#and i’ll stand by that statement forever.

[honeyedmiller]

i just really hope pedro knows how much we all love him. nobody else can play joel miller better than pedro did.

[rakeshouseparty]

Rake x human but its like that one segment from the vhs movie w/ the split faced creature lady who liked povguy.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed. 

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

*

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?” 

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here? 

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases. 

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation. 

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight. 

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears. 

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later. 

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat. 

You swallow, once, an unsure thing. 

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,” Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation. 

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end. 

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own. 

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence. 

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room. 

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right. 

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone. 

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading. 

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all &lt;3

[withleeknow]

hiya! I noticed you have your requests open and if you don't mind, could I please suggest: "for once... I was right" with "don't you dare walk away from me" for Lee Know - maybe angsty but I don't mind you just going with the flow.

thank you!

blue hour.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ...? 🫢, angst; minho's pov mostly, open ending kinda, some light cursing, unedited don't look at me word count: 2.2k (i got carried away a little bit) listen to 🎧: breathe again - sara bareilles

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“this should be the last of your things.”

“thanks,” you say, rummaging through the box that minho hands over to you. everything that you left at his place throughout the entire time you were together; every sweatshirt of yours in his closet, every piece of jewelry on his nightstand, every bottle of nail polish that you kept in his bathroom reserved for nights where you two would pamper each other. they're all here, except for... “did you see my red scarf though? i can’t find it anywhere.”

“no, i checked,” he says. “this is everything.”

“hmm, okay.”

you hold the box between your arms, and minho can’t help but feel something twist painfully in his chest. it’s like you're holding your relationship, or what’s left of it anyway, ready to make your swift exit from his life. two years of love, all dumped into one stupid cardboard box.

you both stand there in silence for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, then at your surroundings, neither of you saying anything. minho knows why he hasn’t bid you a farewell goodnight yet; it’s because he doesn’t want this to end. even though it’s a sad occasion, the finale to your story, he still wants to the seconds to stretch on, for the minutes to last longer. after all, isn’t this the last time he'll ever see you?

why you haven’t left him to his devices and gone upstairs, he isn’t sure.

another moment passes. life goes on but it seems like you two are in your own bubble where nothing moves forward. everything stays rooted to the spot.

“do you want to go for a walk?” you ask after a while. the question surprises minho enough that he lets it show, and it makes you quickly tack on an excuse. “the weather is nice and i... i don’t want to be on my own.”

yes, he does want to go for a walk with you. anything to be with you even if it’s only for a moment longer.

“sure,” he says. “let’s go for a walk.”

“okay. i’ll leave this upstairs and get my jacket.”

he watches as you disappear inside your building, only to reemerge momentarily afterward, a wool jacket draped over your frame. he wishes you’d worn something lighter, just so he could have an excuse to wrap his arm around your shoulders if it gets colder.

you walk side by side around your neighborhood, a distance between your bodies that never used to be there before. it’s strange, of course it is. but minho supposes this is yours and his new reality now.

“how are the cats?” you ask.

“they’re okay. dori had a cold a couple weeks ago, but everything’s fine now,” he tells you. “they... they miss you.”

i miss you too - that's a thought that he doesn’t say out loud, only keeps it to himself because it feels too humiliating to utter those words to you.

“they’re cats. how can you tell?”

“i can always tell.” he shrugs. “they wait by the door when i’m already home. they sleep on your-... they sleep on the other side of the bed.”

if you notice his slip up, you don’t say anything. you purse your lips and nod somberly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “they’ll forget about me soon enough,” you say.

minho glances at you. he wants to rebuke that statement, to argue with you over something as silly as whether or not his freaking cats will retain their memories of you in the future. but he just bites his tongue and swallows down the lump in his throat, humming to let you know that he’s heard what you said. not a hum of agreement, just one of acknowledgement.

“how’s work?” he asks. god, it’s just so fucking weird to be asking you these things. you know each other inside and out and yet, you’re here making small talk.

torn apart when all you two should be is together.

“it’s alright. still the same, kinda boring. you know there’s not a lot that can happen in that place in one month.”

yes, because it’s been a little over a month since you parted ways, since you moved back into your old apartment and left his home perpetually cold and empty. he can’t blame you for leaving when he was the one who agreed to break up. he can’t blame you for his heartache when he was the one who broke your heart first.

he didn’t mean to, but isn’t that what they all say?

“do you still want to leave?”

“sure,” you reply. “if i can find something better, i’d leave that place in a heartbeat. but for now, it’ll have to do. it used to be a bit more bearable though.”

“i hope you find something that makes you happier.”

“thanks.” you give him a smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. “how about you? how’s life?”

minho almost says the first thing that comes into mind. life is terrible without you. i think about you every single minute of every day but you're not here and it’s my own damn fault.

he could lie and come up with something much more palatable, because he doesn’t reckon his truth is something you’d like to hear right now.

but he doesn’t want to lie to you. in the time that you were together, minho never lied to you, not even once, not even over something stupid and insignificant. beside, he’s got a feeling that you would see through his bullshit anyway.

his answer ends up being a sad shrug, then, “it’s life. i’m hanging in there.”

your footsteps slow until you stop completely. this makes him stop too, turning around to look at you with his head tilted to one side, confused.

“it’s not like you to sound so defeated,” you comment.

“what?” he asks with a sigh. “it’s the truth.”

“it’s not the whole truth.”

“what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to be honest with me,” you tell him, your shoulders slumping just slightly. “i still care about you. i want to know you’re okay.”

minho takes a step closer until he’s right in front of you, the closest that you two have been all night. his body feels the warmth radiating from yours but he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching you.

“if you really want to know, i haven’t been myself since you left.”

guilt flashes in your eyes. it wasn’t his intention at all.

you bite your bottom lip, inhale a shaky breath, before you speak, “i’m sorry for leaving.”

“don’t apologize. i’m sorry for driving you away.”

then he watches the tears well up as you look at him. he’s been wondering this the whole night, how you seem so cavalier about it all, how you’re able to speak to him so casually as if you’re just old friends with some shared history, and not as though the wound is still fresh. he’s still bleeding and you’re acting like you’ve already healed.

but he sees it now. you’re just as sad as he is, just as miserable. the only difference is you’re better at hiding it, or maybe you’ve just had more time to get used to the way it hurts.

is this how you felt in the weeks, the months, leading up to your departure? every time he neglected you, prioritized something else over you, missed every date and overlooked every text message? every single instance where he was too busy for you?

he never wanted to break your heart, but alas, here you are.

he didn’t want you to go, and yet, when you felt like you couldn’t handle the loneliness anymore, he hadn’t stopped you from walking out the door. he gave up, and he gave up so easily.

nothing along the lines of ‘don’t you dare walk away from me’, no tearful argument, no explosive and definitive end to your relationship. minho just let your love slip away.

how must that have made you feel on top of everything that he did - or didn’t do - to you?

minho has been called every variation of ‘cold’ before. to everyone else, he’s callous, rough, intimidating and unapproachable. but to you, he’s kind, soft, gentle and loving. it never mattered what anyone thought of him, as long as you always knew that he loved you, that you saw him for who he was.

but toward the end, what if you saw him how the others did? what if you had deemed him cold too?

the mere thought makes him sick to his stomach.

you sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “you don’t have to say that. it’s in the past now.”

fracture upon fracture upon fracture. minho doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take.

his fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for your hands. to his surprise, you let him.

your hands, so delicate in his, so warm.

“i should’ve fought harder for you,” he says, his voice so small that you barely catch the words at all.

but his eyes… he hopes you can see it in his eyes - the regret, the longing, the pain of losing you dimming the light of the stars he holds there.

giving his hands a light squeeze, you say, “and maybe i should’ve held on tighter instead of letting go.”

“i made you feel like you weren’t enough. it’s the worst thing i ever did to you. i understand why you left.”

you try to calm your breathing, because you really don’t feel like breaking down in front of him right now. you don’t say anything in response; what are you even supposed to say? you told him everything that you wanted to the night that you two broke up. everything that you tried to bottle up for months was laid on the table that night. you watched as he listened to you, watched as his heart broke alongside yours. that was it.

“i… i’m sorry,” minho stutters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks scared. “i’m sorry. can’t we try again? i swear i won’t let you down again. i swear to you.”

“min…” the nickname slips out of habit and for a second there, minho thinks you would say yes. but then… “i know you’re sorry. i know we didn’t break things off because we fell out of love. but i don’t think you’re at a point in your life where i can be the most important thing right now. you may not mean to, but there’ll be things that you prioritize over me… and i’m not at a place in my life where i can settle for being on someone’s back burner either. the timing’s just off. it’s not your fault, life just got in the way.”

minho stares at you, the stars dying out one by one. the hurt is beyond what any word can describe but in a way, he understands. it fucking sucks, but he gets it. he has to accept it now.

he nods solemnly, tracing odd patterns on your palms. then he asks, quietly, “can i hold you? just for a while.”

please indulge me, he thinks. this is the last thing i’ll ever ask from you.

you don’t reply with words. instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. you two stay there in each other’s embrace for god knows how long. it could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours. you always lose track of time when you’re wrapped up together.

you hold him like he - tough and intimidating minho - is made of glass, and he holds you like he doesn’t ever want to let you go.

but he has to eventually.

you untangle yourself from him to find that he’s been crying. the tears on his cheeks catch the light from the street lamps, reflecting like crystals in the night. when you wipe them away, you tell him, “for once, i was right.”

“about what?” he sniffles.

“you really are a hopeless romantic,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. as much as you can anyway. “i knew you’d prove me right one day.”

minho wants to scoff but his eyes are burning from the tears and his throat feels like it's closing up, so he lets you have this one. the last one, right?

maybe he is a romantic, and maybe it’s only for you. maybe it makes him a little hopeless.

the walk back to yours ends too quickly. but truth be told, even if you had walked together until the sun came up, it still wouldn’t have been long enough for him.

you both stand there, two heavy hearts looking at each other, looking for one another.

there’s no goodbye, only goodnight.

and you’re the one who says it first.

minho returns your sentiment with a choked up voice, a brush of his fingers against yours, and when you finally turn to walk up the steps, his gaze lingers on your retreating figure.

then he calls your name softly. “hey, uhm... i’ll let you know if the scarf turns up, okay?”

you turn back with a knowing smile. it’s still sad, but there’s some faith hidden there.

“i hope it will.”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.01.2024]

[danikamariewrites]

Heist

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

Note: another day another Mob!Az fic for you all to think about teehee.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood

You giggled as Azriel lightly nipped at your cheek, his hand trying to sneak into the bowl of cookie dough. “Az,” you laugh out, smacking his hand away. “You can have some later when the rest of the Boy Scouts show up.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’ve told you, we are not Boy Scouts, we are-”

“A highly trained and dangerous group of powerful families that are allied.” You say, mimicking the overused statement. “Yes, yes I know Azzy, geez.” You tease, bumping him with your hip.

Moving from his grasp you bustle around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and plates. Azriel’s kitchen was gorgeous, and criminally under utilized. When you moved in it was all black and white, barely any ingredients or extra appliances.

“Oh this won’t do.” You had told Azriel, demanding you go shopping for every and anything you’d ever need for a kitchen. You gave the place a complete makeover, painting the walls and cabinets a lovely sage green and replacing the countertops. Adding an island and dark wood table and cushions to the breakfast nook the room was complete.

Coming back to stand between Azriel and the island you start scooping out the cookies. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” You shrug, a generous scoop of dough and chocolate chips falling from your spoon. “I want to. Plus, I never really got to bake since work took up too much time. And your meetings go on forever, you guys absolutely need snacks.”

Leaning down Azriel presses a kiss to the back of your head. “You’re amazing, my love.” He says softly. You lean back into his chest, tilting your head back to stare at his pretty face. Turning, you hold up a finger with dough on it. Azriel’s eyes light up at the treat, licking it from your finger. Pushing up on your toes you peck his lips, murmuring, “I love you.”

Before Azriel could pull you to him and go for a more heated kiss, Rhys walks in, clearing his throat. “They’re here Az.” He nods at his brother, signaling Rhys’s dismissal.

A heavy sigh leaves his nose. Holding your face, Azriel gives you one last kiss. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

An hour later you were balancing a tea tray laden with chocolate chip cookies in your hands. The guard at the door smiles at you, knocking and opening one of the double doors for you. You nod in thanks as you quietly make your way to the occupied half of the table.

It was a small group today. Only Helion, Eris, Kal and their second and third in commands, along with a few other key members of their organizations. Reaching between Helion and Rhysand, you gently place the tray in the middle of the table.

The men looked hesitant to reach for the snack at first, but also didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you, my love.” Azriel says, giving you a small smile from his place at the head of the table. “Of course,” you whisper.

Azriel leads the conversation back to their plans, “Now, we can’t stand for this. The Molina family made us look like fools and trust me gentleman, that will not happen again. This robbery has to be big.” Odd, you thought to yourself, Azriel’s MO isn’t home robberies.

The pictures of the mansion in question spread across the table caught your eye. It’s familiarity had you titling your head, wracking your brain for where you’d seen it before.

then it hit you. The paintings on the wall! You knew them because you delivered them! Your lips parted slightly in surprise at your memory.

You felt Helion’s attention on you as he asked, “What’s wrong?” Your eyes snap to his deep brown ones, cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. Azriel takes his tone as rude but you brush it off, knowing he’s just curious about what you’re seeing.

You look to Azriel, not knowing if you have the right to give your input in a meeting. You didn’t want to make Azriel seem less in charge or something.

Azriel gives you a soft, encouraging look. “Go ahead, y/n. Tell us what you see.” You nod at him, dragging the picture of the paintings toward you. “These paintings are fakes.” A confusion spreads over the room as a few huh’s sound around the table.

“My boss got his hands on the real ones somehow, these are like rare pieces, hell museums would kill for these. Before he sold them I honestly thought they were in the Louvre. But he sold them to Molina Jr. who also requested fakes to display, since he bragged so much about buying them. They aren’t very good fakes if you ask me though.”

Helion brought the image closer to his face, attempting his untrained eye to see the falsity of the paintings. Kal snatched it from him, giving him a you-don’t-know-shit-about-art look.

Conversation bubbles around Azriel but all he can focus on is you. You and your beautiful, passionate, intelligent mind.

“Where would he keep the real ones?” Eris asks, breaking up the conversations and Azriel’s concentration on you. Though that didn’t last long. As soon as you opened your mouth Azriel was laser focused on you.

You give Eris a knowing smirk, “His vault, where I helped deliver the paintings.” Cassian and Kal let out laughs or triumph as the others gave you approving looks. Rhysand unrolls the blueprints to the mansion in front of you. “Alright y/n, point us in the right direction.”

Two hours later the heist was planned perfectly thanks to you. You waited in Azriel’s office as he bid his guests goodbye. Kicked back, sitting in his kingly leather chair, your feet propped up on the desk.

Hearing the door click shut you perk up. Azriel grins, strutting over to you. Crossing his arms he leans against the desk in front of you. “I don’t think I could’ve planned that without you.” You shrug at the praise. “Eh, you would’ve gotten by.”

Azriel nudges your feet off the polished wood, chuckling at you. Lifting you up and pulling you into his lap you immediately lean against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re too modest, my love. Everyone was telling me how brilliant you are.” You giggle, burying your face deeper into Azriel’s chest at the compliment. Hooking his fingers under your chin, Az tilts your face up to meet his shimmering hazel gaze.

“My clever girl.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You slip your arms around his neck pulling him closer. Azriel stands, gently placing you on his desk. He nudges your thighs apart to stand between your legs, deepening the kiss. “I think you deserve a reward,” his voice had taken on a deep and seductive tone. That smirk promises a very pleasurable reward. Tugging on Azriel’s dark locks he pulls away from you, dropping to his knees.

——

Tonight is the big heist. When Azriel had kissed you goodbye you plastered a convincing smile on your face, trying to ignore your heart pounding so hard against your chest you thought it was trying to escape.

You were always nervous when Azriel went out with his men for a job. Pacing the TV room, more like a theater, you dug your toes into the carpet to focus on something other than Azriel. You had lots to keep you distracted like a book, your favorite show cued up, your phone. However, moving around was a necessity right this very second.

The first time Azriel went on a job after you moved in was a disaster. You had a panic attack so bad not even Baxian, your bodyguard, could calm you down. Baxian was on the verge of calling Azriel as he walked through the front door. It made him contemplate never leaving you again.

You still can’t decide if you’d rather Az not tell you and just be blissfully ignorant. Or if you would still worry if he was out until all hours of the night. You’d probably still worry but worse.

In the silence you paused at any creaking or popping that sounded in the house. About to settle on the couch to pick an activity, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Staring at the doorway to the TV room you held your breath. You didn’t want to see Azriel if he was hurt. You didn’t think you could stomach the sight of his blood.

Footsteps grew louder and louder until Azriel was staring at you. He was unscathed. Safe. And home.

You let out a cry of relief, running into his open arms. Azriel pulls you flush to his body, tucking your head under his chin. You revel in his warm touch. A smile spreads across your lips at having him back home.

Pulling away, you stare up into his tired eyes. “Everything went ok?” You ask softly. Azriel nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It went perfectly, all thanks to you my love.” He says, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“Come on you,” you squeeze him around the middle. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.” You move to his side, pulling him along. “Sounds perfect, my love.”

Tucking into bed you couldn’t shake this feeling in the pit of your stomach. Watching Az sleep peacefully you snuggle into his side, holding on to him. Just in case.

[turcott3]

unwritten

ethan edwards x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, fluff, kisses

masterlist

-

you hopped off your bed to the light taps on your door. you opened the door expecting to see your mom but instead are met with the presence of your long time close friend.

“ethan?” you question, scanning the look on his face. to you, he was never hard to read and you could tell something was wrong.

“can i come in?” he asks.

“yeah yeah of course.” you say back up and letting the boy into your room. you sit back in your spot on the bed as he stands in silence after putting his bag down, typing something on his phone.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, noting his unbreakable frown.

“huh?”

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” you ask.

“yeah i just-“ he starts and pauses, trying to think of what to say. you could tell he was holding back.

“just spill, you know i wouldn’t judge you.” you say, hoping to soothe the boy, something you’d figured out years ago.

“well, you know it was my last day of classes and i’d been talking to one of my classmates, in class of course, and we were kinda like getting close and flirting whatever. like an in class crush type of deal and i was gonna ask for her number today but then. fuck.” he pauses, pressing his lips to a thin line.

“and then?” you urge him to continue.

“she fucking asked me if luca was single.” he sighs out.

“well that’s just rude of her.” you say, seeing how he would react.

“i gave her his snap and stuff but like, i don’t know. it made me feel really terrible.”

“i mean that’s fair, but why?”

“because y/n. this shit always happens to me. every single time i think i have a shot at a girl, she wants one of my friends. like am i not good enough? not attractive? like what’s so wrong with me that i can’t be wanted.” he breathes out.

“oh eddy.” you frown, beckoning him to sit on your bed.

“i’m sorry, that was a lot you probably didn’t wanna hear.”

“no no, keep talking, i know there’s more. it’ll make you feel better.” you say placing a sympathetic hand on his arm.

“i just want someone to love me and to want me. i’m 21 for christs sake. all of my teammates and my friends have girlfriends. i just feel left out and it sucks. i’m happy for them of course but i just want someone for me to love and they love me back. i really don’t feel like im asking that much.” he says, trying to hide the tears that fell as he spoke from his heart.

“no one will sit and listen to how i feel, ever. the feeling of being unwanted is like this endless fucking void that can’t just be filled by hookups, i just feel myself slipping deeper everyday.” he continues, less shy about his tears now. you lean up and wrap your arms around him in his fragile state, causing him to release the damn that threatened to break. you lean back, holding the brunette to your chest. the two of you were never very physical but at this moment it was the only thing you could think of to help him.

“i’ll listen ethan, i’ll always listen to you. i’ll always be here for you. it’s gonna be okay.” you say, hugging onto him tighter. you hated seeing him this upset, you’d never seen him like this before and it broke your heart. you found yourself shedding a few tears yourself. he sits up from your grip and observes your state, tears dampening your cheeks.

“why are you crying y/n?” he perks up, wiping the tears that fell.

“because ed, i can’t stand hearing you say this. i can’t believe YOU feel unwanted and unloved. people are stupid to not see who you are. ethan, you’re so lovable and everyone is a fucking dumbass for not wanting you. you’re the sweetest guy i’ve ever met, and i know we’ve been friends since forever ago but i feel awful. i feel like i could do more to make you feel better.” you say remaining strong on your statement, the urge to cry fading away.

“how about this, you stay the night with me. we have a movie night and stay up and talk and then tomorrow we have a lake day. just me and you.” you offer as he nuzzles back to your chest. an unfamiliar feeling.

“your dad will let us take the boat?” he asks.

“i mean he won’t let anyone else drive it except you so.” you giggle.

“for real?” he says sitting up.

“yes.”

“sick.” he replies, getting comfortable on his side of the bed for the night. the two of you sat in a soothing silence as a movie played on your tv. as the a/c kicked in you grew cold, goosebumps littering your skin. you buried yourself under your comforter, trying to avoid making your discomfort being obvious.

“you good?” he asks.

“yeah, just really fucking freezing.”

“come here.” he says pulling the covers over him, pulling you to his side. you drape your arm over his toned and shirtless abdomen, you heart rate spiking at the contact. you didn’t know why you felt so nervous. well you did, but you weren’t going to admit it.

“thank you eddy.”

“of course y/n/n.” he smiles, placing his chin on top of your head. you could get used to the feeling of being in his warm embrace. as the night continued, you hardly lost contact with each other. talking and laughing in the comfort of his arms.

“you think we should go to sleep?” you sit up checking the time on your phone.

“probably, we got a busy day tomorrow.” he giggles, shutting your tv off and laying down getting comfortable.

“g’night ethan.”

“night y/n, sleep good.” he says quietly as the two of you drifted off to sleep with the thought of each other on your minds.

-

“you ready?” you ask standing on your back deck.

“as i’ll ever be.” he smiles, taking the bag from you and walking down the deck. he steps onto the bought tossing the back to the ground before reaching out a hand to help you onto the boat.

“thank you kind sir.”

“of course madam.” he replies and a smile spreads widely across your cheeks.

“alright let’s get this shit show on the road.” he says turning the key, the engine kicking on.

“please don’t get me beat up this time.” you say grabbing onto his shoulders.

“i’ll try.” he smiles as you sit in the co pilot seat.

“good.” you reply, relaxing as he cruised off smoothly. you loved watching him drive as he smiled, bringing the two of you to corners of the lake you hadn’t seen before, your heart fluttering as he talked about all the good memories he had with his buddies there, but the feeling of sadness oozing its way in. he hasn’t been with them much outside of hockey in months, let alone here on the lake.

he slowed the boat to a stop, shutting off the engine and tossing the anchor off the edge. you were in a quiet area, no other boats anywhere to be found. he sat back in his seat without a word. you stretched your arms out as you got comfortable in your seat, ethan taking your hand in his from across the walkway. your face slowly turning pink as he adjusted his grip on your hand as he sat on his phone. his thumb brushing back and forth on your knuckles gently.

“hey eddy.” you say and he looks up not letting go.

“i’m glad you’re here with me.” you smile, squeezing his hand.

“me too.”

“i’ve never seen these parts of the lake before, they’re gorgeous.” you say, taking in the territory around you.

“i was hoping i could make some new memories here.” he smiles turning his head to look at you.

“well i hope im doing an okay job.”

“you’re doing more than okay y/n.” he giggles, a blush spreading across his face. you stand up out of your chair, sadly letting go of his hand.

“shall we?” you ask, holding up your life jackets.

“we shall.” he smiles. moments later, the two of you jumping into the water.

“jesus it’s cold.” you say re-emerging from the water.

“a little yeah.” ethan giggles, shaking the water out of his hair. you swim over to him, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder from behind.

“i think that’s a little better.” he says quietly.

“yeah.” you sigh. the two of you remained in the water for a while longer swimming and talking, laughing. it felt nice to be out on the lake alone with your best friend, who you soon hoped would be more than that.

“should we go find a new spot?” ethan asks, helping you back onto the boat.

“yeah we should.” you reply, wrapping yourself in a towel and sitting on the bench seat, ethan plopping down right next to you.

“today has been really fun y/n.” he smiles at you.

“yeah it has.” you reply.

“for the first time in a while i’m not worried about anything else. i haven’t felt this content in so long.”

“me either ed. i’m so happy to be here with you right now.” you smile, taking his hand back into yours. you say in a comfortable silence for a brief moment before he takes your cheeks into his hands, bringing your lips to his for a moment. he pulls away as your face burns red. you were scared he would regret it.

“i’m sorry that was-“ he starts and you interrupt him by pulling him back to your lips, melting into the kiss instantly, his hands placed delicately on your waist as your hands rest comfortably on his cheeks. you pull away giggling as he’s forehead lands on your collar bone. you kiss him on the temple as he sits up.

“let’s go to a new spot yeah?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his face.

“okay.” he smiles softly, the two of you taking your place back in your seats.

-

you say freshly showered on your bed as ethan returns, brushing his hair dry with his towel. he tosses the towel in your hamper and hops back onto your bed, finding his way cuddled to your side.

“hey ethan.” you say, twisting his damp locks between your fingers.

“yeah?” he asks leaning up a bit.

“seeing you so fragile yesterday was honestly really hard for me, i wasn’t really sure why but, i know now.”

“what was it?”

“because all this time i wanted you.”

“what do you mean?”

“i want you ed. i want to hold you, kiss you, love you. it broke my heart hearing how unwanted you felt. but it hurt me because i had gone so long feeling this way and ignored my feelings.“ you admit and he smiles.

“i’ve liked you for years, i was just scared you’d never feel the same way. i just wanted female attention to replace how i felt about you. i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

“i love you ethan. so much. please let me love you, the way you deserve it.” you say as he pulls you into his chest.

“thank you y/n. god, i love you so fucking much.” he replies lifting your chin with two fingers and bringing your lips back to his, the two of you now more inseparable than before.

-

[festive]

✿ - bad habit

I know I’ll be in your heart til the end.

✿ - your boyfriend agrees to letting you cockwarm while you work on your research papers, unbeknownst to you —- you’re driving him insane.

✿ - cw: cynoxfem!reader, cockwarming, vaginal penetration, cervix fucking, breeding, biting, size kink.

✿ - a/n: still trying to figure out how I wanna write him, but anyways thank you to my beta readers @bubble4u @rczc & @kazuwhora

Cyno's will is strong, stronger than any impregnable defense — damn near unbreakable even, although.. with each clench of your cunt, Cyno can feel his resolve slowly starting to deteriorate.

He closes his eyes tightly, brows furrowing in annoyance. He's thanking the gods that luck is on his side today — it's almost unbearable how good you feel around him, your welcoming heat squeezing around his cock involuntarily as you continue jotting down your thesis statement for your research, the sounds of your pen dragging across the papers was causing him to lose more of his sanity.

He mumbles a curse in his native tongue underneath his breath. What makes this worse is that every time you scoot your body closer to the desk, you unintentionally grind yourself against his lap, causing more of him to sink inside you.

He grunts, hands registering on your hips as his fingers dig into the softness of your flesh, holding you firmly in place. His action nearly startles you — causing you to look up from work to stare at him. "Is there a problem?"

".. no," he mumbles, crimson eyes meeting your gaze. To most, the young, general mahamatra was hard to read, although, to be fair —- it's hard to read someone when they have a scepter pointed at your neck ready to strike you down at any given moment. But, thankfully, you're not most, having gotten past his more rigid exterior and becoming his lover.

You decide to humor him, cocking your head to the side in a cute display, a teasing smile tugging at your lips when you hear him groan. "Oh, is that true?"

He doesn't reply; instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, deciding not to fall victim to another one of your baits. You sigh, looking back at your papers. "I'm almost done. Give me a few more minutes,"

Time felt like it was dragging on forever. Occasionally, cyno would look over your shoulder, carefully reading over your sentences to catch any mistake you might've made while you effortlessly wrote away. As bright as you were, it wasn't uncommon for you to make minor mistakes, and you were silently grateful that you had a lover that cared so much for you that he was willing to help.

"You misspelled that," Cyno gestures towards the sentence with his finger.

"Oh, yeah, I did. Thanks!"

Cyno hums in response as you give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Almost done,"

If it weren't for the warmth and the occasional feeling of your walls clenching around him. Cyno might've even forgotten the predicament he was in. He inhaled, taking in your scent — the smell of the rainforest wafting from your body, the scent of sumeru roses and padisarah's were overpowering but pleasant. (although, he preferred when you smelled of red crests and ajilenakh nut. The scent is reminiscent of the sands you grew up in.)

His ears perk up when he hears the sound of you slamming down your pencil. "I'm finally done," you muse, almost excusing yourself from your lover's lap. Until you have the wind knocked out of you when he stands up and knocks you over —- cock sliding out of you in the process.

Strong arms wasted no time bending you over your desk — your pencils and papers falling onto the ground carelessly as Cyno pins your body beneath his. You can feel his lean muscles flex against your back while his hands rest on either side of your waist.

"Cyno," You gasp, squirming underneath him, although to no avail. The hold he has on you makes it hard to move too much.

"Can I," he asks through gritted teeth and you nod as his cock rubs against your ass. He presses a quick kiss against your temple, and although fleeting — you could still feel his warm lips lingering on your skin.

Moving his hand, he gives himself a few strokes — your essence from earlier still coating his shaft, causing a Schlick sound to be heard with each pump. He uses his free hand to spread the globes of your ass to get a better view of your cunt — the sight of your drippy pussy causes his cock to throb in his palm.

Finally, he aligns himself with your awaiting hole, forcing apart your walls as he sheathes himself inside.

"F—fuck," you hiss, the burning sensation from the stretch felt amazing — wriggling your hips a little, you try to get whatever friction you can, that is, until you're stopped in your tracks, Cyno's hands gripping onto you as he forces your body into the desk, rutting into at an insatiable pace.

"S—so good, please," You cry out, nearly screaming as he thrusts into that particular spot that has you seeing white, your hands clawing at the surface beneath you — trying to steady yourself.

Cyno lowers his head into the crook of your neck — sharp fangs nipping at your flesh, causing you to shriek before placing his lips flat against you. You groan, feeling him smirk against your neck. "Please what," he asks — and you know all too well what games he's playing.

"I asked you something," He whispers into your ear — his warm breath ghosting over the shell. You refuse to make eye contact. However, he brings a hand around to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. Carnal desire was ever so apparent in his red eyes — looking at you as if you were prey, you almost felt small underneath his gaze. "Answer me, my dove,"

Like an arrow to the heart — that nickname gets you every time. You sigh, caving in and feeding Cyno ego even more. "Please, more," your voice is small. However, he doesn't push you to be any louder. "As you wish,"

You nearly choke on a sob as Cyno maneuvers your body. Finally, he repositions you enough for him to angle his hips. Ramming into you with better precision — the tip of his cock bullying your poor cervix with each thrust almost unbearably. Though the pleasure of being fucked thoroughly was enough to override your pain, causing your walls to tighten around him, making it harder for him to drag his cock through. "Sh—-shit," he hisses, his voice cracking as he hunches over you.

"Lighten up," He pants, his balls slapping against you with each thrust. He snakes an arm around you, pressing it flat against your lower belly before inching its way closer to your swollen clit that ached for attention. You could no longer contain your moans — feeling him thumb at your bundle of nerves.

"Cyno, Cyno," you moan, his name falling off your lips like a prayer — filling his chest with pride. "Mm s'close," you slur, and honestly, you didn't even need to say anything for your lover to know, considering how your body spasmed around his cock.

You close your eyes, biting at your lips as you focus on the coil in your tummy that's growing tighter and tighter. "So, so… so close," all it took was one final thrust that had you seeing stars and nearly falling onto the desk — although, Cyno was fast to catch you. Supporting your body as he rocks into you, chasing his own end.

You can feel his cock twitch and pulsate inside of you as thick ribbons of cum paint your insides white. You're exhausted, and you're struggling to catch your breath.

You let out a breathless laugh, making a joke about how much of a mess you must look. Cyno doesn't laugh — eyes scanning over your form, even with your hair disheveled and sweat coating your skin, he could never deny how beautiful you were.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Was all he said before gathering your limp body in his arms and carrying you across the room. You laugh, and he looks at you curiously while you struggle to contain yourself. "What,"

"You look worse than I do," A smile spread across your face as you pointed out his messy white locks and the hood that was falling off his head. A soft laugh escapes Cyno's lips.

"Shut up,"

[asterias-record-shop]

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— blinded

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

**edited timeline, aged up to in early twenties

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

Maybe it was your feelings from Ethan that blinded you from seeing how horrible he truly was. After just murdering someone, someone you must have cared for, you were only focused on getting off from the feeling of a hilt of a Buck 120 buried all the way down to the blade in your soaked cunt.

“God, you’re such a fucking whore,” Ethan spoke, blood splattered on his face as he stared down at your trembling thighs, rutting hips, and squelching pussy. “Look at you… getting off on having a fucking knife inside of you.”

You wailed softly, sobbing as you reached up to cover your mouth, your stomach twisting as your mind blurred. This was bad, horrible. How could your boyfriend of almost two years do this? “Pl-Please, please Ethan… I’m almost there, please!”

He laughed cruelly, humming. “Watch… when I keep fucking murdering people, they’re going to find all your cum all over their body and we’ll be fucking tied to each other forever. Would you like that? Hm?”

His words make your stomach clench, pussy fluttering around the hilt of the blade making him laugh, watching your hips squirm. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Ethan, I need to cum, I need to cum!”

He smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your tear stained cheek. “You’re such a pathetic little slut. You’re so lucky I love you… that I want to fuck you and get you pregnant so no matter what happens to me, this world will never be able to escape my bloodline.”

A whine falls from your lips as you gripped onto the black cloak he wore, mindlessly nodding along with his words. You were so fucked out and obsessed with him, you didn’t care what he did, as long as he only did it to you and you only. “Yes! Yes, I want to get pregnant, please please please…” you babbled endlessly before a yell of your name makes you snap out of it.

Ethan smirked, tilting his head. “Who was that?”

Quickly shaking your head, you continued to roll your hips. “P-Probably Tara.. please, I need to cum-”

“Ah ah,” Ethan tutted, shaking his head. “I need to get out of here baby… maybe take her with me.”

You quickly shake your head, trying to divert him from your best friend. “W-Wait! Please, don’t hurt her! Please… please, I’ll do anything… I’ll get pregnant with your baby, please…”

He laughed, pulling the knife out of you making you whine, shaking your head. “You think that was a choice? I’m going to cum inside of you so much that you’re going to be leaking it for days,” he basically growled out, this new side of Ethan making your cunt clench around nothing as his knife grazed your skin. “Now… where should I mark you, hm? So they don’t know I fucked you like a whore with a blood stained knife.”

“Anywhere!” You sobbed, watching as his knife nicked at your arm before leaving a soft trail on your forearm. “E-Ethan!”

“Sh, baby,” he whispers, kissing at your cheek. “Gotta go. I won’t hurt Tara, just for you. I expect you to be prepped and ready for when I sneak into your room tonight and fuck you until all you can think about is having my child.”

His words made your stomach clench, cumming around nothing as he laughed cruelly, giving a firm slap to your cunt. “That’s a good girl… you better be ready when I get to your dorm room.”

When you got home after making a police statement, you crashed onto your bed. You had already started working on stretching yourself out for Ethan to just come and use you like a whore, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. You had lied and said you had killed him, but what if he comes back? What would you do then?

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” Ethan’s voice makes you jump, standing at the edge of your bed, pumping his cock languidly as he stares at your stilled fingers in your cunt.

“I-I told them I killed you,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Th-That I stabbed you and that I think you’re dead somewhere.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, slowly crawling onto the bed and holding your wrist, pulling out your hand and pushing your fingers into his mouth. He groaned loudly at your taste, using his other hand to push into you and snap his hips forward. You screamed out as he lets your hand fall to his shoulder, kissing your cut forearm as he continued to roll his hips. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you baby… had to make sure they weren’t suspicious.”

“I-It’s okay,” you whisper back, shaking your head. “I can take it.”

He smiled, letting his tongue trail over the medical tape. “Can you? Hm?”

You whined, nodding as his hips started to move faster, groans falling from his lips as he desperately tried to speed up his thrusts. “I’ll take anything you give me.”

He groaned as he threw his head back- you really were a perfect little whore for him. Anything he said you’d obey, anything he did you’d take- it was just perfect.

“Fuck, you did such a good job that I’m about to cum,” he groaned, watching as you nodded mindlessly.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll take it!” You whimpered, throwing your head back. “I’ll take it, I’ll take everything-!”

A scream fell from your lips as he quickly took your legs over his shoulders, pushing you back enough so that he could fuck you at a new angle, ragged grunts falling from his lips. “Fuck… fuck, fuck!”

A groan fell from your mouth as you felt his cum spurt into you, warm and sticky as your stomach clenched and you came just at the feeling, whimpering softly as he continued to roll his hips. “You know I love you, right?”

You nodded mindlessly as he stroked your face, tilting his head. “Good… good, pretty girl, because I’m too fucking obsessed with you to lose you.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[stinmybubs]

"Do It For Us." Pt.5

Summery: Liar, Liar, Liar. Izuku Midoryia. You cant seem to remember the name? Who? Why is Katsuki, your first love talking about this man like you know him? Why is your memory so foggy after coming to UA? What happened to you?

?. ????? x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

You ended up fainting shortly after your panic attack, needed to be taken to recovery girl so you could rest. Once you awoke you couldn’t really remember much, it was like a huge chunk of your memory was stripped from you.

“Ugh….” You groan, holding your throbbing head, massaging it to try and ease the pain.

“What happened…?” The fog in your head made you feel like you just woke up from being under anesthetics. Your eyes drooping, your whole body feeling heavy. You felt to exhausted.

“You fainted when you…saw that Midoriya guy, is everything okay? You kind of missed the whole festival…” Mei looked at you concerned.

“What…?who…? Wait what happened? Why am I here.” Grabbing your head, rubbing your temple slightly trying to figure out what happened.

The door slammed open, your familiar blonde haired friend stomping into the room.

“Half the students are talking about how ya passed out. Fuck happened?” His red eyes scanning over your body, examining your pathetic state. He felt heavy concern, pulling up a chair next to the bed.

“I…don’t remember. I saw this boy…”

“I knew you saw fucking Deku.” Katsuki’s fists tightened, remembering how both of you were inseparable, both quirkless little shits. Well one of you was quirkless.

“I don’t know how he fuckin got a quirk. He fuckin lied to both of us…he-“ you cut him off with a confused look. You had no idea who he was talking about.

“Who…is Deku? Is it the kid I saw? Fuck my head.”

You didn’t know what was going on, and it scared the shit out of you.

“Don’t overwhelm her now. She was physically fine…but I think it’s up here that’s the problem. Which I can’t do much about!” The familiar voice of recovery chimed in. Tapping the side of her own head as she mad the statement.

Katsuki’s anger grew and you could tell, you didn’t know why he was so angry. Maybe he was just worried about you?

“I’m okay Katsu…just confused?” You assure him, standing up and dusting yourself off to prove that you were fine.

“You really don’t…I’ll be back. Make sure to leave your window unlocked tonight.” And that was it, katsuki threw the chair aside and took off, clearly he was still angry so you just sighed.

Your mind was so fuzzy, it felt like pieces of you were missing.

But you didn’t know what.

Every since your little accident you’ve been spacing out a little more than usual. Slowing down your pace of work, which raised concern with your friends.

Of course you shrugged it off and tried your best to push through and ignore everything else.

Katsuki was a big help, he has been there for you the whole time. He apologized for what happened before you left for the hospital, and was surprised that you had no initial reaction to seeing him again.

He seemed to be controlling his temper better, at least around you, you could see his anger with his classmates. It seemed he was getting along with everyone.

From time to time you would feel eyes staring daggers into you, and it was always this green haired boy. The boy you saw before you woke up in recovery girls room.

The longing feeling whenever you saw him, the same feeling you feel with Katsuki, it was strong and it confused you. But every-time he tried to approach you katsuki intervened and swept you away.

Of course katsuki couldn’t keep you two apart forever. One day at lunch the boy stopped you in the middle of the halls as you were carrying a box of equipment you wanted to take apart and examine.

“Hey! Y/n…look it’s been a while and-“ you cut him off abruptly.

“Excuse me are we on the first name basis..? I’m not sure I know you.” The look on his face after your statement made you heart ache, you have no clue why your heart felt like this. He just started stuttering and sputtering none sense as you stared at him confused.

“Deku!” A girl ran up behind the green haired boy, she had short brown hair, and a carried a very bouncy vibe.

“There you are! We were looking for you for-“

As she talked you took this as a chance to walk away, rolling your eyes as you made your way back to your workshop.

The more you thought about the boy the more your head started to fuzz up, a slight headache beginning to creep up.

To Mei you were staring at the wall holding a wrench in your hand for 30min straight.

“Y/n! Y/n! Snap out of it!” The familiar voice of the pink haired girl snapping you out of your trance.

"huh? Wha-...What?" You stammered, a wave of confusion and slight panic coming over you as you frantically look around you to examine your surroundings.

"Hey! Hey its okay...are you okay?" Mei gently grabbed your shoulders to ease your panic, all you could do was stutter out random words as she tried her best to soothe your emotions.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, your vision becoming blurry as you began to loose control over your emotions. "where? Why? Why am i crying? What's happening!?" Trying your best not to panic you just let the tears flow.

"Why am i crying?" You sob, burying your head in your hands, your ands gripping your hair tightly.

"Y/n! Y/n! Hey its okay you're okay! Shit! Hold on I'm going to grab someone." Mei wrapped a blanket she has stashed away so she could sleep in the workshop, and wrapped it around you as she quickly dashed out the door.

"What's wrong with me!? Why cant i stop crying?" it hurt so bad, the tears pouring out your eyes hurt your chest as the pain of loss made your world turn.

"Y/n!" That familiar voice made you freeze, quickly you let your hands go and look up at your familiar friend. Katsuki. He was quick to reach you, grabbing your hands the look of concern on his face made your heart soar.

"Hey...it's okay...let it out." With that simple line that left his mouth, you didn't hold back anything from him, crying your heart out as he wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

Katsuki didn't say any more words, like he knew you didn't even know why you were crying in the first place. His arms made you feel so safe, the comfort you felt from him is something you haven't felt in a very long time.

"it hurts! Katsu It hurts!" You cried out, the unbearable feeling of your heart being torn apart, the feeling of suffocation overcoming you. The feeling of his strong arms tightening around you, moving his hand to the base of your neck, trying to get you to look at him.

"hey...its okay...you should stay at my dorm tonight, I know you wont be able to sleep like this alone like you used to at my house." This statement made you giggle, remembering the night where you'd have panic attacks in the middle of the night and asked Katsuki if you could sleep in his room.

"Yeah...that sounds nice Katsu."

A/N: OMG I actually didn't know people liked my writing or this series like that! I'm so sorry i didn't finish this part any sooner I've been so busy with my 9-5 college! But reading you comments made me motivated! XOXO! Stinmybubs! Sorry if the tag list didn't tag you properly :(

Taglist:

@h0n3y-l3m0n05 @kaiamtt @amiime @luvsymai @kcch-ns @wandasecretlover

[dmwrites]

Cecil: Birds of a feather stick together. But if that bird loses its way, it will be lost forever. Welcome… to NightVale.

[intro song plays]

Cecil: Listeners, today I have a guest with me here in the studio! Intern Vincent found our guest wandering in the desert as he was driving to the station this morning, and I jumped at the idea of having this guest on our show! So, why don’t you introduce yourself, mystery guest!

???: I’m… Grian. My name’s Grian.

Cecil: Well, welcome to our small community radio show, Grian! Listeners, Grian is-

Grian: Did you say listeners?

Cecil: Why yes! All of our wonderful citizens of NightVale, even the secret police, are listeners of my show!

Grian: Oh… never mind.

Cecil: As I was saying, listeners, our wonderful, if a tad interrupting-y, guest Grian is wearing a torn red sweater, black pants, and closed-toed shoes. I must say, that’s quite a fashion statement, Grian! Not too many people would wear a sweater in the desert. You must not be from around here!

Grian: I… no, I’m not. I’m not quite sure how I got here… I just… I thought I could escape the desert if I walked far enough.

Cecil: Well, as long as you’re not from Desert Bluffs, I’ll call you a friend! Eugh, Desert Bluffs, am I right? But speaking of Desert Bluffs, let me remind all of you that our half-a-millennia traditional triathlon against Desert Bluffs is almost upon us! Volunteers, taken from their homes at four in the morning with bags over their heads, will be competing in three sports events against our bitter rivals, Desert Bluffs. The three sports events, as is tradition, will be: bloodstone dodgeball, confronting the in-laws over broken boundaries, and pickleball. Good luck, NightVale athletes!

Grian: Did you just say, like, words? Like, genuinely, it feels like I just had a stroke. What on earth is a bloodstone?

Cecil: You know, I should have known you weren’t from around here, what with your funny accent. Where are you from, silly little man?

Grian: I… well, that’s a tough one, really. Hermitcraft? Third Life SMP? The Desert? All of them, I suppose. I really don’t know how I got here… I’m not sure this isn’t all a mirage.

Cecil: And you say I say strange things! Well, Grian, I was about to remark on how other cultures may not have bloodstones, but I just noticed all of the blood on your knuckles, and under your fingernails, and on the cuffs of your sweater, which I still do not think is seasonally appropriate.

Grian: Oh god. I thought I scrubbed it off with the sand. Scar…

Cecil: While we figure out the mysteries of the blood here in the studio, and Grian stares down at his hands in horror, let’s take a look at traffic. There is a man with a clock. He stands. He smiles. He will never stop smiling. They will call him a traitor someday, but for now, the traitor lies dead, the present he gave in the hands of that smiling man. They do not know that the clock, golden in its edges, will bind them together in ways they can’t even understand yet.

Grian: Scar is- Scar was my friend. I promised my life to him.

Cecil: I’ve promised my life to someone too! But it was marriage, to my beautiful Carlos. I love Carlos so much.

Grian: Scar… god, he was such a blundering fool, but with a heart and voice of gold. I didn’t think he’d get as far as he did, but we just kept getting away with it. We didn’t think about the end.

Cecil: What did this Scar wear? This is a audio medium, after all, Grian, and I must describe everything to the listeners.

Grian: He didn’t wear much, like, ever. Super annoying, too many abs.

Cecil: There is no such thing as too many abs, Grian.

Grian: I- sure, okay. Can I get back to my story now?

Cecil: Yes, please do! I am sure everyone, especially the secret police, are very interested.

Grian: I killed him with a creeper first. It was a prank, a mistake, but it really cemented the idea that this wasn’t all fun and games. It felt like fun and games for a long time, even after he died for the first time. It wasn’t until-

Cecil: And now, a word from our sponsor. Listeners, are you tired of having a perfect dog? Does your dog-food photo perfect dog leave you the laughing stock of the town? Do you ever wish you could put an imperfection on your dog so you could just fit in? Now you can, with warts! Just put warts on your precious pooch, and slide blissfully back into the dreary backdrop of life while walking them on their leashes. Dog Warts: because nothing can stay perfect forever.

Grian: I… I had to kill him. They- the ghosts of all of my friends, they told me there could only be one victor, and I… god… we stood in a circle of cactus, so we couldn’t leave, and we fought with our fists. I kept hitting him and hitting him and, god, Scar was never the best at fighting… and we were both laughing and I was crying and there was so much blood… it took so long for him to die, Cecil, and all I could do was keep hurting him, so he wouldn’t suffer. And then I was… alone. I said I was sorry, but he couldn’t hear me. No one could hear me anymore. I had won, but at what cost?

Cecil: That’s very dark! Uh, listeners, our guest Grian has a tear running down his cheek, and I am afraid he may burst into outright sobbing! To save you from that audio nightmare, I take you now to the weather!

[Howling by Lupus Nocte plays]

Cecil: Listeners, Grian is gone. He has left the station. He ran out, muttering something about “never being able to escape the desert”… whatever that means. Maybe we should stop inviting random people we find on the side of the deserted road with blood on their knuckles into the studio… but I am afraid that’s all the time we have for today, listeners. Stay tuned next for a canary, stuck in a cage made of bones, singing sadly for none to hear. NightVale, hug your loved ones close tonight. You never know what may happen next. And good night, NightVale, good night.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Who Needs Forever?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Summary: (Season 10) Rewrite of a portion of the episode “Stalker.” You and Lydia find Daryl after the fight with Alpha, and he’s barely hanging on.

Warnings: Blood and injury

A/N: This scene always bugged me. Daryl was damn near bleeding to death and somehow little Lydia was able to move him and patch up what could have been a fatal wound? Once again, I should be working on requests but my brain took a detour. I’ll get to them, I promise

gif by @jaaryl

The decrepit, little garage was lit only by the light of the moon by the time you followed Lydia to its doors. Adjusting Daryl’s crossbow on your shoulder, you called the girl’s name quietly, your expression conveying your earlier statement.

“We get her to tell us where Daryl is and then you do as you will. If she killed him, she belongs to me.”

Lydia nodded her acquiescence and entered before you. It was easy to make out Alpha on the ground but as you neared and could see the state she was in, the anxiety already resident in your stomach gnawed and twisted as a living being trying to claw its way out. Your steps quickened to bring you above daughter and mother, your breathing bordering hyperventilating. You stopped yourself, holding it in so you could hear what was being said.

The woman was spouting off her nonsense, her wheezing breaths barely audible. Your eyes narrowed. Wait. Those breaths weren’t Alpha’s. Lydia and her mother no longer existed to you. You spun in place, desperately seeking…

“Oh my god, Daryl!” You could only pray your cry had not been heard by walker or whisperer, but mostly you prayed for things to not be as bad as they appeared. “Daryl.”

He was on his back, face and neck bloodied. His hand laid limply against his thigh, a crimson pool spread beneath the drawn up leg. His eyes were closed and he was much, much too pale. Your pack and his crossbow were forgotten on the floor beside you while you cradled his face in your palms. “Daryl, open your eyes. Please, please, open your eyes.” Keeping your voice low was indeed nearly impossible in your panicked state.

His skin was cool, clammy; the fear that he had just lost too much blood…that you were too late…was at the forefront of your mind. Then he took a deep breath. His eyes rolled and lids fluttered as he struggled to open them. “That’s it. Come on, look at me.” Finally, finally, he managed mere slits of dull blue.

“m’I dead?” He could barely manage a whisper.

“No!” That came out so much harsher than you had meant it. “No, baby, you’re not dead.” You sniffled, smoothing back his hair. You didn’t even realize you were crying.

“Baby, huh?” He croaked out before a weak cough.

“Easy.” You allowed him to get his breathing back to the pitiful rasp it had been before giving him a wet smile. “Shut up, Dixon. You look like shit, so I’ll call you whatever I want.” He merely hummed and closed his eyes. “No, no, no. You gotta stay awake! Lydia! We have to go!”

“Shit,” came the girl’s quiet reply from behind you.

“Daryl.” His eyes fought to open again, less than the first time. “Daryl, we have to move you. We have to get you to Hilltop.” There was no point in asking if he could stand. The answer was obvious. He was already out again. “Lydia, help me get him up.” You didn’t wait for her reply before ripping the bottom of your shirt and tying it tightly around his leg. Questions burned at the back of your thoughts: did Lydia kill Alpha? Could you still trust her? But nothing could break through your determination to get Daryl to safety. Answers would have to wait.

“Should…should we be moving him?” The former Whisperer watched as you shouldered your pack and Daryl’s weapon before joining you to grab underneath the archer’s arm.

“We can’t stay here.”

He was dead weight as you grunted to lift him and pull his arm over your shoulder, Lydia mirroring you on his opposite side. The toes of his boots dragged noisily across the concrete on the way to the door. You deliberately kept your eyes averted from the enemy as you passed her body and exited the station. Alive or dead, her following would come for her and the three of you could not be there when they did.

You struggled along at a painstakingly slow pace for what felt like hours, the safety of the Hilltop community never seeming farther away than it did in that moment. Sweat dripped from your chin, your shirt dampened from perspiration.

“I need…a minute.” The young girl panted.

You didn’t answer for a moment, hoping she would just suck it up and continue onward for Daryl’s sake. Then she stumbled and barely righted herself.

“Okay. Alright, but just a few minutes.”

The archer was gently lowered to the ground with you immediately kneeling beside him while Lydia collapsed to her back. Resting actually gave you a moment to check in on him. His breaths were coming too fast. His pulse fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. Fuck. His lips were turning blue.

“Lydia! Here,” you choked out while sliding your pack from your shoulders. “Put this under his feet.” You grabbed the first aid kit and a bottle of water from inside and then tossed the bag toward her.

“What? Why?”

“He’s going into shock.” Peeling off your jacket, you placed it over him and then twisted the cap from the bottle. “We have to keep him warm. We can’t do a transfusion or an IV so we have to get fluids in somehow. I think I can sew up the wound but we have to do this first to start replacing what he’s lost.” God, if only you could build a fire without leading danger straight to you.

Everything you said was beyond what the girl could understand, you knew that. A battle raged within you whether to send her for help or keep her there in case you needed to move or defend Daryl. Getting water in him was proving to be a challenge. You settled for the incredibly slow process of tiny amounts followed by massaging his throat to get it down.

“What…how can I help?”

You heard her but didn’t reply, continuing your ministrations until a fourth of the water was gone. His leg was next. The makeshift bandage was already darkened and saturated with blood. Threading a needle wasn’t easy in the best of times, much less with nothing but moonlight and tears. “I need you to go to Hilltop.” You sniffled as you examined his leg with the help of a penlight from the kit. If his artery had been nicked, he would have already bled out. “Can you get yourself there from here?”

She gave a jerky nod.

“You’re sure?” You pressed with a no-nonsense glance.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” Lydia stood and prepared to go but you grabbed her wrist. You poured everything you could into the look when your words failed you.

Please, hurry.

She nodded again and then she was gone.

You took a deep breath before clasping the light between your teeth, leaving one hand free to clear the blood while you sewed with the other. The man under your hands didn’t stir. You would have given a vital organ for just a flinch. Minutes passed like hours, your hands trembling fiercely by the time you tied off the stitches, cleaned, and dressed the wound. With the major bleeding stopped, you checked the cut on his forehead. It was deep but was no longer bleeding and could be dealt with later. There were other lacerations that still bled sluggishly but were easily sealed off with gauze and tape. Then it was back to water until the bottle was empty.

Through it all, Daryl remained frighteningly unresponsive.

With nothing left to do but wait, you sat back against a tree and gingerly placed his head on your lap. His hair was slick with sweat and blood, causing tangles as you carded your fingers through the dark strands. His skin was colder than before and that terrifying blue tinge to his lips remained. Unable to stand the sight of him in such a state any longer, you clicked off the light.

His breathing remained shallow but seemed to have slowed. Two fingers to his neck proved that his pulse was still too fast but had also come down. At this point, you’d take any positive sign that he was holding on. “Don’t die on me, Dixon.” You whispered through a choked off sob.

“Don’t plan…on it.”

You gave a breathless, watery laugh and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re too stubborn for that shit anyway, right?” He hummed in what you assumed was agreement.

“Alpha…dead?”

“I don’t know. Was too busy saving your lazy ass to ask.” You stroked his cheek with your knuckles when he made a sound that was suspiciously close to a chuckle. With a glance to the forest’s canopy, you could see the outline of the clouds from the first hints of daylight. Another check revealed that his pulse was now a little slower than you’d like but not dangerously so. “Stay with me, okay?”

“M’here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You had to assume any energy he’d found was nearly tapped out. “Tired.”

“I know.” You adjusted the jacket closer to his body and took a moment to glance around for any signs of trouble. “Lydia went to get help. They’ll be here soon.” Another noncommittal hum. Or maybe he was just too weak for words now. “I swear, when we get you back on your feet, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Won’t be so bad.”

“You think that now. Wait til you need to pee.” You laughed through the last of your tears. You opened your mouth to add another scenario when you heard voices in the distance, one of which clearly called your name. “Sounds like the rescue party has arrived.”

“Yeah… so quit your cryin’.”

“Your fault, Dixon.” You shot back without heat.

“I know. M’sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled. You could hear your friends running toward you now, Aaron’s voice carrying louder than the rest. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

As the sun finally rose, you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’ll try my best.”

[bunniandhoney]

I’ll Miss You

What happens when Jacob has to go.

She’d gotten used to having him home.

When he’d finally wrapped up the movie Jacob was determined to spend every last moment with his wife. He did not waste a single second of the three month break before promo began for the film. They’d visited the new Japanese bakery down the street, hiked their favorite trail and the most important task; tried to make a baby.

2 1/2 years of marital bliss was more than enough for them, they wanted to be parents. Jacob wanted 7 girls and YN wanted nothing more than to give them to him. This lead to around the clock fucking, literally every single day. So when Jacob was packing his bags to start a two week promo tour for his film YN was already feeling withdrawals and he hadn’t even zipped up his suitcase.

YN had a tendency to become a bit standoffish whenever she was feeling frustrated, not wanting to bring anyone’s else’s mood down, so Jacob had to search for her that night. He finds her curled up on their loveseat reading, yet another, Danielle Steele romance.

“Hey Bug, what’re you doing down here. I need your help.” He says while climbing over her, hoping to squeeze in between her and the seat. But she moves just out of his reach, standing up and moving towards the stairs.

“Come on, I’ll help” she says walking away without looking back at him.

All Jacob could do was smile at his adorably grumpy wife because he knew exactly what was happening, YN couldn’t help how she felt so she did this every time he had to leave her behind.

He hears her stomping around before she appears walking out of the closet with several of his shirts in her hands and moving to lay them in his luggage on the bed. Jacob walks up behind her, pulling her into his hold. “J, I need to fold these shirts!” she complains half heartedly.

Wrapping his arms tighter around her, YN relaxes into his hold, letting Jacob rock them side to side.

“I’m gonna miss you so much baby, wish you could come with me.” Jacob whispers, sealing the statement with a kiss to the side of her neck.

YN’s eyes are closed, hoping to save this moment into her memory forever. She absolutely hates when he leaves, it feels like a part of her is lost. Jacob can feel it, feel her missing him even when she’s in his arms. So for a moment he keeps her in his arms, swaying, his lips pressed to her hair in an infinite kiss.

Pausing their rocking Jacob reaches around YN to pull his barely-packed suitcase onto the floor; clothes spilling to the floor.

“What on earth are you doing, we are still working on that?!” YN says in a panicky voice, slightly annoyed from being roused from their trance.

Turning her around Jacob walks her to the edge of the bed, letting the back of knees feel the soft sheets. “Need you to just lay with me for a second.” He says laying her down softly.

Hovering over her, their eyes dance across each other’s face, trying to memorize every last thing before it’s gone. But the second their eyes finally meet Jacob smashes his lips to YN’s, she opens her mouth hoping to give any piece of herself to him.

YN reaches up to hold the back of Jacob’s neck, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna miss you so much, fuck baby I’m gonna miss this,” she moans into his mouth.

“Yeah?” He says pulling away.

And when she can do nothing but stare at her beautiful husband doe-eyed and nodding, Jacob knows what he has to do next. So with a light smirk he looks down at his wife to say,

“Well I think we can at least fit in a couple more baby-making sessions before I leave.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

husband!jacob scipio has been weighing heavily

on my mental, so here we go!

Im not one to gossip, but i did hear that there this is probably gonna be a part 2 for this (a fulfilled anon request perhaps 👀). possibly a part 2 from yesterday’s as well. 😁

speaking of requests, KEEP THEM COMING! Y’all are actually cooking in my messages! Quite a few of these are inspiring like full on imagines for me so be on the lookout!

finally thank you again for all the love on these. i’m just starting out but i can already feel myself becoming a better writer, thanks to y’all!

xoxo,

Bunni

[scekrex]

You said to hit you with my trans femboy! reader x Adam prompts, so here we go! (BTW if you're not comfortable writing anything in this prompt or it at all, that's totally cool!)

Reader goes dress shopping at one of those places where they take your measurements and do a custom outfit, and Adam offers to go with him. The person taking reader's measurements/doing the consultation keeps misgendering reader and making rude/cruel remarks under their breath. Neither reader nor Adam are standing for it.

Also on a completely unrelated I-just-want-to-tell-somebody note, my birthday is on Friday!

Not me dropping the request I was working on before to write this so I can publish it on ur birthday- ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUDE <3

She hopes I’m cursed forever

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, homophobia, transphobia, reader gets misgendered

note: not beta read bc fuck you

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” you hummed as you crossed the living room in which Adam was sitting on the couch. It’s needless to say that a statement such as this caught the first man’s attention immediately. Adam paused the video he was watching and looked at you slowly walking to the front door. “Where the fuck are you going?” The first man seemed slightly confused, as far as he was aware you had nothing planned for the day. You simply chuckled softly, looked over your shoulder to look at Adam before you responded, “Dress shopping.”

The brunette turned off the TV quickly, “Not without me.” You raised an eyebrow at the taller male, quite surprised by how eager he seemed to join your little shopping spree. It wasn’t that Adam hated going shopping with you, he just tended to avoid it if he had the chance to, your boyfriend was an online shopper through and through. And he knew how exhausting shopping with you could be. “Since when do you wanna-” The brunette didn’t even let you finish, “Since someone has to make sure Heaven’s cunts don’t disrespect you.” Well, that seemed fair, so you simply shrugged, grabbed your jacket and left with Adam by your side.

The place you had picked was quite fancy, it wasn’t one of the more expensive tailorings nor was it one of the cheapest, the prices you had to pay for dresses were quite fair in your eyes and so far you had only made good experiences at their place.

The mood changed as soon as you and Adam entered the tailoring though. The person that greeted you was one you had never seen before, so you simply figured they must be new - nothing that really bothered you. “Hello Miss,” the woman greeted you, her eyes gave away that that was not her dream job and that she’d rather be doing anything else. You lowered your head a little, the ‘Miss’ didn’t sit right with you at all but you didn’t want to cause a scene so you remained silent. This would be a quick thing anyway, they would simply take your measurements, you’d decide on a dress and then you would be free to go - no big deal, right?

Yeah, no, dead wrong. It was a big deal because Adam turned it into one. The first man’s hand came down on your shoulder, the playful grin that usually hugged his lips was gone and he sounded quite pissed as he spoke, “It’s Mister, get his fucking pronouns right, bitch.” The woman who seemed to be the only employee at the store for that day looked Adam up and down with quite judgmental eyes before she simply shrugged and walked off without correcting her mistake. Adam immediately didn’t like her at all - not that you liked her any better, but you were better at hiding that you really just wanted to leave again.

Uncomfortably you followed the employee as she led you to a little podium where she would take the measurements. Your brunette boyfriend followed suit, he was right behind you, one of his hands was constantly on your body, whether it was your shoulder or your waist, the first man simply felt the need to reassure you, to let you feel that you weren’t alone and that he had your back. And it helped - at least in the beginning and at least a tiny bit.

You stepped on the small podium, all the confidence you had when you had entered the store was gone, you felt wrong, uncomfortable and if you were honest you really just wanted to leave and find another tailoring. But now you were too deep in, there was no turning away anymore. The woman stepped closer to you and you noticed how Adam watched the scene playing out in front of him. He was completely focused on the woman's movements, watching her carefully so she wouldn’t pull any more shit.

“Ma’am, you need to take your jacket off,” the tailor mumbled, she seemed quite annoyed by your presence and while you understood that some days were simply harder than others, that did not excuse her behavior towards you. You heard a low growl coming from Adam at her words, “He’s not a fucking ‘Ma’am’, quit acting like a fucking transphobic cunt and do your work.”

And while you appreciated that Adam was standing up for you, you didn’t quite like his choice of words, nor did you like the fact that the brunette was causing a scene when all you wanted was a simple dress that fit you. The female angel ignored Adam, not paying any mind to the first man or his rude words towards her, instead she mumbled something under her breath that you weren’t quite able to catch, however you did hear the words ‘fucking queers’ and ‘disgusting filth’ which caused you to just feel worse than you had already been feeling.

The female angel - which was slightly smaller than you were - did her job pretty sloppily, she did not care to properly measure you. You also noticed how she tried her very best to stay as far away from you as possible, she barely touched you while taking the measurements needed for the dress. And normally you wouldn’t care, if she wanted to execute her job badly, that was her deal. But in your very case that not only infected her but also you because that way the dress would not fit properly.

“God must really hate me to send me fucking gays,” she mumbled, this time loud enough for you to hear. And even though you really wanted that dress, you took a step back from her, stepped off the little podium and made your way over to Adam. The female angel looked confused at you, then her expression soured, “What are you doing?”

You were trying to get away from her transphobic hands, you were trying to escape her judgemental eyes and her homophobic words. “Leaving,” you simply said as you grabbed Adam’s hand and turned around. The tall brunette next to you squeezed your hand reassuringly, his wing wrapped around your back in a protective matter and he shot the employee a grin, flipping her off as he guided you towards the door.

“But-” the worker tried to protest, she had already taken the measurements and was about to wrap things up, she at least wanted to be paid. Yet Adam cut her off quite rudely, “You heard him, we’re leaving.” The taller man waved at her in a provoking way, a triumphant grin on his lips. You opened the door and as soon as you had done so Adam pulled you out of the store, seemingly eager to leave.

“We’ll get you a tailor who actually does their job instead of insulting you,” Adam hummed, looking down at you with a smile as he playfully ruffled through your hair. The smile on his quickly curled up into a grin though, “And then I’ll fuck your brains out in the new dress.”

[elmoees]

ミ★ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 ★彡 (jjk l)

summary. snippets of a summer with the jjk men <3

- word count. 1218

- contents. implied fem!reader, no use of (y/n), nicknames (pretty, baby, my love, ect), established relationships (boyfriend/husband), canon world but little is mentioned, non-kenjaku older!geto, mentions of megumi, mentions of tojis shady past life, minimal cursing, fluff drabbles so no warnings required!

- notes. first post of many! hopefully some y'all enjoy this

jjk ll part - haikyuu version - one piece version

ミ★ 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 ★彡

You lie on the couch of your shared apartment as Satoru fetches drinks from the kitchen. The show playing in the background does little to distract you from the blazing heat of Tokyo summers. Even in his larger t-shirt, the cotton stick to you like a second skin. “Here ya go, Baby,” he says rolling the chilled glass across the back of your neck, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort brought on by the heat. 

“Mhm, thanks.” An appreciative hum is voiced as he plops back into his spot. 

His slender fingers trace up your side, as you both bask in a comfortable silence. The thrum against your body lulls you into sitting up beside the white haired male. Hoping the sugary iced drink would be the pick me up needed, you take it from your boyfriends grasp and sip it. “S’good… god, it’s so hot.” A whine escapes your lips as you lay your down on his shoulder with a pout. 

“I know, m’sorry. Damn aircon is breaking down again, I’ll get it fixed promise.” He raises his fingers to show them locked, with a big smile on his face. Damp hair stick to his forehead, and a flush had settled over his pale cheeks. He was hot too, in more ways than one. 

You roll your eyes at his statement, “You said that last year Toru, didn’t happen then either.” he lets out a gasp at the statement. “I was extra busy last year! The Jujutsu world needs me ya know,” it was your turn to scoff. 

“And I needed my air-conditioning fixed! It’s whatever though, ‘m gonna change.” You remove yourself from his hold, but Satoru keeps a hand on your wrist as you stand. 

“I love you!” 

ミ★ 𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘰 ★彡

“Sugu! C’mon, hurry up! We’re gonna miss it!” You run off ahead of Suguru, hoping to get to the beach before the sun sets. The man only smiles and shakes his head as he follows after, he had gotten you both there early for a reason. 

Lacing his hands with yours, he slows the pace to something more manageable. “We’re not going to miss anything, there’s still twenty minutes left.” The dark haired male can only laugh at the bursts of energy coursing through your body. “Enjoy this, you won’t miss a second.” Suguru begins to rub soothing circles into the back of your hand as you continue to walk to your destination. 

“But-“

“Nuh-uh, no buts, we’ll make it in time. Have a little trust, yeah?” The squeezes to your hand reinforces what your boyfriend is says. 

With a groan you comply, and the two of you continue on the path to the secluded beach. 

Suguru listens to your babble with an open ear. Well aware of how fast you want to feel the waves and see the ever setting sun. The conversation is fluid and he’s thankful for the moment of peace. Being a special grade sorcerer meant long hours and even longer days without seeing you, so this trip was a needed treat. 

Truthfully he could do this forever, be with you. “I love you, I hope you know that.” He kisses your hand gently, just barely grazing his soft lips over the bow of your knuckles. With a giggle, you reply “Of course I do, you wouldn’t have put up with me this long if you didn’t.” 

Walking out of the tree-line and onto the shore, he allows you to lead him out towards the water. You’ve never looked better, here in the golden light holding onto him - and never has he felt so at peace. 

So as the two of you finally face the setting sun, he feels that love too. 

ミ★ 𝘕𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 ★彡

The weekend market was bustling as you and Kento continued to walk around it. Basket in hand, you stroll around to each stall with excitement. Fresh fruits and veggies for the week were always nice, and the added bonus of spending time with your husband was even better. 

“Would you like anything from this stand, My Love?” with a hand on your waist, Kento continues to skim through the vendors items. Leaning into his touch, you smile up at him, “You can’t ask that every time we see a new stall! We’d go broke if you bought everything I looked at.” 

His sigh turned into a small smile, “If I did, it’d be worth all the extra hours I’m taking on.” 

You rub at his arm, leading him away to look at flower cart. “You being here is all I can ask for, your work is too dangerous for me to ask more of you!” 

The blonde turns and places a kiss to the side of your head. Just as many others were in his line of work, he was selfish. Selfish for returning to the world of Jujutsu, for putting others before himself when you needed him, for wanting more time with you knowing any moment could be his last… 

“You could ask the world of me, and I’d give it to you no matter what.” you hum in agreement resting your head against his shoulder. 

“That’s sweet, but how about we settle for these flowers huh? No need for the world, you’re my world anyway.” 

ミ★ 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 ★彡

From the kitchen window you watch as Toji continued to work on the yard. The garden was really starting to come together, and it wasn’t much thanks to you (not that your husband would ever say that). “Toji! Baby, do you want anything to drink?” You called through the open screen. 

“No thanks, Doll. ‘M Good,” he pushed back his hair to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. 

“Hmm, I’m bringing you some water! Last thing we need you fainting and Megumi seeing,” you brought him out a chilled glass of water, opting to feel his reddening cheeks. Toji’s large hands came to rest over your own, “I’m fine ya know,” he mutters. 

You huff instead, “Don’t even argue with me ‘bout this, I can worry! It’s not like you’re letting me help away.” 

The dark haired male runs his thumbs over the back of your hands, “And why would I let ma Doll, do any of this work? Soft hands like yours ain’t made for hard labor.” You let out another scoff, “It’s a few flower beds Toji.” 

“And I stand by ma point, let me do this for ya.” Gosh, what a stubborn man you married. 

Clearly he wasn’t going to let you win this argument, so it was pointless to try much harder. In the years you had known him, he had never been more present in your life and in your marriage up until recently. Maybe it was sad to say that, but the truth still stood. Toji was gone once, but he’s here now and that should be enough, right? Right… 

Looking to the side you nod. It was a bit embarrassing to be nervous of the man you love, but he’s different now. 

“Hey, look. I love you, ya know?” you did know. 

You lean into his touch and savor the moment. Maybe he’d be gone again in the morning, maybe he’d stay for longer, maybe he wouldn’t leave. For now though, this was enough, it had to be. 

“Mhm, yeah. I love you too,”

 ©elmoees 2023

[musicalmoritz]

what are your thoughts on hananene?

I’m so glad you asked this!! Some people assume I hate HanaNene because I ship Nene with Aoi and I don’t post about it as much as Aoi//Aoi, but that could not be further from the truth. When I first watched the anime I absolutely adored HanaNene, they were my favorite ship for a hot second there (though I was saving that spot for Mitsuba and Kou, and it was also Sakura and Natsuhiko for like a day. I never expected it to be the plant lesbians lol)

My love for HanaNene tends to be more mild when I’m not actively reading about them. I have never and will never dislike them, but I don’t think about them as consistently as some of the other ships (though I think of them more than some others). Then I read a scene of them in the manga and I’m abruptly reminded of why they’re one of my favorite TBHK ships. This also applies to when I’m rewatching either of the animes or when I get in the rare mood to read fan fiction for them

The thing that initially stole my heart was how weird they are. Their whole relationship is odd, it’s like if Aladdin got with the Genie. The first chapter doesn’t have anything romantic between them up until the very end and if you didn’t know they were love interests, you’d assume he was meant to be her goofy sidekick. And then we start the gag of him flirting with her while she’s very adamant about him being Not Her Type. But her relationship with him is still so different from everybody else, she’s usually so self-centered but with Hanako she notices things about him and makes efforts to make him feel better (ex: deciding to be his friend in the mokke chapter). Sure, there are still things she misses about him, Teru had to be the one to tell her he was unhappy in the new timeline. But she’s significantly better at looking out for Hanako than she is with everybody else, because he’s so important to her. She gives him time to open up about his past because she knows he’s not ready for it, she wants to be the one to confess to him because he deserves to feel loved. With heterosexual relationships I’m mainly focused on what the woman is feeling/experiencing and HanaNene is such an interesting ship for Nene! It gives her a lot of important development and stands out from her other crushes and ships. She had cheesy romantic fantasies about him but she doesn’t act like a blushing fangirl, it’s real love and we get to see a more mature side of her when they’re together

I have so many favorite moments for them so I’m gonna list them all now because I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do so. The end of the Picture Perfect arc where Nene asked Hanako if he wanted to trap her and he said “of course not, how could you even think that?” The Confession Tree chapter as a whole, it’s my favorite early chapter by far. When Hanako told Nene she’s cute when she’s smiling. When he tucked her into bed at Sumire’s house. I don’t remember when this was but when Nene made some big statement on the roof and then she was like “as a friend ofc.” When she kissed him on the cheek duh that was so cute. That convo they had in the classroom during the Picture Perfect arc. Their first kiss but that’s like a given everybody loves that scene. Wow. HanaNene.

I will say that I prefer their dynamic with Amane’s personality but I’m not one of the people who separates those ships entirely, I think people who do sort of miss the point of Hanako’s character. Amane is still a part of him, there are many scenes in present times when he acts like his old self. Sure, he’s changed over the years, but he can’t fully become a different person the way humans often do because he is forever that same 13 y/o boy. So if you were to ask me “HanaNene or Amanene,” I’d say both. I do prefer to call him Amane tho bcuz it’s such a pretty name. Amane. Amane. Amane. Pretend you can hear it, it’s gorgeous

Similar to how I will never slander Aoi and Akane for Aoi and Nene, I’ll never slander Hanako and Nene in favor of them either. I love all the canon ships so I’ll never be the type of fan to put them down in order to justify my fanon ones. I don’t need to do this because I have good reasons for liking fanon pairings, I can back them up without having to put down another ship. If you have to put down another ship in order to make yours look good, it’s probably not that great on its own

Also for headcanons. They are t4t and bi4bi to me, that’s just how it’s gotta be. Toilet-Bound Woke-Kun. Woke-Bound Hanako-Kun. Toilet-Woke Hanako-Kun. Much to ponder

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you Forever

Chapter Eleven: The end leaves room for more

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: The end is just the beginning....

Warnings: depictions of abuse. Toxic media, mentions of murder and death, court trials,

Notes: have no fear, this may be the end of one story, but I promise there's more to come for these four ;)

Previous <-

Masterlist

The media had caught wind of what happened. It was an absolute PR nightmare. She’s sent Christian an email with the entire footage and not just what was leaked. She was thankful he understood.

How did nobody understand what she’d been through? Why did they feel the need to make her feel worse?

She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t think.

Her tears had run out days ago. The lack of fluids in her body causing dehydration.

She’d gone dark. Nobody had heard from her. The boys only using their media platforms to make statements about how things needed to change and their positions.

They’d been gone for pre-season testing. She was staying with Hanna and Seb since the paddock felt like to much right now.

Nobody had heard from whatever this group was calling themselves now. Her fathers small army. More interestingly, everyone had yet to hear from Jos Verstappen. The man who’d been seen helping pin his son to the ground and get away without a scratch.

“It’s quiet without them.”

“If it gets to bad I can hop on a plane with you to go see them.”

She shook her head. Grateful for the offer, but they needed to focus.

Lando especially since he had to navigate another new teammate this year.

Sergio had taken over her spot permanently. Max had already driven with him for half a year, .so it wasn’t as new to him.

“Do you think I’ll ever get back to normal?”

Seb looks at her with fascination. “Normal is overrated. Bees are far from normal and they are great.”

“Are you really comparing me to a bee?”

“It’s not a comparison, it’s a compliment.”

~

They boys find themselves catching up with everyone in between sessions. The air around them trying to be calm but it was obvious there is a massive elephant in the room.

“Can we ask about what happened? Like are you three okay?” Asks Alex. He’d always had a kind nature and wants to make sure his friends had the support they need.

“Nothing much to say other then the media sucks.” Hisses Max. Everyone else nodding in agreement.

“Y/N is hiding now because people are ripping her to pieces.”

The grin that appears on George’s face doesn’t go unnoticed. “We could always make a bigger statement.”

“What would that entail?”

“If all twenty drivers stand as a united front then maybe people will start to listen.”

“And how exactly do we do that?”

“We boycott.”

~

The first race of the season is always an exciting moment. She felt like a child again creating her spot for the next two hours on the couch.

But when the television was turned on, the drivers were nowhere to be seen. There were no interviews. Nothing.

The commentary Box was doing nothing but singing her praises. Mentioning every victory and achievement she'd made in the sport.

Then, across the Grid, the drivers, her friends pratically her family, were holding a flag out with the words 'Self-defense is not murder. We stand woth Y/N.' Written across in bold letters.

But then her boys were not there.

No, they were on the podium with their own signs. All words about how the media needs to stop the hate.

She cried.

Seb and Hanna were smiling like idiots because they knew.

It hadn't taken much to get everyone on board. Only a few days to organize. The entire F1 grid, driver, teams, commentators, engineers, mechanics, team principles, are all standing as a united front on her behalf.

For the first time in weeks, her tears were of pure joy.

~

She went to the next race. Still out of the prying eyes of gossips. But she wanted to be there. Her place is in the racing world.

An hour before the race, Lando came running into the redbull garage with Charles in tow. Successfully scarring her and Max out of their chairs.

"You two look like I said we'd do your favorite things tonight. What did you do?" Max playfully glares at them, pulling a laugh from the female next to him.

"Look at it! It's the best thing I've ever read in my whole life!" Charles gestures to Lando's phone.

"Didn't you cry at shakespear and claim it was also the most beautiful thing you'd ever read?" The female quips.

"That was different. This isn't tragic."

Max takes Landos phone from him. The Brit look like he might pass out from the happiness.

Breaking: Jos Verstappen and US head of experimental sciences arrested for alleged kidnapping and attempted murder.

Her and Max stood in shock. This is a joke, right? There is no way they might get to love in peace.

"It's great right! Kind of- I'm not sure I guess how I should react. Are we happy or sad-" She shuts Lando up with a kiss.

"Best news ever."

The Redbull staff shoots them all confused glances as they crowd into Max's small driver room. The four of them need a moment with nothing but the fact they could potentially put this behind them and start moving toward better mental health.

They took a minute there, and then they ran to Christian. He dropped everything to tell the rest of the team.

Next came Carlos and Daniel. They cheered and hollered in joy for the four. The relief in their faces cause them to smile.

It wasn't long until the entire paddock knew.

But then it was time to race, and they had to leave each other's arms. Goodluck kisses on each if their foreheads.

While she waited for lights out, she called Seb.

"Did you see it?"

"See what?"

"They're gone. They're really gone." She chokes.

"That's amazing news! I take it you'll be celebrating tonight?" She can hear the suggestive wiggle if his eyebrows.

"Not sure yet. Everything is so ovedwhelming." She sighs. "I'm free now."

"Oh love, you were always free. I'm just glad you can see it now."

"It just felt like with him running around I couldn't breathe. Like he could appear at any moment."

"But you don't have to worry about that now. Whatever happens next we'll take it day by day, just ad we always have."

Step by step. Day by day.

They would figure it out.

All good things take time, and now it's finally her turn.

~

The trial was far too long for her liking. It took three days to pronounce him guilty, sentenced to life in prison for a shopping list of offenses. Some she didn't even know about.

It was never her fault her mother died during childbirth.

It was never her fault. None of it was. She was just made to believe she'd been to blame.

After the trial, she'd gotten a permanent position as a redbull strategist. A position she loves and intends on keeping for years to come.

Jos was sent to the Netherlands and also given jail time for his offenses. Max had sarcastically wished him well as the older Dutch was escorted out.

Now 2023 is in full swing. Only on race number four but it felt like it had been years.

Technically speaking, it had.

Seb, Hanna, Charles, Lando, Max.

They had gotten her through so much.

And as she lay with them. Their smiles wide as they recall funny stories from their past, she knows she is safe. She is loved in their arms.

This is not the end of her story.

After all, the end is just the door to a new beginning.

~

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