oh. Joey thinks, heart beating so fast it could burst from his chest. I'm totally in love.

#yugioh #yugioh dm #ygo dm #joey wheeler #kisara #drabble #backboneshipping #first post on this acc and its for the rarest lf rare pairs

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ninyard · 2 days

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i am a BIG supporter of create what you want for your own joy, so absolutely do what you would like to do for the trial!! no one should be pressuring you to do it a specific way unless that’s how you Want to do it.

but if you were asking about what we’d like… personally i would love to see the whole trial as much as possible (i really don’t want you to overwhelm yourself) especially for higgin’s and nicky’s parts!! i like when we see more than just Big Main Parts, especially bc you flesh it out so well <3 sometimes it’s even more hard hitting when it’s Not from the people we expect, you know?

also, thank you for making the socmed aus!! they make me giggle and kick my feet every time, and also wail in agony and clutch at my chest… you have the range <3

GOD i wrote a whole long ass response to this and i didn't realise until too late that my phone was going to die </3 and it died </3

But it was something along the lines of I'm really glad that the general consensus seems to be to do all five days of the trial, or however many days it ends up being, from start to finish. For me personally it'd feel unfinished if I skipped parts just to get to the ~interesting~ parts, and I think if I'm going to make something like this then I want to show it all.

It's not this deep, but I guess it's like... It's fucked up. People are making memes about a murder trial involving rape and other things that are just not funny at all. And skipping parts just to get to "GOD NEIL IS SO CHAOTIC ON THE STAND" or whatever feels,,, insensitive? Unjust?? I don't know

but people are also doing that shit in real life. About real people, real trials, with real victims and real perpetrators. Sensationalising trials just because it's a celebrity on the stand, or it's an "interesting" murder trial or whatever. People are making memes and jokes about them. And people are making their own minds up about the verdict because of it. I want to show people who think Aaron's guilty because of something the cop who arrested him said. I want to show people who think Andrew is an unreliable witness because of something Higgins says, somebody who thinks Aaron isn't guilty because a forensics team mentioned something about the crime scene that they don't think sounds right. I want to make this from the outsider view on the publics reaction to a trial, and specifically people who almost idolise Aaron, or Kevin, or Neil, or Andrew. People who don't see them as human, but as celebrities, as people who are supposed to be perfect. People who see a trial like this and think, "it's okay for me to make jokes about this, or to post about this, because they're just famous people. They're not like real people to me."

People are at home becoming twitter lawyers and making up their minds based on what they read or see online, and it almost separates the reality of the situation from the "characters" that people create out of defendants and victims. You see people hopping on bandwagons or hate trains or whatever when it comes to these kind of public trials. People making clips of something "funny" a lawyer or witness said for the sake of content. People making temporary celebrities out of the judge and jury and legal representation. For what? For likes?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to show the different sides of how people actually react to trials like this without becoming insensitive to the fact that trials like this,,, do actually happen. But by making a fan tweet a joke about murder, I'm making that, I'm thinking of the words that go into the tweet. So it's tough. And again I know it's not that deep, but that's kind of... most of the reason why I've been putting it off? Because it's hard. It's hard not to feel like it sensationalises those kinds of things. It's hard not to feel like "God, am I just making fun of this situation here?" while also being reminded that yeah, maybe, but people actually react like that.

So is it worth the tumblr post to make memes and tweets out of something that happens irl, and affects real people? Is it insensitive, or is it just fandom stuff that isn't perceived in an insensitive way at all, because it is just that, a fandom post?

#sorry that's way too much #but idk!!!#i dont want it to feel like some true crime sort of thing #where people don't care about victims for the sake of their podcasts or audiences or content #but the truth is that people actually /do/ that #and make a joke or a story out of something like this #idkidkidk #but i guess fandom stuff doesn't have to all be pleasant and a 'good' post #to be something worthy of making #who knows #i hope this comes across how i intend for it to #tldr; i want to make it and i will but i worry that it's insensitive but i also want it to be realistic to how people actually react irl #ask #i appreciate you and your words<3 and for recognising how overwhelming something like this can be lol

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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 2 days

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Yesterday i got the craziest message out of the blue .. My ex bf from 2011-2013's other ex gf who he was with before me hit me up to say that he got arrested?? And that her and like 5 other people are pressing charges against him for assault spanning across all different periods of time.. it's really wild idk how to feel. She said if i feel comfortable i can give my own testimony for when they go to court , even tho i dont live in england anymore.. Im like yeah honestly i will because like this dude is so unrelentingly violent and scary he legit almost killed me it was so extreme, i've known a lot of corrupt ppl but he is the only one i've always thought needs to be locked away from society like it's a murder scene waiting to happen not to mention he is just a straightup rapist

it's crazy too cus like 4 or 5 nights ago i had a dream that me and him and the girl who messaged me were all watching videos of ourselves in that time period like i even posted about it on here. i thought it was just a typical trauma processing dream not an actual premonition of something i would have to revisit irl

She said something about how she'd been looking back in her old fb messages with him to help paint a picture of the timeline so out of morbid curiosity today i checked to see if i still had ours. Sure enough i do, i've never looked at them retroactively before, but holy shit like... He is so much more of a monster than i even remembered, i dont get triggered easily anymore but it genuinely hurt my heart to see how horrible he was. Every conversation is just him snapping at me because i didnt respond to him fast enough or something so minor, and the whole time im just trying to apologize and de-escalate but it makes him more and more furious. the day before i was about to fly to london to move back in with him he was threatening to kill himself because i was going to my friends house to say bye to them. He was like "You're going to a party i just know it you're lying to me you'd never tell me you're really going to a party because you know i'm suicidal you've ruined my night you're a piece of shit" Like this was the NIGHT before i was about to leave everything behind just for him

i'm like rly shocked at everything i saw in that convo today im not even scratching the surface with this post. Anyways i guess it's cool that there is some justice happening right now and the people who survived him have been able to band together to try and ensure he can't hurt anyone else in the future. i rly wish none of us ever had to go thru any of that tho ugh i was so young i just really had no idea and it fucked me up for many many years afterwards. ive come a long way tho .

ill probly delete later cus idk who lurks this blog. i prefer not to show weakness :K But yeah.. just wanted to express this crazy unexpected life event and get it off my chest while its fresh

Peace and love !!!

#maybe trigger warning for ppl who hsve been in abusive relationships idk #ultimately i think it is triumphant tho..

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rumeysawrites · 3 days

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INTERDIMENSIONAL BOOK 1: SEARCH FOR THE LEGENDARIES (CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW)

Chapter 1: Rosena #1

---

It was silent.

No noise of any cars passing by. No more of the sleep-talking of my siblings across the room. Not even the sound of the crows that lived on the single tree across the street.

It was all silent. Peaceful and nerve-wracking.

Except, the noisy thoughts, filling my head again. Thoughts I didn't want to deal with at that moment.

They made it impossible to close my eyes.

I had my final tests these two weeks. I had to rest up and prepare for them. Had to get high enough scores to leave this one. Possibly this place as a whole even.

But did I really have to leave?

Everyone left after all. Ella, Sky, even Tom...sort of. Why couldn't I?

Because it hurt? Or was it just my stubbornness?

I didn't know. Honestly, didn't want to think about it either.

I instead peeked my head through the covers, hugging Lily and Poppy close to my chest.

It was still kind of dark outside, but some of the early morning light came through, strong enough for me to notice.

I took my medallion out of my shirt, feeling its slight coldness. Then I held it out. The blue gem on it lightly shone, the same color as outside. It was beautiful, and felt cool, refreshing even.

I sighed.

Anytime now-

"Rose! Mira! Mather! Wake up kids! You're gonna be late for school!"

-She could cone...

It was my mom, Susane Freze.

Her impatient voice came from nearby. Too nearby actually.

I immeditially buried my head under the covers, as the door creaked open.

I shifted slightly, trying to hide my face.

I was already awake. Had been for awhile.

I was going to try and conince her that I couldn't to go to school today. I didn't want to. Exam days were one thing, I didn't have the energy or the patience for two more weeks besides them.

After all... What was the point?

What was the point in trying and thinking things can be different, better even, when they didn't?

Everything was going to be the same. Those people, my classmates, "friends" even, were going to act the same way.

"I know you're awake, Rose."

I didn't respond. Maybe pretending to be sick would help convince her?

"Rose, I know it. You moved!" She repeated, and pulled my covers off my head.

"Noo! Please-"

My protests didn't work, as I had to try hiding my face with my stuffed animals, and stay still. Sadly, Poppy and Lily were too small, and she found me out.

"Good morning, Rose." Mom said in a quieter voice. "You get up and prepare. And I'll wake up the twins."

I weakly smiled and raised my head. Could a fake sneeze help?

How do you fake sneeze?

"Good morning too." I said with a yawn. "Can I....um...?"

Before I could speak another word, mom had moved over to my siblings' bunk beds.

"Mira! Mather! Mira!!! Mather!!!"

"Uhh...you gotta leave him, Ivy. Hmmnm! Do it for yourself!...."

"Ollie! Defend the tower!"

They won't wake up that easily. They're lost in TVland and Gameland. I can take sometime when she's busy with them, and...

I let my head fall back to the pillow.

The effects of sleeplessness always settled in when I least wanted. Why did it wait to weigh in until I made the slightest attempt of getting up but not when I was trying to sleep?

"Coming..." Mira's drowsy response came. "After sis..."

No you did not!

"But Rose already-" My mom stopped. Her voice came from closer again. "Rose! You've to get up!"

"I'm not feeling well." I weakly said and tried to add realistic coughs.

"I see that." She said in a mix of tiredness and understanding in her voice. "You can rest and take your test tomorrow maybe?"

Test? What test? It was on Monday! Wasn't that- Today was supposed to be free! It's... It's Monday? Stupid me!

"I'll handle it." I said as weakly, as I threw myself out of the bed and got to preparing.

When I returned, I grabbed the clothes for my uniform from the top of the chair I left them on, and waited.

Mather wasn't up yet!

At least it sounded like Mira was going to shake him awake.

"Brooo! Wake up! Wake! Up! Bro! Wake!!! Up!!!"

"Ahhh! Alright alright sis." My brother yawned. "It's still early."

"Yeah. We've got the math test today!"

"...Can't we have it tomorrow?"

"I wish!!!"

No. Let's just get this over with. Please...

"But we can't." I sat back to my bed. "So can you let us dress up?"

"Fine!" Mather climbed down his bed, grabbed his clothes and left, as I also got to prepare in peace.

But I forgot a small detail. By "small detail" I mean my little sister's presence.

"You don't seem okay sis?" She asked, too close to my face for comfort. "What's up?"

"O-oh nothing! Nothing!" I backed away, hiding ny medallion under the cream white shirt of my uniform.

"It's not just tests, right?"

"They're not." I said with a deep sigh, hoping she'd stop prying. "I'm just...tired."

But of course, like most younger siblings I knew, she didn't.

"Oh! what's tiring you so much?" She pressed. "Your friends? Mom and dad? Your power-"

"Miracate Freze!" I had no other chance but to raise my voice. "Don't bring that up."

"Okay okay! Sorry!" She agreed witb an small, awkward giggle. "So what did you think about yestrrday's episode? I'm so angry at Ivy! But also at Travis! Like what're they doing?"

"What...were they doing?" I obviliously asked as I packed my bag.

"You don't remember??"

"No?" I didn't really watch it though.

Mira and most of the girls at my class loved the romantic comedy series: Ivy And The Carnation. I watched a few episodes of it so I could have more to talk about with them. It was a lighthearted fun, but not much else. I wasn't supposed to be distracted by a silly show like that in the exams' week.

"Travis got mad! That Ivy went to a fashion show without telling him and Ivy left her passion! So he'd accept her again!" She passionately explained, while brushing her messy black hair. "Like! Like he'll accept you if you don't do it yourself! Get it togather girl!"

I half-heartedly listened her rant, feeling too tired to pay attention to her "too deep for her age" opinions about the show.

"Right!" I smiled at her while tying my brown hair. The ongoing sound of the turned on bathroom tap had stopped. "Now that Mather's out, we can talk more on breakfast."

"Oh he's out?" My sister stood up. "Alright. Should I just wash my face or hair too?"

"I mean you already tied your hair so.."

"Oh right! Right!" She giggled and left. I grabbed both of our bags and moved to the kitchen table, after leaving them by the enterance door.

The breakfast went mostly fine. I already expected that dad wouldn't show up. Why would he wake up so early when he taught his classes in the afternoon?

Did Mather have to make an unnecessary comment about my science test though?

"Not ready for science? Don't let Tom hear that, sis!"

"Not the time Mather."

I shushed him and pretended to stay calm. Pretended to not care.

But he was right, wasn't he? Tom would have probably been disappointed.

I tried to not let Mather's words or the thought of them being true into my head. But it was hard!

After eating, I brushed my teeth, brushing before breakfast makes no sense; and left with my siblings.

The sun had already risen. Thank the long summer days.

Out of habit, I kept my hand on Mira's arm for the entire way through. Even though I had gotten a sense of the direction after the eight years I've traced school road for, I couldn't be sure.

The weather was so warm and sunny. Where did the chill running up and down my body come from then? The coldness in my chest?

Before we arrived, I took out my medallion's gem again, and held it up with Mira next to me.

It was glistening in the sunlight. But also, but was cold? It was kind of where I expected the chills came from. But I didn't think it'd feel like holding an ice cube with bare hands.

How could this gem even make me feel things!

"What's up with it?" Mather asked, covering the school's view for us.

"It's cold!" Mira said and pulled back her hand. "Like sis' power-"

"Miracate!" I warned her again, more quietly than back home, as I put my medallion back under my shirt. "We don't talk about it!"

"Okay okay! Sorry again!" She finally agreed, but Mather...

"But why? Isn't having a super power cool?"

"No it's not!" I yelled and stormed off towards the school building.

Did they really think having a power was cool? Maybe something simple, like super strength or super speed could be. But not my power. Not when people thought I could freeze, melt or burn their items, or god forbid, them! At least the latter didn't come in outbursts.

They... They'd already made up their mind about me before I had a power, and it made things worse.

"Sis! That's the elementary school side!"

I flinched at Mather's voice and moved away when he tapped on my shoulder. My breathing turned into quick gasls as I did.

I shouldn't have been acting like this! I should've known the direction! I should've stayed calm and not get carried away!

I swallowed a lump in my throat, as the chilling coldness left. In its place, there was a heavy, burning feeling inside me, tightening around my neck and chest. Choking.

"I know!" I said, more so breathlessly shouted.

I needed to lower my voice! Anyone could be seeing me panic! Any of my classmates! I didn't want to deal with them. Not now! Possobly never!

"I was just...walking around." I tried to say more calmly, taking quick breaths. If my clearly freaked-out voice could be called any "calm" that is.

Get it togather Rose! What are you doing? You're panicking about the smallest things!

I scolded myself, trying to steady my breathing as well, before Mira or Mather noticed.

"You okay sis?" But of course, Mira did. She asked, leaning over to come uncomfortably close to my face again.

"Yeah. Sorry." Mather said in an unsure voice, putting a hand on my shoulder, more gently.

They were probably trying to show concern and support, but it only came off as awkward and like something actually concerning had happened to me.

It was just a little freak-out, about an actually small mistake that shouldn't have made me even react, probably.

'It's...nothing." I softly said, and gave them a smile, or I hoped I did, to reassure them. "A...anyways, let's go..."

"Well, alright."

Mira grabbed my wrist and walked towards the other building in the schoolyard. Mather was right behind us.

I let my sister drag me inside, even if it was emberassing. Being hand-guided to the building I was supposed to know without needing to see after so many years. But I couldn't risk getting lost again or causing another scene.

Mira and Mather left soon after I entered my classroom. Though Mather stayed a moment longer, asking about Bill and Kevin. They probably weren't around yet, like I expected from the empty desk next to mine where Kevin was usually seated.

So Mather left quickly too.

How early were we though? There wasn't much of a noise in the class. Far less than thirty-five people would cause.

And even Miranda and her group, and the impossible-to-miss noise they brought along weren't around. They wouldn't miss a single test day, right? I kind of wished they did, but it was more than unlikely.

No sound of Olivia either, but I kind of expected that. It didn't really matter if she was giving up on the studies or coming to complete them. The result was going to be the same.

I wouldn't have minded if any of them didn't show up.

And as expected of my luck, they all came in one by one.

"You'll do amazing Miranda!"

"Yeah! You're so smart!"

"Can you give us some hints before the test?"

"I know that guys. And sure! Come in close."

Miranda's group walked in, chatting.

They weren't the "popular pretty cheerleaders" or the "rich girls". No, they were the "overly involved, overly competetive" types. The types who didn't accept any opposition in competitions, academic rivalries, and their perfected images. The ones who'd try to mentally wear you down if they saw you as an actual, serious obstacle.

Miranda and Rebecca sat their shared desk right behind me. I assuned the two Sarahs were behind her, and someome else, probably their friends Carrie and Beth, stood next to the desks. They were all whispering among themselves.

They were trying to be as quiet as possible once they settled. And I tried to avoid eavesdropping, but it was impossible not to!

"I worked so hard for this! I'll become the class number one this time and get accepted to the magnet highschool in the city. The best one."

"You got this Miranda."

"Yup! You're the smartest girl in class!"

"Yup! And the smartest in school with Nancy."

"Yeah. Nancy's great too!"

"Yeah. Did you see how she got back to Rose last week?"

"It was her mom though. Nancy's too nice to deal with someone like her."

"Right! Right!"

"Oh yeah! Like Mr. Martinez only gave her project an A because she can't see!'"

"Right? Olivia's computer model was the same amd she barely got a B-!"

"Yeah! And she listens to our answers before taking the tests!"

"Shhh! Don't let her hear that. She'll do that freaky ice thing again."

"What will she do? Freeze our pencils this tine?"

Too bad I heard it all! First of all! Olivia put too many unnecessary decorations on her project! And glitter! Who puts glitter on a computer model when Mr. Martinez said it was supposed to resemble a real computer?! Secondly! You know better than anyone Miranda, how my ears hurt from covering them because of you people in test weeks! And thirdly! Do you think I have any idea of what I'm doing with that power either?

There were far too many thoughts I wanted to yell at them, but I tried to keep it all quiet. I was planning to avoid them all day, unless they directly talked to me. There was no point in causing more drama.

But did Olivia and her "bestie" Mary have to show up and join in?

"So? What're you girlies talking about?" Olivia asked in almost a shout, followed by a fake laughter.

"Oh, hey!" Sarah Warren said, the Sarah with a higher-pitched voice. "We were just talking about the test."

"Yeah!" Miranda cheered. "We were saying how hard we studied for these the entire year!"

I know you did because you constantly talk about it, Miranda. But I don't know about the others.

Her voice was louder than usual, like she wanted for someone to hear. Not me this time probably, since I was right here. There'd be no need for such a noise.

"I mean we did." Mary agreed. "Right, Liv?"

"Yeah! We didn't even watch Ivy And Carnation at all past few weeks!" Olivia said again in sn overly loud and dramatic voice, like that was a huge sacrifice of some sort. "We don't get it easy, like someone!"

You know I'm the same there. Except I don't study on cheating tactics and still fail, Liv.

I quietly sighed and tried to not even utter a word, but they were making it harder.

Before anything could happen though, Bill, Kevin, and even, somehow, Jason and Carl finally showed up; closely followed by our teacher Mrs. Willis.

The early classes passed in a blur, as the teachers let us study as long as we stayed quiet.

I tried to whisper to my deskmate Kevin, to study togather. But it felt strange, to ask him to read what he was studying a bit louder in every class, especially when Miranda and Rebecca were behind me and the teachers specifically asked the class to be quiet. Kevin himself also sounded a bit unwilling at first. He probably wanted to study on his own, but was fine with helping out after.

Despite all that, the classes up to the science test went pretty well. Even the test itself went alright. Although I wished I was able to take the tests in an easier way. Even using the Braille alphabet would be fine instead of with a reader, having to take it after everyone. But then again, the teachers didn't know Braille, I couldn't expect them to know. And I couldn't read or write in regular text. They looked like tiny dots, if that even.

So having someone read the questions for me was the only way out. Except the teachers were so paranoid about the students cheating, something they already did, that they wouldn't read them to me while the others were taking the tests, but instead have another student...possibly Miranda or Bill, read it to me in front of them when they either start teaching a new topic, or have the students quietly do their own thing.

It was the same in almost every single test. Except P.E and music of course, but the rest.

They were all the same! The same people, the same problems, the same way they were handled and following drama all of them kept causing, and the people who were acting in...ways because of unnecessary competition.

Still, I tried to power through the science test. I couldn't prove Mather right.

After helping me that many times, I couldn't make a mistake that'd disappoint Tom, especially not in his favorite topic: science.

Ah, I wished he hadn't left. Life would've been much essier with him around. He'd listen, give the most sensible advice, and try his best to help me without being in my face about it.

I knew he didn't want to leave, but Tania was right. It was for their own good.

The thought of them though, helped me focus on the test. Friday next week was the twins' birthday. We were going to meet for the first time since the Easter break. Third time ever since they moved last summer. And the only news I wanted to give Tom were good ones.

And I felt good about it when I finished the test.

The teacher, Mr. Wells left after I was done. The others were still chatting about it when I got back to my desk. They were discussing answers. And all of them besides Miranda and Bill, showed clear excitment at the hint of any right answer.

"Rose! Rose!" As soon as I sat down, Daniel came in, with more of slap than a tap on my shoulder. "What was the answer for question twenty-one?"

"Huh...?"

I blankly stared at him, and tilted my head to the side, with no eye contact as usual. Even if I could normally keep, I would've still broken it there.

Bold of you to think I know the questions' number order.

"Um, which one was it?"

I tried to stay polite and calm, so Daniel would leave soon, as usual. Him, and the small crowd forming behind him, were the people who only appeared in my life and talked to me during exam weeks. And only either to ask questions, or to give a snarky comment.

"The one about plant cell!"

"Oh, it was C." I casually said.

"What?"

"H-hey!" I raised my hands defensively at his more aggressive voice, and tried to explain. "Uh, the other organels are found in both animal and plant cells. But Chloroplast is only in plant cells."

"Ah okay." Daniel said and gave another slap-like pat on my shoulder which I hated. "What about question fourteen? Mike and I've been arguing about it for an hour now."

I still don't know which one that is... Also then why didn't you ask it first?!

"Um, again...? Which one?" I tried to ask, too tired of the process to care.

"The lightbulb one right?" Miranda chimed in from behind me with an aggressively loud tone, like she was talking through gritted teeth. "It was A: copper!"

"Oh? That one!" I blinked and turned my attention to her. I couldn't tell if she genuinely believed in her answer and it might be true, or if she was trying to confuse me like before. "Copper is good. But would't silver be a better option?"

"You mean silver's a better conductive than copper?" She asked with a bitter chuckle. "Glad I'd never give you a hint in the exams. Because I can't believe you're really like...this when you don't get support from the teachers hm?!"

It's just a question. Chill please?

"What...?" I stood up, still trying to be quiet. I turned my face away from her, to the blue painted window next to my desk.

She's trying to anger me. It's why she's overreacting. Like why do you care? She's the one who read the questions to me! What are you doing Miranda? I need to keep calm and not get into trouble because of her! Especially fresh off a test. I need to stay lowkey! At least for these two weeks!

I kept staring at the window and smiled. The bright daylights barely came through the paint coating, but it still gave off a cool, dim blue light in this hot day.

"What are you smiling at?" Miranda tried to press on. I would've been fine ignoring her words, but of course she wouldn't be the only one.

"Y'know, I've had to hang out with her a few times, and you're right Miri." Olivia chimed in, probably from the other side of the class, because nothing else would explain or excuse her volume.

And knowing her, I braced myself for more personalized insults than Miranda's.

"For real! She never studies or does anything, and gets everything from others. And when we tell, she cries!" She then turned to me. "You know it too! That the teachers make tests easier for you just because you can't "see"!"

"If by "make it easier" you mean change the map based or geometric shape based questions, then yes..." swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked in her general direction. I should've started counting to ten, but my head was getting too full to think about that. "If you mean anything else, no. I get less time than you. I have the noise of the class and teachers while I'm taking a test with someone reading out loud, I mean whispering. And did you know it's unhealthy to cover your ears so much like I have to?"

"Those are not our problems." Miranda said matter-of-factly, even I could see her dramatic hand waving. Weren't you talking about fairness though? "Our problem is that you're acting like this..."

"Acting like... What?" I asked, still keeping myself contained even though it was getting harder.

"Like you're some hero doing some impossible task when you're having it easier just because you can't "see"!" Olivia shouted and came closer. I knew from her long, curly mess of a hair. "And even that's a lie! You say you can't see just to have it easier, because I know you do. You can see!"

"I know you'll say "I didn't say I was blind, I said I can't see". But what's the difference?" Miranda added, with an annoying confidence.

"What?"

"Can she?"

"Was she tricking us all along?"

"Impossible!"

"Not only us but she tricked the teachers and everyone else too!"

What...? How dare you!

I couldn't say a word. I tried to speak, shout, scream at them even, but no sound came out.

My body felt like a stone. Still, unmoving, heavy, cold. And I couldn't do anything besides feel the tears welling up in my eyes and a ringing in my ears that blurred the scandalous chatter around me.

How dare they! What do they think they are? Experts in eye related disabilities? How dare they think they have the "right" to say I was lying about a condition that I went through myself! Not them!

Did they think people only either have to have perfectly healthy eyes, use glasses, or be blind they had had any vision problems? Didn't anything inbetween exist for them?

Besides, how dare they claim they knew my health better than I, myself! Can claim I was lying about it!

They had no idea what they were talking about! And wanted to break someone just because of petty competition!

Or else they wouldn't talk so carelessly!

Who cared about grades, the school play, sports, creativity contests, any rewards, or whatnot! Did it all really worth this?!

Did they know how it felt to hear their parents and other loved ones openly say their "news" upset them? Or have they ever heard their family say they expected much less from them?

Even passing by random kids on the street, have they heard things like "Look at her!" or "What happened to her eyes?"?

Have they had to wait hours on end in hospitals, knowing the doctors would say the exact same thing?

Have they had to read the same three short stories for their entire life, and ask someone to read out loud or help you find an audio of it?

Feeling like you have to memorize everywhere to not get lost on their own?

Feeling like they ask for help too much and wanting to stop? Or wanting to show what they can do themselves?

No they have not.

They didn't know how any of it felt. They didn't live through them like I did! They didn't know, but talked like they did! Like they lived the same life and had the same experiences as me!

Like they knew!

They always thought they knew everything! Even the lives of people different from them!

Who did they think they were?!

I felt a fire within me. Burning in my whole heart and overflowing out of it. My teeth gritted, and hands clemched into fists, as I felt a blaze of rage flowing through my body. My chest, face, arms, legs, even fingertips.

Then that fire vanished.

Instead, the icy wave of coldness from earlier came back, stronger. And rushed through my veins fast like a winter storm. Every hint of the burning rage in me, every ember; was replaced by the cold.

The distant, disillisioned, the cruel but gentle cold. Fearsome, but with a comforting familiarity.

It filled me, up to my fingertips again; and shot, no, flowed, out of me.

It felt a bit relieving, like I was letting go of the sudden flare-up of my anger. Relaxing.

Until my sense of hearing came back.

"Not to mention she- Wait! What are you doing?!! What?! Stop!!!" Miranda's scream brought me back to the real world, and Olivia's comment made me realize.

"Ice Princess, I tell ya."

"W-what?!" The coldness changed. It wasn't a relieving flow of a refreshing cold air anymore. It became a stoney chill running up and down my spine, echoing through my body. "W-what did I do?!"

"What did you do?!" Miranda yelled and raised her hand. Her, Olivia, and the others were inching away from me. "See?!"

I didn't see much of a difference from afar, but when I got to touch, I felt it.

Solid, hard, and freezing cold. Miranda's hand, was encased in ice?

"Did... Did I do that...?"

"Yes you did!!" Miranda yelled and raised her hand higher. "What do I do now? This was my writing hand too!!"

The air was heavy. Everyone else had fallen silent. Not even the sound of blowing wind from outside, or the noise of students or teachers' steps on the corridor.

The only things I felt; were the still air, the chill in my spine, and the gazes of my classmates I wish were still invisible to me.

"S-sorry..." I lowered my head, unable to say another word. What else could I even say?

This had never happened before! I thought freezing others was possible but I never thought it would happen! Especially now!

What did I even do?

Could Miranda's hand return to normal?

What if her hand stayed permanently frozen because of me? What if...she'd lose her habd because of me?

Could I help melt it? I didn't know but I could try! She probably won't let me.

How did I even do that?

What happened?

What did I do?

Could this day get any worse?

And it probably could, as the gem in my medallion got freezing cold again, shining so bright it was noticed even under my shirt.

---

(I know there might be some typos I've missed. I only read through it once more after finishing the writing. Anyways! Tagging for reviews (please): @dearunreliablenarrator @daishitheprofessionalfool @avalordream @author-a-holmes @heycerulean @the-ellia-west @seastarblue @literally-just-zay @the-letterbox-archives @sliceoflifeshepard @thecomfywriter @xyoonx @ominous-feychild @writeblrfantasy @yomikunp @illarian-rambling @distantflickering @the-golden-comet @leahnardo-da-veggie @charbroiledchicken and I can't think of anyone else for now. Feel free to tag anyone else as well guys. I'm still hoping (desparate) for reviews. Thank you!💙

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writer #my writing #my books #my characters #chapter 1 #interdimensional series #please read

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poisonlove · 12 hours

Text

The Ghost of halloween p.2 | A.D

Pairing: Astrid X reader

Astrid pov's

"Is it this way?" my mother asks with a small smile on her lips.

I nod without answering, pressing my lips together and turning my head toward the window.

I didn’t want her to see how uncomfortable I felt. We had argued again, and as always, she had decided that moving was the only solution. Panicking, I had told her I had a date today.

"It's really nice here," Lydia Deetz says, looking at the neighborhood decorated for Halloween: gardens filled with decorations, skeletons hanging from trees, and people in costumes getting ready to celebrate.

When we arrive in front of the house, her eyes land on a lit window.

"Oh... it's a girl," my mother exclaims in surprise.

"Mom..." I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush.

"She's very cute," she adds with a mischievous smile, giving me a sidelong glance. I feel my face heat up even more.

"Okay, bye," I finally say, my voice tense, as I open the door.

"I’ll pick you up at 10. Have fun, sweetheart!" she calls out, her voice happier than ever. I shut the door with a loud thud, the sound of my mother’s car driving away echoing.

I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, clutching the bag full of candy and snacks. Then, with hesitant steps, I head toward the porch of the house.

I raise my hand and knock on the door.

I waited nervously for the door to open, my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally see Y/n, a smile spreads across my face. I’m wearing a long, puffy dress in a pale gray, as if it had been corroded by radiation, perfectly embodying Marie Curie. The high collar and puffy sleeves give me an elegant yet eerie appearance.

Y/n looks me up and down, and her smile widens. "You look beautiful," she says, her eyes shining. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I feel my face heat up, blushing fiercely. "I'm Marie Curie," I say, trying to mask my embarrassment. I’m not sure if she got my reference.

"The scientist who died from radiation, I know." Y/n’s response surprises me.

I smile, incredulous and happy, as the tension in me melts away.

"Is that bag?" Y/n asks curiously, leaning slightly toward me.

"I thought we could eat some junk food and watch some movies... You know... it’s Halloween," I say timidly, feeling my cheeks flush.

Y/n smiles, and her enthusiasm encourages me. "Sounds like a great idea, come in."

I enter, glancing around curiously, immediately noticing a strange but oddly comforting silence.

"How come there’s no one here?" I ask curiously, following Y/n upstairs.

"Oh, my parents aren’t home," she says simply, guiding me to her room.

Once inside, I look around, noticing the 90s posters and details that make the room feel so cozy. "What movie do you want to watch?" Y/n asks, approaching the shelf of films. My eyes land on a book on the table: The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. I smile amused. "What a strange book," I comment.

"I found it at a stall," Y/n replies distractedly.

As she scans the titles, I feel a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Maybe something horror?" I suggest, a shy smile on my face.

"Perfect," she says, but then slowly moves closer.

Our hands brush, and in an instant, she leans in and kisses me. Her cold lips against mine are unexpected, but I feel a warm explosion of emotions. When I open my eyes, a smile spreads across my face, but right after, I realize we’re floating. The joy vanishes, replaced by a grimace of terror.

I quickly pull away from her, the disappointment clear in her eyes.

"Are you a ghost?" I say in disbelief. Are my mom’s crazy ideas real?

She nods, and my heart races.

"Why didn’t you tell me? How did you die?" I ask, incredulous but curious.

Y/n sighs, her face growing serious.

"I didn’t want to scare you, I haven’t had a decent conversation in years... And it was my father... After he killed his partner with an axe, he finished me off too, his only daughter. Then he died from poisoning." She slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a deep cut on her stomach.

The sight of that mark makes my blood run cold. I can’t believe what she’s saying, yet I can’t look away.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask, my voice strangely calm despite the turmoil I feel inside.

Y/n scratches her head, her face turning a little red with embarrassment. "I told you, I wanted company... and I also wanted to surprise you," she finally confesses, her shyness evident in her tone.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "A surprise?" I repeat, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

"I know we only met yesterday, but... you’re a good person, Astrid. And I... wanted to help you see your father," she murmurs, her voice fading as if it was hard to admit.

My eyes widen, taken aback by her words. "Is it possible?" I ask, the emotion clinging to my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Y/n nods, serious, and a part of me, the part that never stopped hoping, starts to believe it’s true.

An unexpected joy bursts inside me. Before I can stop myself, I approach and hug her tightly, but the moment my arms touch her, her body passes through mine as if made of smoke. The sensation leaves me stunned: cold and insubstantial, yet with a certain warmth, a distant echo of humanity.

"Sorry," I mutter embarrassed, while she laughs softly, not making a big deal out of it.

Without saying a word, Y/n steps away and heads toward a corner of the room. She bends down and picks up a small white object, lifting it toward me with a knowing smile. "A piece of chalk?" I ask, squinting in confusion, but without taking my eyes off her ethereal figure.

She nods and, with precise movements, draws a door on the wall of her room. When she finishes, she stands next to me, looking at the drawing with a strange satisfaction. The drawing almost seems to pulse with life, as if an unknown force was stirring behind that simple figure.

"It’s the door to the other world," she says with a small smile, her tone light as if she were talking about something trivial.

I feel my heart race in my chest. "And what am I supposed to do?" I ask, even more confused, staring at the drawing with evident skepticism.

"Knock," she says calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hesitantly, I approach the drawn door, my hand trembling slightly. I knock, feeling ridiculous. Who knocks on a drawing? But a moment later, a dull sound echoes beyond the wall, and before I can react, the drawing comes to life. The door creaks open with a chilling sound, revealing a passage that emits thick, glowing smoke. A cold breeze wraps around me, along with a spectral light, like that of an old neon sign.

I stand still, my mouth open in amazement. In front of me unfolds the world of the dead. It’s exactly as I imagined: chaotic, grotesque, yet strangely fascinating. The walls seem to be made of a material never seen before, a mix of rotting flesh and crumbling concrete, covered with drawings and graffiti that shift shape before my eyes. Indistinct shadows move at the edge of my vision, as if the world itself was breathing. The sky above us isn’t a real sky: it’s an endless ceiling of greenish mist, studded with metallic pipes and flickering light bulbs.

In the distance, I hear the hum of old fans and the sound of distorted laughter, like an echo from a forgotten cabaret. Creatures of all shapes wander in what seems to be a surreal public office, each with a more bizarre appearance than the last: some have gigantic heads, others are reduced to walking skeletons, and still others seem to melt into goo. The world feels like a collage of forgotten things and distorted memories, a mix of the surreal and the macabre.

"Welcome," Y/n whispers beside me.

I turn to her, still in disbelief, but my heart is pounding, full of a hope I can’t suppress. Maybe, in that chaotic madness, I’ll finally get to see my father.

(...)

As we walk through the world of the dead, my head spins as I try to catch every detail, but everything is so surreal that it feels like being trapped in a nightmare. The gray and decaying offices are populated by grotesque figures moving with indifference. Faceless shadows wander the hallways, and distorted laughter continues in the distance.

"It's... strange," I whisper, my voice tense, "This place... how can it exist?"

Y/n glances at me, but before she can answer, a chilling sound fills the air. A shrill, metallic alarm starts echoing everywhere.

"ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED HUMAN PRESENCE!" A robotic and sinister voice booms through the walls.

Y/n’s eyes widen, her face pale. "Oh no... the human alarm!"

"W-what?" I stammer, but before I can grasp what’s happening, Y/n grabs my wrist, pulling me forcefully.

"We have to go! Now!" she yells, starting to run towards the exit. The creatures around us freeze, some turning with ravenous eyes, others beginning to move towards us with eerie slowness.

We race through the hallways like two shadows, our footsteps echoing as the sound of the alarm grows louder. The lights flicker, and I can hear the frantic pounding of my heart in my ears. Every corner seems to distort, making it hard to tell which way is out.

We turn a corner down a long corridor and stop abruptly. In front of us are two familiar figures. One is my mother, Lydia, with her unmistakable black bob and stern look. But the figure next to her leaves me breathless: a man with messy hair and a black and white striped suit, with a mischievous and cocky expression. Beetlejuice.

"Y/n?" says Beetlejuice, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here, kid?"

Y/n grits her teeth, her voice a tense whisper. "Dad..."

I feel a lump forming in my throat as my mother and I turn to each other, both of us with mouths agape in shock.

"Dad?" I repeat incredulously, my eyes wide as I look at Y/n.

Lydia doesn’t have time for questions. She grabs both of us by the arms. "We have to go, now!" she shouts, and we start running, with Y/n still pulling me even harder.

Behind us, the alarm continues to blare, and the footsteps of the authorities from the world of the dead begin to echo closer. Beetlejuice lags behind, chuckling as if this were all a game to him.

We run towards a door, but when Lydia flings it open, instead of finding a way out, we fall into the void, tumbling into scorching sand. I hit the ground hard, raising a cloud of dust, coughing from the impact.

"No... no, no, no!" Lydia screams, scrambling to her feet. "We’re in the sandworm desert!"

I struggle to stand, but panic takes over when I see the ground shaking beneath us. In the distance, the giant sandworm emerges from the dune, speeding towards us at a terrifying pace. Its long, scaly body slithers through the sand like a dark shadow.

Y/n grabs my hand and starts running, dragging me along with her. "Come on! We can't stop!"

Lydia follows close behind, her face twisted in fear, but the worm is too fast. I can feel it getting closer, its gaping mouth emitting a piercing scream, ready to devour us.

"It's too close!" I cry, my breath short, but just then, a miracle happens.

From the sky, a door of light suddenly opens above us, and a hand reaches out from nowhere, grabbing each of us. First Y/n, then me, and finally Lydia. With a yank, it pulls us up, taking us away just as the worm opens its jaws beneath us.

The world flips for a moment until we find ourselves on a cold floor, safe. I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath, as Y/n looks at me with concern.

"W-we made it..." Y/n murmurs, still in disbelief.

I look up and see my father watching me with pride. His skin is greenish, with some fish stuck in his hair, but he's smiling all the same.

My eyes fill with tears. "Dad..." I murmur before throwing myself into his arms. "Sweetheart..." he whispers, hugging me tightly. I pull away with a smile I can't hold back.

"I saw Lydia and decided to follow you... But what are you wearing, sweetheart? You look like Marie Curie!" he says with an amused grin, glancing at me. I giggle and nod.

Then, his gaze shifts beyond me, and I notice Lydia approaching. My father smiles at her, reaching out an arm. "Lydia, come here," he says warmly. he embraces her without hesitation. "I miss you ," he whispers, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

Lydia smiles shyly as she returns the hug.

"I miss you too " she replies softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

They separate, and my father turns back to us. "You have to go," he says suddenly, his tone serious.

He puts an arm around my waist and takes my mother’s hand with the other. "You have to go. Now," he repeats urgently, pulling us toward a staircase that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

"I love you, Dad," I say, tears filling my eyes.

"I love you too," he replies, his gaze veiled with tears and a bittersweet smile on his lips before he slowly vanishes.

My mother starts climbing the stairs, but I stay behind, waiting for Y/n.

"Go," she suddenly says, with sadness in her voice.

"Come with me," I say, confused, my heart pounding.

"I don’t know, Astrid... I’m tired of wandering. Maybe my place is here," she replies, her voice trembling.

My heart stops for a moment.

"Don’t be silly, we’ll find a solution," I say, a lump in my throat, and my chest aching.

She shakes her head, resolute.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, but I move closer to her and grab her hands. Her touch is cold, almost as if there’s nothing to hold onto, but I don’t let go. "I need you. I... I want you," I confess, my cheeks flushing red.

"Astrid..." she murmurs.

"We’ll figure it out, okay? But I need you," I repeat, with all the sincerity I can muster. Y/n looks at me for a few seconds, then sighs and slowly nods.

My face lights up in a huge smile.

Y/n Pov's

Days later, the light of the sunset fills my old room with a warm, orange hue. Everything seems so normal, yet the tension in the air is palpable. Astrid and I sit on the floor, surrounded by lit candles, while her mother draws a complicated circle of runes on the wooden floor. It seems absurd to think that it's really possible, that I can come back to life. And yet, here we are.

The book her mother holds is ancient, its pages worn and yellowed with age. The runes and symbols I see seem to pulse with their own energy, as if the text is more than just paper and ink.

Astrid is close to me, sitting by my side, her gaze serious but kind, just as it always is when she wants to show me that everything will be okay. She was the one who insisted on finding a solution, and when her mother discovered this ancient ritual, she didn’t hesitate. The thought of coming back to life fills me with hope, but also fear. It’s like jumping into the unknown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, searching her eyes.

She looks at me without hesitation. “There’s nothing I want more in the world.” Her hand finds mine, warm and reassuring. “I want you here, with me.”

Her mother finishes drawing the circle with white chalk and stands slowly, her gaze focused and attentive. “This is the Rite of Essence Binding,” she says, her voice firm but carrying a gravity I can't ignore. “An ancient practice that binds the soul to the body. But it’s a delicate process. Y/n, you’re suspended between two worlds. This rite will bring your essence back to the living world.”

Her words make my throat tighten. I know something big, something irreversible is about to happen. I feel Astrid squeeze my hand tighter, and I look at her, finding all the courage I need in her.

“Step into the circle,” her mother orders calmly.

Astrid and I stand and position ourselves in the center of the rune drawing. The floor beneath our feet seems to vibrate slightly, as if the ritual had already begun just with our presence. Her mother begins to mutter ancient words that echo in the room as if carried by an invisible wind. The runes drawn on the floor start to glow with a deep, pulsing blue light, and the air becomes thick, charged with energy.

“During the rite, your soul will try to reconnect with your body, but it might face resistance,” her mother explains, not stopping the incantation. “Astrid, you must be her anchor. The bond between you is what will allow the rite to work.”

Astrid never lets go of my hand, and I can feel her strength flowing into me. Every word spoken by her mother pulls me in a different direction, as if my being is divided between the world of the living and the dead. Then, the pain begins.

It’s a deep pain, starting in my chest and expanding into every cell of my body. I feel like I’m being torn in two, as if something is trying to pull me away from reality. But I don’t let go. I hold onto Astrid’s hand with all the strength I have.

The runes beneath our feet shine brighter, the blue light rising like flames around us. I feel my heart beating in my chest, strong and fast. It’s a real, tangible heartbeat. My essence is returning.

“Don’t let go of me,” Astrid whispers, her voice broken with emotion.

“I won’t,” I manage to reply, as the pain intensifies even more, becoming unbearable.

Her mother’s words grow louder, faster. The energy in the room is almost suffocating, and everything builds to a climax. I feel immense pressure, like the entire world is crushing my body, but then, suddenly, the pain shatters, leaving only peace.

The runes glow for one last moment, then the light fades, and with it, silence envelops the room.

I breathe. My chest rises and falls regularly. I feel my heart beating, I feel the blood coursing through my veins. My body is alive.

I look at my hands, incredulous. They’re warm. Truly warm.

“You’re here… You’re back,” Astrid murmurs, her voice filled with emotion.

Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, and I return it, finally feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her hand strokes my back, and I know that, this time, I’m really here.

Her mother closes the book and sighs deeply. “It’s done,” she says, with a small, tired smile. “Y/n, you’re alive.”

All I can do is smile, in disbelief, as I hold onto Astrid, feeling my heart beating strong against hers. I’m no longer a shadow, a memory. I’m real. I’ve come back. And with her, I feel like I can face anything.

"Astrid..." I whisper, my voice trembling but full of emotion. I can’t say more because she suddenly moves closer, her eyes shining with something I’d never seen before. Before I can even realize it, her lips are on mine.

The kiss is sweet, intense, full of everything we’ve felt during those days of waiting and hoping. I feel her warmth, her life melding with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel whole. The world around us seems to disappear: it's just the two of us, in that moment.

When we pull apart, her eyes find mine, full of a joy that manages to warm me from within. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back, even though a small corner of uncertainty still lingers inside me.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, as if afraid I might disappear again.

“Yes,” I reply, still in disbelief. “Thanks to you.”

I take a deep breath and decide to stand up, to take a step forward, to feel the floor beneath my feet again. But as soon as I try to move, my body seems to give way. My legs tremble, weak and unsteady, and the whole world seems to sway around me. Before I can process it, I’m falling forward, my knees giving out beneath me.

Astrid grabs my waist just in time, holding me in her arms. My heart races, not just from the panic of losing my balance. "Hey, take it easy," she says softly, rubbing my back to reassure me. "You have to get used to it again. It’s not easy coming back to normal."

“I didn’t think... walking would be so hard,” I say, trying to laugh but feeling the embarrassment take over. I look at my legs, still trembling slightly, as if they aren’t responding to my commands.

Astrid helps me sit down again, her touch always gentle but firm. “It’s normal, it’ll take time. You have to get used to being alive again,” she says, smiling at me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Her mother approaches with an understanding expression. “Your body has gone through a shock, Y/n. Even though your soul is back, you have to give your body time to readjust. Move slowly, one step at a time.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of those words. Astrid is still beside me, her arm around my waist, ready to support me at any moment.

“I’m here,” she says softly, stroking my face. “I’m not letting go.”

I take a deep breath, and even though my legs are weak, I know that with her by my side, I can do this. I lift my gaze and meet her eyes. "One step at a time," I repeat, squeezing her hand. "Together."

Astrid smiles again, and in that moment, I feel like I can conquer the world.

#SoundCloud #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #astrid deetz #astrid deetz x reader #beetlejuice #ghost

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httpsdana · 17 hours

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Heeey! Could you do prompt 69 with Jamal Musiala (where he maybe accidentally confesses or something these are always cute)

BTW I LOVE LOVE YOUR WRITING SM HOW DO YOU ALWAYS GET ME INVESTED WHILE READING 😭

And thank you in advance ❤️

Oops?~Jamal Musiala

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

thank you for your sweet message, it means everything to me 💋💋

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

69-"did you just say you like me?"

It was supposed to be a casual hang out between 'friends', but the tension in the air almost said something different.

Jamal and y/n were watching a movie, a comedy one to be specific, however Jamal's concentration seemed to be on something else.

What broke his train of thoughts was y/n's laugh at something that was said in the movie. He looked up immediately, watching how her eyes crinkled while she laughed, the sound being so soothing to his ears, to the point where he blurted out some words without even noticing.

"you have a really cute laugh" Jamal said, before he noticed what he did, causing his eyes to widen.

y/n's laugh faltered, looking at him to study his expressions. His face was in a deep shade of red, eyes on the ground and fingers tangled in each other on his lap.

"what?" she asked, wondering if what she heard was true or not.

"i meant you...laugh in a nice way?" he said awkwardly, clearing his throat while looking away.

"where is that coming from right now?" she asked, watching him squirm under her intense gaze.

"what do you mean, I didn't say anything wrong?" he said, his eyes still avoiding hers as he tried focusing on the movie again

"you're being really weird" she pointed out, reaching for the remote control to pause their movie.

She shifted her body in a position so she was facing him, her eyes searching his face for something...anything.

"tell me what's wrong?" she asked him, making him look at her for a second, before he turned away quickly.

"nothing's wrong. I don't know why you think there's something wrong" he mumbled, looking down at his hands.

"obviously there's something on your mind but for some reason you're refusing to tell me" she raised her eyebrows, crossing her fingers over her chest.

"it's nothing" Jamal brushed it off, reaching down for the remote to continue their movie.

Before he could reach it, y/n took the remote and put it behind her back.

"tell. me. what's. going. on" she said sharply, her eyes watching him so intensely.

"oh my god. nothings wrong. I mean I just like kinda have a crush on this girl but she's so stupid and she can't seem to get it and understand that I like her. i mean if I tell you your laugh is cute why don't you understand that I like you. isn't it obvious, I don't go around telling people they have nice laughs or whatever" he rambled, not understanding his own words as he felt the pressure of her gaze on him.

"hold on...did you just say you like me?" she asked, her eyes slightly wide.

Just then Jamal noticed what he had said, his eyes also widening as he cleared his throat.

"um...I did?" he said nervously, looking down at the ground once again

"yes you did" she said, a small smile appearing on her face.

"oh wow. I really did" he murmured, more to himself.

The awkward silence took over them for a while, both of them waiting for the other to say something. y/n got tired of waiting so she spoke again

"so you're not gonna kiss me?" she said, making Jamal look up at her with wide eyes.

"you want me to kiss you?" he asked, his forehead crinkling as his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"well obviously yes. if I didn't like you back I wouldn't be here would i? no offense Jamal but only people who really like you would stay around you for this long" she said, a bit of frustration evident in her voice as she spoke.

Jamal sat still for a second, trying to take in the words she had said. he didn't know if he should be upset about her words or just glad that she likes him.

"you're such a dumbass" y/n mumbled, before grabbing his face and connecting their lips.

Jamal's eyes widened, before he closed them and kissed her back, one of his hands reaching to the back of her neck to pull her even closer. their kiss was tender, full of all the admiration they have hid long enough.

They pulled away, both of them breathless. Jamal leaned back on the couch, his mind still comprehending what had happened.

He smiled to himself, his cheeks flushed as he looked at y/n with a tiny smile. Just then he remembered what she said, about "no one wanting to be around him"

"hey what did you mean no one would want to be around me?" he asked curiously, making y/n look at him with a look that says 'are you serious'

"we just kissed for the first time and now you're asking what I meant by that?" she said, her hand reaching up to cover her face

"I mean yeah" he shrugged, making her groan.

"you're so stupid oh my god" she mumbled, shaking her head with a small smile.

"but you like me...right?" he said, a boyish grin finding it's way to his face.

"yes you're lucky I like you" she said, making him chuckle a bit

"yes I am" he mumbled, smiling to himself at how their friendship has shifted in just one movie night.

#football #football x reader #football blurb #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #bayern munich #bayern #jamal musiala fic #jamal musiala x reader #jamal musiala fluff #jamal musiala imagine #jamal musiala blurb #jamal musiala x y/n #jamal musiala x you #jamal musiala oneshot #jamal musiala one shot #jamal musiala fanfic #jamal musiala

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