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gallusrostromegalus · 3 months ago

Text

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God. He taught himself how to use his smartphone. Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity.

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.” Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid. My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution: He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose. While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada. He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her.

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System. It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”. He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room. It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds. Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled.

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan. With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted. The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone.

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape. She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times. Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System. It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy! My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year. I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image. A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair. Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing).

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

#Family Lore #Dogs #arwen #Arwen the Crime Dog #Taxes #Ronald Regan mention (derogatory)#long post under the cut #this one is funny this time #I could really use some extra tip money this month

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queers-gambit · 8 months ago

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Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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The JJK Boys Catch You Wearing This...

...after they tell you to put on that little red number you have.

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Yuuji: Walking through the doorway and calling out to you, Yuuji peeks in the bedroom. As you see him, you stick out one high-heeled leg seductively, pointing your toes and giving a suggestive wiggle.

Yuuji absolutely falls apart with laughter, grasping the doorframe for support as tears pour down his face. Tries to talk, but every time he looks at you, he breaks down again.

Finally, stopping to wipe his eyes, he asks: "But did you get me one, too?"

You had, obviously.

Higuruma: "Hey, I'm home!" he calls out to you, throwing his suitcase down and yanking his shirt collar loose. He hears you call him from the bathroom, and pads down, walking in, "It's been a shit and unsuccessful day as usual, but you know what they say--"

You are in the bath, wearing only this, legs draped over the side as you ask him, in your best seductive voice, "Have you ever taken a bath in your clothes, Mr.Higuruma?"

Hiromi stares flatly at you for five seconds. Sighing, he does his shirt back up, turns back to the door and picks up his suitcase.

"Hiromi-- hey-- where are you going?"

"Back to work. There are actually fewer criminals there."

Suguru: Arriving home, sounding tired and resigned, he shouts out to you, "Babe! Is dinner sorted, or do you want me to cook?"

"No, it's okay, I've cooked!"

Heaving a happy sigh-- "ahh, amazing" -- Suguru hustles to the kitchen, "What's for--"

He stops, as there you stand, one stockinged leg up on the kitchen chair as you lean forward, bum wiggling, and--

*click*

You turn to Suguru, your warped cloth face somehow looking absolutely horrified; "Was that...did you just take a photo? Suguru?! Suguru!"

He runs. You'd better believe every mutual friend in Suguru's contact list is receiving that gem.

Nanami: Expensive brown shoes clack on the floor towards the living room-- "Sorry I'm late. I've missed you so much"-- excited to see you and that gorgeous little red--

You are in Nanami's favourite armchair, stockinged legs crossed, heeled foot twiddling, wearing some red monstrosity, and even worse, you've draped one of his ties round your neck--

"Why are you like this?" Nanami huffs, exhausted, deflating. You giggle, shaking with mirth.

"Did Gojo buy you that...thing? I'll pay you to take that off."

Later that evening, you come out of the bathroom to the smell of smoke. Kento stands in the garden, sleeves rolled up, stoking your red costume in the fire pit.

Gojo: "I'm pretty sure I've fought Curses that look like you before," Gojo grinned, arms and legs crossed and leant against the doorframe as you strutted around the living room, laughing to yourself. You moved to remove the costume, satisfied with your joke--

"Ah ah ah, you're not done yet." Your bizarre costumed face stares quizzically at Gojo, who settles on the sofa, legs spread, unzipping his trousers with a wink. He grabs his phone, and puts on some music.

"Dance, cutie. And you'd better believe you can keep that on the whole time."

Toji: You squealed, costumed face hitting the pillows as Toji threw you hard onto the bed, bouncing on your hands and knees. You move to turn, and Toji turns you back round, smacking your bare arse as you squeak again, laughing.

"Dunno what you're laughing about, babe. I've fucked girls uglier than that mask of yours. Face down, arse up."

Sukuna: "I've killed for less than this, woman. Get undressed. Now."

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I'm meant to be writing the next chapter of a thrilling romantic drama. I offer no apologies for myself, I'm ridiculous.

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 month ago

Text

A Friend in the Dark Part II

Summary: After receiving an unexpected call from you in the middle of the night, Ari's not going to let anything stop him from getting to you. But will he make it in time? Takes place directly after the events in A Friend in the Dark: Part I.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, References to Home Invasion, Scared Reader, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner, who helped me come up with the opening. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari Levinson’s P.O.V.

Although it feels like hours, it’s really only a matter of minutes before Ari finds himself pulling onto your street. Not wanting to call attention to himself, he immediately kills his headlights before throwing his truck into neutral, quietly gliding down the block.

He already knows which home is yours – the one with the rose bushes out front. Stopping a couple houses down, the bounty hunter swiftly exits his vehicle. After triple-checking the gun in his waistband, he knows it’s time to make his way to you.

Ari moves with lethal grace, his corded muscles tense and ready to strike should an enemy make the mistake of crossing his path. As he gets closer, he spots Milton’s cruiser parked a ways down the street.

Perfect.

The burly lawman tosses a brief glance over his shoulder, just to make sure he isn’t being followed – the last thing he needed was someone sneaking up behind him. A blow to the back of the head could be deadly, even for someone as big as him.

He does a swift scan of your front yard, noting that nothing appears out of place. Holding his breath, Ari tunes his ears to the silence, quieting the sound of his own heartbeat as he wills his military instincts to take over. During his brief conversation with you, you’d said that the intruder had been at your back door.

Which meant that was exactly where he needed to be. Heaven help the fucker if he was dumb enough to still be there, scaring the shit out of his girl.

He draws his gun and dispenses the safety, holding it low with both hands as he stealthily makes his way around the side of your house. It was time to confront whoever was out there, hiding in the dark like a coward.

“Gotchu, motherfucker!” He barks, aiming his weapon in the air.

Except there’s nobody there.

Although he’s surprised, he remains on high alert. Keeping his head on a swivel, he slowly climbs the steps leading to your back porch. He takes a moment to examine the door, smoothing his fingers along the cracked, splintered wood. The frame itself is also bent and hopelessly warped.

It didn’t take an expert to see that someone had indeed been here at one point. Most likely trying to kick the damned thing down. The whole thing appeared to be hanging on by a thread as it was.

“Shit.” Ari hisses under his breath. Raking an agitated hand through his hair, he pulls out his phone and dials your number once again. “C’mon, baby. Answer the fucking phone for me.”

Why the fuck weren’t you picking up? Had the intruder managed to make their way inside some other way? Ice fills his veins at the prospect of someone holding you captive inside. Scaring you. Hurting you.

If that something happened to you because he hadn’t gotten here fast enough, Ari would never be able to forgive himself.

And just where the fuck was Milton? Out in the woods somewhere holding his dick?

At that moment, Ari makes a snap decision. He was determined to get into that house. Frankly, he’d already wasted enough time out here hemming and hawing as it was. Taking a step back and leveling the door with the most powerful kick he can muster, sending it flying open with a loud thunk.

Taking no time to celebrate, the bounty hunter goes to make his way inside only to duck when he notices an object come flying at his head at the last second. Thankfully, it connects with the door frame instead of his skull.

Your P.O.V.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You screech, swinging your bat wildly at the large figure that just tried to break their way into your home. “I’m crazy and I’ll kill you! Lord, help me, I’ll do it!” You continue swinging, attempting to keep the intruder at bay on your front porch until help arrives.

“Wait – stop!” The intruder pleads, throwing up a hand in the dark as his weapon goes flying.

“I’ve called the cops, you pig-fuckin’ bastard.” You spit, raising your Louisville Slugger high. They’re on their way and –”

“Goddamn it, baby!” Ari roars, scrambling away from the assault. “It’s me! I am the cops!”

That’s enough to knock the wind out of your sails almost immediately. Blood roaring in your ears, you belatedly realize that you’d almost just turned the very man who came to rescue you into a frickin’ vegetable.

“Ari?” You whisper, finally allowing the bat to fall limply at your feet. “Oh…oh God.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stare at each other. You, relieved to see him here. Him, relieved to see you unhurt. And it’s only as that feeling of relief begins to settle in is that you begin to shake. Covering your mouth with trembling hands, you watch the bounty hunter stand and collect his gun, before turning on the safety and tucking it back into the security of his jeans.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

You don’t think. Don’t question. Instead you just launch yourself into his arms, praying that he’ll catch you.

Of course he does.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?” He growls after a beat, pulling away to assess you for injuries. His large, warm hands make quick work of checking you out before gently cupping your face. ��Huh? Why the fuck did you go quiet on me like that?”

You rest your smaller hands atop his as Ari brushes a feather-light kiss along your brow. His big body feels so tense beneath your touch. He’s wrapped so tightly, you’re almost certain he’s bound to go off at any moment.

“I…” You swallow thickly as you will yourself to stop shaking. “I was trying to use the element of surprise. I took my phone with me but…when he started really trying to bust down the door I knew I had to do something, so I –”

“FREEZE!” A new voice yells, taking you both by surprise. Your bounty hunter immediately spins on his heel, pushing you behind him to protect you from view.

Fucking Milton had finally arrived. A day late and a dollar short.

“Jesus Christ, asshole.” Ari snarls, briefly raising his hands in the air long enough for the officer to recognize the fact that there was no discernable threat. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Got held up on the way here. I’ll, uh, tell you about it later, Levinson.” Is all he says, holstering his weapon. “You okay there, darlin?”

Later he would pull the lawman aside and let him know that someone had tried to hold him up. Make it difficult for him to get here as fast as the situation had warranted. It wasn’t quite suspicious, but still odd nevertheless.

“She’s fine.” Ari answers on your behalf, circling a possessive arm around your waist. “Fine as can be, anyway.” He continues when you nod at his side. “Almost took my head off with a baseball bat before you got here.”

“Well, I reckon I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of The Creek’s champion softball players.” Milton responds with a tired grin, his hand coming up to massage the back of his neck. “How bad’s the damage to the door?”

“Eh…” Your bounty hunter attempts to shoo you inside with a guiding hand. “Whoever our guy is did a pretty good job damn near kicking the thing off the hinges. I just finished the job. I just wanna get her indoors so we can – wait.”

Ari stops cold, his entire body going stiff as if he’d only just realized something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning to face him, briefly halting his attempts to move you along.

“You said you just got here?” You know the question is meant solely for Milton.

“Yeah.” The officer responds, clearly perplexed by where Ari seems to be going with this. “Why?”

“Baby, you ain’t wearin’ nothing’ but a gown and slippers.” He murmurs, his lips hovering just above your ear. “Stop fightin’ me and go inside where it’s warm. Please.”

It’s an order, that much you can tell. But as much as you want to protest, you decide to do as you’re bid, leaving the two lawmen alone.

Just this once.

“Good girl.” He praises you, still keeping his voice low even as his words warm your belly. “We’ll be along in a moment.”

Ari’s P.O.V.

“What’s up, Levinson?” Milton tries again once you’re safely out of earshot.

“When I pulled in, there was a cruiser already parked halfway down the block. Assumed it was you and kept it moving.”

“That’s awful strange.”

“I know.” Ari grunts, hands on his hips. “Did you call this out over the radio?”

“Well, yeah.” The officer shrugs as he wracks his brain for more details. “But nobody responded. Figured it would just be me and you and that would be enough.”

“Well, clearly someone else heard it.” Your bounty hunter snaps. “You didn’t see anyone when you pulled up? They weren’t still parked there?”

“No.” Milton scrubs a hand along his jaw. “I came the opposite way you did. Only saw your truck.” Turning on his flashlight he flashes it towards the woods beckoning along the edge of your property. “And did you see anyone trying to break-in when you got here?”

“No. But the damage was already done.”

“Think you chased ‘em off?”

“Maybe.” Ari murmurs, his tone rife with suspicion. “But I doubt it. Somethin’ tells me the fucker dipped before I even stepped foot on the lawn.”

“Fucking. Awesome.” The officer blows out a tired breath. Turning off his flashlight, he lightly claps the other man on the shoulder. “Look. We ain’t gonna get anywhere with this shit tonight.”

“Yeah.” He drags out the word. “Yeah, I know.” God, he needed a fucking cigarette.

“It’s late. I still need to get her statement. We…we can pick this up in the morning.”

With nothing else left to say, the confused and frustrated men head for your front porch. Regardless of wherever Milton stood on the subject, Ari vows to get to the bottom of this bullshit.

But first he wanted – no, he needed – to see to you.

Your P.O.V.

It’s nearly 5:00am before Officer Milton walks out your front door, leaving you alone with the one man who had the power to keep you off balance. Right now the two of you are sitting in your kitchen, each sipping a mug of hot tea with an added splash of whiskey.

Ari had been quiet for most of your conversation with the young officer, only interjecting where and when he felt it necessary. He’d also fetched you tissues when you started to cry, and even held your hand during the…more harrowing portion of your evening.

“Thank you.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally break the silence. “For coming tonight.”

He wants to tell you that he’ll always come, whenever you call. But he can’t quite seem to summon up the words. So instead he simply settles on: “You’re welcome.”

“You…you don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

But Ari makes no move to get up. He’s not sure he’s capable of it. Not with you sitting here looking every inch the fragile little bird that you are. Now he knew that you, his woman, had two sides.

You were either his firebrand of a Duchess, or his sweet, soft little Bird. But what you didn’t know is that he was absolutely willing and wanting to keep you. Both of you.

Clearing his throat, your bounty hunter leans back in his chair, his turbulent blue gaze clashing with yours. “You’re gonna need someone to fix that door.” His tone comes off a little more gruff than he intends.

With a sigh, you come to rest your head on your hand. “I’m afraid it’s too early for me to call the insurance company just yet.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His response catches you completely off guard. You stare back at him with wide eyes, silently wondering how much the whiskey was talking.

“Sweetheart.” Once again you find your hand encased in the warmth of his, squeezing gently. “It’s gonna take the insurance company days, if not weeks, to handle this. You and I both know you can’t go that long without a proper door.”

“But I still need to report it…” You protest, hating the fact that you can’t get your brain to work as fast as you would like.

“So do that. But in the meantime, I’ve got a buddy who owes me a favor. I’ll get him and his boys out here and we’ll get you fixed up good and proper.”

“I can’t afford that.”

“Did anyone ask you to pay?” He responds, making it known that he had it in him to be just as stubborn as you. Releasing his grip, he scoots away from the table. Standing up, he picks up your mugs before depositing them in the sink.

“Ari.” While you mean to sound firm, his name comes out more like a whine, making him smile.

“How about you get on up to bed, hm?” He murmurs when he sees your head start to dip. Now that all that adrenaline had run its course, you were plum exhausted. “I’ll close up down here. Maybe find some tarp to put over that back door until we can get you the real thing.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“Hmph.” Ari grunts as he helps you stand. “Afraid it’ll only get worse the more I have to repeat myself.”

Your sweet, yet incredibly stubborn lawman runs an affectionate hand over your curls. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, burying your face in his chest to inhale his scent. And even though part of you is waiting for him to push you away, you struggle not to melt on the spot when you feel him press a tender kiss on top of your head.

“Off to bed with you, little Bird.” He rumbles after a minute, knowing this has already gone on longer than it should’ve. “Get a move-on, now.”

You’re in such a haze that you don’t even bother to call him out over yet another stupid nickname. First Duchess and now this? You were gonna give this handsome jerk a piece of your mind after you got some sleep. Perhaps you’d threaten to peck his eyes out or something…

Leaning on him even as you plot, you don’t balk as he leads you toward the stairs. Nor do you complain when you feel a territorial hand settle on your hip as he guides you to the foot of your bedroom where he watches you climb into bed. And you decide to ignore the way your belly flutters when you hear him calling you his “good girl” one last time.

END

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jeongin-lvr · 6 months ago

Note

jeongin fucking you within an inch of your life when he finds out one of his besties (beomgyu) has a little crush on you.. takes a video/picture and send it to him (with ur permission ofc) as a 'fuck you,' but next time he comes over jeongin invites him to join

thoughts?

THOUGHTS??? my thoughts are gone no thoughts only THIS!!! I’m gonna add a little beomgyu action too just cuz IDEAS!!! the second half of this may inspire a part 2 🤗

Jeongin is not happy, not at all, when he finds out that one of his best friends is not-so-secretly crushing on you. He finds out because of you; he sees that whenever the three of you hang out Beomgyu always laughs a little too hard at your jokes and sits a little too close for Jeongin’s comfort. And come to find out a week later you were recounting to your boyfriend the ridiculous story of how the boy had confessed randomly a few days before. Jeongin feels like he should find it funny but he really doesn’t at all. Jeongin grits his teeth when he hears the confirmation come from your lips— those pretty, smiley, innocent little lips. He can’t help himself as his hands come to pull you over his lap, your legs dangling off the side and your lips breathing over his. Your once bright smile faltered as you took in the sight of Jeongin’s face. He was mad, you knew that look well enough. His narrow, foxy eyes were dark and his lips pressed in a thin line of disapproval.

Jeongin had a hunch that that idiotic boy liked you too but now that it was confirmed it felt like a whole new level of annoyance. Jeongin’s lips graze over your neck and his whispers are delicate yet they breathe out the tiniest glimpse of venom. “Pathetic… baby, what did you tell him?? Tell me, now.” He demands and you immediately obey, your fingers clutching around the collar of his button up, your lips parting to let out a whimpering sigh. “I— I said that m’ not interested…” You voice cracks when his teeth dig into your skin, grating against your flushed skin, “I told Gyu that m’ all yours, Innie.”

Jeongin seemed satisfied with that as he pulled back, the swollen red shade of his lips matching that of the bruise he left on your neck, “Good girl, you did exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

“B-but, Innie, he kind of got mad at me,” You genuinely felt sadness warping your chest a s you said this. Your eyes lowering to his hand that gently rubbed your belly, the gentle graze of his fingertips making you warm, “I think he hates me now.”

Jeongin snorted at this, raising his hand to tilt your chin up to his face, “It’s not your fault, sweetheart, Beomgyu’s a prick sometimes,” And then he’s kissing you. And it starts off as those familiar kisses he always gave you. The ones that leave you breathless and dizzy; but then it escalates as his hand clasps at the back of your neck and his lips roughly mesh with yours. He starts the kiss and he’s also the one to escalate it. You simply comply because you always did for him, and you did so gladly.

That’s how he got you ass up with your face in a pillow, bellowing his name like a sinful mantra as his dick fucked in and out of you repeatedly. And it wasn’t slow or rhythmic; the pace of his hips was sporadic and oh so heavenly. He was moving in a way that you’ve never really felt with him. Fueled by the jealousy, the pure need to prove a point. Jeongin bit his lip as a groan swam out of his mouth, his eyes falling in your bouncing ass, watching as you fucked yourself back on his dick drowsily, drooling into the pillow below you. Jeongin couldn’t help himself, he moans out your name, squishing your plush waist, “It’ll only ever be me, right, doll? I know your body too well, you can’t even get off without my dick in you anymore, let alone someone else’s,” He chuckles at his own words, his eyes zoned in on your flushed cheeks as a fat tears swam from your eyes, spilling in a wet patch on the pillow you laid on. Then his gaze shifted as his phone screen lay alit, a notification opening his screen. A notification from his supposed best friend. Jeongin bends forward, opting to roll his hips into you now as he began checking the message.

He read it aloud for you, “Can I come over tonight? What do you think, babe, should we let your little admirer come over tonight?” Jeongin awaited your answer and you immediately shook your head no, sobbing out as you felt your orgasm rapidly zap through your poor, spent body. “No? Well, why not? Actually, let me record this so Beomgyu can hear your exact words.” Had you been in your right state of mind you’d immediately say no; push him away and reprimand the man. However, your body only ached to cum just as it did before this and before that. So you laid limp as your needy pussy began missing his rapid fucking. Jeongin began recording now, stilling his hips as he angled the camera to catch the way you fucked your self on his hard dick. Your ass bouncing back and forth on him as a little moan slipped past your lips, “Tell Beomgyu what you said, baby.” You whimpered, sinking into yourself as your body struggled to even fathom words. Jeongin sighed with an exaggerated click of his tongue and used his free hand to grip your hair and yank you backward, “Tell him now.” You tilted your head back, following the way he held you by your poor red scalp. You pouted and finally answered, “Don’t c-come over, Gyu…” Your voice was painfully wavered by the interruptions of your own moans. It satisfied Jeongin and he, on recording, slammed his hips into you once, making sure to catch your long moan and expression, before ending the video and hitting send carelessly.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu opened the video, unable to make out the first frame before it began playing. Then the screen before he was quite obvious. His screen obscured by the refreshing view of your little ass; he’d always wondered what it looked like beneath the skirts and pants you wore, now he knew. Beomgyu ogled at the screen, watching your ass fuck on his friend’s cock. Pure jealousy raged through him and he let out a little whispery sigh. Dick already hard in his pants as he listened to your stifled voice and pained whines tell him not to come over, telling him you were busy. Beomgyu groaned with annoyance, it was unfair. He watched the way you took Jeongin’s cock and it looked so snug in your cute little pussy. He longed to be in your boyfriend’s place; he ached for it. But instead he just took his cock out of his jeans and felt the warm enveloping feeling of his own palm per usual, eyes watching the video over and over again until he came like a whore over his own stomach.

#౨ৎ. dee’s hard hours #feat. jeongin .ᐟ #love me some jealous boys #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #i.n smut #jeongin smut #txt smut #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #yang jeongin smut

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fortunapre · 19 days ago

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Oscar asks you to attend an important event with him, and during this, secrets and moments are shared. HOT MOMENTS!!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: my first smut so tread carefully. 18+, also kind of fluff, p in v, fingers do things, swearing, 1st person

★ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 ★ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ★ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ★ 4.5k words (long)

A classic childhood best friends to lovers. This story is written in first person and includes thoughts of the main character:

y/n of course.

I know that I promised him. I know what I promised him. However, I also know that keeping this promise might very well leave me crying on my bathroom floor listening to Gracie Abrams's "I Should Hate You” later tonight.

You know when you agree to something so irrational and god damn stupid that you immediately know you’ll regret it? At the time, when he asked me, I thought: I should really start going out more anyways and, really, how bad could it be? Safe to say, if I could go back in time and strangle (maybe not strangle but slightly maim) those words out of past-Me’s mind, I'd be hopping in a telephone booth right now.

But, if that were the case, you wouldn't be hearing about this now, would you?

I guess some explanation should be given…

Cheesy movie-like-warping flashback to 2 months ago…

It was around noon on a blistering Thursday, at the Singapore Grand Prix. I had just shown up a little later than expected, and the sun had already given me a death wish. I was wearing a Mclaren cap and sunglasses, but I swear heat waves were emitting from my face. Dramatics aside, it was really fucking hot, and I wanted to find Oscar and get in the shade ASAP.

I probably looked stupid as I whipped my head back and forth like a crazy woman, trying to spot him. I dragged the friend I’d taken with me across the paddock, trying to locate the Mclaren Area.

Once I remembered it's the 21st century and I have a cellphone, I called Oscar.

“Yeah?” He answered after one ring.

“Ugh where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere…”

“I'm at the Mclaren-”

“Where?! I don’t see a wink of papaya.” My friend beside me gave me a pointed look because I was getting a bit aggressive because of the heat, but who cares? I NEED SHADE.

“If you’d let me finish my sentence, dork, I’d have told you It’s to the left of the entrance. It’s kind of hidden by Ferrari.”

“Okayyyyy…” I said while walking and looking around for what he was talking about. “walking there now. See ya.”

“See ya.”

I hung up and practically sprinted to where he said.

Once I caught sight of Lando a few steps away, I knew I was heading the right way.

“Lando!” I yelled. He looked up from his phone, eyes squinting and searching for the voice that called his name. He was wearing a nice outfit, no doubt because it was media day. Once he saw me he smiled and gave a short wave.

I tried to bring my friend with me, but they insisted on going to the Ferrari area instead since “Mclaren is enemy territory.”

I understood and let them go since I know how much of a die-hard Tifosi they are.

Once I reached Lando, I gave him a short hug and stood next to him in the shade. I was going to ask how the day’s been so far, but he spoke first.

“Wow, was it really that bad? What did you say?” Lando said, looking at me with concern. “Umm what?” I am very confused. Who? What? When where? Huh? “Lando. What are you talking about?”

“Well, you walked over looking kind of, i don’t know… mad? And now you're all red so I assumed that your guy’s conversation didn’t go down well.” He explained, still not giving me a better explanation.”

“Huh? What why? Wait. Mine and whose conversation?” I expressed my concern and confusion by waving my arms around.

“Oscar, dumbass. Who else?”

“I just got here. What are you talking about? Actually, I was going to see Oscar right now, but I thought I’d catch up with you, since I saw you first.”

“Oh! You haven’t seen Oscar yet?” Lando’s eyebrows raised up like a cartoon character in surprise. I shook my head. “Go over there! He should be by the interviewer's pen. And just ignore everything I said. Yeah?”

“I- ok?” Before I could say anything Lando walked away towards a group of people holding neon yellow merch.

I shook my head in confusion and then walked towards the interview pen. I spotted Oscar in a second, wearing a black Quadlock T-shirt, black shorts, an orange and blue OP81 cap, and the all-known backpack. His hands were in his pockets and he was nodding along to whatever the person next to him was talking about.

He caught sight of me and did a double take in my direction. Instead of immediately leaving his conversation, he kept nodding respectfully but while occasionally looking at me. The person talking to him must have realized he was distracted and let him go. Once he was free, he turned away and started walking towards me, a smile present like always.

“You good? You look a little sweaty?” He asked while laughing a bit and wiping the space between my eyebrows and hat with the cold handkerchief he was holding.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I answered and tried to wipe away more moisture with the collar of my shirt, to no avail. He just gave me the handkerchief instead of watching me struggle.

Once I was done, I looked at him and saw his classic amused smirk. I shoved his shoulder playfully and walked past him into the shade.

He directed me to a room with air conditioning. It had a couch, closet and other Oscar things- it was his driver’s room.

I plopped down on the couch, fanning myself.

He sat down next to me and once he did, I didn’t hesitate to drape my legs over his lap and lay back, exhausted.

We kind of sat there for a bit until he spoke up.

“So listen there’s this…”

When he stopped talking I opened my rested eyes and lifted my head to look at him. When I saw how flushed he looked, I properly sat up, moving my legs off of him and sat next up. Instead of asking what he was going to say, I just stayed quiet, knowing he would say it when he wanted to.

“I have a question for you. You can say no, but I figured I’d ask you since you're my closest friend and I’d be more comfortable if you were there.” He said quickly.

(Hi. Future-me here. I’d have told you what him saying “friend” did to my heart, but I haven’t explained that part yet.)

“Ok, I’m all ears!” Who says that? Is that an actual saying? Why am I nervous?

He laughed a bit at that and continued talking. “So, are you up to going to this team gala thing in November with me, ‘cause I need a plus one and I don’t think I could get an actual date at that time.”

So, 1. Actual date? What's that supposed to mean? And 2. What does he mean he couldn’t get a date when he looks like that?

(If you didn’t get that: I find Oscar very attractive.)

“Oh, um…” I started.

(Waaiiiittttttttttt)

“Well, I guess. I mean-” I stuttered.

(Anddddddddd)

“Sure. I’ll go with you.” I finally said.

(There it is. The worst mistake: I agreed to go to this stupid gala with him.)

Present

After I agreed to go to the gala with him, he brightened up and the look on his face made me excited to go, at the time. Now, however, I’m standing in my room, in my dress, chewing my nails and thinking over any type of excuse I could come up with.

Over these past 2 months since he asked me, we’ve gotten closer.

We’ve been hanging out more, and doing things that have made me feel like maybe he reciprocates my feelings.

Oh! By the way, I’m in love with my best friend, Oscar Piastri, but you probably already gathered that.

This Gala is making me nervous because of how intimate it sounds to go as Oscar’s date and social gatherings haven’t been my favorite either.

So, now I’m racking my brain on anything I could say to get out of this.

Right as I debate pretending to fall ill, my doorbell rings.

I take a deep breath, grab my purse and my shoes and make my way downstairs to answer the door.

Once the door swings open, I’m hit with cold air from outside, but a shiver makes it’s way throughout my body for a completely different reason.

Oscar’s standing there, wearing a black suit that fits him way too well. He’s wearing a burnt orange tie to match my dress and is holding flowers. His face is tinted pink from the cold and his hair is messy in a “yeah I styled it, but in a rockstar-messy-sexy way.”

We both looked at each other in silence, checking each other out with no guilt. His gaze broke from me first and right as I was trying to imagine what his torso looked like under his shirt, he cleared his throat. I looked away quickly and smiled at him warmly. He had his signature smile-smirk that made me want to grab his face and kiss it off of him.

I withheld from any of the inappropriate actions flooding through my mind, no matter how many, and instead let him in.

He walked in and stood in the entrance across from me.

“It’s 7, and you’re not even finished getting ready?” He asked, grabbing my heels from my hand and lifting them up.

“Yeah, well, to be honest I’m kind of nervous.”

Instead of asking why, he just nodded his head in a 'yeah me too' way.

He set the flowers down on a table nearby and started kneeling.

“Oscar, come on.” I tried to lift him up by his jacket, but he just playfully swatted my hand and continued. He lifted one of my feet slowly and began putting my shoe on for me.

Safe to say I am very much enjoying this, and might just internally combust.

Once he put both shoes on, he looked up at me, still kneeling. Instead of getting up immediately, he just looked at me for a bit and me him.

There was something burning and overly intimate about this: us looking at each other. He slowly got back up and stood in front of me at his normal, towering, height. The change in his position did not stop our gazes.

He looked serious now. Not the usual, playful, best-friend Oscar. Something different....

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a low, gravely way that made my insides warm.

I looked down, blushing like crazy.

He looked away, a new hard expression on his face, and opened the door for us both.

“Thankyou for the flowers.” I mentioned it quietly, afraid of this blooming tension.

He just nodded and led me to his car.

When we reached the gala, my nerves still hadn’t settled. In Oscar’s case, he didn’t look relaxed anymore. The whole way here, he kept stealing glances at me. I tried to understand what he was thinking but his expression wasn’t giving anything away.

We walked into the building together. His head was on the small of my back, and since the dress was backless, his pinky was very close to grazing the top of my underwear. My back was burning from his touch and it’s all my mind was on. As we walked through a ton of people, I never thought about anything other than Oscar’s hands, and what they would feel like anywhere lower.

Welcome to my mind: the place where Oscar’s hands have supremacy over any valid thought process.

I imagined him gripping my hips and pulling me close. Rubbing my arms, touching my face, lightly brushing my lips with his fingers, slowly touching my thigh.

But then his hand left my back, and my surroundings faded back into reality.

We reached an area where people were mingling by an open bar. I'm going to need a drink to get through this.

Before I could get a drink to filter my emotions, Lando found us.

“Hey guys, thank god you're here.” He said. He was wearing a nice navy suit, and any girl would fawn over him. Except, next to me was Oscar, and he looked so incredibly handsome that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him to spare Lando anymore than a glance.

“Hey man.” Oscar fist-bumped him awkwardly and I gave him a small side hug.

“You guys are kind of late, but that’s okay because everybody figured you guys were doing-” Lando didn’t finish whatever he was going to say and instead gave a horrible wink.

I didn’t understand what he was saying at first but then Oscar made a comment,

“Mate, come on.” Oscar looked annoyed with Lando and rolled his eyes. I blushed when I realized and scoffed at Lando’s attempt to make a joke.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s true though.”

“Lando.” This time i scolded him.

“Sorry! Anyways, you’re a bit late so you missed the introduction but I'll summarize. There’s going to be an open bar, a raffle, dancing and mingling. The raffle's for some car but we don’t get to participate...But he wants us to either talk to these fancy people and find sponsors or dance.”

I winced a bit, not at all excited to do any sort of talking, let alone business talking.

Lando walked away towards a pretty blond woman, going to do God knows what and left us to decide what to do with these instructions. I thought hard about how much I do not want to talk to strangers and instead blurted out: “Let’s dance.”

Oscar looked at me quickly in confusion. “What? You hate dancing. Remember the school dance where we sat at the table the whole night because of how petrified you were of dancing in front of everyone?”

Yes, of course I remember. Right now, though, I’d take anything over sponsor-mingling.

“I'd do anything to not have to follow you around to make conversation with these people. So, let’s look busy and dance.”

Oscar agreed and took my hand.

His hands, good lord. We found a spot and situated ourselves in a normal dance position.

His hands were on my waist, and I held mine around his neck. I did whatever I could to not make eye contact. Instead, I watched as couples around the room held each other closely and danced to the music, looking very formal.

“You good?” Oscar asked me in a whisper. He tilted his head down to speak right next to my ear. He was very close to my face, and when I moved to look at him and answer, our noses brushed. I jerked away a bit at the touch and just nodded. I held him closer and rested my head on his chest. My heart was beating out of my chest. He was breathing slowly and deeply near my face.

Our closeness, his voice, his touch, my heart, and the collection of everything that’s happened over these last two months were gathering to the front of my mind.

I needed to say something.

“Oscar.” I whispered, finally making eye contact with him.

His gaze was sharp, darting between both of my eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

We were slowly moving to the music, and he was leading effortlessly. Even though dancing in a crowd was one of my worst nightmares, I wasn’t scared at all. All of my emotions were focused on the man holding me. My best-friend. My childhood crush. My Oscar. I needed to tell him how I felt. Tonight.

“Can we go somewhere private?” I asked nervously. His eyes got intense and his jaw moved. He looked around the room, and without asking why, he took his hands away from my waist and held my lower back, moving me through the dancers.

He didn’t know this building and neither did I, so it took us some time to find somewhere, but eventually we found a room filled with plants. It didn’t look like an indoor garden at all. Instead, it looked like plants that originally decorated the building and were stashed in this room for the night, to make room for Mclaren decor. The green made the room weirdly beautiful and the arrangement of vases were Louvre-worthy.

Oscar closed the door behind him and turned to me. I sat on the edge of a table that was in the middle of the room and hid my face in my shoulder, suddenly scared and regretting this very much.

Oscar and I have always been able to tell when something was bothering the other. So, whenever one of us caught that look on the other, we never pressured them to say anything. Instead, we waited in comfortable silence for the other to say what they wanted. Asking somebody what’s wrong over and over or pressuring the anwer out of someone never works. So, we wait. Wait until we’re ready.

That’s what Oscar was doing. He was waiting for me to speak up, but I could tell the silence was eating at him this time. So, I spoke.

“Listen, I’m just going to say it. I don’t know if this is going to change our friendship, and I really don’t want it to. If it’s weird, just ignore it and we’ll pretend this never happened, ok? I don’t want you to leave my life or stay away forever after this.” I said quickly, looking at my feet dangling from the edge of the table.

Oscar didn’t respond at first. I looked up trying to catch an emotion but I had no idea what he was thinking.

Instead, he stepped closer to me. He got so close that his thighs were touching my knees.

“Nothing you say could ever keep me away from you.” He said, looking at me with sincerity and an intensity that could have someone on their knees in a second.

I just nodded and cleared my throat.

“Ok.” I nodded again, trying to get the words out.

“Oscar, I-” My heartbeat was in my ears and suddenly any nerves fell away as I was cut off. Oscar stopped me from talking by softly grabbing my neck and bringing my face close to his. I fell silent and instead admired our shared breaths. Our noses were touching and with one lean, I could be feeling Oscar’s lips on me. I don’t know what he wants. Is he going to kiss me? A few seconds later, Oscar moved his head a bit. He grazed my lips with his, but we still weren’t kissing yet. All of my emotions were on high, I needed him. Now.

I took the last space and smashed my lips on his. He inhaled deeply into the kiss and immediately started moving with me. His lips were soft. Softer than I’d imagined.

His hand that was on the back of my neck brought me closer to him. Our lips were only touching. We're not properly making out, but somehow, it was the sexiest, most intimate thing I’d ever felt. Oscar used his other hand to move my knees apart so he could step between them. As soon as he moved closer, a heat burst in my heart. I grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands and pulled him into me. He started moving his lips, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth in the most sensual way.

I gasped in the air and fluttered my eyes at the feeling of finally kissing Oscar. Oscar was kissing me back and it was more than I could have ever imagined in the steamiest of dreams.

He kissed me like it was the break of dawn, and he was fulfilling a dream he had about us. I heard the unsteady breathing between us both and every nerve of mine was on fire.

Oscar placed a hand on my thigh, grazing his thumb across the soft skin. He made a deep noise–a growl?-and said against my lips, “Me too, dork.” He could only mean that he agrees with what I was going to confess.

“Wait, you didn't even hear me.” I whispered, moving to rest my forehead against his.

He chuckled and it made me shiver in a way that made me want his whole weight on me. “I’ve known you my whole life. I kind of figured, well I hoped, that’s what you were trying to say with the warning you gave about ‘not wanting to ruin our friendship,’ so I had a hunch and took it.”

I smiled and opened my eyes to look at him. “Im glad.”

“Yeah?” he whispered, then angled his head to kiss along my neck. I was going to reply but only a sultry moan escaped my lips. He sucked in a short breath at the noise and started to nip further down to my collarbone and back up to behind my ear. I ran my fingers through his hair, gently pulling and playing with the strands. He licked the warm spot on my throat and then abandoned my neck.

“Listen, I know this is extremely inappropriate," I looked at him, praying to any romantic gods that he says what I need him to say. "but I really need you right now. I think I’ll go insane…” He kissed me again, this time not hard but inviting and slowly. My mind was going haywire from his confession. He seemed so confident, and his touches and movements only seemed to validate the truth of his wants.

I pulled back and made sure to look him in the eye when I said: “Please, yes.”

He growled again and latched our lips and hips at the same time, dragging me closer to him. He was still standing between my legs, while I sat on the table. I was grasping at his hair, then down to the nape of his neck where I pulled him again. I couldn't get enough of him.

He slowed us down again and started to take off his jacket. Then, he got down on his knee to take off my shoes.

What kind of irony is it that he’s doing exactly what I imagined him doing when he was putting them on.

After the shoes, was his tie, then I undid the buttons of his shirt. I wasted no time feeling his toned abs with both hands. We kissed for a little longer, not being able to leave our mouths alone for long.

What’d you expect? Its years of mutual longing, of course, we’re making it last.

Finally, all that was left between us was my bra, and our underwear.

He was incredibly hot and I needed to feel him closer. I didn’t want a barrier between us anymore. In seconds, the last pieces of clothing were gone and our bare bodies were feeling everywhere.

He slowly pushed me back onto the table and the coldness of the wood made me shiver. Then, he lifted my legs to bend and rest on the table as well.

I couldn’t see him completely but I felt him.

His fingers, the ones I’d daydreamed about minutes ago, touched my inner thigh. I heard him let out some unintelligent words as he got closer to where I needed him more than the entire universe.

“Oscar,” I gasped, telling him my needs.

Then, in a flash, I was brought back up , and facing Oscar again, sitting up. I let my legs drop off the table and Oscar held me close to him again.

“I need to kiss you. I need you close.” I melted at his words and moaned when his hand crept back down. Our mouths unlatched but slayed near each other.

“Good god. Is this all for me?” He asked, finally dragging his fingers through my wetness. His fingers push into me, thumb stroking. “All me?”

I nod and this makes him start to stroke and pump. Every feeling in me is being dragged in and out by his hand, making me spiral. Every touch is amplified, making me move with him, over and over. He adds another finger, and I can't hold it anymore. Just a few more and I’d have reached bliss. The bliss was going to have to wait though.

“Osc.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to come.”

I hold in another cry at the sight of his naughty smirk. “Good.”

Instead of coming alone, I clumsily reach for him. Once I find the heavy heat of him, I close my hand around it and feel how ready he is. I shift up so he can line up.

He moved his fingers to grp my thighs.

He groans deliciously as he finally sinks in, and that sound tugs at something lovely and warm inside me.

The relief of him, thick and hungry, sliding deep in and out of me could cause a cosmic reaction. Stars are bursting, my skin could be glowing. By god, If the world was ending around us, I’d stay here with him. Our bodies, finally being together, creates a fire in my bloodstream.

I whisper that I never want to stop.

He groans how there’s no way this is real.

I want to keep him here, he never wants to come, never wants to let go.

I'm already reaching my high, and our expressive, frantic love-making gets me there with a few more thrusts.

I go, he follows. I finish, he’s still following.

The world feels quiet as we make noises that rival the movies.

In the silence that follows, I feel our heartbeats and hear our mixed breaths.

He kisses me, but it’s so lazy and slow. We have to keep breathing deeply between kisses.

I shift to disconnect but he stops me, and he brings me into him, hugging me. Our sweat and skin feel each other in a warm embrace. He's still inside me.

“Holy shit.” Oscar says into my hair. “Never leave me.”

What did we just do?

How have we gone this long without doing this?

I'm going to need it in every part of my life from now on- to live.

“Oscar, I’m in love with you.” I say, after everything.

He smiles and lifts my face to look at him. “Well I mean, you did just say it like over and over-”

“Oscar, I'm serious.” I lightly smack his chest. I love how after everything we’re still the same friends and lovers that tease each other.

“I love you too.” he kisses me short and sweet. The kiss suddenly grows again. And leads to more. And more.

After we rushed to put on our clothes after realizing how long we were probably missing, we made our way back to the gala. We didn’t stay long, both scared someone would see us and figure out the obvious, and wanting to be alone again somewhere more private.

We almost made it, when Lando stopped us both. I was going to make up some bullshit excuse, but instead of saying anything, Lando held a hand up, then gave the most horrendous wink and let us pass. Idiot.

#reader reached the apex before oscar #lets fucking go #smut's lowkey hard guys #f1 #no pun intended #f1 x reader #fanfiction #formula one #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #formula one smut #oscar piastri one shot

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m3l0nfl0at · 2 months ago

Text

just thinking about you - s. gojo

Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader ; ANGST, hurt/comfort, spoilers for non manga readers, happy ending, swearing, 1.3k words, GOJO STANS WE UP BCOS HES COMING BACK TODAY!!

summary ; GOJO COMEBACK BCOS I SAID SO

melon’s recommended melody ; little freak - harry styles

Ever since the day Satoru died, you wanted nothing to do with Jujutsu society. Why would you want anything to do with the society who sold your partner as a mere weapon and nothing more. If it wasn’t for them putting all the pressure on him, maybe he would still be here with you, in your arms. You wonder if there was anything you did wrong leading up to the fight. Maybe not telling him you loved him enough, that he wasn’t just the strongest to you, or telling him to give up Jujutsu society altogether after the multiple incidents with Geto. However, that’s just you being selfish, you knew Gojo wanted to change the society he grew up in and who were you to stop him.

You remember the day he left so vividly, teleporting you to some strange city only to tell you to stay. He caressed your face repeating that he wanted nothing bad to happen to you and this was the only way to keep you safe. That whole night you spent the day in each other’s arms, repeating to him that he was going to win. To which he made a snarky comment saying, he would never lose to an asshole who calls himself “The King of Curses”. You remember that night an ugly feeling in your stomach settled and never went away. If you had to put your finger on it, you think you could call it anxiety. Anxiety, that if Satoru did come back, would he come back as the same person you knew and loved?

What would happen if he killed Sukuna and wasn’t able to save Megumi? Could he live with himself? Would he be able to sleep at night knowing he couldn’t save one of his students? Who was to say Satoru is guaranteed a win to begin with? You had to hold on to a string of false hope that Satoru would be able to defeat someone as strong as Sukuna. Not even letting your brain allow the option to think negatively at a time like this. So that morning you really cemented it into his brain that he will win and he’ll come back to you safe and sound. It was the only thing you could do. In this moment you wish you were a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer like himself. So you could possibly fight beside him, give him a fighting chance but you barely made it to be a grade one sorcerer.

Satoru reassured you saying that he was the strongest, nothing was going to go wrong and he would come back to you unharmed. As he warped back to where the fight was, you went to lie in bed. Not allowing yourself to think about anything else but Satoru winning. Yet, day turned into night and night turned into days. No one called to reassure you he was fine. You thought maybe he’s staying back to make sure his students were okay before making his way to you. Satoru was always one to arrive late for an event but he never once arrived late for anything pertaining to you. A couple of days pass by, as you look at your phone to see Shoko calling you. Your heart drops, palms are sweating, and your knees feel shaky. You were hesitant to answer, Gojo never said Shoko would call you if he won, hell Gojo said he would be with you after he won. So where is he, he won right? He had to have won, winning is in his birthright!

Answering that call was the worst decision of your life, Shoko told you how she had Satoru’s body and intended to use it. She explained the plan, how Gojo agreed to let Yuta use his body. You felt angry at Satoru for not explaining that he had enough doubts to the point where he had to make a backup plan.

Sick to your stomach that he could let himself get used like that beyond his death? What about what you wanted for him, what about how you wanted him here to properly grieve him. You hung up the call on Shoko not wanting to hear anything else, Satoru is dead. Not only did he lose but he left you here with no one, nothing in this stupid city he teleported you to. You walked out of the building, seeing the snow fall, feeling bitterness seep into you. How dare life go on without Satoru Gojo. You balled up the cold snow in your bare hands wanting to feel something, whether it be the cold or the burn in your hand from how freezing the ice was. Yet nothing came, you let go seeing your hand red and red is what you were seeing. “I hate you Satoru Gojo! I hope you hear that up there! How could you do this to me! How could you leave me here alone!” Feeling the cold hit your face as you scream into the wind. You didn’t move, feeling the cold nip at your body that was hot with anger.

After that day, you realized you couldn’t change anything. No outcome could bring Satoru back to you. In this cruel world the only thing you can do after one dies, is live on. You got numerous calls from Shoko choosing to ignore every single one. What could she possibly tell you that would make you feel better? Going outside to watch the snow melt away, hugging your knees. You hoped someone beat “The King of Curses” ass. That bastard had taken Satoru away from you, you’d hope he’d burn in hell. Snapping out of your thoughts when you heard the snow crunching from down the road. You turn around quickly wielding your cursed tool, the worst it could be was a curse but it’s not like you couldn’t handle it. At this point you really couldn’t care if you died, maybe dying would make you feel something you haven’t felt in days.

“Woah, no need to wield your tool!”, you freeze knowing that voice from anywhere. Your frozen state soon turns to anger wanting to kill whatever curse this was playing with you. Not yielding, he steps closer as you slice your tool downward warning whatever that was to not come any closer to you. “Stop right there, whatever you are!”, you have to remind yourself that he was dead. That’s not him, it can’t be, Satoru puts up his hands. “You know if you answered Shoko’s calls you would know I was coming.”, Satoru glances at you but it was no use. Knowing there was nothing more he could say, he lifts up his shirt showing you the scar where his body was cut in half. You falter, he sees your eyes soften just a bit. “Only I know you’re here, I teleported you here. I made sure no curses were in this area before taking you here.”, you drop your tool. Still feeling hesitant, debating if you were dreaming or Satoru was actually in front of you.

“I’m dreaming, the cold finally got to my head. You’re not here Satoru, you’re dead, you’ve been dead. Oh my god, I've got to get out of this town, I’m going crazy.” You cover your face with your hands, rubbing your eyes as hard as you could. Shit, maybe you need to get more sleep because you will not allow yourself to hallucinate like this. Feeling his hands peel your hands off your face, you start tearing up. “I’m here, I’m real.”, you shake your head not believing that this is real. “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”, Satoru laughs, pulling you into a hug. You feel the rumbling in his chest as you lay against it. “I didn’t win or come back unharmed but I told you I would come back to you, didn’t I?”, you allow yourself to feel this moment, scared that this was all a dream. If this was a dream you hoped to never wake up. Wanting to hold onto him forever after almost losing him for good. “I’m here, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I promise.”

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: idc what happens later today, hes back bcos i said so

#gojo x reader #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo jjk #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x you

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ipleadbritney · 21 days ago

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magic, crushes, and time warps

osctober day 25: magic

landoscar, magical realism, time travel, rough sequel to three-sixteenths

"Where's Oscinha?”

“Haven't heard that one in a while,” Oscar says, not looking up from his phone.

Lando plasters himself all over Oscar's back. “Where'd you hide the kid?”

Oscar finally gives Lando his full attention, doesn't fight Lando nuzzling into his neck. “First, he's not a kid. Second, why would I even hide him? Third, where would I even hide him?”

“You tell me,” Lando mumbles. “I had a short meeting and then he wasn't in the clinic. Nurses said McLaren staff fetched him.”

“Kim and Mark's probably talking to him. Calming him down.”

“He seemed pretty calm when I saw him. He's you, Osc. Of course he's calm.”

“You saw him from a distance, and he's 17. Nobody was calm when they were 17.”

“I thought you were,” Lando says. He slides into the space in front of Oscar. Their driver rooms weren't meant for this sort of acrobatics, but they make it work. Lando's also grown used to Oscar's magic in close quarters. No suppressor can fully erase magic that sharp.

Lando knows Oscar, knows his magic, and also knows when he's hiding something from him.

Lando pinches Oscar's cheeks and stares into his eyes. Almost gets lost in them, but. “You know where Oscinha is. Why won't you tell me?”

Oscar has the decency to look sheepish. “It was no use, huh?”

“No use at all.”

“Well,” Oscar clears his throat, “he is with Kim and Mark. They're in Andrea's office. He's overwhelmed, and his magic is a bit all over the place. I didn't have good control back then.”

Lando can't imagine a time when Oscar wasn't a textbook example of a responsible magic user. He's loyal to his suppressor, and apart from a few instances, he hasn't seen Oscar's magic get out of hand. “You didn't wear suppressors back then?”

“Whatever got him thrown into the future also messed up his suppressors. He's wearing one of my back-ups, but it isn't calibrated, and there's the whole not-supposed-to-be-here part that's difficult to deal with.”

Lando hums. “Makes sense."

Oscar rubs their hands together, one of his nervous tics. “The team said he's fine, and they also said it'd be best if we're kept apart. Too much tampering.”

Lando understands, as much as he can when he's never remotely experienced anything like this. It's not exactly common for the world to spit out a younger version of yourself right after FP2.

“I can talk to him, if you'd like,” Lando offers, softly. “I can see him, right? I'll check up on him and report back to you.”

Oscar's eyes widen. “You don't have to do that, Lan. I'm sure he's safe, and they'd tell me if anything— if I have to be there.”

“But you're worried. I can feel it.” Lando holds up their joined hands. “See?”

Oscar's worry is clearly etched on his face, and so is his hesitance.

“It's just me, Osc. I won't make fun of him.”

“I know you won't.”

“But?” Lando cares for Oscar. He cares for every version of him, past or present or future.

Oscar tips his head forward, curling into Lando. His voice is small when he says, “He has a crush on you.”

“What?”

“I told them to hide him from you, because he has a crush on you.”

If Lando's maths is right, and his tutors always said he fared better with numbers than with words, then. That would mean. Whoah. “You had a crush on me at 17?”

Did they even know each other that far back? Max had mentioned Oscar in passing, and several journalists asked Lando questions about this young gun in F3, F2, in Alpine reserves, but until Zak plopped him in front of Lando in 2022, he had no clue.

What did Lando look like at 19? Surely not hot enough.

“You had a crush on me at 19?” Lando repeats, unable to fight his giggles. “Osc, that's adorable.”

“It's really not. It was debilitating.”

Translation: Oscar was down bad.

“You told me you wouldn't make fun of him,” Oscar points out, mouth ticking downwards.

“I'm not! I'm honored.”

“You shouldn't be.”

The conversation goes back-and-forth until Jon comes knocking on Oscar's door, looking for them both. “Debrief's in five, and we're checking you both for any side effects caused by the time warp.”

When they step into the hallway, Lando reassures Oscar that everything will be fine. They’re no strangers to weird, powerful magic.

Lando lifts Oscar’s arm and puts it across his own shoulders, velcroing himself to Oscar’s side. Maybe his words won’t do much against Oscar’s spiraling thoughts, but he hopes Oscar feels warm and loved. Because Oscar is— loved. And Lando runs warmer than most people, so that’s a free heater already.

Whatever Lando was about to say next— another proclamation of love or a jab at Oscar’s teenage dreams —dries at his throat. There’s a prickle at the back of his head. Raw magic, leaking out.

He turns around, looking for the source. Just in time to see young Oscar ducking his head, caught. That familiar flush on his face.

#landoscar #landoscar fic #britwrites #osctober 2024 #three-sixteenths #i'll have to bang out the details and if there'll ever be a full fic of this #it's months in the future #the direct sequel is still coming though so dw #i'm sorry for being predictable but i just had to do this with magic #my drabbles

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megalony · 9 months ago

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Leave Her Out Of This

This is a new Nick Amaro imagine from SVU, requested by a lovely anon. I loved this idea and I hope you will all like it. Any feedback is always lovely to get.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz

Masterlist

Summary: Nick comes back to work but he can't contain himself when he finds his wife up on their board of victims. He won't have the team dragging up her past and upsetting her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey stranger, how are you?"

A tired smile formed on Nick's face when he sluggishly walked into the squad room, trying not to drag his feet behind him and act a little more human today.

"Better," He felt much better than he did last week when he went off sick. He had barely been able to keep his eyes open and when he started to run a fever, Olivia sent him home. They didn't need him collapsing on the job or crumbling behind his desk when he wasn't well.

It had been oddly strange for Nick to spend five full days at home with (Y/n) and not have to set an alarm or wake up to a phone call in the middle of the night asking him to come in. He didn't get one call or message or even a voicemail asking for his help or for him to come back and it was the weirdest feeling in the world. The team must have realised how run down he felt to not message him at all.

He didn't feel one hundred percent just yet, but he felt better than he had done and he was well enough to come back.

Spending a few days between the bed and the couch had done him a lot of good, and being with his wife just made him feel that much better.

As he approached his desk, Nick shrugged off his overcoat and draped it on the back of his chair. He didn't want to sit down just yet because he knew if he did, he wouldn't be likely to get up again. It was best for him to keep moving and keep busy to wake himself up.

"So, what have we got?" His hands fell to his hips and he took a sweeping look around, waiting for someone to tell him what the plans were. They had just finished up on a case last week when Nick went off sick. He didn't know if they had a new case yet, if they had a victim to talk to or if they had a big case building up that they needed to work on.

"We're building up an old case with three new victims. Come see what we've got, then we can head out and speak to the latest vic."

Amanda waved a file in the air towards Nick before she got up from her desk and beckoned him to follow her.

He had missed the beginning of this case opening back up, but he could jump in and help since they hadn't spoken to any of the latest victims yet. They needed the usual statements, witnesses, coroborating stories and alibis. It was going to be a busy few days around the station.

Nick could feel himself wishing he was back home already and he had barely been here two minutes. But he tried to push those feelings down as he followed Amanda past the desks and towards the back of the squad room where the computers and the crime boards were.

They had been busy.

"New vics on the right, old ones on the left. We're still searching for more potential vics."

"So, what's the case?" Nick leaned back and sat down on the edge of the table as his arms folded over his chest and he studied the new victims. They always had better chances with new victims, old ones had the statue of limitations hanging over their heads and memories could change and fade and warp. Details could be missed as well.

"Glad to see you back," Olivia commented as she approached the boards and started pointing. "Local parish priest, Jonathon. Three girls between ten and fifteen have come forward with allegations of abuse. Looking back, we've found six previous victims, Finn is still searching for any others. He takes them under his wing, gets them helping in church after school, then progresses to attack them repeatedly."

A wave of unease washed over Nick as he tried his best to listen to what Olivia was saying. But it was hard to concentrate when a familiar sense of knowing lingered in the back of his mind and he could feel his skin starting to prickle with goosebumps.

It was as if there was an invisible hand in front of him that reached through his chest and fisted around his heart when he dared to look over at the board on the left.

Oh God no.

No, that wasn't fair. This couldn't be right.

A subtle trembling set in over Nick's body and he found himself pushing off the table to take a few steps closer to the board he was now inspecting.

It was the same man. It was the same priest. The one Nick fortunately had never met, but had heard all about over the course of a decade. This was the man that Nick had envisioned countless times when he laid awake in the dead of night, unable to sleep or think or do anything but wonder what he was like and if he had been caught out.

"…Are you familiar with the old cases?" Olivia kept her voice quiet because it seemed like Nick was caught up in a trance he couldn't break out of.

He was stood right in front of the board of old victims, but it didn't make sense. Nick wasn't old enough to have been there to work on the old cases. If he was familiar with them, it would have to be due to a fairly recent victim or because he knew someone else who had worked on this case before.

Nick's fingers twitched at his sides and his right hand jerked up before he managed to control himself and drop his hands back to his sides. He let his hands clench into fists until his short nails were puncturing into his palms, creating deep crescent moons in the skin.

"Yeah… I… I need a coffee." He turned on his heels and backed away from the board before he did something he shouldn't.

He made his way through towards the cells and moved to the small kitchen at the side. He needed a coffee to wake up and calm himself down.

His wife was on that board.

Trembles set in through his hands when he tried to pour some fresh coffee into a takeaway cup. He spilt more on the side than he got in the cup and he added three sugars to try and settle his system and his nerves.

They had (Y/n)'s picture up on that board. They had gone raking through past cases and old reports and they had dug out (Y/n)'s file.

While he had been off, they had found the few reports (Y/n) had made when she was younger.

That was why Nick knew this case back to front, he knew what that priest was capable of because it had happened to his wife. Nick knew (Y/n) had made at least three separate reports to the police, but because her parents thought so highly of the priest and didn't believe her, nothing was done. (Y/n) had no evidence of abuse and the police wouldn't file charges or make an arrest on a man of God. Not unless they had solid evidence and more witnesses.

The other girls who came forward didn't have solid cases either. Nothing was done about it.

"So, what do you know about this case, anything we can use?"

Nick glared daggers down into his cup when he trailed back towards the table and heaved down into one of the chairs opposite the boards. He slouched back and crossed one leg over the other, but he couldn't stop staring up at that board.

(Y/n) looked so young. The picture had to be her when she was thirteen or fourteen. There was something in her eyes that made Nick's stomach churn. A desperate need to be listened to; they were made of glass that was splintering and about to break. The world was hidden within those eyes that had seen far too much for someone so young.

"He grooms them first… makes them feel comfortable, preys on any family issues. He usually makes them give confession before he tries anything, then he had a hold over them. Sick fucker."

His eyes stayed on the brown paper cup in his hand that was slowly burning into his skin, creating a delicious tension that made Nick feel calmer.

He knew what the priest did, from what (Y/n) said, his motives became very clear. He wormed his way into their lives and made sure he knew their friends and family and that everyone liked him enough to never believe any of these accusations. He made the girls feel vulnerable and like they would be defying God and going against everyone if they ever spoke out.

Nick couldn't help himself, he couldn't help but look up at that picture again. He wasn't used to seeing photos of (Y/n) from when she was younger, she didn't have many photos she liked that didn't plague her with bad memories. And after she left home and went to college where she met Nick, she cut off ties with her parents. They didn't support her, they didn't help her and whether or not a small part of them believed what she had gone through, they still did nothing about it.

(Y/n) didn't want to be around them anymore when they had let her down so badly.

"I want you both to go over the old victims with Finn, get new statements, any details we can use to make a new case. The statute of limitations may have run out, but some of these girls did make reports and file complaints and we can use those."

No!

No, they were not doing this. They were not going to victimise (Y/n) all over again and put her through that trauma. Nick wouldn't allow it.

No good would come of this, he had consoled too many victims who couldn't put the past behind them. He had talked to so many victims and all of them felt worse after re-living events like this. Getting justice may help, but the process to do that didn't. No one was doing this to his wife.

Nick wouldn't see (Y/n) tell her tale to more people when she had been through it before. She had talked to her parents. She had gone through every event with the police. She had relived it when she opened up to Nick about what she had been through. She wasn't doing that again.

"Amanda, I want you to start with-"

Olivia took a step away from the board and leaned back when Nick suddenly got up. He rounded the side of the table and before either of them could speak, he slammed his hand down on the board.

Nick snatched the picture of (Y/n) from the board, tearing a crease in the top left corner where it didn't come apart from the blue tac properly. His chest heaved and his shoulders strained against his shirt as he stared down at the picture he desperately wanted to tear up into pieces but couldn't. This wasn't the girl that Nick knew. This wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with, this was a piece of her past he had seem glimpses of but never ventured into.

This was the part of (Y/n) that she wanted to bury and forget and Nick would do absolutely anything in his power to do that for her.

He reached down and snatched the eraser on the bottom of the board and set a fast pace, scrubbing the black marker from the board. He wiped away his wife's maiden name, her date of birth and the dates of her attacks. He cleaned away the information about her allegations and what she had gone through.

He wiped the slate clean, wishing this could rebound into her life and smudge away her past so it never happened.

"We have five old victims, not six. You don't use this one."

Amanda leaned back in her seat and twirled her pen between her fingers. They had gone through all these victims and they all seemed credible. He couldn't just walk in and wipe them clean and demand no one talk to them or use their statements.

"Nick, we've got statements that coroborate her story, she's a good lead-"

"She's my wife."

Silence fell over the end of the squad room just as Finn walked through with a thin paper file in his hands. No one had anything to say to that. What were they supposed to say? What were they supposed to do now?

For a few more seconds, no one spoke. All eyes landed on Nick as he stood in front of the board, his short nails puncturing holes into the eraser in his hand. His biceps strained against his sleeves from how tense he was holding himself. The veins in his neck started to push out and come on display and his jaw ground down so deeply the muscles around his neck and chin began to flex.

"Nick, I'm so sorry." Olivia held her hands in front of her and started to move the ring around her finger. "You know the way this goes, we comb through old victims to find things to help put this man away. We can leave (Y/n) down to you, we won't go near her-"

"No, you won't. You don't get it, (Y/n) went through all of this and she didn't get help. It's too late for her now, she doesn't want anything to do with this so we get this guy with the victims and the evidence we do have. No one goes near my wife, don't even mention her in any part of this."

They couldn't force their way into (Y/n)'s life.

She was done with this. It was a decade ago and (Y/n) was trying to move on. Some victims couldn't move on unless they had closure, but (Y/n) didn't feel that way. She tried to get help, she moved on, she got her life together and she was finally somewhere that she was happy and proud and pleased with herself. No one was going to run in and ruin that for her.

Testifying or making statements and reliving everything was going to burden (Y/n) and make her feel down and drag her all the way back down when she had done so well putting herself back together. If they caught this guy, great, (Y/n) could rest easy knowing no one else would get hurt.

But at the end of the day, (Y/n) was a victim, she didn't have to think of anyone else. She had tried to help, she had done her part in this. They had her statements and her files, that was all they needed from her, talking to her wasn't going to help her.

"We've got five other victims, surely that's enough?" Amanda rolled her lips into a thin line and looked over at Olivia for confirmation.

If this was Amanda's significant other, she would feel the same way. She wouldn't want the team going to talk to her partner ot combing through their life to pick it apart and get them to retell their story. She would want her partner as far away from this mess as possible and Amanda could see where Nick was coming from.

Did they really need (Y/n) if they had the rest of these girls and their case would be built solidly around the new victims?

"Nick, are you sure this is what (Y/n) wants?"

"It took her months to open up to me, she doesn't want to keep living this nightmare. Liv… she's pregnant, you think stressing her out is a good idea right now? I know everything, whatever questions you have, I can answer. Leave her out of this."

His hand planted down on his hip, crushing his wife's picture against his trouser leg while his other hand moved to cup his chin. He scratched his nails down his jaw and rubbed until it felt like he was going to tear off a layer of skin.

This was what (Y/n) wanted, Nick knew that and he knew what would go through his wife's head when she found out about the investigation.

She would want nothing to do with this.

If they spoke to her about this, it would drag up all the past and send her spiralling down when she was finally back to a good place in her life. She wasn't having nightmares or sleepless nights anymore. She wasn't afraid to be around other people and she didn't flinch when in close contact with others.

Since the moment Nick met her back in college, he had done everything he could to help her. He moved at her pace, let her slowly open up to him over the course of almost eight months. They worked through things together, he had been there when she went to therapy and every part of her recovery, Nick had tried to be there by her side.

And (Y/n) was six and a half months pregnant now.

They were finally at a place in their lives where (Y/n) felt happy and able to start a family and have the life she always wanted. With Nick.

(Y/n) was even going to church with Nick and his family now. After everything she had gone through, she was going to church and keeping some of the little faith she had left. This case would set her back years in her recovery and when this went to trial, (Y/n) would undoubtedly be near her due date.

There was no chance in Hell that Nick would let Barba put his pregnant wife up on the stand and risk stressing her out and pushing her into labour.

It wasn't worth the risk.

***

Nick could feel all the energy draining out of him as he dragged his feet and plodded up the stairs. His fingers worked at the buttons on his sleeves and he rolled them up to his elbows as his chin tucked down into his chest and he sighed.

He could feel all the energy dwindling away from him like someone was draining him down to twenty percent. Less than a week back at work was draining him to his last reserves and he felt like he would be taking another week off sick as he still wasn't fully recovered yet.

He had shed his blazer jacket the moment he walked through the door and as he reached the top of the stairs, Nick undid the tie from his collar and whipped it off from around his neck.

"Carino?" He leaned in the bedroom and tossed his tie on the bed before he turned around and headed back into the hallway when he saw the room was empty.

A soft smile pulled at his tired lips when he noticed the light was on in the spare room.

When he poked his head around the door, he let his arms fold over his chest and he leaned his body into the door frame. One leg crossed over the other and his smile softened into something sweet as his eyes locked on his wife.

(Y/n) was sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room with small piles of clothes surrounding her. Blankets stacked up near her right knee, onesies and vests in front of her and the few handmade boots she had made sat proudly in front of her legs.

"You've been busy," Nick's quiet comment caused (Y/n) to lift her head and when her eyes locked on him, she bit down no her lip, obscuring a charmingly sweet smile that made his heart melt.

She placed down the boots in her hand and ran her hands along her knees, but her heart sped up and she pressed her lips together tightly when she watched her husband. He seemed to grin down at her before something caught his eye and he tilted his head back. His eyes swept around the room a few times before his head turned to the left and he looked over the wall beside him.

"Have you painted again?" The sigh was visible in the way his chest puffed out then deflated. Nick moved away from the doorframe and took a few steps into the room so he could look up at the walls.

They had painted the first coat on the walls two days before he went off sick from work. They spent the next few days lounging around the house with Nick too tired and run down to do anything. And when he had gone back to work, he didn't think about the second coat of paint that the walls needed. The room was a very pale shade of grey that had hints of lilac mixed in. It was a neutral colour since they were keeping the gender a secret.

"Maybe," (Y/n) tilted her head down and shrugged when Nick huffed.

"And you thought it would be safe to get up on the ladder without me home? What if you fell?"

If she wanted to paint, Nick would of preferred (Y/n) just painted the part of the walls she could reach and leave the skirting edges at the ceiling for him to do. He didn't like the thought of her getting up on a ladder without him here, especially when she was home alone. If she fell or hurt herself or knocked herself out she wouldn't have a way to get help.

(Y/n) lifted her head when Nick crouched down in front of her, being mindful of the clothes she was trying to sort out and had piled around her like a circle of protection.

Her lips curved up and a shiver ran down her spine when his hand cupped her chin so he could plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"Sorry… I got the crib out too but I got a bit sidetracked." She let her eyes dance across to the side of the room before she looked back at Nick and gently traced her hand across his neck.

She could feel the growl that vibrated through his shirt and up his neck which made his jaw shudder. He leaned forward to steal another kiss before his eyes locked on the right side of the room. The crib should have been flat-packed and still in the box he had leant up against the wall. Instead, the instructions were on the floor beneath the window, the tool box was at the ready and all the pieces were set out into rows very neatly.

"You know that's my job, you should be resting."

He spoke against her lips, letting each word fan across her dark lips before he gave in to temptation and kissed her again, pulling her lower lip between his teeth. He didn't want (Y/n) doing everything and he didn't want her overworking herself when his back was turned and he left the house.

"Come on, I think you've earned a break." Nick moved his hands round until he was holding the back of (Y/n)'s elbows and he let her hands fall on his shoulders.

He slowly eased her up to her feet with him but his brows raised and his eyes widened when (Y/n) leaned forward. Her hands moved from his shoulders to wrap around his neck and her face buried forward in his chest near his collar bone.

A tender look crossed his face and his lips quirked into a sideways smile as (Y/n) leaned forward into him. He slid his hands down to her waist and planted his hands flat on her lower back with his arms pressing lovingly into her sides. Nick held her against his chest for a little while with his cheek pressed on the top of her head.

He began to sway them from side to side as if soft music was lulling in the background.

His hand moved to rub up and down her back and his other hand slid further down to cup her bum while he pressed his lips longingly to the top of her head. They stayed like that for another minute or more, but Nick could feel his smile starting to fade when (Y/n) didn't let him go.

She tightened her arms around his neck when he tried to lean back to look down at her.

"Carino… is everything okay?" The words vibrated through her hair and he pressed another kiss against her temple while his hand stopped against the middle of her back. His thumb began to glide up and down over the back of her shirt but he kept swaying them from side to side to try and keep the serenity around them.

"Did you see the news today?"

(Y/n)'s voice came out as quiet as a whisper on the wind but she didn't want to pull away. Not yet. She could feel the first few buttons of Nick's shirt were undone and she nuzzled her nose against his chest until she could rest her cheek against his bare skin, nudging his shirt out the way.

"No, we were driving round town all day doing interviews, why? What did it say?" Nick had been driving for the best part of his twelve hour shift and when he wasn't in the car, he was asking questions and taking down notes. Two out of the five previous victims they were talking to had refused to talk to them and clammed up when they arrived.

It hadn't been a very productive day and Nick was glad to be home. He didn't have time to watch the news.

"A reporter has confirmation that… that a priest in the area is under suspicion of sexual allegations… it's him."

(Y/n) kept her face buried into Nick's chest and she felt the sharp breath he took and how his stomach tensed and pulled inwards against her. His hand pressed down deeper into her back and he tilted his head so he could rest his chin on top of her hair.

As soon as she saw it on the news, (Y/n) hurriedly turned the tv off. She didn't dare turn it back on after that and when she did, she had gone straight to the movie channels so no news would pop up.

(Y/n) didn't want to listen or read whatever they were spouting. She didn't want to see his picture pop up on the screen and remind her of the nightmares she had tried to forget. She didn't need his face back in her memory when she had finally started to forget what he looked like and in her dreams, he appeared as a faceless blurr.

Nor did (Y/n) want to hear what he was accused of and hear how old the other girls were. She didn't need to be reminded that this predator was still out on the streets because no one had taken her seriously or listened to her as a teenager.

"The case landed on Liv's desk when I went off sick. I have to work the case and look into it." Nick knew he needed to tell (Y/n), but he thought he would have another few weeks before any reports got leaked and the media found out what and who they were investigating. He wanted to sit (Y/n) down and calmly tell her about this so she had some forwarning instead of finding out like this.

He felt the shudder than ran through her body and seemed to pass right into him. He could feel the sharp breaths she took but instead of pulling out of his arms, she held him tighter. (Y/n) unlocked her arms from his neck and slid her hands down so she could loop them beneath his arms and bound them tightly around his chest.

"Do I… Nick, I don't wanna…" Tears burned in the corners of (Y/n)'s eyes as she finally pulled back enough to look up at him.

Her chin pressed down into his chest so her head could tip back and stare up at her husband. She could see the emotions pooling deep in his brown eyes and his lips parted for a few seconds while he tried to think of something to say.

"Shh, carino it's okay. You don't have to do anything, I swear. You're not part of this investigation, no one will talk to you and you're not going anywhere near that trial when it starts."

His hand moved up from her bum and curled loosely around the back of her neck so he could lean down and smother his lips against her forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin and the light trembling that settled in her bones. This is what he was afraid of. This is what Nick tried to tell the team. He knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand and he knew she wouldn't want any part of this.

"Really?" (Y/n) hated how much her voice wobbled and her nails dug into Nick's back when he replaced his lips with his temple against hers.

As soon as it came on the news, (Y/n) had fought hard not to go into a panic and she stopped herself from going down to the station to talk to Nick. She didn't want to bother him at work but to distract herself, she had spent the day in the nursery. The thought of their impending baby had been a great distraction to (Y/n), she painted the nursery, got the crib out into sections and started on the clothes.

(Y/n) didn't want to testify.

She didn't want to open up to anyone else about the torment she had gone through as a teen. She didn't want the sympathy looks she got from others and she didn't want the people her husband worked with to look at her like that or hear the gruesome details of her abuse.

It happened a long time ago and (Y/n) wanted to move on. She and Nick were happy, they were having a baby and starting their family together; this was the last thing they needed.

"Really. For you, this is over. That shit on the news has nothing to do with you Carino."

"Do they know?"

The pain in her voice was more than clear and it made Nick's lungs seize up. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to say the team had no idea what she had gone through, but he could never lie to her.

None of their friends knew what (Y/n) had gone through and Nick's family only found out a few small details after they got engaged. While she had been his girlfriend, his family had no idea what she had gone through and all Nick disclosed to his parents and sister was that (Y/n) had gone through a degree of abuse as a teenager. He didn't say an specifics or who it had involved, when, where or how long for.

They knew the basics and only what they desperately needed to know. That was how they both wanted it to be.

(Y/n) leaned her head to the right when both Nick's hands moved to cup her face. His thumb swiped across her cheek and cleared away a tear that started to fall and he tipped her head down so he could press a longing kiss to her forehead.

"They had your name and the old reports. I took it down before they could look any further into it. As far as they're concerned, your name's been erased."

Nick was glad he got to the board before any of the team looked through all of (Y/n)'s case files and before they got to speak to her. As far as the team were concerned, when Nick scrubbed (Y/n)'s name off the board, he was erasing her from the entire investigation.

Olivia had agreed not to tell Barba that they had a sixth past victim. They hadn't told him that they had a victim who refused to speak to them, they hadn't told him Nick had a personal link to this investigation. As far as everyone else knew, (Y/n) wasn't involved in this, her name wouldn't come up. And now she was married to Nick, her last name was officially Amaro and had been for the last two years. She wasn't connected to this case anymore.

"You have nothing to worry about, carino. Okay?"

The small, tepid smile that graced (Y/n)'s lips was enough to calm her down and stop her from falling into floods of tears. She nodded her head in his hands and reached up to grip his wrists, as if silently telling him not to dare let go.

She pushed up on her toes and connected their lips, mumbling a quiet 'thank you' into his mouth which he swallowed up as he devoured her lips.

"Anything for you, carino."

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro imagine #nick x reader #nick amaro #law and order svu #law and order #imagine #pregnant! reader #pregnancy

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adoregojo · 8 months ago

Text

↬ two paths 一 ⦁ nagi.s, reo.m

▶︎ sooooooooooooo... this is some rotting dabble i abandoned, and since Im kind of desperate for any glimpse of motivation, i finished it. and surprise, surprise! its a reo and nagi fic lmaolmao.

▶︎ summary: reo have had a crush on you for a good long two years, and when it's the time to word his love to you, but a obstruct of your part says otherwise. ▶︎ context: nagi is your childhood friend, jealousy, idk if this counts as a love triangle? it's more like your a brick head, some angst (ofc) kind of a plottwist !!gn reader!!

"i like you, I've liked you ever since you stepped into my world, i like everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your gentle hands, your laugh, and most of all your soul that kept me hostage. and i-"

the hang up sound cut him off.

silence fell upon the other side of the phone, only the stillness of the disconnected tone nudging him back to reality. his hold on the phone was a robust one, so stout to the point of a crack to echo. the compound of bitterness, remorse, frustration, all were hefty on the little pinning heart of his.

and with that, you rejected reo, without even saying a word.

and the next days were nothing but a grievous duration, to him the most. as much as reo didn't want to see you for a while, there was no escaping you when you were in the same school, classroom, 一hell, even club. you were in every corner and every ditch, and he'll be a dead lier if he said that your appearance alone wouldn't tiptoe on his heartstrings. reo can stay still ever so firmly and yet you'd still be able to prod him out of his ground as convenient.

reo wanted to be mad at you, to hate you even, but he couldn't, he sincerely couldn't. even when the strain was tense, unbearable, but somehow it also felt pitifully suffocated, graciously. it was you after all, where he felt like a fragile creature under your spell, gosh一 you had reo warped around your finger with cement.

nevertheless, what drove him to the edge was how you operated it. while reo handled it by immersing himself in two blankets and eat ice cream to pacified him to crying himself to sleep. however, you on the other hand was having the time of your life. greeting him good morning to saying goodbyes, even asking him how his day went, did his confession meant that little to you?

reo wondered if you bat an eye, you just denied him after all, but some acknowledgment would've been great. or at least have a talk about it. but instead you acted like it never even happened. the idea of you skipping over his feelings made him sick to his core, it sounded so ill-suited, you above all if not the most considerate, thoughtful person he'd ever met. that's how reo fell for you in the first place.

he wasn't gonna apologies for being selfish, he wanted you to himself. reo kept all his feelings for you bottled up for a good old two years, and he just cannot bare with the fear of someone else stealing you anymore 一something that kept him on trails of restless nights一

maybe that's what herd him away from you, the decedent between the two grew by each day. yet reo loved you too much to live with the consequences of his actions, he can't even look at you without screaming 'why don't you care as much as i do', your sudden unfamiliarity stings him slowly and most of all painfully.

for you to blow him away like a dust that burdens your clothes felt it was caused by a clone, or did he just never knew you like he thought he did?

it ached to see you asking him if he's okay, if you did something wrong to drive him away. and goddamn it hurts seeing you like this, he would rather bang his head to the wall repeatedly than see that anguished expression ever again, and worst of all, reo was the reason for it.

you were heavy on his mind 一as if you weren't already一 the recollection of you standing with your sweaty palms rubbing against each other, a bad habit you do when you get uneasy, he really fucked up to the point where you have became a nervous wreck in his presence. your utter was light, questioning if he even wanted to be your 'friend' anymore.

you weren't the one to blame, reo was the one who stopped talking to you, stopped sitting with you for lunch, he even withdrew the club you two shared 一he didn't even have a liking for it, just joined because you were there一 all that and you still tugged on the last tie of faith reo would walk back into your life with open arms.

but reo didn't want to be your 'friend', not anymore. he wanted to be the one to protect you, to understand you, he wanted to be your man, your other half more anything, for him to be your everything just like you are his. you can't just make heaven a living place on earth then walk away when he was on knees for you.

he left you at halt, saying that he needed some time. you never knew time for what because he walked away before letting you word anything out. so now, his hands buried deep in his pockets, he felt heavy, mind and heart on a race track. he felt awful, the image of you standing in confusion, lost on what to do will hunt him to his grave. he tried running his fingers throughout his violet lockes, he was petty, selfish, and reo knew he could've worded it better instead of this.

from the corner of his eye, he could spot a bunch of flowers fluttering under the rush of air, hit by the sunlight to outshine any other plants besides. he could've think of how beautiful they looked, but no, the first thing that popped out his mind was the image of how bliss you'll be seeing them flourish just the way you liked it.

reo contemplating his actions, the pure, straightforward out of his heart gates confession and how far it had driven him. how beyond it had tossed what you two had. something blended with bittersweetness squeezed within his chest, envisioning of your smile made it a challenge to breathe.

so he keeps on strolling, trying to straighten himself until a familiar tall white headed form comes to his view. ranking ahead of a vending machine, nagi was too busy searching for what it appears to be a coin to even notice reo.

nagi was your friend, the one who watched the two of you downfall in silence. he didn't say a thing about it, didn't get involved and much rather concentrate on his phone-games. but there was something else, nagi have been your friend for what reo have been told since childhood. it was something anyone can figure out in the first glance, nagi doesn't leave your side for what it seems like eternally, he remained as your sidekick for decades. he witnessed all your phases, your growth. and he wasn't planning on departure his spot. it was a rare sight to see nagi not glued to your side, did the sky spare him? did his desperation reaches the empyrean?

"hey," reo announced his presence, nagi's bored eyes soaring over him. so the purple head flipped a coin to his direction, nagi tamed it halfway, staring at the single coin then back at his friend. "need another one." he uttered flatly as ever, so reo push out a sigh as he tossed him another one. the snowy head mummers a low thanks.

"listen, i need to tell you something." reo enunciates after a moment of hesitation, caressing the back of his neck as his lilac hues kept on swirling around. his friend just humming in acknowledgment, supporting his chin with his hand while still examining over the endless optionals of drinks.

"it's about yn."

nagi rattled momentarily, your name was like a cold water on his senses.

well, that was easy. reo thought. "i did something a few weeks ago, and i think i fucked up everything." he says, undertone. as if he was admitting an unforgivable crime.

"what did you do?" there was something off about nagi's tone, his grip on the coins was merciless. but his face still seemed boarded, nonchalantly but oddly firmed for some reason.

"i kind of admitted my feelings to them..."

nagi's daze expression shattered in an instant, not anything crazy, but his eyes grew obscure, casing over reo like a giant blacked cloud.

for nagi to carry that kind of aura was eccentric, that face would only arise every time an unnamed got a little too close to you. at that time, reo convinced himself that he was imagining that, because nagi out of all people stood his ground when it comes to dating, he'd always say the same thing 'dating sounds like a hassle'. and sometimes something wild like 'don't need someone else around, I already have yn.' reo wasn't a backstabber, he only confessed to you because he lived under the roof that his friend wasn't even able to handle anything intrigued with romance.

"i just, been liking them for ages. and i found the strength to finally say it to them, they-"

"hung up on you." the snowy head finished his line, which made reo eyes widen a bit.

he shifted awkwardly, "haha, did they tell you? how embarrassing.." he tried laughing it off, trying to avoid nagi's gaze for his sake.

"they didn't." nagi spoke quickly, voice strained than usual.

"oh? so how did you?.."

"because i did it. i was the one who hanged up."

there was a moment of lull, where not even the waves of wind could sooth over the tension. reo stood still, waiting for nagi to stick out his tongue playfully and shout 'gotcha!', praying for whoever might've fell upon to this to be a sick prank.

"you what?" he doesn't even realize he spoke before the words had already slipped.

nagi sigh tiredly, his fingers still at halt to press the numbers of his wanted drink, he didn't like focusing on two thing at the same time. "i thought you'd figure it out already. man, do i have to explain myself now? what a hassle." he let out softly.

"nagi, you-"

reo doesn't get get the chance to speak, to think, before nagi cut him off swiftly handling the conversation, like he knew this was coming. "listen, reo. i like being your friend, but i can't let you have yn." his words kept hurtling reo, it all poured down at his like a sucker punch.

"i don't understand."

"it's not that hard, i liked them first, i found them first. so they're basically mine."

oh, oh.

it all made sense now. reo felt like an idiot, why is he seeing this now? this is why you were clueless, because you didn't answer it in the first place. why, why was he so rushed to say it and not letting what he thought was you speak first.

every time when nagi would drink from the same bottle of yours, when he would twirl around a piece of your hair randomly, when his head would rest on your shoulder in every ride home, when he would shut down every time reo rambled about you, he just got it. why was he just connecting the puzzle? was his feelings for you so blinding that he couldn't see this?

reo wanted to say something, in fact things. but the lump in his throat clogs his attempts to protests. leaving his mouth agape.

and it was like nagi couldn't get a hold of concern about this, in fact he found waiting for his drinks to make it way down more interesting. yet he sensed a blazing breeze from his friend's direction, it was hard not to when they were on the same burden as an elephant. so the snowy head swiftly retorted, "plus, you already are the standard, right? I'm pretty sure you can find someone else, it'll be better if you found one quicker."

after that, nagi bent over to grab what was supposed to be his lemon tea alongside your favourite one. boredom eyes doubled-dyed at the cans, mostly at yours before blowing out a vague breath一did he just scoff?

"why you.."

"sorry, don't like sharing."

and with that, nagi walked away. head empty with the only maintenance thing was a picture of you as he handed you your favourite flavour with the money that wasn't even his. leaving reo dumbfounding at his back, he didn't get a say on this, like this wasn't even meant for him.

this wasn't a stage he can purchase to himself, not even to earn a role. he felt like a third-wheel in you and nagi's love tale.

it loathes him, brings him to edge even. but most of all, reo now wanted you more than anything.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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megamindsupremacy · 1 year ago

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A personal favorite Good Omens headcanon of mine is that, despite being born an entirely human person, Warlock has a bit of reality warping powers. In the book (less so in the show, but still there to an extent), a lot of emphasis is placed on how Crowley and Aziraphale expect things to happen, and so they do. Aziraphale expects a phone to work by just talking to it without pushing buttons, so it does. Crowley expects his plants to grow better when he yells at them, so they do.

And of course, for eleven years, they both expect Warlock to be the Antichrist.

Warlock literally spent eleven years getting molded back-and-forth by Aziraphale and Crowley to be this or that sort of magical. Can you really expect that to not make any sort of difference to him? Crowley and Aziraphale expected Warlock to be the Antichrist so hard (because they literally didn’t even know there was another option) that I wouldn’t be surprised if Warlock was more Antichrist-like than Adam at this point. Adam grew up human (enough) and then revoked all of his Antichrist powers at the end of the book. He’s a regular human kid now. Warlock is probably more powerful than Adam at this point because it wasn’t just Crowley and Aziraphale who expected him to be incomprehensibly powerful- Warlock believes it himself. His name is Warlock, for fucks sake, that’s gotta do something to him.

#mads posts #warlock dialing #good omens #aziraphale #Crowley #Adam young #kinda #listen I am the number one warlock fan. put him in s3 or I will cry #he’s POWERFUL. let him be antichrist numero dos just for funsies. he’d be more chaotic about it than Adam

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rizsu · 2 years ago

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graduated delusional boys shoyo, kuroo, sunarin.

-> tokrev & jjk version

it's a simple night out with the hinata family. after another successful karasuno match, shoyo's mother suggested a restaurant dinner and well some shopping.

busy on his feet, shoyo walk-runs after his sister. she's certainly a little too fast on her feet—especially if you don't hold her hand or use a leash like their mom usually does. finally reaching her, he lifts her onto his hip before ending the mini race with a little scolding.

“natsu! don't speed off like that!”

“but the candies!!”

shaking his head, shoyo shuffles his way through the sea of people until he makes it back to his mother's position.

“sho', natsu, come here!” motioning to her kids, their mother takes hold of the five year old before pushing shoyo to walk in front of her, “stay in my vision, sho'. you're still young!”

well, shoyo would've done as she said without complaints but the last sentence made him turn his head back one hundred and eighty degrees. immediately warping his face into one that expresses confusion, shoyo raises a counterargument.

“but i'm already a third year! with a girlfriend too y'know.”

nodding her head to act as if she's paying attention to his words, shoyo's mother argues back, “yes, yes, but you still live with me so—wait.”

from the tone of her voice in the last word, shoyo tries to speed up his pace but a mother's hand is always faster.

“what do you mean by girlfriend, young man.”

“whoops..?”

turning around on his heel, he raises a hand behind his neck trying to think of a way to properly explain. it doesn't take long before he starts his own sign language while giving his mother the detailed lore of your relationship—which didn't last for long because natsu had other plans.

“sho's not a loser!” she juts in her opinion, looking at her older brother with an open mouth covered by her hand.

“NAT-SU,” feeling shocked, betrayed and offended, shoyo goes to press his palm over her hand to seal her mouth shut. as the color red diffuses to all of his ear, he feigns a limp as he takes baby steps away from his family.

kuroo is not kuroo if he doesn't bother kenma after twelve a.m during the weekend sleepover. if there's a sleeping kenma, there's a wide awake kuroo waiting for the right moment to strike.

“psst, kenma, wake up.”

“please shut up.”

“KENMA!”

“NO.”

covering both ears with his pillow, kenma turns around to block off kuroo and whatever he's got going on at 1:43 AM according to his watch. but oh no, don't get it twisted. kuroo is not one to forfeit that easily—persistent may as well be his middle name!

“i was going to show you my girl but i guess not!” changing his tone to a teasing one, kuroo backs off kenma's bed and goes to his futon.

as if it was an auto-response, kenma sits up straight, sharply turning his neck to kuroo, “pause.”

and with that, kuroo adds one point to himself on his imaginary scoreboard. snickering to himself, he turns his back to kenma, waving him off by repeating what he previously said, “you told me shut up.”

“wait i'm sorry,” kenma says. slouching off his bed, he uses his right foot to nudge at kuroo's “sleeping” figure. it takes about five nudges before he speaks again, “you know i love knowing people's business. please, kuroo.”

adding another point to himself on the scoreboard, kuroo turns on his back with a grin and a phone to his face. raising the phone to kenma's height, kuroo shows him a picture of a girl and kenma thinks kuroo's gone delusional. maybe he's just tired.

“whose daughter did you find on pinterest?”

“okay fuck you.”

snatching his phone back, kuroo actually feels quite offended. is kenma implying he's not attractive enough to pull a pretty girl!?

“I WAS NOT FINISHED LOOKING.”

“privileges REVOKED.”

shoving a middle finger in the air, kuroo pulls his blanket over his head to quietly sob in peace (this is an exaggeration).

kenma, tired of kuroo's antics, steals kuroo's phone to look at your picture and find proper evidence that you guys are indeed together.

“don't go through our chats by the way.”

“ew.”

three adults, three cushions and one bottle. in osamu's living room sits him, his brother and rintaro. how'd they get here? boredom. extreme boredom. when they were no longer entertained by the alcohol, atsumu brought up the idea of truth-or-dare with using a bottle.

spinning the bottle, osamu watches it land on rintaro and immediately asked him a question he's been dying to know, “rin, is it true you're seeing someone?”

throwing his head back, rintaro groans. he knew it'd come sooner or later but he still wants to be mysterious.

“nosy much?” and to that, both twins responded, “SAYS YOU!?”

dragging his palm over his face, rintaro laughs before confirming osamu's question. he's twenty-six with nothing to lose and he thinks he's sexy—so obviously he'd not be single..!

osamu's jaw drops. although he was the one who asked, he's still shocked. to his defense, rintaro's always seemed like the type to stay in the talking zone.

“oh, that poor woman. save her now before it's too late.” using a napkin, atsumu wipes his crocodile tears only to be kicked by no one other than suna rintaro. cackling at rintaro's reaction, atsumu defends himself, “'m just messing with ya!”

rintaro rolls his eyes. turning around to grab his phone, he proudly shows off his lockscreen that's a picture of you from your anniversary date, “isn't she pretty?” with a small smile on his face, he feels his pride emotion being activated.

“i dunno...i've seen better,” atsumu states his (unwanted) opinion. tapping a finger on his chin, he squints at the phone.

and as for rintaro? his heart dropped. looking directly at atsumu this time, he questions him, “such as..?”

“like myself duh.”

one.

two.

three.

and cue the fight scene with rintaro and atsumu while osamu tries to catch his breath from laughing.

“I AM SICK OF YOU.” stifling atsumu with his cushion, rintaro makes sure to smother his face with the fabric. he, atsumu, must feel the pain.

“hey—HEY. GO EASY ON THE HAIR.”

#. ae-generated: haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hinata x reader #kuroo x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you #hinata shoyo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #suna rintarou x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 9 months ago

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club w/ wooyoung

wrote this after an interaction with mean girls at my local club…

wooyoung has been gone for a little over two minutes now - the bar must be busy - leaving you alone with an almost passed out san

normally you wouldn’t mind since you were well practiced in the art or staring down men to the point where they would dare approach you

y’know, stare into their eyes with a disgusted look for long enough for them to grow just a little self conscious

there’s only one man it’s ever not worked on, but he’s your boyfriend now

sometimes wooyoung can be about as good reading the room as san is holding his liqueur - bad… with a capital B

but the issue tonight isn’t men, it’s women

more specifically, a group of girls standing just a couple of meters to your right

they’re pretty, you think to yourself, but the way they point and laugh warps your perception of them until all you see is a group of mean girls

mean isn’t pretty

you turn to look at the dazed man next to you

he seems to have taken an interest in the way the lights swing around the room, following them like a cat with a laser

“san,” you grab his attention, “can you see those girls over there?”

you point him in the direction of them with a tilt of your head, and his eyes follow slowly

he nods, stumbling a little as the movement makes him lose his balance

you catch him and push him against the wall so he doesn’t have to focus so hard on staying upright

“are they talking about me?” you ask, “they’re laughing at something in this direction but i don’t know if i’m being paranoid.”

san comically narrows his eyes at the girls, looking like they do in the cartoons, and you let out a small giggle

and then san nods

“they keep looking at you,” he clarifies, “one of them just took a photo, i think.”

your furrow your brows

“what?”

“yeah,” he angles his head so he can see the girl’s phone screen, “something about your back must be really interesting to them. they’re sending it someone on snapchat…”

the thought alone makes your heart freeze in place, and you immediately stop having fun

the smile on your face drops completely, and the weird little sidestep dance you always do at the club comes to a stand still

a drunk hand finds the top of your head - a little too hard, you must say, but you’d never tell san that - and gently tousles your hair

“they’re just jealous,” he slurs his words with a smile, and although they’re sincere you find it hard to believe

because they’re all standing there in their tight black t-shirts that accentuate their chest and baggy cargo pants that fall perfectly from their hips

and when you look down at yourself all you can see is your black corset that makes your tits look great, but sometimes reveals too much back fat for your liking, and your tiny black mini skirt that now you look at it, makes your tummy bulge over the top in a way that you hadn’t noticed until now

your distressed tights that you normally love now look messy under your critical gaze, and the knee high black socks that go under them just look weird

and all of that is without even mentioning your platform trainers that are chunkier than any other trainer you’ve ever seen, and add at least two inches onto your height

you look weird, you decide as you study yourself

“what’s got the prettiest girl in the club so down in the dumps?” you boyfriend asks loudly as he finally arrives back to your tiny group with his and your drinks in his hands

the laughter that comes from the group of girls punctuates his sentence cruelly, and you shrink into yourself more

you don’t particularly want to talk about it, but thankfully, with san in the state that he’s in, you don’t have to

“where’s my drink?” san pouts, ignoring wooyoung’s question completely

“i got you one like five minutes ago,” he didn’t, but san is too drunk to remember that, “look,” wooyoung points to an empty plastic cup on the floor, “you had a single vodka coke, remember?”

san is, somehow, satisfied with the lie and goes back to chilling against the wall with a dopey smile

wooyoung smiles fondly at his friend before turning to you with a more serious look

“now, back to you, baby,” he passes you a cup of pink liquid which you immediately start gulping down

it only takes a few seconds before wooyoung snatches it out of your hands with a frown

“okay, so that’s concerning,” he grumbles, “tell me what’s wrong.”

you shrug, but your eyes betray you

wooyoung must notice the way your eyes flicker over to the group for a few seconds and his gaze decides to follow yours

the girls are giggling, as usual, but this time you make eye contact with one of them

she looks you up and down before frowning and raising her hands in a ‘what have i done?’ motion

and then like clockwork, the frown cracks and they all start laughing again

you stare as the one that had looked you up and down moments prior uses her finger to instruct one of the others to do the same

you frown

“i wouldn’t normally say this, but they’re fucking bitches,” wooyoung whispers as he reaches a hand out to touch your shoulder, “do you want me to say something?”

you shake your head - it would be embarrassing for you if you sent your boyfriend to tell them off for you

even if they are acting like bullies in a playground…

“no, woo,” you shake your head and put on your bravest smile for him which you can tell he doesn’t believe, “just stay here with me, hm?”

he sighs and nods before shuffling the two of you around until his body is blocking yours from the group’s vision

but it doesn’t do much, not when you can still hear their laughter over the music

you try and let it go, but it’s all you can hear

the song could be anything in the world but you wouldn’t know

your mind is still racing and you can still hear them and you just can’t find it in you to have fun anymore

you look at your boyfriend, trying not to think too hard about the sympathetic look on his face

“actually, can we just go?”

you feel bad about your request, but you’d feel worse if you were to stay and ruin the atmosphere for the two guys who would otherwise be having a great time

wooyoung nods and puts a hand on san’s shoulder to pull him off of the wall

with one arm around his friend’s shoulder, he wraps the other around your waist and the three of you begin to walk

it’s slow, with san’s stumbling and the insane crowd of people, but before you know it, you’re almost out of there

but just as you reach the door, wooyoung stops

“shoot, i forgot to put the drinks down somewhere,” he unravels his arms and pushes the two of you over to a wall, “stay here, i’ll be back soon, alright?”

you nod and watch as he weaves his way through the crowd

you lose him within a few seconds, and decide to focus your attention on san instead

no doubt he’d be sleeping on your couch tonight, you giggle to yourself

it’s always an experience when he spends the night at yours; more often than not you wake up to him asleep on the floor of your room rather than the sofa you left him on

one time you’d even found him cuddled up to wooyoung in his sleep

you still have the photos on your phone as blackmail

the thought cheers you up a little

not much, but enough to bring a small smile to your face

a smile that quickly vanishes when wooyoung comes storming out of the room, a sheepish look on his face and a wet patch down his front

he grabs both of you and without wasting a second, drags you out of the door and onto the cold street

“what happened?” you ask as he hails a taxi

one pulls up and wooyoung quickly tells the driver your address before the three of you climb in

he sits next to you and takes your hand in his

“wooyoung, what happened?” you repeat

san gags as the car starts to move

you ignore it - san may not be able to handle drinking, but he’s not (yet) thrown up from it before - and keep your attention firmly on your boyfriend

he shrugs, “nothing much…”

you give him a look that lets him know you don’t believe him

he tried to wait it out, hoping you’ll let it go after a few seconds, but you don’t

“fine,” he concedes, “i spilt my drink on one of the girls, purely by accident, and she threw hers back…”

“wooyoung!” you slap his chest gently

he just chuckles and puts his hand over your own, pinning it to the sticky wet patch on his chest

“they deserved it, hun.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff

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