#Laptop charger has given out.

[massivementalitynut]

I feel like crying 😓

#Laptop charger has given out. #I knew I should have bought a back up but it was working (in the right position) so I was putting it off #And now look where it got me 😭 #This complicates matters #Have not completely given up but I am in a low place right now #Lynn vents

[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #Oscar piastri oneshot #pls be gentle I am tired #honeywrites #op81 #Oscar piastri #tangerine!verse

[ashbub]

blessings

genshin impact: venti × gn!reader

contents: college au, mild cursing! [4.1k]

IN WHICH: a boy with blue haired tips suddenly appears & your life has suspiciously gotten a whole lot easier

❝ may the winds bless your travels! ❞

The first clue that something was off about him should have been on the first day you two had met.

You had been resting the edge of your elbow lazily across the surface of the scribbled-on chair in front of you, the lecture room softly buzzing as your muttering professor began pulling up his PowerPoint presentation on the projector.

Introduction to the History of Teyvat to Present Day

Not that you could really give a shit this early in the chilly winter morning, especially with how you found out last minute you had to take this class as a requirement for your major- rushing your ass to squeeze in this class for the semester before any of the remaining spots could be taken. 

The crowded classroom had the hum of the bustling morning filling the air while you lazily fished out your charger from the crevices of the bag. As students filed in, there was a symphony of exchanged greetings, the rustling of book bags, and the soft murmur of back-and-forth conversation.

You had your busted-up laptop propped neatly on the warmth of your lap, a small yawn resting on your pursed lips. You had elected to sit in the back row of the lecture hall for this first day of class to gauge the atmosphere of the classroom. You nuzzled the tip of your chin deeper into the thick fabric of the chestnut brown sweater you had worn as your smooth fingertips wandered over the mousepad, carefully skimming the blaring syllabus in front of you. 

"Can I borrow a pencil by any chance, friend?" 

The voice was soft, almost like the beginning melody of a song into your perked ears- Your soft eyes flickered lightly over to the occupied seat beside you, a young man digging his hand vigorously into the empty pockets of his leather satchel, his pale fingers instead pulling at the fabric of the bottom of his bag pitifully.

His bright eyes were a serene teal, looking towards you with a hint of bashfulness at his situation, the tips of his braided hair sharing the same tinted resemblance of his expectant eyes. He wore a light blue hoodie and worn-out jeans to the lecture, his fair skin warmly blushing against the snug layers that hugged him.

He was ethereal.

"Yeah, it's fine-" You quietly mumbled, snapping from the sudden stare before pulling out a thin mechanical pencil you had packed with you, the edges of the clear plastic having indented faint teeth marks from your late-night study sessions with your roommate, Amber. 

He lightly smiled, a warmth grazing across his thin lips before smoothly accepting the pencil from your grasp. Mouthing out a quick, "Thank you," before turning to focus on the flickering presentation, the soft rustles of his notebook paper humming through your ears.

Your teacher had finally started his presentation after fumbling with the remote of the projector, keeping his introduction short before reviewing the coursework required from your class throughout the semester.

He was a middle-aged man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetually disheveled appearance. His wrinkled, mismatched attire, featuring a misbuttoned shirt and untied shoelaces as his wiry glasses, had been frequently perched atop his rustled head, had seen better days, with duct tape barely holding them together.

Truthfully, you weren't really paying attention throughout his discussion of the syllabus. The notes you were typing were sporadic and sloppy at best, you had nearly even forgotten a whole section of notes about the future lessons till the same boy you had given your pencil leaned over, the faint scent of dandelions suddenly lingering.

Dandelions, huh.

"He's going to be discussing the seven divine seats of Celestia," The bright-eyed boy mused carefully, a curious glimmer peeking from the corner of his gaze before lightly tapping the empty section of notes presented on the screen of your dimly lit laptop, "The Archon War," His whisper was soft with the reminder, a small laugh hanging on his pursed lips with the edge of his fingertip curiously placed on the end of his chin.

The muted hum of the old heater provided a constant backdrop to the lecture. Students occasionally shifted in their stiff seats, their movement accompanied by the subtle rustling of winter jackets and scarves. The professor's voice was clear at the very least, carrying in the crisp air as they endeavored to hold the students' attention, your light laugh mingling back. 

"Thanks," The tips of your fingers curiously lingered on the smooth keys in front of you- His notebook had remained unmarked, the occasional eraser mark shyly grazing the paper with a content smile tugging the edges of his coy mouth. You tilted the screen of your laptop towards him from your lap, his pale complexion rosy under the warmth of the fluorescent lighting that flickered above in the classroom, "You didn't take any notes yourself; did you want to copy mine?"

He contently tapped the side of his forehead with a light hum, a quick wink fluttering towards your direction at the sudden rise of your right eyebrow, "I have a musician's memory, I remember most of this by heart." He proclaimed teasingly with a nearly sing-songy voice, his thin hand smoothly tugging on the thick drawstrings of his light blue hoodie.

Your eyes flickered towards his satchel, mostly remaining empty- Except with the small instrument peeking out: The lyre that was tucked away was a small wonder, made to be portable yet grand in appearance. Its body was a gleaming wood, richly stained and polished to a deep, honeyed hue.

As the professor concluded the day's lecture short, the college class began to stir with anticipation for the upcoming event. Students bundled up tightly in heavy coats and thick scarves gathered their array of belongings and began shuffling out of the classroom with soft murmurs, eager to escape the biting cold from outdoors to their next class.

You usually were out the door as soon as it was fucking clear too, no reason ever to stick behind, frequently hurrying to remain in the comfort of your dorm. Much to the disappointment of your roommate, who was very much excited at the prospect of a chattering conversation.

However, you had carefully tucked your closed laptop into the main pocket of your bookbag as your teeth chewed over your plump bottom lip, your voice smoothly carrying over to the boy with the dyed braids beginning to rise from the warmth of his seat beside you, "Are you a part of the school band? My classmate, Barbara, she's part of the school choir-" Your sudden question was immediately joined with the company of the faint tilt of your head, "I just have never seen you before around here."

His excitement was nearly bursting from the seams. "I actually recently joined the band here, I'm a new transfer-" His soft teal eyes shone almost brightly, a faint pop of his lips amusingly slipping out before adjusting the strap of his leather satchel over his shoulder with a shrug, "You certainly wouldn't forget a cute face like mine, huh?"

Feeling the ends of your ears grow slightly warmer at his boldness, you choose to ignore the question with a small scoff, instead scooping up your bookbag to the safety of your bundled arms in the midst of the conversation, "Freshman?" You replied with a soft laugh, your gentle fingertips tightly wrapping around the thin handle of your school bag before examining the youthful spirit hum.

His dark eyelashes fluttered closed at the comment, "Actually, I'm a senior!~" His dainty hands dug around the back pockets of his faded jeans, quickly patting around the thick surface before a small "aha!" formed on his smooth lips, tugging out a small brochure. “I am a bit older than what I look as many say.”

The pamphlet was littered with half-completed doodles across the front page, the information barely legible at first glance as you cautiously took it from his grasp- "You should come to watch me play!" He clicked his tongue cheekily at the offer, waving a small pointer finger at you, "I'm certain you would be entertained with my songs, mm?" 

Before you could muster a reply to his offer, a mysterious yet enchanting melody began playing in the air faintly, your eyes softly widening at the soothing whisper of music. You turned your head to find the source of the sweet song but saw no one there, only a few remaining students rustling up their notes into the safety of their bags, clearly preoccupied. Bewildered, you looked back at the dark-haired boy, but he, too, had nearly vanished into thin air, leaving you with the pamphlet in hand and as he had begun to open the elongated doors of the classroom with a lingering laugh.

The winter air streamed through the tall windows of the lecture hall, casting warm, elongated shadows across the worn wooden floors, "Wait-" His damp, white Converse sneakers pausing at your sudden call with a faint squeak as your voice remained thick with confusion, "I didn't catch your name-"

The ends of his braided hair swayed contently over his shoulder, loosely resting his fingertips over the handle of the lecture hall- His peeking smile was widely spread across his face at your sudden interest, a near mischievous glint emerging from the corner of his green eyes that for a brief second, you could have sworn under the swaying classroom lights were faintly glowing.

"Venti."

"The history of Teyvat is important, [y/n]!"

The dorm room was illuminated by a soft, warm glow as you and Amber huddled around your shared desks, engrossed in your studies. The room was adorned with bookshelves filled with classic novels and dented textbooks, and an array of post-it notes and highlighters were strewn about on the surface.

"I know- Which is why I'm studying this for the pop quiz, Amber."

Your roommate had puffed out her rosy cheeks, her hands smoothly closing your laptop shut with a small sigh, "Not just because of that- The history behind Teyvat is extremely part of our culture, of why our world is shaped the way it is. You are a transfer student, it is important to understand the stories and why they are so important." Amber had warmly reached over to run her fingertips over the fur of her pet bunny, dangling a bright carrot to the twitching nose that stuck out from the metal cage.

Relinquishing the snack over to the nibbling bunny, Amber briefly glanced at you with softening eyes, her warm brown eyes mingling with flecks of gold, "It is said that the seven archons were defeated in amidst the war, their remains scattered across Teyvat. Our nation was thrown into chaos, where lands were sent in disarray with the lack of guidance from our gods."

"But they managed to survive? Humanity?"

The brunette sat herself on the edge of her bed, smoothing out her bedroom sheets with her fingers, "Well, obviously, but many believe that the gods survived, regaining their strength and hiding amongst us humans for thousands of years."

Her eyes looked up at you.

"One day, the gods will return."

The memory was fresh of the study session between you & Amber.

Your gloved hands warmly wrapped around the paper cup of hot chocolate that you had purchased, the shimmering golden mora smoothly justling in the room of your back pocket. With a textbook in one hand and a well-worn backpack slung over your shoulder, you balanced a steaming cup in the other. The paper cup was adorned with a seasonal design that seemed to shimmer in the morning light, a small touch of cheer in the otherwise frosty world.

The campus was a world transformed during the first snow. As the first snowfall of the season blanketed the college grounds, it cocooned the familiar landscape in a glistening white tapestry. Every building, every tree, every path, and every bench was adorned with a layer of pristine snow. The air held a crisp chill, and a sense of hushed serenity settled over the campus, broken only by the soft crunch of footsteps and the occasional delighted gasps of students.

You were only going to see Venti for a second. After all, he had seemed rather excited to perform. It wouldn't hurt to slip by for a few seconds to listen to some music.

As you navigated your way through the snow-draped campus, your steps left a trail of footprints that soon vanished in the white expanse. You took deliberate sips from your cup, relishing the warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core. The hot chocolate was a comforting blend of rich cocoa, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Amber had recommended the drink profusely, exclaiming that it was the only thing that had gotten her through her late-night shifts as campus security.

Among the snow-covered trees on the campus quad, the flushed bard had set up his performance space, seeming to have not noticed your presence while muttering to himself- a few wooden boxes messily set up across the snow for a makeshift stage that you quietly chuckled at.

Venti was a modest figure at a closer glance, his wiry frame enveloped in a weathered, woolen coat that had probably seen better days. His dark, tousled hair, and ruddy cheeks were the only bits of color in his otherwise enveloped dark green appearance. His nimble fingers danced gracefully along the strings of a weathered lyre in preparation, coaxing hauntingly beautiful melodies from the instrument.

In the midst of this snowy landscape, you found yourself leaning against the sturdy trunk of a massive oak tree. In your hands, you held a cup of hot chocolate contently, the warmth from which seeped through your soft gloves and into your chilly fingers. The swirling steam rising bashfully from your cup formed a fragrant wisp in the frosty air.

You rarely attended these sorts of events- Due to your busy schedule, you occasionally stopped by a concert or two held by the school to support Barbara and her singing- She was one of Amber's close friends who happened to be a part of the school's prestigious choir program.

You watched the scene unfold before you, a gentle smile played on the end of your lips. Your eyes were drawn to a small male bard who had set up his stage not far from yourself tucked away near the tree. You had ultimately concluded he had an unassuming charm about him, his flushed fingers deftly strumming a lyre once more, while his smooth voice wove melodies that seemed to be born from the winter winds themselves.

As the bard played, your gaze was fixed on him, and you couldn't help but admire his talent, his nose flushed and wrinkled up in the crisp air that enveloped the environment. The soft, haunting tunes resonated with the wintry landscape; each note imbued with emotion. 

The audience, which now had mainly consisted of wandering college students slowly gathering around him, listened in rapt attention, their jagged breath forming misty clouds in the cold.

You would have remembered Venti if you had seen him before- How could you not? He was damn near impossible to miss.

The bard's performance had a dreamy quality, like the whispers of forgotten tales carried by the winter breeze. A chuckle escaped from behind your wool mittens, before stiffening just as quickly.

 Though, you couldn't help but notice something curious. 

Each time a particularly poignant note was struck, a small, subtle gust of wind seemed to dance around the strings of the lyre, rustling his thick layer of clothing and the edges of his dyed hair ever so slightly.

It was barely noticeable. Honestly, you were doubting you had even seen it happen to begin with.

But then- another gust of brisk wind had fluttered the fabric of his dark coat, his brightening eyes glinting playfully at the whispering winds.

Your lowered eyes had caught these brief moments, flickering quickly to his wooden lyre that bathed in the attention that the bard had given him. You shifted your position slightly with your worn-out snow boots crunching under the freshly packed snow, trying to get a better look at the bard as your hot chocolate cup, nearly forgotten in your hand, suddenly felt cooler, though the drink inside was still piping hot.

You watched with a soft breath lingering on your chapping lips, what could you say? Your curiosity was piqued. The hints of wind abilities you thought you had noticed must be a trick of the imagination, you reasoned to yourself. Yet, as the blissful bard continued to play, the enigmatic breezes seemed to return, as if drawn by the mournful melodies.

The audience remained captivated, warmly bundled up students turning to one another in excited whispers and raising of the warm drinks, oblivious to the subtle interplay of air around the bard. 

You- However, had already turned away.

It had been a day or so since you had last spoken to Venti- You weren't avoiding him per se, but with your mind jumbled with upcoming assignments & adjusting to a semester abroad, the bard wasn't exactly easing the whole transition period either.

You briefly nuzzled your chin into the warmth of your freshly washed hoodie- You had elected to wear an ensemble of faded jeans and a pair of well-worn sneakers since you would only be heading to one class for the afternoon: Biology. Your dark backpack was stuffed to the brim with assorted textbooks and notebooks with post-it notes, boring a few coffee spills across the previous semesters, adorned with patches and pins in a measly attempt to cover them up.

From what you noted, the stairwell remained overall silent during the late afternoons, except for the occasional echoes of footsteps and distant voices from other parts of the building. The hushed tones and stillness of the stairwell were a stark contrast to the vibrant and energetic campus life just beyond its walls.

The stairs were constructed of sturdy concrete, its walls painted in a neutral shade of beige that had faded slightly over the years. It featured a broad central staircase with polished wooden steps that bore the marks of countless footsteps. 

You had rounded a corner to enter the stairs, adjusting some of the notebooks you had balanced in your grasp before setting your foot to notice the worn and uneven steps ahead. 

"Hey, [y/n], wait up!"

Then, it happened. A sudden, unexpected stumble sent you hurtling forward. Panic flashed in your eyes as your thick textbooks and multiple sheets of paper rustled into the air to escape from from loosening grasp. The ground seemed to rush up to meet you, and it felt like time itself had slowed.

Your eyes had flickered over to the owner of the voice- It had been Kaeya. The previous teasing smile that had usually adorned his sun kissed skin slipped- His dark hair had been messily tucked behind his round ears, his own expression stiffening at the top of the stairwell as his gloved hand raggedly reached out in an attempt to grasp for yours.

For an agonizingly long moment, you teetered on the precipice, your thumping heart lodged tightly in the back of your throat and your stiffening arms windmilling with the sudden tumble- Your cold fingertips attempted to reach for the edge of the metal railing in panic, rapidly clawing at the crisp air, grasping at anything to prevent the inevitable descent. The sudden voice had jolted you, your bright eyes suddenly widening with the impending collision with the bottom of the empty staircase.

But just as suddenly- the warmth of an adorning wind had fluttered past your skin.

Dandelions.

It lifted you gently and effortlessly at your sudden jagged breath, as though cradled by comforting invisible hands that slithered through the weight of your back. Your fall was halted for a second, only for a second, and you had hovered mid-air.

Your wide eyes met those of the boy with the smell of dandelions, the same bard with the expectant lush green eyes- His pale hands had carefully been placed on your upper back warmly in an attempt to steady your weight in his arms.

The thin ends of his braided hair nearly tickled your warm cheeks as you had frantically clutched the fabric of the thick sweater he had been wearing with your fingers with a small gasp, a single Cecilia pin adorning his chest proudly.

Venti.

He gently lowered you to the ground with his dainty hands quietly remaining on the edge of your quivering shoulders, the tips of his sneakers touching smoothly the final step with a small laugh slipping from his pink lips, you were safe- unscathed. Your scattered sheets of homework assignments decorated the floor beneath you.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, [y/n]-" Venti smiled teasingly, the curled ends of his mouth twinging upwards with a singular pointer finger waddling in the air, "Aren't ya happy to see me?"

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the narrow windows of the school, casting muted, dappled patterns on the walls, but the light felt distant as if the stairwell was a forgotten corner of the college. The soft, muted glow illuminated the dust particles hanging in the air, you had for a moment wondered if you would be able to see lingering dandelions mingling in the air.

Had time stopped?

"You shouldn't have been able to catch me if you were human. Not from there-" You finally managed out with a breath to him, your dark bookbag slumped into the corner of the stairwell before looking up at the bard with a frantic whisper melting into your seeping words, "What are you? Who are you?"

Instead, Venti had smoothly picked up one of the sheets of paper that mingled beneath the edge of his beat-up shoes with a quiet laugh in avoidance of the question or racing mind, "A thank you is usually in order, no? Sometimes even a kiss?" He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, his words melting with a soft hum, "Never thought an interrogation as a formal way to thank someone."

Your drunken-like breaths had come out in ragged gasps before tightening on the wool fabric of his sweater tightly with the edge of your fingers. "How did you even- What was all of that-" Your bewildered eyes had quickly darted to his relaxed expression in a flicker, searching for a rapid explanation in his softening look towards you, "How did you even know my name-"

 He smiled warmly before his bright green- no- now blue eyes flickered with an emerging glow emitting from them. The playful bard had allowed his parted lips to linger on the warmth of your forehead with a small hum, smoothing out some of the remaining stray strands of hair away from your heated face with the edge of his wandering thumb.

The instant the warmth of his lips touched your skin, an overwhelming wave of warmth and comfort washed you. Your bright eyes grew heavy, and, almost involuntarily, they fluttered shut with a soft sigh before slumping into the softness of his sweater, your wispy eyelashes grazing your cheeks at the final blink. 

The last thing you saw was the Cecilia pin.

"Y'know," He whispered softly with a stray laugh lingering by your cheek, "Curious humans have always been my favorite," 

[y/n]!"

As you slowly stirred from your slumber with a quiet breath, your blurry vision hazily found yourself adjusting to the familiarity of the warm blankets you had nuzzled the side of your cheek on. Drool had pooled on the side of your chin before wiping it off with the edge of your thumb with a small 'tsk'. 

At the heart of the dorm room were two single beds, each neatly made with sheets and comforters reflecting the recent adjustments- Posters, tapestries, or photos adorned the thin walls- Your soft eyes fluttered open to the worried face of your roommate, Amber, her dark brown locks of hair spilling over her straightening shoulders, her golden eyes began widening at your flickering glance towards her kneeling patiently at the edge of your bed.

"Oh thank Barbatos, you're awake," She exclaimed with a light gasp at you small breath, her small fingertips interwoven warmly with your other hand with eyelashes finally fluttering shut. "You had us all worried. You just passed out sitting on the staircase, and we didn't know what happened."

You rubbed the side of your face quietly, your memory gradually returning with a soft sigh encasing your small gasps. Everything that had unfolded on the staircase. You couldn't help but wonder about the Venti- no- whoever he was- who had saved you and then kissed your forehead. It felt like something out of a dream.

Against one wall, two desks sat in a row, cluttered with textbooks, laptops, and notepads, bearing the marks of countless study sessions with bookshelves crammed with textbooks and highlighted notes. Amber had placed her small hand softly on the edge of your blanket, her own lips slightly pursed.

"Where's Venti?" You finally asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and slight raspiness. Your fingertips wandered over the skin of your forehead at the lingering kiss that had crossed it, a warmth spreading across your face before turning quickly glance at Amber.

Amber's expression shifted to one of confusion, her eyebrows quietly raising, "He wasn't there- Kaeya was the one who found you, [y/n], he brought you here."

You tried to explain the situation, recounting the events with the boy who had saved you. But as you spoke, you couldn't shake the feeling that your story was so fantastical, that it might as well have been a dream.

However, the sight on your desk that caught your eye—an exquisite Cecilia flower, its petals a vibrant shade of pale blue, sat in a small vase. You curiously reached out to touch it, your fingers warmly brushing against the delicate bloom.

"Kaeya found this near you," Amber continued carefully, her usually chipper voice softening as she saw the confusion lingering on your face before smoothly adjusting the plush pillow that resided underneath your back with a light laugh. "He had no idea where it could have come from."

You couldn't help but quietly smile, despite the surreal nature of the situation. You knew that Venti was far more than he appeared. He had saved you with a touch of magic, and now, with a single flower that remained blooming on the surface of your desk contently.

Though you couldn't explain the mysteries surrounding the boy, you felt a sense of gratitude and enchantment, he had woven a bit of magic into your world, and you couldn't wait to unravel the secrets he held, one Cecilia petal at a time.

a/n: i was considering making this a series or at least a pt 2 but i dunno hehe! it's kinda sloppy but pls enjoy! reblogs are appreciated! <3

#genshin venti #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti genshin impact #venti imagines #genshin barbatos #genshin fandom #x reader #amber genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin amber #y/n #reader insert #oneshot #genshin oneshots #fanfic

[zorosleftshoe]

Snippet of “Cherry Pie - (c.b)

“I told you to be civil.” Sam’s eyes are anything but accusing as the words fall from his lips. He knows I had only retaliated in self defense as Colby had backed me into a corner. “I don’t know why you two can’t just get along.” I take a seat next to Sam and pat his back in a friendly manner.

“Would you like for me to go apologize?” He shakes his head and my shoulders relax at the thought of not having another interaction with Colby.

“That would just start another world war three and I can’t deal with the headache. I still have to finish the editing.” Sam groans before collapsing against the back of the couch and covering his eyes with his forearm. “Colby has my laptop charger.” With a heavy sigh, I rise to my feet and dust off my all too tight black shorts.

“I will ask him for it, okay? I’ll apologize for the whole fiasco and have a talk with him.” Sam’s face shifts as worry glosses over his delicate features. “It’ll be fine.” At this point I’m not sure if I’m trying to reassure Sam or myself. “It’s just Colby.” The stairs seemed to grow longer with each step I took towards what I could only consider impending doom.

It wasn’t that I hated Colby. If anything, I felt complete indifference towards him, given he had quickly shut me down and left me wondering what I had done wrong after our first meeting.

Colby’s door was shut and I couldn’t help but feel myself inch backwards towards the stairs. This was a stupid idea. With a heavy sigh I find myself rapping my knuckles against the wood of his door. In the distance there’s a soft groan before footsteps. The door opens and Colby’s head peaks through the small opening he has allowed. His eyes widen as he drinks in my figure standing before him.

“What the hell do you want?” I can feel my blood already beginning to boil at his words but I suppress what I’m feeling for the time being.

“Sam needs him charger.” He grunts before going to move away but I’m quick to reach out and lightly touch his hand that is still rested against the door. “I also wanted to apologize.” Colby’s eyebrows raise in what I can only assume is confusion.

“Why the hell would you do that?” I cock my head slightly and he shakes his head before opening the door enough for me to squeeze through. “I thought this was our thing?”

“Huh?”

“Hating each other? I thought that was our thing?” He asks scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I never said I hated you. In fact, I never said anything about how I felt about you.” I pause fiddling with a loose hem on the bottom of my shirt. “You would say all these harsh things and I felt like I had no choice but to retaliate. Eye for an eye type of thing.” Colby scoffs before settling beside me on his bed.

“If it means anything now, I never hated you either.” His words are much softer now. Any anger that has lingered before has vanished and was replaced with a new feeling. “I only said that shit because,” he pauses then. His hands are clasped firmly in his lap and I notice how he picks at the skin of his thumb.

“Because?” He groans in frustration before covering his eyes with his hands.

“If you’d give me a damn minute I’d tell you.” His cheeks, now tinted pink, puff up before he looks at me. “Because I was protecting myself.” My eyebrows twitch up in confusion at his words. Protecting himself? “You came hurdling into my life like a fucking meteor and I didn’t know what to do. All of a sudden this beautiful girl is here and she’s so fucking hilarious. She has the same interest as me, she’s best friends with my best friend, and she’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” He pauses, glancing away from me, clearly embarrassed. “I hate the way you make me feel.” These words are whispered as if they are a secret he isn’t quite sure he’s ready to tell.

#sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock #colby brock angst

[frostyyyroyalmilktea]

Nevermore student!Tyler x Thorpe!Reader

This is part 2 of my series. You can find part 1 here. Pt 3 here!

This story is also on ao3

Let me know what you think!

***

Your things arrive in the early afternoon that day and you know yourself well enough to be sure that if you don't deal with unpacking now, you certainly won't do it once the classes start and at some point in the near future your side of the room will turn into pure unmitigated chaos.

Of course to you, it won't be much different from how your room at home usually is at any given moment, but you're sharing space with someone else now and it seems disrespectful to let it get to that state. So you politely decline Bianca’s invitation to go see a movie with her and Yoko and get to work.

Unpacking clothes takes the most time but ultimately everything fits in the closet and there’s even some semblance of order to it. You’re not by any means an organized person so you don't expect it to last, but for now, a win is a win. Next are books and plushies that you put in an open bookcase near your table. Compared to Bianca's side, yours already looks a little spazzy. But you’re not too worried. She doesn't seem like a person who would judge you for that.

It's kind of interesting, actually. Tyler was right when he said she has a certain reputation in Nevermore. But just like with Xavier, when you start to get to know her, you realize she’s very different from the character she's trying to present to the world. Perhaps that's the reason they didn't work out. They were trying to build a relationship between their public personas, while the real people probably felt lonely and not seen.

You retrieve your laptop, a tangle of chargers, your portable speaker, and a few pairs of headphones from the last box, and then, finally, you move to unshackle your baby Yamaha from the layers of bubble wrap. You were initially reluctant to trust movers with it but at the end of the day, it weighed way too much for you to carry, and it was also rather chunky, especially compared to your not-particularly-imposing frame.

After thoroughly examining your synthesizer for any damage, and concluding that there is none to be found, you relax, plug it in, and start playing little bits and pieces of songs you like, as a warm-up

Music is something that never fails to bring you a little peace of mind. You’ve been playing piano since you were four and always liked to learn new songs from the artists you listened to. Sometimes you would learn something you know Xavi or your dad particularly enjoy.

But playing other people’s music, while very fun and enjoyable, is not the end goal. Your dream is to one day write your own music. You already do, as a matter of fact, but you’ve never played it for anyone.

You wonder what kind of music Tyler likes to listen to and as if on their own accord, your hands set the drum rhythm and you find yourself playing the intro to the Ghost Ship of Cannibal Rats. For all that he looks like a love interest in a Taylor Swift music video, you feel like Tyler prefers something alternative, more… gritty. You'll make sure to ask him the next time you see him.

You binge half a season of Brooklyn 9-9 and then head out on a journey to find a laundry room, where you meet a sweet little pumpkin named Eugene. He shows you how to operate the washing machines and makes a great pitch about his extracurricular club, but the only things you really know about bees is that they’re an important part of the ecosystem and a song from the Bee Movie soundtrack that you learned to torment Xavier over Christmas break a few years ago. But Eugene is so sweet and so enthusiastic about the whole thing that you don't find it in yourself to turn him down and promise to think about it.

Lunch rolls around you can’t say you’re particularly excited to face the public after Xavier’s dramatics this morning, but a girl has to eat so you women up and drag your ass downstairs.

Thankfully, the dining hall is a lot less crowded than it was at breakfast. Everyone's probably out in Jericho for the day. Bianca and her friends are nowhere to be seen. So is your brother. Unfortunately, so is Tyler.

That last one kinda puts you in a bit of a desolate mood.

You still grab a seat at the corner table and tuck into your chicken wrap. No one seems to pay you much attention aside from a few stray glances. But that's nothing new, both you and your brother aren’t exactly hard on the eyes.

You enjoy your lunch in relative peace until you notice someone staring. A familiar-looking blonde girl looks straight at you from the nearby table. When you meet her eyes, she waves at you enthusiastically. Very enthusiastically. It clicks why she looks familiar when you see who she's sitting with. It’s that little goth girl that got your brother all in his feels.

Oh, this should be interesting. You put on a smile you always use when doing publicity for your dad and wave back at her.

It’s all the encouragement she needs to leap to her feet and head to your table with her friend—who seems decidedly less enthusiastic about the entire affair—in tow.

"Hi! I'm Enid Sinclair. I just wanted to say I'm a huge fan and I'm so glad you're at Nevermore now, and I hope we can become friends."

People often accost you with similar intentions. Usually because of your father's fame, but recently you started gaining some following of your own as well.

Tiktok remains the only social media where your father's PR team can’t usurp control from you—because they're low-key a bunch of old farts and no one seems to understand how to operate it for publicity— so it’s the only social media you have on principle. You post song covers, film cool street buskers, and sometimes videos of you skateboarding. You amassed something around 100k followers which by TikTok standards isn’t really that impressive, but your views are consistent, so in your old school it attracted literally the worst type of people: clout chasers. Making friends became basically impossible. Because that's what you wanted. Friends. Not an entourage.

But this girl, you’re surprised to find, doesn’t seem like the type. She’s genuine in her excitement and just wants to be friends with someone she thinks is cool. It’s heartwarming and you don’t even notice when your publicity smile turns into a sincere one.

You extend your hand for a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Enid. And who’s the shadow of perpetual doom behind you?

"Wednesday. Wednesday Addams." She introduces herself, giving you a scrutinizing look. And wow, does she not blink?

Yeah, Xavier has no business giving you shit for your taste in boys when he’s in love with little miss American Psycho.

"Do you girls want to sit down? I'm not done with my lunch so you could keep me company if you want?"

"Sure!” Enid exclaims excitedly, already pulling a chair for herself.

Wednesday hesitates for a moment but ultimately takes a seat as well.

"Have you already decided what elective classes you're gonna-" starts Enid.

"How do you know Tyler Galpin?" Wednesday cuts her off. Which first, rude . And second, what does she care?

"I don't really. We met yesterday, when I arrived. He helped me haul my luggage to the top floor, "you reply between bites.

"You sat with him at breakfast."

Alrighty, you didn't realize it was an interrogation, but sure, why not?

"Well, I saw a familiar face, he was sitting there alone and he helped me out yesterday, so I thought why not." You try to keep your irritation at bay, but don’t completely succeed. Not that it makes any difference, because this girl clearly doesn’t like reading social cues.

"You don’t what he really is. He-"

"Right." You cut her off with an eye roll. "I heard that spiel already and I have eidetic memory so I don’t need an encore."

"The existence of eidetic memory is not proven by the psychiatric community," Wednesday says defiantly.

"It’s also not disproven, and since it relies heavily on the personal perception of an individual, there is no way to do either, really."

This puts you in a verbal stalemate of a sort and the atmosphere becomes quite heavy, but you just sip your tea nonperturbed.

Enid scrambles to change the subject.

"Have you heard Taylor Swift's new album already? Did you like it?"

You turn all your attention to her, clearly dismissing the previous topic of conversation. "Girl, you kidding? Of course, I did! It's brilliant, not that I expected anything less."

A muscle in Wednesday’s jaw twitches. Whether it’s because of the new topic or because you didn’t concede, you have no way of knowing.

"Ooooh," Enid squeals. "Do you plan on doing any covers? Your cover of No Body No Crime was sooo good, by the way. I got like actual chills."

"It was probably just the draft from the window you insist on keeping open at all times,” deadpans Wednesday.

"Yeah, to air out the smell of formaldehyde," Enid grumbles under her breath.

You have no idea what exactly your brother sees in Wednesday that makes him go yes, this is a perfect girl to be romantically interested in, and at this point, you’re getting more and more confident you don’t want to find out.

"You're so sweet, Enid. Thank you," you say. "I've actually really been vibin’ with Anti-Hero recently, so I'll probably do a cover soon."

Enid looks at Wednesday, then back at you, wheezing in delight. How can someone so small contain so much energy and enthusiasm you have no idea.

Wednesday seems a bit irritated, which given her general lack of emotional responses probably means that she’s in fact hella irritated. She clearly doesn't like to share her friend’s attention, so just to be petty you pull out your phone and ask: "Babes, what's your username? I'll follow you so we can be friends and send each other stuff. By the way, have you seen the new dance going around from this Netflix show? We could totally do a collab on that. I mean, I’m not much of a dancer myself, but it doesn't look too complicated."

Enid looks like she’s about to faint from trying not to shriek like a banshee in excitement. "It’s @ xoxoenid, your most reliable source for gossip in Nevermore."

Then she freezes in panic and as the page loads up on your phone, you see that she already made a few videos about you.

"I didn't say anything bad, I swear! But people were talking about why you and Xavier were arguing and why you were with Tyler… I can totally take it down if you want," she gets out hurriedly in one breath.

Wednesday, once again, looks peeved.

"It's cool, En. Don't worry about it. People gonna talk anyways I don't really care about that."

En, she mouths, looking a little starstruck.

You finish your lunch under Wednesday's scrutinizing glare while Enid talks a mile a minute, giving you a rundown on everyone's drama that you can't possibly follow because it's way too many new names at the same time.

When you're done, you make your goodbyes, wishing the two of them a great day. Or a terrible one, you add with a wide grin, looking at Wednesday. Whichever they’d prefer.

***

In the evening you make your way from Weems' office with a copy of your schedule and a signed referral from your therapist back home.

Most kids from Nevermore that go to therapy are referred to Dr. Kinnbot in Jericho but since your brother is already seeing her, it's unethical for her to see you too. So now you’re going to spend an hour and a half every Saturday driving to a bigger city to see a different therapist. From what Weems told you, he seems to be a good fit for you as he specializes in outcast psychology. But you’ll only know for sure after you’ve had a few sessions with him.

The way to get to Weems’ office from Persephone Hall is a bit complicated. You have to go down the stairs, exit the building, then walk around the building and re-enter it in a different wing. Of course, most people can just use the roof because it also has two exits, and this way you don’t need to go up and down the stairs a million times, which saves a lot of time. But most people aren’t dreadfully afraid of heights.

Well, you won’t be driving because you don’t have a license. You never really needed one back home and now some poor guy got stuck driving you because he’s also seeing the same doctor. Eh, at least he’ll have someone to chip in for gas. And both of you get an hour of free time in the city with an actual mall. Not to mention you have a dazzling personality, so come to think of it, he’s actually lucky to have you, all things considered.

When your powers manifested for the first time, you thought that it must be some kind of mockery from the universe. To give powers like that, to someone who has both acrophobia and aerophobia. Who could even come up with a joke that twisted?

You wrap yourself tighter in your winter coat against a gust of cold wind. You're almost by the main door when you see a cat. A chubby black cat with golden eyes that literally glow in the evening dark. He—you don’t actually know if he’s a he but you’re a native french speaker and calling animals it just doesn’t sit right with you—looks expectantly like he’s been waiting here for the longest time and you’re late and now he’s judging you for tardiness.

You come closer but as soon as do that, he turns around and proceeds to gracefully walk toward the creepy forest.

When you just stand there, dumbfounded, he turns around with a demanding meow and you really don’t feel like you have any other option than to follow him.

About fifteen minutes later, when you lose sight of that bossy cat and you don’t know where you are and can’t even locate the direction you came from, you think that this is just another joke at your expense from the universe. Your dad always says that one can not ignore the signs from the universe, as it is a path of lost opportunities. But right now, you feel like maybe you’re just illiterate and don’t read those signs correctly or something.

You hear the snow crunch behind you and then a snap, probably a twig. You turn around and see… well something.

You try not to panic and take out your phone to text your brother, even if it means a lecture and I told you so the size of the Jupiter. Ugh, you really don’t want to give his ego a boost of this proportion.

You've seen werewolves before and it looks a little bit like one, but at the same time, it doesn't. It looks more like someone tried to draw a werewolf from memory. The creature is bigger than a were but at the same time less proportional, its upper body longer and wider than the lower. Its face has more human traits than those of an animal, but something’s still a little off: its eyes and forehead are unproportionally big compared to the rest of the head.

You have no idea what the fuck it is you’re looking at and whether it's dangerous. A rule of thumb with anything of that size is usually to avoid at all cost. But it’s probably a little too late for that.

It's not attacking, but then again, you're just standing there not moving. If you run, there's a good chance it'll trigger its predator instinct. And there’s no way you can outrun it.

So you just stay where you are. Looking at it. And it also stays where it is. Looking at you.

You can't tell how sentient it is but it seems like it's thinking about something. Hopefully not about late dinner.

Its eyes, you notice, have a reddish tint to them and you think that should creep you out but for some reason it makes you think of pomegranates of all things.

The woods are very quiet. The only sounds you can really make out are its breathing and your own.

An absurd thought pops into your head then. The acoustics here must be great. You remember your vocal mentor, Ms. Welch, telling you that to really perfect acapella, you need to practice in open spaces.

And in what can only be a bout of temporary insanity, that's what you decide to do. Sing.

You take a deep breath not yet knowing what exactly it's going to be, but surprisingly, the words find you easily enough, and from then on, the whole thing just feels like an out-of-body experience.

“I've heard there was a secret chord”

The beast looks taken aback by you breaking this unspoken staring game.

“That David played, and it pleased the Lord”

It looks confused at first, then curious. Doesn't look like it’s gonna tear you to pieces at least, so you let your voice pick up a little volume.

“But you don't really care for music, do you?

It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah”

The creature makes the tiniest move forward as if chasing your voice.

It startles you and, instinctively, you pull back and the creature immediately mirrors you, looking as if it's scared of scaring you. Scared that you'll stop singing.

You go through the chorus with a shaky voice, but it looks like whatever this thing is, it doesn't want to attack you, so your voice evens out and the next verse sounds way steadier.

"Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you"

Maybe the irony of singing that line to a mesmerized creature in the moonlight wouldn't be lost on you if all your thinking capabilities weren't paralyzed by primal fear, but alas.

As to why you do what you do next, you honestly have no fucking idea. Maybe you’re more fucked in the head than people give you credit for. Like, way more.

“She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah”

You take a step forward.

“Hallelujah”

Then another one.

“Hallelujah”

And one more.

“Hallelujah”

There is maybe a foot separating the two of you at best.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you can hear a distant howl of your self-preservation instincts.

But the thing is.

You’re as mesmerized by this creature as it is by you.

It just seemed so sentient, its eyes so… intent.

And the closer you get to it, the more your fear dissipates.

And not only the immediate one, but the old and rusty one too, that felt like it was following you for months. Since the day your powers awakened, you realize suddenly.

“Maybe I've been here before

I know this room, I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah”

“Hallelujah”

The creature gets on four paws before you.

“Hallelujah”

Takes a deep breath.

“Hallelujah”

Then another one.

“Hallelujah”

And then it lies down at your feet.

You're so shocked you think you might’ve messed up the order of the verses.

“Maybe there's a God above

And all I ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you”

You crouch in front of it and carefully extend your hand towards its… face?

“It's not a cry you can hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah”

“Hallelujah”

Your first touch is feather-like, but when you're sure it doesn't want to bite your hand off, you gently stroke the top of its head.

“Hallelujah”

It closes its eyes and puts its head on its front paws.

“Hallelujah”

The forest is quiet once again and you look at the creature's calm form, just lying there like a big tired doggo.

Its skin starts to shift and bones start to rearrange themselves as you're watching the creature take a distinctly human shape. It takes you a good half a minute after it's done to realize that you know this human.

Shit.

***

Tyler

His consciousness returns slowly, all senses a bit muffled still. He’s in the forest, it’s dark and he doesn’t remember how he got here. Fuck.

After Thornhill's death, it feels like he lost all the control he had over the Hyde.

You've never had any control, he reminds himself sharply.

He takes a deep breath, recalling what his new therapist told him. You need to learn to reign in the Hyde on your terms, Tyler, not relearn what was forced on you. It will take time and patience. Be kind to yourself. Yeah, right.

“Umm, Tyler? You alright, dude?”

What?

“Oh shit, you’re like, butt-ass naked, oh my goodness.”

He opens his eyes and sees someone—presumably the owner of the voice—hastily pulling off a winter coat.

A girl?

She turns to look at him for only a second as she throws her coat in his direction and then turns her back to him once again.

Oh shit. He knows this face pretty well. He was shamelessly staring at it all morning.

“I swear I didn’t see anything and if I did I honestly can’t do anything about it because of my eidetic memory, but I promise I will never-” she starts rambling so fast he can barely understand what she’s saying.

“Y/n,” he asks, voice still hoarse. “Please stop talking.”

“Oh,” she pauses, “Sure sure sure, yeah. No problemo. Can totally do that, yeah.”

He gets up slowly and picks up the coat from the ground. He’s covered in dirt and the coat he picks up is light pink so he’ll probably mess it up, but he can’t just walk home naked like he did all those times before because he’s not alone now. Create new patterns for the Hyde to follow, Dr. Shin’s voice echoes in his head. Tyler doubts that’s what he meant when he said it, but whatever.

The coat thankfully is long enough to reach his knees, so he zips it up and tells y/n’s back: “Okay, I’m decent.”

She stops pacing and in mere seconds she’s in front of him, taking his face in her hands, presumably to check for any injuries. Her hands are warm and gentle and he can’t find anything to say, too shocked not only that she didn’t run but that her first concern is whether he is alright.

“You’re a bit dirty, but I don’t see any injuries, so I think you’ll live.” She carefully takes her hands off his face and awkwardly shoves them into the pockets of her jeans, like she doesn’t know where else to put ‘em.

“What happened? What are you doing here?” When he came to he was scared half to death he might’ve hurt her, but she seems unharmed and—what’s more baffling—unafraid, so now he’s just straight up confused.

“I was walking from Weems’ office and there was this cat- Wait a sec, you don’t remember what happened when you were all…” she imitates the claws with her hand, “rawr?”

“No.” Not anymore, not after Thornhill’s death. The thought that one of these days he might wake up in someone’s blood terrifies him.

“Oh.”

“What did you- How did you make me shift back?” Dr. Shin says he needs a point of contact with his human side that he can rely on to pull him out from the shift, but where the fuck is he supposed to find it if everyone he knows looks at him like he’s a ticking time bomb even when he’s perfectly human-looking.

“Ummm, I sang you Rufus Wainwright’s rendition of Hallelujah?” She says like she almost can’t believe it herself.

Tyler certainly can’t.

“You…sang to me?”

“Yeah, Rufus Wright’s rendition of Hallelujah, the one from Shrek, keep up, dude.”

He takes a breath to say something but the words do not come. He has no idea what to even say to that.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” She asks. “Cuz I kinda followed a cat here, so I don’t really know which way I came from.”

“Uhhh yeah, we need to keep to the northwest,” Tyler replies dumbly.

She looks at him unimpressed, “Babe, do I like a fucking girl scout to you? I don’t know what that means.”

And maybe it’s such a brazen use of that word that does it, or it’s that he’s only about 50% sure this is not some weird dream he’s having after eating too much sugar before bed, but he just grabs her hand and silently starts walking towards the dorms.

If she’s surprised by this turn of events, she doesn't show it, just goes with it like it’s the most normal thing on earth.

After a few minutes, she wrangles her hand so that their fingers intertwine and they’re like actually holding hands. Tyler feels his face heat up and hopes desperately that it won’t be visible in this cold.

“Could you slow down a bit please,” she asks, slightly out of breath. “I can’t keep up with you and if I keep breathing in cold air like an old asthmatic dog, I’ll get pneumonia.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says, slowing down a little.

They walk in silence for a while and Tyler expects her to start firing questions any second now but they can already see the outline of the main building in the distance and she still hasn’t asked.

“It’s called a Hyde. That thing you saw. No one knows for sure if I will ever be able to control it.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, “You seemed pretty in control to me.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Like, when you were listening to me. It seemed like you didn’t want to scare me and one time you did, you backed off immediately.”

They keep walking, silent again.

When they reach the side of the main building, Tyler stops, letting go of her hand. “We’re here.”

“Cool, thanks for walking me back,” she says, smiling at him like it was just a cute little walk in the park.

He can’t take not understanding it.

“Why aren’t you freaked out?” He asks desperately. Something in him twists painfully like she just doesn’t understand. Like he’s deceiving her somehow, and he just needs to explain that he is a monster, he is dangerous, and then she’ll run from him like she’s supposed to. Like everyone else does.

But she doesn’t. She looks up at him curiously, and in the moonlight, her eyes seem so dark, so captivating, that he kind of forgets what was it he was asking her.

“You didn’t hurt me, didn’t even try to. That’s all I really need to know, Tyler.” She says calmly.

He just looks at her, not able to tear his eyes—or form a cohesive thought.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Save me a sit?” she asks softly like there’s some real possibility someone except her will want to sit with the local machiavellian monster.

“Sure,” is all he can really manage.

“Cool.” She says, then gets on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

His cognitive functions decide to leave him at that moment so he doesn’t say anything, just stands there like one of the statues from Easter Island and watches her sneak into the dorm’s building.

***

Author’s note:  I hope characterization doesn't seem inconsistent, I'm just trying to highlight that how other characters see MC is not exactly how she really is. She presents a more collected picture that what's actually going on in her brain. I was a bit worried I overdid it in the forest scene, but in the end I decided that Tyler is too flustered himself to pick up on her little tells that she's freaking out, and after seeing him naked she's totally freaking out lol

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin imagine #thorpe!reader #wednesday

[sasusakucoded]

Sakura: *pressing the keyboards* Anata, I don't think I have that here..

Sasuke: *moves closer* Hm. I remember you showing that file to me once.

Sakura: Maybe it's in my old laptop at home.

Sasuke: May I open it? It's quite urgent.

Sakura: Of course! Wait, let me write down the password. *gets a sticky note and writes it down* Here. *gives the sticky note*

Sasuke: Thanks.

Sakura: It might take time for it to turn on but just let it charge for a bit.

Sasuke: *nods* I'll be back later to pick you up.

Sakura: *nods and smiles* Thank you, Anata! By the way, I can't remember the filename, so you'll need to look into the folders.

Sasuke: Okay.

Sakura: See you later then! I have to do a surgery this whole afternoon. But, I'll be finished at the usual time.

Sasuke: Sure.

---

Sasuke's thought process:

*plugs in the charger of the laptop*

Okay, she said to charge it for some time. I'll make my tea first while waiting.

*makes tea and returns; takes out the paper given by Sakura*

username: sakuraaa

password: Sasuke143!

*smirks and types the credentials*

This laptop is really old. We didn't have Sarada yet at that time.. It's so slow.. Okay, there's only a few folders. Good.

*opens each folder*

LAB. Nope, just files with the villagers' names. It's probably the result of their lab tests. DATA. Just screenshots of charts. Nothing significant. SUMMIT. Maybe it was her presentation during that time— Wait, I should use the Search function.

*searches for Otsutsuki, DNA, genetic; no results for all*

Damnit. Why is this so hard?

*opens the next folder*

NOTES. I don't think any of this is the same file type of what I'm looking for. Hmm. There are three folders left in the desktop, but they're named SASUKE1, SASUKE2, and SASUKE3. Should I open them? Will that be okay? Maybe the file is in one of those since that file was made for me.

*opens each folder*

SASUKE1. Oh.. Just pictures of me.

*blushes and closes the folder*

Maybe in the next folder. SASUKE2. Hmm. Just pictures of us.

*views one by one; took 15 minutes to finish everything*

She's really cute. I didn't know we have these many pictures. I should tell her to save a copy somewhere else. Or maybe she has already done so. Of course, she's done it. She's organized when it comes to her files. Anyway. SASUKE3. Oh, it's the continuation of the other folder.

*takes another 15 mins to view all pics*

Hmm. How about the other folders? SHARED DOCUMENTS. Nothing in here. It's totally empty.

MY DOCUMENTS. I can't open this one. It says "My Documents", which means it's Sakura's documents. It might be something confidential. Hmm. She's propably in the operating room right now. What should I do?

Sarada: Tadaima!

Sasuke: Okaeri, Sarada!

Sarada: You're early, Papa. *removes her sandals*

Sasuke: Yeah. I need to find something urgently.

Sarada: *nods*

Sasuke: *contemplates if he should ask for help* Sarada..

Sarada: Hm?

Sasuke: C-Could you please help me with this?

Sarada: *sits beside him* What is it, Papa?

Sasuke: I need to search for a file about Otsutsuki's genetic makeup, but I can't find it anywhere.

Sarada: Have you tried using Search?

Sasuke: Yes.

Sarada: May I see?

Sasuke: *moves the laptop in front of Sarada* I've opened all of those folders including Shared Documents.

Sarada: How about My Documents?

Sasuke: No. It says My Documents. It's Sakura's documents.

Sarada: What if it's here? I feel like it's here. *about to open*

Sasuke: N-No!! *grabs the laptop*

Sarada: Papa?

Sasuke: Your mom and I value privacy very much. If it's her documents, then we can't open it. Maybe if it's named as Our Documents then I'd open it.

Sarada: *clueless* Okay.. How about we call her and ask for her permission?

Sasuke: She's probably in the operating room.

Sarada: Hmm. But you said it's urgent.. If Mama gave you her password and all, I think it's also okay with her if you open her files.

Sasuke: Yeah but I don't want to assume. *sighs* The task is urgent but I'd rather wait than make her upset.

Sarada: *giggles*

Sasuke: Hm?

Sarada: Nothing.

Sasuke: I'm going back to the hospital to pick her up and ask.

Sarada: Okay! I'll start preparing dinner.

---

Sakura: Anata! *waves* Did you find it?

Sasuke: *shakes his head* Sarada also tried to help me but.. Um.. So, there's this one folder that I wanted to open..

Sakura: Why didn't you open it?

Sasuke: It says My Documents. It's your documents, Sakura. I don't want to open it if it's too personal.

Sakura: *confused* Anata.. Can you show me when we get home?

Sasuke: Yes. Please open it for me.

---

Sasuke: Here, this is the folder. *points with his finger*

Sakura: *giggles* Anata, that's the default folder name!

Sasuke: *confused*

Sarada: *confused* Isn't Documents the default name?

Sakura: In the newer version, yes. But in the old ones, it's My Documents. In fact, under it there's My Pictures, My Music—

Sasuke: I'm so stupid.

Sakura: *chuckles* No, but I really appreciate that you chose privacy over urgency, Anata. *pinches his cheek*

Sarada: Blech! I'll continue cooking! *leaves*

Sakura: *laughs* Let's see.. *browses the files* Oh, it's probably this one..

Sasuke: *reads* annoying_sukies.pdf?

Sakura: *opens* This is the one we're looking for, right? I'll print it out for you.

Sasuke: *nods*

Sakura: Anata.. Just know that you can open anything in my computer. If it's really confidential, I'd put a password on the file itself.

Sasuke: Yeah but you use only one password. *smirks* What is it again?

Sakura: *blushes* Hey!!

Sasuke: *takes out the sticky note and pretends to read it* Sas—

Sakura: *covers his mouth* Anataaa!

#sasusaku #sasusaku headcanon #ss headcanon #uchihas #sscoded no 282

[snakegorl212006]

Down the Rabbit hole

Staying in NRC is NOT an option anymore. I need to leave. Pronto. Niomi offered to help by getting in contact with a friend about buying a house in the city of the royal swords. As much as I'd love to move as soon as possible, there’s something in the way for me to move. Money. It must be pricey to live on the other side of town. So I have to find some stable way of living sence my boss is dead now. I needed some fresh air so I just grabbed my laptop ,phone, and chargers for both as well as some money to go to a cafe in Heartslabyul. It’s on the border of ramshackle and has the freshest and the most delicious treats and desserts. It'll definitely cheer me up. I entered the cafe and sat at a loney table. I flipped on my laptop and searched through jobs to help rack some money to buy a house. More jobs i see more dangerous the areas. I’m definitely not working anywhere in Heartslabyul, savanaclaw will eat me alive….“Excuse me” a voice spoke which made me jump slightly. I must’ve been so focus on the screen to see him coming over “what would you like to order” He asked as he swirled his orange hair. I told him my order as he wrote it down on a notepad “are you new. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before” he asked “oh i wouldn't call myself a regular but i come here occasionally” i replied “I’m cater. I work here occasionally myself and I must say it’s nice to see some new faces.” Cater said with a charming smile “well it’s nice to meet you” i replied “oh let me get that order for you right away.” cater said as he excused himself. I continue busying myself in trying to find a job…."why don't you work over here" cater spoke,making me jump again "well… My last boss just got murdered so if I become some risk by breaking some unspoken rule, count me out" i replied "hmmm…. i'm close with the owner.  Trey knows a lot of ,what you'll call, higher ups" cater smiled then he wrote something down "here take my number so we can chat k" he winks "ok thank you" i smiled as he walked away. Perhaps I would take the offer but I want nothing to do with Heartslabyul. My search was fruitless, nothing suited my talents and preferences so I decided to call it a day. When I began to pack up,my bag ended up falling to the floor, spilling cards. Weird…I don't remember having a deck of cards in my bag. In the middle of these cards is an envelope well sealed. I cleaned up the card deck and placed them on the table while taking the envelope with me back home. Once i reached my apartment i opened the seal to reveal a invitation...

First name last name 

I formally invited you to a private party happening tomorrow within the roseheart manor.You may find it strange, even a little bit odd for someone of prestige status to invite someone like yourself. Surely you’ve seen the news despite what little information the police has given, I know you were the one who survived the attack in the heart’s tower during a mock unbirthday party. Thus you’ve sparked my interest and so I wish to chat with you personally. I truly wish for you to attend my little gathering because I feel we have much in common.A survivor to another i do hope we’ll find comfort within each other and maybe become close companions.

Transportation will be provided and outfits which you can choose from if you can’t afford a high class suit/dress. 

See you at the unbirthday party 

-Riddle Roseheart

#cater diamond x reader #twsited wonderland killer au #twisted wonderland murder au #twisted wonderland au #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader

[etoilebleu]

I have sad news lol

As I was working on responses my laptop charger has randomly given out.

I was picking out a new computer anyway but from now on until probably up to two weeks from now I’ll be mobile formatted 🫠 I’m so sorry.

This goes for probably non cut threads unless I just turn off your response in front of it somehow

#I need to save the 3 hrs left of battery I have to transfer stuff #「✨」 ━━ ooc. #anyway back to responses I hope no one minds ;;

[jamiesfootball]

You need a distraction while waiting for a laptop charger and I need a distraction while dealing with some crap on my end, so this is a match made in heaven. ;) For the ask game: 👻❤️, please and thank you!

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

All of them.

There is a bit in oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) where Roy and Jamie tip toe around to talking about when Roy offered to train Jamie and then smacked the fork out of his hand. That is not the point of the scene, but it feeds into a larger theme that Roy has been wrestling with, and it ends up being a bit of an eye-opener for both of them. For Roy, it's finding a new perspective on how to approach a problem. For Jamie, it's the somewhat overwhelming realization that sometimes people who care for you will actually listen to your problems and then try to help make that problem easier on you by changing something they do.

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

Also all of them.

There is a chapter in the middle of oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) that bounces back and forth between when Roy started training Jamie and where they are now. One of those scenes is a sort of sped-up montage of Roy learning how to train Jamie, testing out what works and what doesn't, learning what type of athlete Jamie is from a training perspective. It is actually a super fun set of scenes with a lot of humor built in. The chapter as a whole acts as a sort of intermission, giving us a chance to breathe and relax before things get emotionally devastating again.

While the training is happening, Roy is also subconsciously beginning to look back at his own upbringing through the academy, and how he learned all of this stuff, and how it felt bearing the brunt of his coach's high expectations of him growing up. He finds himself making small adjustments along the way as he learns how to make Jamie better without giving him any of Roy's issues to go along with it. Because Jamie isn't Roy, and Roy doesn't want him to be either.

#fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) #ask game #ask box is always open #writing progress

[strayfoxxchan]

Coffee Break Pairing: Han Jisung x f!reader (Y/N) Genre: Fluff, Soulmate AU Content Warning: None A/N: Sister requested I write this one for her. It's a little silly, but enjoy it! Let me know if y'all want more.

I can’t believe it’s already been a month, you think to yourself, your feet on autopilot as you stroll along the streets of Seoul. It was a hard decision to leave your life behind in your home country, using your life’s savings to pursue your dream career, but the idealist in you knows it was the right choice for the sake of your own happiness. The days you aren’t holed up in your cubicle or working from a cafe are spent exploring, doing all the things a tourist would do when visiting a new place; there was the National Museum, Gwangjang Market, Bukchon Hanok Village, all things you had put on your bucket list to see years ago while you were still at university. For as much as there was to do in Seoul, however, there were only a few days a week you could spend seeing the sights. Most days were spent in the cubicle or finding nearby cafes to work in. 

Most people would expect that pursuing your passion would be fun and exciting, but you couldn’t deny that you had been lonely and a little more depressed than usual. It was hard, harder than you had imagined it would be. You’ve been so busy with work and travel, that you simply haven’t had the time to go out and meet new friends, and you’ve been kicking yourself for that. These things come with time. Lately, your only saving grace has been music. Throwing your headphones on and drowning out the worries that have plagued you over the last few weeks has kept your energy high despite the overwhelming loneliness of a new city. 

진짜로 수고했다 이제 꽃길만 걷자  The songs pumping through her headphones seem to bookend the thoughts you’ve been having. You’ve done a good job, now let’s walk along the flowery path. You decide to take Han Jisung’s words to heart. You HAVE done a good job; you landed a job at the Webtoon office, working in communications and translation. You’ve learned a whole new language in only a few years. You chose a path and you made it happen. Now wasn’t the time for stormy thoughts or suffering in loneliness.

(A/N: I am well aware the Webtoon office is far away from JYPE but this is what my sister wanted. JUST PRETEND.)

You often hit up Starbucks in the mornings on days when you would normally have worked from home. You sometimes couldn’t focus on working in your small, dark apartment. It’s close to the JYPE building, and the irony of listening to Stray Kids while walking passed it isn’t lost on you. It seems a little silly, given your age, but on some occasions, the thought of a happenstance meeting with one of them does float through your mind. Daydreams never hurt anyone, but she would never stoop so low as the gaggle of young girls who spent their mornings waiting in front, photocards and albums in hand waiting to be signed. You scoot through the crowd, bowing your head slightly and smiling awkwardly as you push through to the cafe entrance.

You order the same drink every day: a white mocha with oat milk, and an extra shot of espresso. The baristas are starting to recognize you, some even putting in your order before you make it to the register. Your usual spot by the window is open, and you pull your laptop and charger from your bag before settling in. You turn the music up on your iPhone and get into the zone. It hasn’t even been an hour before a wave of fatigue hits you like a punch in the gut, stretching your arms over your head and squeezing your eyes shut to get the blood flowing through your tired bones. Mid stretch, your eyes reopen, and you feel a shock to your system. Han Jisung, whose voice you were just listening to, has walked in. You gasp loudly, attempting to cover the sound with a spluttering cough, covering your face as you do so. 

Celebrity sightings were fairly commonplace in your hometown of Los Angeles. You’d held enough retail and restaurant jobs that sightings didn’t necessarily shock you anymore, and for the most part, you were more than able to deal with them as you would any customer. But you weren’t in LA anymore, you weren’t in a customer service job, and this wasn’t just a celebrity, he was your bias. You could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks, attempting with every fiber of your being to continue as normal… But you catch yourself staring more than once. And, to your horror, he’s noticed. 

Jisung makes his way toward you, the baristas apparently working on his drink. He bends at the waist, but you’ve zoned out, so he waves his hand in front of your face. It takes a moment before you come back to reality with a strange yelp. He giggles at you with his signature wide, toothy grin. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

You slap your cheeks a few times. “Uh, yeah! Fine! Just a little tired, that’s all,” you leave your hands where they are in a vain attempt to cover the flush rising in your face. 

Jisung glances over at your nearly untouched, lukewarm coffee, and pushes it toward you. “You should finish this, it seems like you need it.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you look down at your drink as he begins to walk away.

He stops and turns to face you again. “See you around!”

As he leaves the cafe, you hurriedly pack your things to leave, no longer able to bare the chagrin of the moment. Out of every interaction you had ever imagined, this was not the way you expected things to turn out. You had turned into a puddle rather than looking cool and sexy the way you had in your mind. It’s simply not processing as you flag down a taxi and head back to your apartment. In fact, it still doesn’t process and only serves to haunt you for the rest of the day. Around midnight, when you know your sister has woken up for work in the US, you call her, recounting every painful detail to her. All she does is laugh at you, but you kind of expected that. It doesn’t help matters at all, and that night, you hardly sleep. 

You had planned to go back to the usual Starbucks this morning, but under the circumstances, it’s only natural you would hesitate. Still, you had fallen into a routine you enjoyed and after several ponderous moments, you decide to go anyway. The weather today was beautiful and perfect for a walk. 

The usual gaggle of school girls in front of the towering entertainment company had gone already, so the walk to the coffee shop was more relaxing than usual. You walk in to order your coffee and turn around to meander your way to your usual spot, which happens to be taken. The figure waves you down as you set your path to finding a new spot. The bespectacled man wearing a mask and basket hat scoots over to the next chair to allow you to sit down. “Thanks,” you mumble to the stranger, pulling your laptop and charging cable out to get back into the zone.

“Hi Noona,” he says, pulling his mask down slightly and winking at you. 

Your eyes widen, and you bow your head to him, nearly smashing it on the cafe’s bar table. Han Jisung sits beside you with a very large iced americano in his hand, toothy grin and all.

“Someone was sitting in your spot earlier, but when they left I decided to save it for you!” He says quickly. His Korean is so fast you barely managed to catch what he says. “I know, I’m a pretty nice guy,” he says in English with a bizarre accent that sounds somewhere between British, Australian, and American. He squeezes his eyes shut, smiling wide and looking all too proud of himself. “This is your usual spot, right?”

“Uh… yeah, I…” you start before trailing off. You resolve to be a bit more confident this time. It’s not every day you get to talk to your bias one-on-one. “Yeah, I sit here every day.” You smile at him with what you hope looks more self-assured than you feel. “Thank you for saving it for me. My name is Y/N,” you hold out a hand for a handshake.

“You have a pretty name! Han Jisung,” he says, shaking your hand vigorously. 

“I know,” you blurt out, not thinking quite clearly. You clap your hand over your mouth, “sorry, I just mean that it’s nice to meet you in person.” Flustered, you let his hand go and raise it to brush some hair away from your face.

“Ohhh, STAY?” He says, smiling from ear to ear. “Where are you from? What are you doing here?”

You take a few moments to tell him that you grew up in LA and moved here to work at Naver Webtoon. The two of you chat for a bit about the perks of reading various webtoons before they release in America, and about his time spent in LA for tours and media recording. 

Your shyness seems to melt away the longer the two of you talk. He may be world-famous, but he seems so… normal and down to earth. Chatting with him is more relaxing than awkward, though you do have to actively work to suspend your disbelief and your crippling social anxiety.

“I’m sorry,” he waves his hand to your laptop which has sat untouched for nearly an hour. “Am I keeping you from your work?”

“No, no, not at all,” you wave your own hand at it dismissively. “I am sure I am keeping you from yours,” you look pointedly at the phone sitting face down on the table. It’s been vibrating over and over for the better part of the last 15 minutes. No doubt this was one of the members trying to figure out where Jisung had vanished.

“It’s nice to have a little break to feel normal every once in a while,” he smiles warmly at you. “I enjoyed talking with you this morning. You’re right though, I should get going,” he stands up, moving the mask back up over his chin and nose. “Then, I’ll leave first,” he bows slightly to you, and you nod your head in response. He heads toward the door, turns to wave at you once more, and exits.

You lean your head back, a gusty sigh escaping your lips. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a conversation with anyone other than your coworkers or late-night phone calls with your sister in the US. You did have to admit that you were feeling much less stressed after spending time with Jisung, but it was time to buckle down and get some work done on these translations. 

Hours pass as you concentrate on your work. You wave down the baristas a few times, needing help with some localizations; there were idioms and references that would be lost on an English-speaking audience that needed some explanation from people who knew them. As always, they were more than willing to give their input and always did so with a helpful smile. Looking down at the tiny digital clock on your laptop, you realize it’s gotten late. The sun is just starting to duck under the horizon of the towering buildings ahead of you, and you decide it's time to pack up and get going. 

Your stomach starts to growl as you begin your walk home, so you decide to take a stroll through Olympic Park. There was a teokbokki tent there run by the sweetest ajumma that she liked to eat at every once in a while. This tent in particular was a little out of the way, so it was generally pretty quiet around this time of the evening. When you arrive to order her food, there is only one other group sitting down to eat. You place your order and take a seat on the opposite side with your back to them, allowing them their privacy. 

“Twice in one day?” A voice exclaims from behind you, and you hear movement from the other side of the tent before a figure plops down beside you. “Noona!” Jisung exclaims.

The other two figures make their way over, joining their brother. Chris Bang and Seo Changbin sit opposite you on the table. “You know her?” Chris says to Jisung, a quizzical expression on his face. 

Changbin stares for a moment before his eyes widen. “Is this the pretty cafe noo–”

Jisun kicks Changbin in the shin under the table. He doesn’t bother to hide it. Chris looks confused and seems to be entirely out of the loop in this matter. Your expression mirrors that of Chris. 

Jisung clears his throat. “Ah, Hyung, this is Y/N, I met her the other day at the Starbucks by the company,” his full cheeks flush lightly and he blinks his eyes rapidly.

You suddenly become very self-conscious, looking around behind you.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says in accented English. “This place is usually pretty safe for us around this time. There are not many people around here, yeah?” He flattens his lips together in a reassuring wolf-chan smile. You could see what your sister saw in him. You couldn’t wait to brag about this. Your sister was going to be thoroughly jealous.

As you all stuff teok into your mouths, the three producers seem to ask you a thousand questions about yourself, your family, and your work. Jisung looks like he’s absorbing the information like a sponge. You talk about your favorite songs, and other music you enjoy, and you ask them just as many questions as they do. The sun has vanished from the sky and darkened to reveal pinprick stars above. Your sister would be waking up soon and you didn’t want to miss the short period before she would have to clock in for work and inevitably be stuck in a two-hour meeting, so you stand to excuse yourself.

“Oh, are you walking home?” Chris asks. “Why don’t we walk you home?” Chris looks pointedly at Jisung, raising his brows to his hairline.

“Yeah, we can walk you home!” Jisung blurts. 3RACHA stands up from the table, waving to the ajumma who waves back with a smile. They dawn their disguises (hats and masks were pretty effective at night, you realize at that moment), and the four of you make your way out of the park together.

Conversation ping pongs between the small pack, the boys talking to each other, and then to you, and so on. As you approach your apartment building, you look to the three and say “Ah, this is me, I’ll go first!”

They all stop in their tracks, voices trailing off.

“This is… also us?” Changbin says incredulously. 

The door attendant waves at you, and bows to the men standing beside you before pulling the door open. The expression of bewilderment hasn’t left their faces yet. You walk to the elevator, and enter, pressing the button for your floor. “Which floor are you going to?”

Chris answers you, bemused. “You just pressed it.”

The ride up to the floor is quiet, the four of you completely dumbstruck. As you arrive at your floor, you pull your key out and unlock the door beside the elevator door, and the boys continue on a few more doors down. You exchange glances, bows, and goodnights before entering your respective homes. You poke your head out, and you see Jisung do the same, waving at you before shutting the door.

Now you really needed to call your sister. She was going to lose it.

Your sister answers the phone, yawning. “Dude, you called me before my alarm went off. This better be important, I really needed that extra hour.”

You explain the situation to your sister, and she doesn’t respond for a long time. “Are you still awake?” You grumble at her.

“I am… processing. Literally what the fuck? Did you like, not give my number to Bang Chan? I’m feeling really betrayed right now. Did you at least ask him to rerelease Alchemistry?”

“That’s all you got out of this? Are you fucking kidding me?” You growl at her.”I’m literally losing my mind right now! They’re going to think I’m a stalker!”

Once she gets over the ultimate betrayal of her sister, the two of you calmly discuss where to go next. The only advice she can give you is to just get close to them and show that you can be trusted. There’s nothing else she can offer you that would make you feel any better. It was a weird situation to be sure. As the conversation comes to a close, she offers you one last question: “What would you do… if he fell for you?”

“I don’t know.” The question lingers in your head long after you hang up the phone. At some point, you stop entertaining the thought. It wasn’t going to happen, and you were okay with that.

The next morning was a Saturday. The weekend— finally. You decide this weekend is not a good time for any more excitement, at that, it would be better just to relax at home for once. Tourist attractions would be there next weekend, and she wasn’t in a rush. Instead, you decided enough is enough and you can no longer subsist on ramyeon alone. You throw on some baggy, comfy clothes, and decided to ditch your contacts in favor of glasses. You grab your purse, and head to the elevator to head out. You flit your eyes about the hallway in an attempt to ensure you’re not being followed and no one sees you leave. A door opens down the hallway, and you feel your whole body freeze. 

“Noona! Where are you going?” Jisung skips toward you and stands to wait for the elevator as well.

“Where are you going?” She blurts out in response.

The two pause, and at the same time, both exclaim “groceries!”

“Wow, we can go together! Won’t that be so fun?” He says in his silly English accent. “Look how cute you are!” He says, tugging on the sleeve of your baby pink sweatshirt.

You cross your arms and pout, embarrassment written across your face. The elevator door opens and the two of you enter together.

You could almost hear a crow fly past in the awkward silence of the descent to the first floor. The silence is broken suddenly as Jisung slams his hand on the elevator’s stop button. The lights dim slightly and the elevator halts between floors.

“Han,” you say incredulously. “What are you doing?”

“Noona, you don’t have to be shy around me. Don’t you like me too?” You hesitate to respond, eyes glued to the floor. He leans down to meet you at eye level. “Noona, look at me, you like me, right?”

You look up into his big eyes and realize he’s much closer to your face than you thought. “I just don’t want you to feel like I’m stalking you. I promise you I’m not following you on purpose!” 

“I mean, I’m following you on purpose,” he stands up straight, scratching his head. “I never go to that Starbucks anymore except to see you.” He looks up at the ceiling, pursing his lips and puffing out his cheeks. He couldn’t look more like an overgrown quokka if he tried.

You can’t help but smirk at this. “I do like you, Jisung. I’m just a shy person, don’t take it personally.” 

“Well,” he starts, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’ll get used to me. You can’t really avoid me since I live down the hall.” He dawns on his idol disguise before pressing the STOP button again, bringing the elevator back to life. “Let’s get some food!”

#han jisung #jisung fluff #han quokka #hannie #skz han jisung #skz jisung #skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

my laptop charger has stopped working -- working less and less over the past month until, as of right now, it seems to have given up completely -- and it freaking sucks :'(

all i want to do is have zone-out-on-my-laptop time!!! but i can't!!!! because it's gonna die in 30 seconds!!!!

#i was just really in the zone with one of my romangerri seasonal ficlets :'( #WHY CAN'T MY LAPTOP CHARGER JUST CHARGE MY LAPTOP #DOESN'T SEEM TOO MUCH TO ASK #dollsome's deep thoughts #it will only work randomly if it's in a very specific position #and damned if i can figure out what that position is! #maybe i should write by hand like an old timey person #but i type 120 wpm and that's hard to walk away from

[witchyspiritsims]

Hellooooo, anyone out there remember me? It’s been almost a year since I’ve used this tumblr last - and over a year since I decided to start it.

As a bit of an explanation, I lost the Blackwood and AHC save files. Actually, I lost ALL my save files except some I’d backed up like three months prior or something. I’m not sure what happened but I put new CC into my game and when I started it up next just. Everything was wiped. I lost motivation after that and pretty much quit Sims 4. I switched to Sims 2 and really had a lot of fun!

Then my laptop broke. It stopped charging unless the charger was in a very specific position. We thought it was the charger itself so we bought a new one. Turns out it was the charging port. Online it said it had most likely come away from the motherboard. It’s been months since and I’ve been without a computer of my own.

That said, I’ve been using my husband’s desktop and it’s been a whole new experience for me. I’ve only ever had laptops. When he let me put sims on his computer it was like a totally different game. The graphics looked better, it ran so smoothly, and I could finally use reshade!!! I was so excited and it’s really given me my spark back for sims. So much so that I started an actual legacy challenge - The Sims in Bloom challenge. I had started the AHC before, but I never got very far into it since I lost my saves soon after. The Sims in Bloom legacy helped me really see the appeal of legacy challenges and I got pretty far in it before I found the Whimsy Challenge. Then my attentions shifted to that because I fell so deeply in love with it that it was all I could think about sometimes lmao.

But now I’ve found a new challenge and can feel myself wanting to get my grubby little hands on it. I read through the Crybaby Whims legacy last night and just. Wanted to start it so bad. But I know it’ll be like my other ones - I’ll play it till I find something better and then abandon it. I don’t want that to happen to my Whimsy legacy and I most definitely dont want it to happen to this one if I start it. So I’ve been thinking of bringing this simblr back to life. Maybe having the Crybaby Whims save as my simblr save, and the Whimsy save as my personal? Since I’m already almost finished with generation 1?

I also have to think about how I’ll be able to manage it. My depression has made my energy cap at like 5%. I’ve lost irl friendships bc I just can’t manage surviving and communicating at the same time anymore. Would adding an active simblr to my plate again be a good idea? I’m not sure, but I know I want to try it. I have this whole idea of making a cast list for the Crybaby legacy and how the drama of the first gen will start and I’m excited to FINALLY play with a teen because I haven’t played a teen at ALL since HSY came out. So I think what I’m going to do is…. Just post when I feel like! I was never a big simblr to begin with so it isn’t like I have dozens of people anxiously awaiting my posts. Especially since I’ve taken such a large break. I think I’ll kind of have to build back up again. Either way I’m not going to put so much pressure on myself to post here, and I think I’ll only use my twitter to announce posts and maybe chat with people here or there. Definitely don’t plan on getting into debates with people about the state of the sims or ea.

That’s just what I’m thinking about, anyway! Im getting a desktop of my own soon, so I might not start anything until then. Then again I’ll have to transfer stuff anyway. What’s the harm of another save file??

#thinking #thoughts with witchy #I will also have to remove the Blackwood and AHC and family tree pages #lol it’ll be funny if I post this and then this blog sits here unused for another year

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 222

Halt & Catch Fire/Time Heist

“Halt & Catch Fire”

Plot Description: when a vengeful spirit starts killing off a group of friends through their electronic devices, Sam and Dean race to find an explanation

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: the GPS told the girl to get out of the truck so I’m gonna go with sure

“What do you know? Your phone’s 3G” is such a weird burn, especially for like 2014 or maybe 2015.

This was the funniest opening to the show I’ve seen yet, I think…but I don’t think it was necessarily trying to be. Between the aforementioned comment, the GPS first calmly telling the girl to get out of the car and then screeching at her to, and then “destination dead ahead” as the car careened off a bridge that was out. BRAVO, supernatural writers room

WHAT IS THIS EPISODE?! We’re not far in at all and dean’s eating something that sounds like it’s part brownie, part croissant, and part cookie, and Cas has discovered riverboat gambling which is apparently a problem???

Bitch, you are from KANSAS, why did you say the Midwest so derogatorily??

This girl reading Dean for FILTH with his lack of technological knowledge and then just going “you’re gen x. Right.” Girl, you are my new best friend.

This is quite possibly my favorite conversation in this whole show. Sam is an older millennial, Dean’s late gen x, and this girl is full gen z. Sam is enjoying himself, knowing everything the other two are talking about as they snark each other on things the other doesn’t know

Is there NO security at this junk yard? You can just torch an entire pick up truck and no one notices???

I know I still sometimes do it, but the whole talking out loud in hashtags these girls are doing IS annoying. Unfortunately, it does fit with the time

…I’m sorry…this girl’s laptop charger strangled her. Like…came up behind her like a snake and wrapped itself around her neck. I just…what is this show even??

Dean immediately questioning the decision to name a fraternity Sigma Theta Delta or STD is just…it’s beautiful. I love it here

Also him loving college campus food is so very Dean

Why are all these high school and college boys just the ABSOLUTE worst?? They show absolutely NO remorse and just…are weirdly threatening all the girls they’re in content with. Like…ZERO redeeming qualities

So this ghost is kinda I Know What You Did Last Summer-ing these kids

As much as he pretends to be a skeeze (and kind of is a skeeze sometimes), when it comes down to it, he’s SO kind and compassionate to young women

I hope she has good insurance on all her electronics…Dean just smashed them all

Oh this poor lady…the ghost’s widow (who he was married to for less than a year) just didn’t want to lose her husband again 😭

Dean’s so good at giving advice that he should take

I know they’ll find a cure but I am crying at Dean wanting to just fight the mark as much as he can til he goes down swinging

“Time Heist”

Plot Description: The Doctor turns bank robber when he is given a task he cannot refuse

You can really tell that the budget is so much bigger than it was in earlier seasons AND that Moffat’s stylistic choices are REALLY having their effect (derogatory on both accounts)

Clara in a pantsuit though??? It’s definitely a good look for her

Ohh!! A very high stakes escape room!!

Yeah, I suppose having a shapeshifter on your team would be good to have when dna verification is something that’s on the table

Why did I, as I was typing about them having a shapeshifter on the team, forget that she was a shapeshifter and wonder where their fourth team member went?? SMH

This thing in orange is the teller….sometimes it does feel like that

THE TELLER IS NEVER WRONG??! God how I wish that’s how banks worked…ok, it’s very funny that I paused before the end of that sentence because the full sentence is “the teller is never wrong when it comes to guilt” which feels very like people cutting off the “in matters of taste” from “the customer is always right.”

I would LOVE to be able to wipe the minds of customers and turn their brains into soup if I felt they deserved it

Is this why people call it a safety deposit box? Television?? (Buckle in for a lot of really stupid bank talk this episode and good luck figuring out what’s ACTUALLY happening) because at my bank it’s just a safe deposit box and it drives me up the wall when people call it a safety deposit box. I’d never actually correct people like “well ACTUALLY it’s THIS” but I will use the correct term right back

Love Clara’s little nod when the Doctor answers “I still don’t know why you’re in charge” with “basically, it’s the eyebrows”

He just called them Team Not Dead? 💀

I think there’s something wrong with Psi (of all the spellings, I wouldn’t have thought of that. I was thinking it was either Sy or Cy) that’s beyond stress making him glitch

I’m connecting the dots (I’m not connecting shit) between ESPECIALLY the Doctor and Saibra and Psi. Or maybe Psi is more along the lines of Clara, but they all seem to be alone (with kind of the exception of Clara and the Doctor having each other). Psi has had to delete all his loved ones from his memory, Saibra has been taught she can’t be trusted, The Doctor is the last of the time lords and Clara? Well…I dunno.

Oooooo they found the cage the teller is kept in…oh poor Saibra…

I know I’m supposed to sympathize with Team (3/4) Not Dead, but man do I wish I was allowed and even encouraged to destroy people being assholes at the bank

So…all that was pretty much for nothing?? Saibra and Psi are dead and the vault still isn’t opening?

I wish more banks still had the large circular vault doors. I know at least one branch near me does but that’s far too few

Of COURSE the teller is the last of its kind…

THEY WEREN’T DEAD!! The atomic shredders were really teleporters!!!

What is it about powerful but more importantly evil red haired women that are just…you know? First Abaddon, then Rowena, now Director Karabraxos…oh, she’s awful and I would never want to be within a hundred light years of her in real life but oMG

I feel like I’m starting to understand all the weird timey wimey stuff happening for this episode to work but the final part is just out of my reach

Ok. Why’s the Doctor trying to be the funniest person at his brain soupening? “Lots of memories. Big scarf…bow tie…bit embarrassing. How do you like the new look? I hoping for minimalism, but I think I came out with magician” I mean…he’s not WRONG but like…a minimalist magician

Yeah, yeah, yeah. We KNOW and figured out the Doctor and the Architect are the same person…oh, is Madame Karabraxos’s big final regret keeping the teller hostage?? It wasn’t the last of its kind!!! There’s another!!!! I’m just. I’m weirdly emotional

I wish we could get more of Team Not Dead

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[alexx-sushi]

Let’s start!

Hey, Susheesh!

                     Today, I have decided to make you part of my life again..yieeee..🤭Long time no see!

               Well anyway, let's start this again with a little introduction. Hi! I'm Alexx,  a third year BSED English Student. I am 20 years old, a BTS-fan (Borahae💜) and a BL (Boys Love) fan as well. I hope we'll have a wonderful and meaningful moment together. Mwappps 😘

               Okay... So for today, a, what I want to share has something to do with plan. As an education student, it is very vital for me to understand what plan is, specifically the lesson or learning plan. And knowing that we are now in the 21st century wherein technology integration in education is important, We are taught about the different ICT integration principles that we may apply in crafting our lesson plans so that it will be more engaging and at the same time effective in making my future students learn the lessons that they need to learn.

                 And yeah, as expected, we are given not just one, not two, but three learning activities to test whether we learn form the discussion and if there's any, how we can apply them.  Phew! I bet they're gonna be challenging and yes, was right. I mean the instructions were simple and we're given an ample amount of time to finish them, however, they are still challenging for me because I didn't understand how to do them at first and....okay, I'm going to admit it. I'm kinda  lazy as of the moment and my laptop doesn't work because the charger was broken and it's hard for me to use phone in typing. So, what I did was finish the first two activities and leave the other one for tomorrow.

                   So, I opened the file and comprehend the instructions and I realized that..heheheh.. I was just d*mb. All I really need to was to read it. And upon reading the questions, what I just need to do was to understand what was being asked and turns out they are not that difficult (but still challenging). Regarding my overall experience, I kinda enjoy doing it because it made me think in a would-be teacher’s perspective of how ICT should be integrated in the making of a learning plan and crafting the objectives and learning outcomes so that the teaching strategy would be effective.

#learningplan #ictintegration #education

[phoenixflames12]

Today is being a day already. My personal laptop has given up the will to live which meant a sleepless night last night and in the rush to get out of the house, to the tube and to work and to the tech repair shop, I forgot to take the charger with me. *Headdesk, Headdesk, Headdesk*

#personal #phoenix prattle #tired phoenix

[thistransient]

I rely on a strict routine to function in the morning, and I've been finding out the hard way that there is, in fact, limited room in the queue of actions. If I add something new, something else gets bumped out, ie: if I need to bring the laptop + charger, I forget the earbuds. Today was raining, so I remembered to put on my boots and tie them, and proceeded to leave my keys in the door. (By sheer good fortune I already had plans to meet the friend who has my spare key when I got home, roundabout when I also discovered I had written down the wrong code for the exterior door keypad). Well, we live and we learn they say.

As soon as that was settled, the next cause for alarm arose: A post I had made seeking a language exchange (in a wild fit of longing for some more diverse human interaction) had been left pending moderator approval for so long that I'd given up on the whole thing, but now multiple people are actually messaging me. Well well well, if it isn't the bed I've made, now waiting for me to come lie in it. Right now I just want to lay in my real bed, not go on multiple spiritually draining coffee dates. However, on the other hand it's been months since I got here, no language buddy has miraculously fallen out of the sky like last time (probably because I do spend so much time laying in bed), and god helps those who help themselves they say.

#the problem with language exchange is you have to both click with the person and also have the right proficiency level #i haven't met up with internet strangers in ages #what if I've lost my touch