#‘maybe once you get a little distance you’ll miss them one day’

[robertsbarbie]

me telling my mother i think i actually want to do stuff for my birthday this year versus her casually saying she’s leaving for texas tomorrow or wednesday because she feels like my brother needs her 🧍🏼‍♀️

[f1goat]

not a chance + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando thinks he's going to win a race, to which you tell him the chances of you two fucking are as low as him winning a race - so what happens when he wins?

lando norris x fem!sainz reader tw: smut + not proof read (as usual)

masterlist - playlist

“I think this is going to be my day,” Lando tells your brother, Carlos, with a confident tone in his voice. “Maybe I’ll actually win today.”

You can’t help yourself and let out a soft laugh. “As if,” you mutter softly. You don’t expect anyone to pay attention to you, let alone hear your comment, but while looking at Lando you’re quick to realize that he did hear you. He is sending you an annoyed glare, while Carlos tries to tell you without words that you should shut up. Bit too late for that now. 

“Don’t believe me babygirl?” Lando asks you. The earlier confidence in his voice has disappeared and made place for a sarcastic tone, one Lando only uses with you. “Nope,” you say, making sure that you’re popping the p. 

“I’m not doing this again,” Carlos sighs while looking at his little sister and one of his best friends. Lando and you both know what he’s talking about, but neither of you is backing away. Lando is even getting closer towards you. “I’ll see you later,” Carlos continues, “hopefully after the two of you finally fixed the fucking sexual tension between you two.” 

It’s not a secret that Lando and you don’t like each other. You don’t know how it happened, where you were once almost as close with him as Carlos, things changed between you two. Friendly conversations changed into sarcastic, mean remarks meant to hurt to other one. Meeting up when Carlos couldn’t join changed into only seeing each other when Carlos dragged the both of you in the same place. Always texting with each other, sending memes towards each other eventually changed into ignoring each other on every social platform. 

Whatever happened to cause the change between Lando and you, has never been clear to you. Sometimes you blame yourself for taking a bit more distance when Lando got his first girlfriend, but eventually it was Lando who really changed his attitude towards you. Sometimes you miss how it was before, or better said every time you see Lando you miss how it was before. Even if you were fighting your feelings for him, it was better then acting like you hate him. Of course you don’t hate Lando, how could you - especially after crushing on him for the longest time. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the text that’s coming in. It’s from Carlos. When you’re done toying with Lando, I’m at Ferrari. Saved you a seat. You should go to him now, that would be the smart thing to do. But Lando is still standing closely in front of you. Carlos believes that something else is going on between Lando and you, something that’s according to him caused by romantic feelings, but according to you that’s bullshit. Your crush on Lando doesn’t exist anymore, right? 

“Funny to see the girl who believed in you the most turn into one of your biggest haters,” Lando mutters annoyed. He truly feels betrayed by the way you’re talking about him and the upcoming race. He means his earlier words. Sometimes he wonders how things would be between you two if he did some things different. A lot changed when he was dating his ex girlfriend, changes he can’t undo but he wants to fix them. If you’ll let him.

“Not a hater,” you reply, “just a realist.” 

“Just watch me babygirl,” Lando says, “I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.”

“And after the podium I’ll find you and show you what else I can do,” Lando continues. He almost sounds dangerous. It causes you to feel flustered. What is he talking about? 

“The chances of you’re winning the race are as low as the chances of us going to fuck,” you tell him as if it’s a fact, while in reality you’re not so sure about yourself. 

“Seems like a good celebration, I’ll find you after the race,” Lando says, he has found his confidence back. 

“You’re crazy,” you sigh, “I’m not listening to this any longer.”

“See you after the race babygirl,” Lando says when you walk away from him.

“You won’t.” 

+++

Fuck. Did this actually happen? You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you’re looking at Lando who’s screaming from happiness while getting out of his car. How did he actually win todays race? What does this mean? What is going to happen now? Is Lando expecting that you’ll have sex with him now? Fuck. 

You see the way your brother is hugging with Lando, how happy he is for his friend. It makes you think about how you felt before. Every time Lando stood on the podium you’d beam with pride, you love(d) seeing him on the podium. It was you who always told Lando that he would be standing on the top step soon and that you’d be there to celebrate with him. How things changed. 

While looking at Lando who’s still celebrating with his team, you think back about the day things really went wrong between Lando and you. It has been months before it all crashed down, months filled up with weird tension and uncomfortable moments. Which all started when Lando got a girlfriend. You can’t blame him for that, you still don’t, but you just didn’t like her. Maybe it was because of your crush on Lando, maybe it was because his girlfriend sensed something and made sure that Lando and you couldn’t spend any time together anymore. 

“You don’t get it Lando,” you tell him, “I never get to see you anymore, you’re always busy and don’t make time for me anymore. What changed? Are you bored of me? Am I not fun enough to be your friend anymore?” 

“No, that’s not it,” Lando quickly says, “I just don’t have the time anymore.”

“You seem to have time for everyone expect for me,” you bitterly state, “I’m not stupid, I see how you’re traveling all around the world to meet up with every friend you have.”

“It’s different,” Lando defends himself. 

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” you sigh, “since you’re in a relationship everything changed between us.” 

Lando knew at that moment that he should tell you the truth. How he only agreed to his relationship so he could forget about his feelings for you, but he doesn’t dare to say so. And now he’s in a relationship with a weird influencer who seems to hate you and who doesn’t ‘allow’ him to see you anymore. He really should break up with her, but what will happen then?

“It’s just that she doesn’t like you,” Lando eventually tells you, “and as her boyfriend I need to chose her side, I guess?”

“So that’s it? Your girlfriend, from two months, doesn’t like me so you just decided to stop spending time with me, your friend from multiple years?” You ask confused. This time you don’t wait for Lando to continue. “That’s just, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. Good to know my worth,” you continue sadly. 

After his confession which still wasn’t the whole story, Lando didn’t know what to say anymore. He watched how you left, but didn’t follow you to make things right. Maybe it’s for the better for now. There’s nothing he can do for now. He has a girlfriend, he needs to forget about his feelings for you and move on. 

Two hours later he broke up with his girlfriend, but then he was already blocked by you. 

After Lando celebrated with his team, almost all the other drivers and everyone else who congratulated him, you’re waiting for him to get on the podium. You feel weird while watching Lando on the podium. There’s a part of you who’s incredibly proud of him, a part that wants nothing more then to run over to Lando and hug him and tell him how proud you are of him. The other side of you is only thinking about what will happen next. 

When Lando is standing on the podium, you can’t stop thinking about how hot he looks. When Carlos finds his place next to you and watches Lando with you, he notices the way you keep looking at his best friend. “I really wouldn’t be mad if there would happen something between Lando and you,” Carlos tells you for the millionth time. “You’re crazy,” you reply annoyed. 

What Carlos and you both don’t notice is the way Lando is looking for you from the podium. When you look up again, you lock eyes with Lando. He sends you a wink. Fuck. 

After the podium you walk away together with Carlos, you want nothing more then get back to the hotel and sleep. This day was confusing and long, you can’t wait for it to end. Lando notices you walking away, without thinking about it he walks away from the press and starts to get towards you. He hurries and almost runs towards you. When he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter when you feel someone grabbing your arm. Surprised you stop walking and look behind you. You don’t even know if you are surprised or not when you notice that it’s Lando. 

“You’re coming with me,” Lando tells you with a stern voice. Carlos looks confused at the two of you. You can only sigh. What are you going to say to this? You really don’t know. Slowly you nod at Lando, confusing your brother only more. Lando is quick to say a goodbye to Carlos and starts to walk off with you. 

+++

Lando dropped you in his drivers room. He still has media duties, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave in the mean time. While giving interviews and talking with everyone, his mind is focused on you. He can only hope that you’re still waiting for him. 

In the mean time you keep thinking about what to do. You’re stressed out because of everything that’s happening. What will happen when Lando comes back from his interviews? Are the two of you going to talk things out and finally make it right? Or are you going to fight? Or is Lando actually for real and does he wants to fuck you? 

Eventually the stress makes you crazy. You decide to call your brother. Who knows for how long Lando is busy, you really need to talk with someone about this and who’s better then one of Lando his best friends? You know that your brother knows about your earlier feelings for Lando, so you can only hope that he will help you now. What if your feelings return? Or better said, what if you finally realize that they have never left?

“Carlos you really need to help me,” you start to speak when Carlos picks up.

“No, no, you need to tell me what’s going on between Lando and you! He left an interview to pick you up and now he’s doing interviews again? Where are you?” Carlos reacts.

“I’m in his drivers room,” you confess, “but I don’t know what will happen between us.” After that you explain to your brother what happened earlier today when he left Lando and you alone. Carlos chuckles when you tell him about Lando his bold replies. 

“What do you want to happen?” Carlos asks you eventually.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. 

“You do know,” Carlos replies, “you’re just not honest to yourself. But we both know that you’re still in love with Lando.”

Before you can react to those words, Lando is entering his drivers room. You can only pray that he didn’t hear anything from what Carlos just said. “Lando’s here,” you tell Carlos on the phone, “I’ll talk to you later.” Before hanging up you hear Carlos say something childish in the lines of ‘doing it safe’. As if Lando wants something like that to happen you think annoyed.

“What am I doing here Lando?” You ask. 

“I’m getting my reward,” Lando tells you with a small smirk on his face. 

“Your reward?” You ask confused. 

“The chances of you winning the race are as low as the chances of us having sex,” Lando speaks up, “Remember those words babygirl?” 

“What do you want Lando?” You ask him. 

“You.”

Lando his answer makes you shiver. His following movements make it only worse. Without giving it a second thought, Lando pulls you into himself. His finger is under your chin, softly lifting it up for himself. He looks you into your eyes, searching for some sort of approval before he continues with his movements. When you show him a quick nod, he’s sure about it. Lando presses his lips against yours. 

Fuck, you can’t remember the last time a kiss felt so good. Now that you think of it, a kiss probably never felt this good before. It feels like everything is finally falling into it’s place. Lando pulls you as close into himself as he can manage. Your lips don’t leave his. When you feel Lando his hands on your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Lando feels it vibrate against his own. Slowly he pulls back from you. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he doesn’t stop looking at you. 

“What is it babygirl?” He asks you. It’s the first time in a year that the nickname feels sweet instead of sarcastic. 

“Do something please,” you beg. 

Lando is quick to respond to your pleas. His hands find your body. Slowly he explores your curves while he presses some soft kisses on your neck, shoulders and face in the mean time. When Lando his hands are getting lower, you’re quick to lift up your skirt for him. Lando smirks when he notices it. 

“What do you want me to do?” Lando asks you. 

“If you can win,” you softly say, “then you also can fuck me I guess.”

This time Lando doesn’t hide his excitement anymore. He shows you an enthusiastic grin and moves away from you. Before you can complain, he’s already sitting in front of you. He takes off your skirt and starts to trace figures onto your still clothed cunt. He feels how your string is already damp. 

“You guess?” Lando asks you. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him, “just fuck me already.”

Lando removes your string from your body. He moves his head closely to your cunt and presses a soft kiss against your clit. He’s in conflict with himself, he wants to take his time with you and show you exactly what he has to offer but he also just wants to fuck you right now until the both of you are lost for words. 

“Lan,” you whimper.

“Can’t I take my time with you babygirl?” Lando asks you teasingly. In the mean time he pulls down his race suit and boxers. 

“Next time,” you reply.

It makes Lando’s heart miss a beat. You’re thinking about a next time? His smile gets bigger again. He pulls you closer to him and aligns his dick with your entrance. You grab his hair in the mean time and try to get Lando closer towards yourself so you can kiss him again. When Lando lets his dick enter your body, it causes you to let out a loud moan. 

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “waited fucking four years to feel this.”

You barely hear him. Lando his words surprise you. Four years ago the two of you just met. At that time Carlos just got Lando as his new teammate. What does Lando mean with this. Before you can make things more clear for yourself, Lando continues to speak.

“Always wanted to fuck you,” Lando grunts, “Always thought about fucking you.”

Does this mean what you think it means? 

“What about..” You start to ask. “Don’t say her name,” Lando is quick to interrupt you. How does he already know that you’re talking about his ex? “Only got with her so I could forget you,” he confesses. 

“Fuck,” you moan, you don’t know but after Lando his sudden confession the sex feels even ten times better then before. “Always wanted you to fuck me as well,” you confess. 

That makes Lando slow down. 

“Waited four years for you,” you continue to confess.

This time Lando stops moving inside of you. 

“Are you serious babygirl?” Lando asks confused. 

“Yes,” you softly tell Lando, “I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.”

Lando grins, “That’s good,” he says, “Really good.” He picks up his earlier pace and continues to fuck you. When the both of you reached your high, Lando carefully pulls back. He pulls you onto himself. Holding you as close towards himself as he can. 

“Four years right?” You ask Lando. 

“Four years,” he replies with a nod. 

The both of you let out a soft laugh. Suddenly nobody cares about what happened between you two in the last year. Sure, you will talk about it some time. But not now. Lando presses a kiss against your cheek. 

“Did you really think I couldn’t get a win today?” Lando suddenly asks you. 

“Lan,” you softly say, “I always believed you could get a win everywhere.” 

“That’s a girlfriend thing to say,” Lando jokes, “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Do you want me to be?” 

“There’s nothing more I want to,” Lando confesses.

“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend,” you laugh. Lando kisses you again. 

“Let’s grab dinner with your brother,” Lando suggests, “and after that I want you in my hotel room so I can take my time with you.” 

“Deal.”

y/n: want to get dinner with me and my boyfriend?

y/n: he’s a race winner ;)

carlos: finally

[fastandcarlos]

My Home : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: the journey of how your long distance relationship is reunited once again 🛬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, ynusername and 892,742 others

carlossainz55: day 50 of missing my best friend and all the little ordinary things that she somehow made feel extraordinary ✨⛅️

42,068 comments

username1: it’s so impressive how these two make long distance work so well 🥹

ynusername: can’t wait to come home and be back with you again 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername just a few more days to go amor 🥺

username2: is it bad that I’m also counting down the days until they’re reunited again??

danielricciardo: you two are incredible managing to keep things going even though you’re so far apart 👏🏻

username3: carlos always knows how to break our hearts with a soft caption 💔

charles_leclerc: you’ve managed to do a really subtle job of letting us all know how much you miss her 😂

username4: the fact that he trusts her enough to cook with her too…

alexandrasaintmleux: if it makes you feel any better I also can’t wait for yn to be home 🥳

username5: can’t wait for these two to be back together again and blessing us with content!

landonorris: I keep telling you that we can go for coffee together but you don’t listen!

carlossainz55: @/landonorris there are certain things that just aren’t the same with you 🫢

username6: 50 whole damn days since we last saw the dream team side by side 😭

georgerussell63: and here I am thinking a week is a long time to be without my girl…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, lilyzneimer and 113,048 others

ynusername: day 64 of being away from your handsome face. can’t wait for beach days like these once again soon 🩵

15,897 comments

username7: sorry yn but do you expect me to be okay after posting that middle photo!?

charles_leclerc: btw he’s had a countdown going down on his phone everyday since you left 😂

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc embarrassed to say I’ve got one too, on my home screen as well 😊

username8: please someone just end their suffering already and reunite them 💕

maxverstappen1: pls come and get your man soon, fed up of dealing with his lovesick whining 😝

username9: how anyone could survive being away from that handsome face is beyond me 😂

landonorris: just to clarify, you’re talking about carlos’ handsome face…you never know, it could be mine 😇

ynusername: @/landonorris as happy as I am to see you soon, it’s definitely carlos’ 😂

username10: he really is the definition of a soft boyfriend isn’t he…

alexandrasaintmleux: cannot wait to see your beautiful face opposite me at a coffee table soon ☕️

username11: over two months they’ve been apart and now in a matter of days they’ll be together again, like a fairytale ✨

carlossainz55: home is ready and waiting for you, as are my open arms 🫂🥰

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I can’t wait to be back in your hold again 😍

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 128,069 others

ynusername: race day -1, settling down for my last race away from home, you got this darling ❤️🏎️

17,492 comments

carlossainz55: sorry that I couldn’t bring home the win love, maybe next time when you’re back there with me 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 ik you were secretly holding on so I got to be there in person 😂❤️

username12: I can’t begin to tell you how happy this post makes me knowing you’ll be home soon 🥺

username13: now this is the kinda setup I need for race day!!

carmenmmundt: wish I was there to snuggle under that blanket with you

lilymhe: @/carmenmmundt I’ve already bagsied the blanket for movie night when yn’s home 😘

username14: notice how it’s carlos in the lead with yn watching too ☺️

charles_leclerc: thank god I don’t have to deal with his moping around without you for anymore races 🙌🏻

georgerussell63: petition for you to make hot chocolate for all of us when you’re back in the paddock too 😏

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 not a chance with how needy you guys are 😂

username15: it’s adorable how yn has always made sure to be watching the races even though she’s away with work

landonorris: I’ve lost count of how many times he’s told me that you’ll be at the next race, he’s so excited yn!!

username16: their interactions somehow melt my heart every single time they update 🫠

danielricciardo: on behalf of every driver, please save us from carlos telling us how much he misses you constantly asap

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 1,583,293 others

charles_leclerc: my last few days of filling the large yn shaped hole that has been in my sweetie’s life ❤️🥹

104,587 comments

username17: I’m not ready to say goodbye to this pairing soon 😭

ynusername: thank you for taking such great care of my best friend leclerc ❤️

username18: charles has somehow become carlos’ emotional support system over the past couple of months lmao

danielricciardo: I also don’t think I’m stable enough for this bromance to end just yet…

username19: I’m sure yn is beyond grateful for the fact that carlos has had you by his side charles

carlossainz55: what would I do without my honey right by my side!?

username20: I’ve got high expectations for alex next time yn has to go on a work trip 😂

landonorris: guessing that carlando means nothing to you anymore then @/carlossainz55

carlossainz55: @/landonorris every time I came to you you just laughed in my face remember?? 🙄

username21: why do I get the feeling yn is coming home just to be a third wheel…

alexandrasaintmleux: can you boys just get a room and have done with it please 🤦🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc: @/alexandrasaintmleux just tell us you’re jealous without telling us you’re jealous

username22: the way he just calls him sweetie as if that’s the norm 🥹

alex_albon: please come and meet me to pass on all your tips and advice for next year 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial and 129,573 others

ynusername: day 1 of being back in my favourite place on earth…home 🏡❤️

21,958 comments

carlossainz55: the house finally feels like a home again with you back inside 💕

username23: I can’t believe they’re finally back together again, this is so exciting!!

charles_leclerc: welcome home yn!! can’t wait to catch up with you this weekend!!

username24: apparently carlos was front of the line at arrivals making sure he got to her as quick as he could 😭

scuderiaferrari: we’re looking forward to welcoming you back into the garage this weekend ❤️

ynusername: @/scuderiaferrari can’t wait to catch up with the whole team and watch a race again!!

landonorris: I’m happy you’re reunited but I’m more happy that he’s finally gonna have a smile on his face again

username25: the way he carries her suitcase so effortlessly has me all kinds of giddy

georgerussell63: welcome back to monaco, we’ve all missed you so much!

username26: I’ve never been more excited for two people that I don’t even know…

maxverstappen1: he cancelled our game of padel today for this…I’ll let him off just this once 😂

ynusername: @/maxversrappen1 if you ask carlos he’ll say it’s definitely worth it 😂

username27: this means we finally get to see yn back at race weekend again 🎉

alexandrasaintmleux: I need to see you asap, missed you so much 💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 124,068 others

ynusername: reunited with my second home, I forgot how good red looked on me. good luck to the best team on the grid this weekend, so happy to be back and cheer you on in person 🫶🏻☺️

22,604 comments

username28: damn we really did miss seeing you at a race weekend yn 🏎️

carlossainz55: you have no idea how happy I am to have you back with me again 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I bet it’s just as happy as I am to be back with you and the team again ✨

username29: hoping for a great result this weekend now that carlos has you back again

landonorris: patiently waiting for you to come and visit me, or do you plan on betraying me like carlos did??

ynusername: @/landonorris I promise I will come and see you at some point this week 🫂

username30: what are we supposed to do when red no longer is your colour next year??

danielricciardo: you must be pretty close to trying on every colour of the grid now 😂

carmenmmundt: um excuse me there better be a carmen plan somewhere in your schedule for this weekend 👀

username31: the camera somehow focused on you more than the cars in quali today 😂

oscarpiastri: it was lovely to finally meet you after hearing SO SO many stories about you!

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I can only apologise for how much he talks about me ☺️

username32: the moment we’ve all been waiting for for so long 🤩

username33: please never leave us for a race weekend without you ever again!!

charles_leclerc: this has by far already been my most peaceful race weekend in a very long time all thanks to you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, ynusername and 1,048,271 others

carlossainz55: turns out my lucky charm really was the missing piece all along. thank you my love for coming back home and bringing me the luck I needed to be top of the podium again 🏆😍

89,473 comments

username34: does this mean that yn is never allowed to leave for a race ever again???

charles_leclerc: couldn’t be prouder of the race you put together this weekend, good job sweetie!!

username35: we’re all so proud of you carlos and your lucky charm 🫶🏻

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on such an amazing result carlos, the whole team is so proud of you ❤️🏎️

username36: he really was waiting for the moment for when yn could be there to celebrate too 😭

georgerussell63: that was incredible, saving your best for your girlfriend I see 😉

alex_albon: smashed it my friend, there was no catching you today 🚀

username37: this weekend has just reminded me just how much I adore these two humans!!

landonorris: buzzing to see you back where you belong on that top step mi amigo

username38: yn has to stick around forever now if she’s a lucky charm!

danielricciardo: it’s funny the effect a loved one can have isn’t it!? we all knew you were racing just to impress yn anyway 😂

username39: this weekend really couldn’t have gone more perfectly 😭

ynusername: I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you were waiting for me 😂

carlossainz55: @/ynusername a race win isn’t a win without you by my side 💕

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[trustmypoison]

SVT with a crush on their best friend

Genre: overwhelmingly fluffy with a tiny bit of angst

A/N: I guess this is the next unofficial installment of the crush series. If you liked this, you might also like the SVT with a crush and SVT with a cautious crush/partner.

Seungcheol

You might have a guess because not a single partner you’ve ever had is good enough. He’s very protective and maybe even a little possessive. He tries to stuff down that second emotion because there’s no room for it in your friendship, but it will eat him alive inside that he can't have you. He’ll try to move on and date other people, but nothing really sticks. He represses the urge to say something to you because he feels like it’ll all be over the moment he does.

What would make him confess: Say you’re taking a recent breakup pretty hard. He supports you and is there for you, but has such little patience for you claiming that it’s all your fault. He’s blurting out something a little too close to a confession in the heat of the moment. To his credit, once it’s out though, it’s out and he won’t try to walk it back. If you feel the same, he’d be a little perturbed that he didn’t just say something sooner.

Jeonghan

You may never know, only because he is incredible at hiding it behind all of his joking and teasing. Is he making fun of you because he likes you or because he’s your worst enemy? Depends on the day it feels like. He really is okay with the way things are most days. He’s not a very jealous person, so he’ll act the same as he always does if he sees you with someone else. But if there was ever a hint of mutual attraction, he’d play into it in a heartbeat and it might lead to a FWB sort of thing. 

What would make him confess: He can’t really hide behind all of the jokes when he’s in bed with you. He finds himself bearing his soul without realizing it. He’ll try to walk it back later and say it’s no big deal, but would actually be pretty relieved if you felt the same.

Joshua

Your biggest supporter. Never misses your phone call or text and always shows up for plans. To be clear, he would have done that even if he didn’t have feelings for you, but he’s not going to squander a single opportunity to talk to you or spend time with you. This is one that might try to test the waters a bit as soon as he realizes his feelings and comes to terms with them. It’s not like he never touches you but his touches might begin to linger here and there. And it’s not like he never compliments you, but you’ll hear more of them than you usually do. 

What would make him confess: If testing the waters yields any results, he might find the right time to say something. If his touches or compliments fluster you or make you smile a little wider, he’ll keep it coming until it feels right. 

Jun

Gets a little distant after he has that ‘oh’ moment. He’s so confused by how he felt one way yesterday and another way today. He might hide a bit behind work as an excuse and when he can’t anymore, he does his best to not let his confusion for you show. But he’s awkward and you’re wondering what you’ve done to make him act this way. He’ll deny that he’s being awkward and the distance might grow even more. 

What would make him confess: If he hears you’re seeing someone else, it might drive him to finally say something. He’s initially hurt that you didn’t tell him you were seeing someone, but he knows he has no right because he’s been avoiding your calls and texts. Instead, he’s afraid he’s lost his chance AND ruined a friendship. He shows up at your door to recover what he can. In the word vomit of an apology, he might mention his feelings and he wouldn’t even realize he’s said it until you confirm your own feelings for him.

Hoshi

Talk about a 180. He goes from being glued to your side to blushing bright red at the smallest smile from you. The shift is undeniable and when you ask him if he’s feeling okay he stutters out a yes. You think it’s cute, but you don’t want to push him. He could never avoid you, but he’s such a nervous wreck around you lately that he’s kind of convinced he’s already ruined whatever shot he might have had. He’s so stressed about how dumb he looks in front of you that he’s not noticing how much you’re enjoying his newly-found crush and sometimes just doing those little things to see him flounder a bit. 

What would make him confess: Nothing. You’re going to have to do this part. He’ll be shocked and will need a minute to wrap his head around it. He walks away from that conversation in a daze so bad that he doesn’t even remember when you said your date was and he has to text you later to ask you.

Wonwoo

You may never know and that’s entirely by design. He sometimes acts like it’s a hard thing to be your friend, but please don’t be hurt by that. He just isn’t sure how to articulate how important you are to him. So he tends to wear an impassive mask around you, but it doesn’t fool you much because he still calls and texts and shows up to your hangouts and you know he wouldn’t do any of that if he didn’t care for you.

What would make him confess: This is another one where you’re going to have to do it. He’s not brave enough to wear his heart on his sleeves and risk getting rejected and ruining the friendship. But if you come to him with your heart on your sleeves? He’ll put your mind at ease in a split second. 

Woozi

Another one that wears a mask of exhaustion at being your friend. Well - not as much of a mask as you think, because it really is exahusting to JUST be your friend. He’s filled notebooks with lyrics about you and he always lets you read them. To his immense frustration, no matter how many little specific hints he puts in those lyrics, you never seem to get that it’s about you. His group members know and everytime he presents a new song to them, they ask if it worked. ‘No’, he’ll huff and try to move on with his day. Another song added to the stack. 

What would make him confess: He’s had a hard day of practice and comes over to relax. He plops his notebook into your lap and you’ll flip it open to read the newest entry. You’ll compliment him like you always do and tell him whoever it’s about is a lucky person and he’ll just lose it. He might call you dense in his passionate confession, but you’re too busy thinking about how many words fill this notebook and all the notebooks before. Needless to say, you’re touched once all of this clicks.

DK

Literally nothing changes when he realizes because he’s one of the sweetest people no matter what. He’s already spending all of his spare time with you and paying for your meals when you hang out and buying you little things that remind him of you. And he’s already pretty clingy with you. The only difference is that he might feel a little shy about initaiting that physical contact when he wasn’t shy about it before. 

What would make him confess: If you ever make a comment that he’s like this with everyone, he’ll question everything because he’s into YOU, not everyone else. He might even consult one of his members for advice because he’s afraid he’s been giving you the wrong impression ever since he’s realized his feelings. They’ll encourage him to just tell you how he feels. He’ll find an eloquent yet sweet way to say it and it’d be kind of crazy not to give him a chance since he was already acting like your boyfriend anyway.

Mingyu

Now he’s a bit of a jealous person. But he wasn’t always with you. Say you two like to set each other up or play wingman/wingwoman while you two are out. He’s set you up with someone dozens of times and rooted for you each time. But if one of those little hookups goes a little too well for you, he’s finding he wished he never introduced you to this new person. He flounders a little with these newfound feelings and might live in denial for a hot minute. 

What would make him confess: If this new person sticks around for even a moment too long, they’ll know it because Mingyu will be an absolute ass to them. If it runs them off and you get mad about it, he might just spill his guts. You’ll be surprised, but his jealousy is almost cute if only for the fact that you’ve never seen it before. 

Minghao

He’s on both team ‘you’ll never know’ and team ‘exhuasted to be your friend’. You know he cares for you but he’s so careful to never let you know how much, lest he start spilling all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’s another one that is usually okay with how things are and wouldn’t change them. But sometimes those feelings crush him a way that is hard to handle. 

What would make him confess: Alcohol removes him from both of the above mentioned teams. If he goes out drinking with the members and overdoes it a little, when you come and pick him up, he’s not the usual reserved Minghao. He’s chatty, talking your ear off the whole way home about tonight’s escapades - one member falling out of their seat, or one member making a fool of themself on the dance floor, or one member getting brutally shut down by someone they asked out. Without thinking he says that last story is the only reason he won’t say anything to you about his feelings. The next morning, you ask him if he has anything to confess while sober and he finally comes clean. 

Seungkwan

He has three modes really. The first one is doing little things for you like showing up with coffee, or getting up to flip your laundry while he’s over and you’re busy, or showing up to your work with lunch on a free afternoon when he knows you’re too busy to get anything yourself. The second is nagging, but coincidentally about the little things he’s doing for you - ‘you should really back off of the coffee’, or ‘you need to be eating a balanced meal’. The third is firm denial for any thanks you might give for his care and consideration in the first two modes. He doesn’t want to hear it if only because it reminds him of how he’d like to do this forever.

What would make him confess: Nothing specific, he’s just been waiting for the right time for a very long time, but it will finally present itself during a quiet night in. His confession will be serious and rather eloquent and it will finally click why he acts the way he does sometimes. 

Vernon

So fucking casual about it. Yeah, he likes you. Yeah, you’re one of his best friends. So? You think he’s going to do anything about it? Of course not. Another one that is totally okay with how things are now and wouldn’t dream of changing it. You’d still be one of his best friends even if you were dating. It drives his members that know about his little crush crazy, especially if they can see that the feelings are mutual. 

What would make him confess: It’ll be his members. They’ll make a comment in front of you that is unmistakeable in its meaning and later you just have to ask. To his credit, he’s incredibly casual about saying it to your face too, mostly because he means it when he promises it’s okay if you don’t return his feelings and nothing has to change. He wouldn’t be so causal if you said you returned his feelings though. He might even thank his members later for being the push he needed to finally have the conversation.

Chan

This is another one that will test the waters once he gets over the initial shock. And by test the waters, I mean he will never stop flirting with you. It feels like it came out of left field, because it did. His members might even warn him that he’s coming on a bit strong, but he won’t stop unless it seems like you’re uncomfortable. If you even remotely match his energy, he’d be overjoyed. 

What would make him confess: He can flirt with you no problem, but he can’t find the right words to say to you, so he won’t. You’ll have to be the one to ask him why he’s suddenly changed. To some extent, he’ll dance around the topic, but you’ll get the point. If you make a move or hint that you want him to make a move, he probably will. He’s just waiting for you to give him a sign.

[girlrotterr]

So glad you’re back, missed your amazing writing a lot!

Would it be possible to make something about maybe the reader getting bit and infected , but Ellie instead of killing them just kind of ..keeps them?

Like she refuses to lose anyone else , too many people she knew lost themselves to the infected and she just can’t shoot them, and despite their pleas for Ellie to just put them down, yknow before they’re fully infected, Ellie just can’t do it

It’s selfish and she knows that but she just can’t lose R . And maybe when R is like, fully infected, they’re way less aggressive with Ellie- like even with the fungus controlling their brain, those foggy eyes still recognize Ellie just a little bit, like they’re still there

Or maybe that’s what Ellie believes and she’s just majorly delusional! It’s not like she could get infected if we bit them anyway 😁

(P.S I’m glad you’re back but don’t feel any pressure to do anything you don’t want to! It’s always nice to keep balance and take breaks and all that. really love what you do!)

This literally made my day! tsym for this request, it was gut-wrenching to write...I definitely need to write more angst 😭

The air in the room felt stifling, thick with tension and the lingering smell of antiseptic. You knelt beside Ellie, carefully cleaning the dirt and dried blood from her arm, your hands steady despite the unease crawling up your spine. Her skin was cold to the touch, and you could feel the thinness of her frame—she hadn’t been eating. Her face was hollow, eyes glassy as she stared blankly at the peeling wallpaper, as if the world beyond had ceased to matter.

"You need food," you said quietly, dabbing at the worst of her wounds. "If you don’t, you’ll collapse before you even make it out of this place."

Your voice barely stirred the silence. Ellie’s jaw tightened, but she gave no other sign that she heard you. You reached for the bandages to wrap the gash along her arm, but just as your fingers brushed the edge of her sleeve, she pulled back, standing abruptly. The bed creaked as she rose, putting space between you, her body tense like a spring ready to snap.

She moved to the window, staring out into the rain-soaked streets, her reflection barely visible in the glass. One hand rose to her forehead, pressing hard as if she could push away the weight bearing down on her. "I’m leaving tonight," she murmured, her voice flat but filled with quiet finality.

You rose slowly, watching her closely. "Ellie…" you began, but the words felt heavy, caught in your throat. "You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you."

The sound of your words seemed to break something loose in her, and she let out a dry, humorless laugh. It was bitter, the kind of laugh that had nothing to do with amusement. "No, you’re not," she said, turning halfway to glance at you. Her eyes flickered with something cold and distant. "This isn’t about you. You stay here. I don’t need you following me."

Her words cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but her posture warned you to keep your distance. She ran a hand through her hair, the strands falling messily around her face, the exhaustion clear in the way her body sagged, but she kept standing. Kept moving. Kept fighting.

Finally, she turned fully, her eyes locking onto yours with a steely resolve. The warmth that had once been there—the fire, the connection—was gone. Replaced by something hollow, something hardened by too much loss. The person you were staring at was Ellie, but at the same time, it wasn’t her. Her expression was almost unreadable, the kind of cold determination that refused to be questioned.

"You don’t know what this is," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything unsaid. "You don’t want any part of it." Her gaze was icy, her eyes daring you to argue. Daring you to stop her.

And in that moment, you realized the Ellie standing before you was not the same girl who once trusted you with her secrets, her fears. She had become something else, someone chasing after something that only she could see.

The rain outside drummed softly against the cracked windowpane, its steady rhythm the only sound filling the suffocating quiet between you and Ellie. She had turned away from you again, facing the door now, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets like they were holding her together. But you weren’t going to let her leave. Not like this.

"I am coming with you, Ellie," you said, your voice firmer this time. "You can’t do this alone."

She stiffened, her shoulders hunching slightly, like the weight of your words was too much to bear. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t say anything, the tension between you thickening with every passing second. The space between you felt like a chasm, widening with each breath.

"I told you to stay," she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice low but trembling at the edges. Her hands gripped the fabric of her jacket inside the pockets, knuckles white, though you couldn’t see it. "This isn’t your fight."

"You think I care about that?" you shot back, stepping closer, trying to catch her eye. "You think I’m going to stand by and let you run off into God knows what? You’ll get yourself killed out there."

She let out another bitter laugh, but this time it was shakier, less certain, like she was using it as a shield. "I’ll be fine," she said, though the words felt hollow, more for her benefit than yours. She shifted slightly, her back still to you, and you could see her hands twitch inside her pockets. Her whole body was rigid, but there was a tremor running through her, something she was desperately trying to hide.

You stepped forward, your voice softening but still determined. "No, you won’t. You haven’t slept, haven’t eaten. You’re barely holding on, Ellie." The words hung in the air between you, and you could feel the weight of them sinking in.

"Stop it," she snapped suddenly, her voice cracking at the edges as she turned halfway, but still not fully meeting your eyes. Her hands were shaking now, slight but noticeable, and she shoved them deeper into her pockets, as if that would make the tremors disappear. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you pressed, not backing down. "Tell me why you won’t let me come with you. Why you keep pushing me away."

Her gaze darted to the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was breathing faster now, the tremble in her voice more pronounced, and her whole frame seemed to sag under the weight of your words. But still, she didn’t look at you. She couldn’t.

"Because…" she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but then she swallowed hard, shaking her head, as if trying to force the words back down. She ran a hand through her hair again, her fingers trembling as they got caught in the messy strands, her breath shallow.

She took a step toward the door, her movements almost frantic, her back still turned. "You don’t get it," she muttered, her voice fragile. "If you come with me…"

Her voice broke completely, and she clenched her fists so hard inside her pockets that you could see her arms tense up. She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t even face you, her entire body vibrating with barely contained emotion. You could feel the distance between you growing, and yet, you knew she was right there—right on the edge of something she didn’t want to admit.

"Ellie," you said gently, stepping closer until you were just behind her. "You don’t have to do this alone. You can’t keep shutting people out."

She took a deep breath, as if trying to steel herself, but it wasn’t working. The more she tried to keep her voice steady, the more it trembled, betraying her. "I have to," she whispered, her voice so small, so fragile that it barely sounded like her. "I can’t… I can’t lose anyone else."

The confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, one tug away from snapping, and your heart clenched. She still wouldn’t look at you, her eyes glued to the door, as if staring at it would keep her from unraveling. Her hands slipped from her pockets, fingers twitching at her sides now, shaking uncontrollably.

"Ellie…" you whispered, taking a step closer, but she flinched, turning away sharply, like she couldn’t bear your presence. Her breathing had quickened, shallow and uneven, and her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. 

"I can’t… I can’t lose you too," she choked out finally, the words spilling out like they had been forced from somewhere deep inside her, where she had buried them. She bit her lip, hard, as if punishing herself for saying it out loud, as if the very act of speaking it made it real.

Her hands balled into fists again, trembling as she pressed them against her sides. She was shaking now, her entire body vibrating with the fear she couldn’t voice, the grief she refused to let surface. But it was there, seeping out through every crack, every tremor. And she couldn’t hide it anymore.

She wouldn’t look at you—couldn’t—but you could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and the way she blinked rapidly to hold them back. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, raw and broken. "If you come with me… something will happen. I know it. I’ll lose you too." 

There it was. The truth she had been too terrified to say, the fear she had been carrying with her all this time. The fear that had kept her running, kept her distant, kept her cold. She wasn’t just afraid of losing more people—she was afraid of losing you.

You stood there, your heart aching for her, wanting to reach out and tell her it was okay—that you understood. But you knew that right now, she couldn’t handle that. Not when she was so close to breaking.

She turned away again, her shoulders hunched, her body trembling as she fought to keep herself together. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just… stay. Don’t make me say goodbye to you too."

The silence that followed was suffocating, and you knew in that moment, she wasn’t just asking you to stay behind. She was asking you to save her from the heartbreak she feared was inevitable. To stop her from speaking her worst fears into existence. 

The morning was overcast, the kind of gray that settled over everything, turning the world dull and lifeless. You and Ellie walked side by side through the empty town, your footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet streets. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the dampness still lingered in the air, making everything feel heavy and cold. Your breath came out in short, visible puffs, mingling with the mist that clung to the abandoned buildings around you.

Ellie was quiet, her gaze fixed ahead as she led the way, rifle slung over her shoulder. The tension from the night before still lingered between you, a quiet undercurrent that neither of you had fully addressed. But for now, there were more immediate concerns—supplies, food, anything that could keep you both going for another few days. The last town had been picked clean, and this one didn’t look much better.

You passed by boarded-up storefronts, windows cracked and shattered, their interiors dark and hollow. The signs above them had long faded, the paint chipped and peeling, a reminder of a life long abandoned. Ellie didn’t say a word, but her movements were sharp, purposeful, her eyes scanning every alley, every shadow. She was on edge, though she tried to hide it. 

As you walked, the distant sound of creaking metal caught your attention. A rusted-out sign swung lazily in the wind above an old convenience store. The windows were grimy, impossible to see through, but it didn’t look like it had been touched in a while. 

"Let’s check in there," you suggested, nodding toward the building. Ellie gave a curt nod in response, her lips pressed tightly together, and without a word, she moved toward the door, her boots scuffing against the wet pavement. She reached for the handle, testing it cautiously, and the door creaked open with a low groan, the hinges rusted from neglect.

Inside, the air was musty, thick with the scent of mold and decay. Shelves lined the walls, though most were bare, their contents either stolen or long expired. Sunlight barely filtered through the grime-covered windows, casting everything in a muted, grayish light. Ellie stepped in first, her hand already hovering near her pistol, her eyes sharp and scanning the dim interior. You followed close behind, your heartbeat quickening slightly in the eerie stillness of the place.

You moved toward the back of the store, eyes scanning the shelves for anything useful—canned food, medical supplies, anything that might help. Ellie moved along the opposite side, her footsteps deliberate, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

The quiet between you both was almost oppressive, but you could sense her tension with every move she made, like she was barely holding herself together. Her fingers twitched as they traced the edge of a dusty shelf, her breathing shallow but controlled. The rawness from last night was still fresh, unspoken, hanging heavy in the air, but neither of you knew how to address it.

Your gaze drifted toward her as she rifled through a half-empty bin, her face partially hidden under the hood of her jacket. There was something about the way she moved now—faster, more determined, as if keeping herself busy could drown out whatever thoughts were haunting her. But the slight tremor in her hands as she reached for a tin can gave her away.

"Ellie," you said softly, breaking the silence between you.

She froze for just a second, her shoulders tensing before she forced herself to keep moving, pretending she hadn’t heard you. "We need to focus," she muttered, her voice tight, strained.

"I am focusing," you replied, stepping closer. "But we’re not going to find much if you burn yourself out."

Her jaw clenched, and she finally looked at you, her green eyes flickering with something sharp—anger, maybe frustration, but beneath it, fear. She didn’t respond immediately, instead stuffing the can she’d found into her backpack with more force than necessary.

"We don’t have time to slow down," she said, her voice low, clipped. "Not now. We have to keep moving, keep finding what we can. It’s how we survive." 

Her words had a harsh edge, but you could see the exhaustion pulling at her features, the way her body sagged slightly as she spoke. She hadn’t fully recovered from everything—physically or mentally—but she was pushing herself harder than ever, trying to keep the walls up, to keep that distance between you.

You sighed, glancing around the room. "Look, I get it. I do. But if you don’t rest, if you don’t take a second to breathe… you’re not going to make it to the next town. Neither of us will."

Ellie shot you a look, a mix of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place, before shaking her head. She opened her mouth to respond, but just as she did, the soft sound of glass crunching underfoot echoed from the far side of the store. Both of you froze instantly, the air thickening as your heart rate spiked. 

Ellie’s hand was on her pistol in a flash, her body low and tense, her eyes darting toward the source of the sound. You reached for your own weapon, your grip tight, the adrenaline flooding your veins as you both moved silently toward the back corner of the store. There, behind a display shelf, something shifted—small, fast. A figure darted past the aisle in the dim light.

Ellie glanced at you, her eyes wide but focused, her hand steady on her pistol despite the fear lurking beneath the surface. The moment stretched on, filled with quiet breaths and pounding heartbeats as you both prepared for whatever came next. 

But this was no longer just about finding supplies. Now, survival had become the immediate goal.

The sound came before you saw them—a low, guttural growl echoing through the silence of the store, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of heavy footsteps. At first, it was just one. But then, more followed. A chorus of inhuman snarls and groans rising up from the aisles.

Ellie’s eyes darted toward the door as the noise grew louder, her posture stiffening with the realization. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, her grip tightening around the handle of her pistol. She didn’t need to say anything—you knew exactly what was coming.

Before you could react, a figure lurched into view, stumbling into the store from the far side, its limbs jerking with that unnatural, erratic movement you knew too well. The infected creature let out a high-pitched screech, its head snapping in your direction, milky eyes locked onto you. It wasn’t alone. Behind it, more shadows shifted, crowding the entrance as the herd began to pour in, a flood of bodies pushing against the broken doorframe.

"Go!" Ellie barked, her voice sharp and urgent. Without hesitation, she grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the back of the store, her eyes wide with fear but her movements quick, determined. The infected were swarming now, their snarls filling the air as they tore through the aisles, knocking over shelves and scattering debris in their path.

You ran, the sound of the horde behind you growing louder with every second, the ground trembling under their relentless charge. Ellie was in front, her boots pounding against the worn tile, her breathing fast but controlled as she weaved between shelves, looking for an exit. You could hear her muttering curses under her breath, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

But then you heard it—the stumble, the faint hitch in her step. You glanced at Ellie, and immediately you saw the change. She was slowing down, her movements less fluid, more labored. Her breathing had turned ragged, and her face was pale, her brow glistening with sweat.

"Ellie!" you shouted, grabbing her arm as she stumbled again, barely keeping herself upright. Her legs were shaking now, her footsteps faltering as though her body was finally giving out.

"I’m fine," she snapped, pulling away from you, though the strain in her voice was impossible to miss. She tried to push forward, but her legs buckled again, this time more severely. Her frustration was palpable, a flare of anger that lit up her expression as she fought to keep moving.

Behind you, the infected were closing in, their growls growing louder, more aggressive. You could hear the scrape of their claws against the floor, the sickening sounds of their bodies slamming into shelves, knocking them aside in their frenzy to reach you.

Ellie tried to pick up the pace, but it was clear something was wrong. Her face twisted in pain and frustration as she pushed herself harder, but her body wasn’t cooperating. She was weakening—fast. Days without food, without proper rest, were finally catching up to her. And it showed.

"Damn it!" she hissed, her voice thick with anger—at herself, at the situation. Her fists clenched, her legs trembling with every step. She was trying, but her body was betraying her, and you could see the panic beginning to set in, masked beneath her frustration.

"Ellie, stop," you called out, your voice rising over the cacophony of snarls and shuffling feet behind you. "You’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t—"

"I’m fine!" she barked again, her voice strained as she forced herself forward. But it was clear she wasn’t. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps now, her legs nearly giving out beneath her as she stumbled again, catching herself on a shelf. She paused for a split second, clutching her side, her face contorted with frustration and pain.

You could see it in her—the fear, the anger. The way she was cursing herself for being weak, for slowing down. The look in her eyes was one of desperation, her teeth clenched as she fought to stay on her feet, her body visibly trembling from the effort.

But the infected were too close now. There wasn’t time.

"They’re almost on us!" you yelled, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her forward, practically dragging her as you both pushed toward the back of the store. You could hear the footsteps of the infected right behind you, their growls echoing in your ears, growing louder, more frantic.

Ellie’s legs were barely holding her up at this point, and she stumbled again, letting out a frustrated growl of her own. "I can’t…" she muttered, her voice cracking as she nearly collapsed, her knees buckling beneath her. "I can’t fucking—"

"Keep going!" you urged, your heart pounding as you tugged her forward, the infected right behind you. "You have to keep moving, Ellie!"

She gritted her teeth, her breath coming in harsh gasps. "I’m trying!" she snapped, but her voice broke, revealing the exhaustion and fear underneath. Her legs were giving up, her body shaking violently now with the effort to keep going. But there was no time to stop, no time to rest.

With a final, desperate push, you managed to drag her to the back of the store, where a door hung slightly ajar, leading into an alleyway. You kicked it open with your foot, the door slamming against the wall as you shoved Ellie through, both of you stumbling into the narrow passage outside.

The moment you were out, you slammed the door shut behind you, leaning heavily against it as you heard the infected slam into the other side, their snarls muffled but still terrifyingly close. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding in your ears, but you had made it. Barely.

Ellie collapsed against the brick wall of the alley, her legs finally giving out. She was breathing hard, her hands trembling as she gripped the wall for support, her eyes squeezed shut. Her frustration was palpable, mixed with the fear she refused to admit.

"I can’t…" she muttered, her voice weak, trembling. "I can’t… keep doing this."

You knelt beside her, your own breath ragged as you watched her struggle, her body shaking from the exhaustion, her face pale and drawn. She was angry—angry at herself for slowing down, for not being able to keep up. But beneath that anger, you saw the fear—the fear of losing, of failing, of being weak.

"It’s not your fault," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the chaos. "You’re exhausted. You need rest."

But Ellie just shook her head, her jaw clenched as she fought to catch her breath, her hands still trembling as she wiped sweat from her brow. "I can’t afford to be weak," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Not now. Not ever."

You stole a glance at her, noticing the way she picked at the dirt beneath her fingers, brow furrowed in concentration. She looked lost, wrestling with turmoil inside. The vulnerability in her posture struck you, and you reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against her cheek. The moment your skin made contact, her gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flicker of surprise dancing in her green eyes.

Your fingers grazed her face, gently caressing her skin, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like time stood still, the chaos outside fading into the background. But then her eyes fell to your hand, and your heart sank as you followed her gaze.

Your wrist was marked by a fresh bite, angry and raw, the skin around it bruised and mottled. You hadn’t even realized it—maybe it was the adrenaline that masked the pain. But now, as the truth washed over you, a cold dread seeped into your bones.

“No…” Ellie breathed, her voice breaking the stillness. Her eyes widened with panic, the color draining from her face as the realization hit her. The flicker of fear transformed into a tempest of emotions within her—anger, despair, disbelief.

In an instant, she was on her feet, her movements frantic as she began to throw things around the alley. Old crates, discarded bottles, and scraps of metal flew through the air, clattering against the brick walls. “No! No! No!” she shouted, her voice rising in a frantic pitch, echoing off the walls like a scream in the dark.

You remained seated, shock holding you in place as you watched her unravel. It was as if she was trying to physically push the reality away, to fight against the fate that loomed over you both. “This can’t be happening!” she yelled, her hands shaking violently as she grabbed a rusted pipe and hurled it against the wall, the sound of metal clanging against stone reverberating through the air.

“Ellie, stop!” you tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. The weight of your own fate held you down, anchoring you in place. You could only watch as she spiraled deeper into panic, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes darting everywhere as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

“I can’t lose you! Not like this!” she cried, the desperation in her voice slicing through the air like a knife. She kicked over an old barrel, its contents spilling out onto the ground, littering the alley with debris. Each movement she made was frantic, unhinged, her anger directed at everything around her, but it was clear where the true target lay—at the helplessness of the situation, at you.

Her voice cracked with emotion as she faced you, rage and anguish contorting her features. “You can’t just—get bitten! You know what that means!” Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as if they could ground her in this moment of chaos. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, mixing with the fire of her anger, creating a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to explode.

“Damn it!” she shouted, pacing the narrow confines of the alley, her energy raw and electric. “You were supposed to be careful! We were supposed to stick together! I can’t do this again!” With each word, she hurled another object, her fury radiating like heat waves. A glass bottle shattered against the wall, fragments scattering as they hit the ground like shards of her resolve.

You attempted to rise, to reach out to her, but the weight of your own fate held you down, anchoring you in place. The world outside the alley faded into insignificance as the reality of the bite settled in your mind, its implications crashing over you like a tidal wave. Ellie’s face crumpled, and you could see the moment the fight drained from her.

“I can’t do this again!” she shouted, her voice cracking, finally collapsing onto her knees in front of you. Tears shimmered in her eyes, glistening like tiny stars as they caught the dim light filtering through the alley. She was shaking now, her body trembling from the weight of the moment.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against her shoulder, but she flinched away from your touch, her eyes wide and wild, the anger and fear swirling in them. “You’re not… you can’t be bitten! Not again! Not after everything!” The words tumbled out of her, each one a plea, a denial of the truth that was crashing down around you.

“Ellie,” you finally managed to say, your voice low and strained, but she cut you off.

“No! Don’t say it!” She shot to her feet again, her fists clenched, the glass glinting dangerously in the dim light 

You wanted to reassure her, to tell her it would be okay, but the words caught in your throat, the reality weighing down your heart. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. 

“Ellie…” you managed to say, your voice strained and raw. “You have to put me down. Before it’s too late.” You could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she fought against the impending reality, her heart grappling with the instinct to protect and the stark truth of your situation.

 “You can’t let me turn,” you pleaded, your tone urgent as you reached out to touch her knee, seeking any connection that might ground her in this moment.

But she recoiled slightly, shaking her head vehemently. “I can’t. I won’t!” Her voice cracked with emotion, the glass shard trembling in her grasp as she wrestled with the weight of the decision before her. “You’re not going to die. Not like this! Not at my hands!”

“Ellie, please,” you urged, your own heart pounding in your chest as you saw the resolve in her face begin to crack. “You know it’s the only way. You have to be strong.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when they opened again, the hurt etched into her features made your heart ache. “No! I can’t lose you! I can’t!” The glass fell from her fingers, clattering against the pavement, shattering the silence that enveloped you. Her shoulders trembled as her breath hitched, and you could see the tears beginning to spill over, tracing paths down her cheeks.

“It’s selfish, I know,” she said, her voice a choked whisper, filled with anguish. “But I just can’t… I can’t let you go. I can’t do it again.” Her body shook as she spoke, the weight of her grief pulling her under. The memory of everyone she had lost flooded back, and the fear of losing you felt like a tidal wave crashing against her, threatening to drown her in despair.

You watched her struggle, your heart aching for the pain she carried. “Ellie,” you said softly, trying to reach her through the turmoil. 

“No!” she cried, and it was a raw, primal sound, one that echoed with the deep, crushing fear that had taken root within her. She dropped her head into her hands, fingers tangled in her hair as if trying to pull herself together. “I won’t let you go,” she repeated, her voice muffled, but resolute.

“Ellie, listen to me,” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice. “I don’t want to become one of them. I can’t do that to you. You have to make the hard choice. You’re stronger than this.”

Time slipped away in a haze of disorientation and muffled sounds. The world outside your awareness had transformed into a distant murmur, punctuated by the gnashing of teeth and the haunting cries of the infected. As the days passed, the infection took hold, an insidious creeping through your body, weaving its way into your mind, pulling you deeper into a fog that blurred the line between your old self and the new, grotesque reality. 

Yet, even as the fungus spread, there were fleeting moments of clarity—glimmers of recognition amid the haze. It was as if the remnants of your consciousness flickered like a dying light, occasionally illuminating the shadowy corners of your mind. And somehow, through it all, Ellie remained a constant presence, a beacon that anchored you to the fragments of your former self.

The small, makeshift shelter you shared was dim, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the remnants of previous meals. Ellie moved around the space with a quiet intensity, her every action laced with a palpable mix of determination and despair. She had become the lifeline, foraging and hunting in the barren landscape outside, all while trying to preserve what remained of the person you used to be. 

Today, she returned with a small game—a rabbit, its body limp in her hands, the fur matted with dirt from the struggle. As she set to work preparing it, you watched from your corner of the room, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated, remnants of the old you trying to claw their way to the surface.

She moved with a practiced ease, though her eyes reflected the weight of her heart. The sun cast a soft light through the cracks in the shelter, illuminating her face, the tension in her jaw, and the shadows beneath her eyes. Ellie hummed a tune, a faint echo of the songs you used to sing together, but the melody was laced with sorrow. 

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice wavering as she chopped the rabbit into pieces. “Just hold on a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something good.” 

You stared at her, trying to focus, your mind a swirling mess of thoughts and emotions. You wanted to respond, to assure her that you were still there, still part of this fragile moment. Your fingers twitched, and for a heartbeat, you felt a flicker of the warmth and love that had once defined your connection.

Ellie set the small pot over the meager flame and watched it carefully, as if the rhythm of the boiling water might soothe the chaos within her. “I wish you could help me with this,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder at you, the ghost of a smile trying to break through the pain. “You always knew how to cook better than I did.”

You shifted your gaze toward her, the fog thickening around your thoughts, yet something within you stirred. You wanted to tell her that you remembered, that you could still see her, that you were still there. But the words lay heavy on your tongue, trapped in the murky depths of the infection’s grip.

As the scent of cooking meat filled the air, Ellie moved to the small stash of supplies, pulling out a bowl and some utensils. She served the food into two bowls, carefully portioning it out, her hands steady despite the tremor in her heart. The moment felt almost normal, a slice of life amid the horror that surrounded you. 

Yet, as she sat down across from you, her hands cradling the bowl, the weight of it all crashed down on her. She brought the food to her lips, but just as it reached her mouth, her resolve faltered. The sight of you—sitting there, half-formed and shifting between the shadows of your former self and the infected being you had become—made her heart ache. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless, splashing onto the bowl, mixing with the meal.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, dropping the bowl back into her lap. “I can’t eat. Not like this.” Her voice broke, cracking under the strain of the moment, each word laced with the weight of grief and hopelessness. 

Your foggy gaze remained fixed on her, struggling to understand the depth of her sorrow. Something in your chest tightened as you watched her, the recognition of her pain filtering through the haze. There was still a flicker of connection—some thread of recognition that made you feel like you were still there, still a part of her life. 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice shaking, trembling with the raw honesty of her emotions. “I thought we could be okay, that you could still… still come back to me.” Her tears fell freely, each drop a testament to the battle raging within her—love, loss, and the desperate longing for the past.

In that moment, something deep within you stirred, a yearning to reach out to her, to tell her that despite the infection, you could still feel her presence, still recognize her. You shifted slightly, the movement barely noticeable, but it was enough to capture her attention. 

“Ellie…” you rasped, the sound barely escaping your lips, but it felt like an eternity as you fought against the fog, wrestling with the remnants of your thoughts. It was a plea, a cry buried deep within, resonating with all the unspoken words that hung between you.

She looked up, her eyes wide, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to pause. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” she breathed, her voice laced with disbelief and hope. “You can hear me?”

There was a flicker of clarity, a connection that pulsed between you—a heartbeat against the chaos that surrounded. You focused on her, trying to push through the fog, to let her know that you were still here, still fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume you both.

But even as the realization flickered within her, the truth hung heavily in the air—the infection was taking hold, and there was only so much time left. The thought sent her spiraling back into despair, the tears falling more freely as she gripped the bowl tightly, her knuckles whitening.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking once more, a raw wound laid bare for you to witness. “I just can’t.”

And in that moment, as the warmth of her tears pooled on your skin, you understood the weight of her love and the crushing reality of your situation. You were still there, a flicker in the darkness, but it wasn’t enough to shield her from the pain that lay ahead. The bond between you remained, even as the world began to fade, and all you could do was hold on to that sliver of connection, even as everything else slipped away.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter six a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, implied !NagiReo, suggestive nsfw masterlist

For weeks, there’s been nothing but radio silence. 

You lost count of how many times you’ve typed a reply to Hiori, only to delete it afterward. Again and again. 

Each time, the words feel wrong. Too stiff, too needy, too defensive. No matter how you framed it, everything sounded wrong. What could you even say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

Plus, he didn’t follow up either. 

Every day, you’d sneak a peek into your Winstagram chats, only to see the same conversation where you left off. He’d view your stories, sure. A proof that he’s still there, just… watching. But other than that, nothing. 

On weekends, you’d log onto Steam, hoping to catch him there while you convince yourself to unwind. Every time you do, a few minutes after you log in, his name would pop up on your notifications.

hiyooooooo is now online

Your cursor hovered over his profile picture more times than you cared to admit. But fear—no, humiliation—held you back. You’d tell yourself it was fear of rejection, of misstepping. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was guilt too.

So you’ll sit straighter in your chair, hands gripping tight on your mouse, waiting. Waiting for a game invite, a little message, anything.

But nothing ever came.

Gaming was supposed to be your escape, something you both shared but it seems like it can’t break the cold shoulder treatment you’re getting from him. 

Maybe I just need to see him. Or talk to him in person, you thought, clinging to the idea as though it might fix everything. Maybe it will. But still, easier said than done. 

Desperation leads you to ask your editor for a beat change. Anything but Manshine City. The name alone made your stomach churn. You just need some distance from it until you clear the air between you and Hiori. Especially since you two haven’t spoken since the Nagi incident. 

But Mercury in retrograde or whatever cruel force dictated your life these days, have other plans. Because your editor doesn’t budge. And to make matters worse, she hands you your next assignment.

“You’re covering another Manshine City game,” she said, her tone apologetic as it can be.

You want to protest. But before you can even spit out your rehearsed excuses, she cuts you off.

“They saw the numbers your Bastard München pieces pulled in,” she explained apologetically. “It’s PR gold for them.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch. All the carefully prepared justifications in your head evaporated, leaving you standing there, mute and cornered.

Turns out, your editor and the Manshine City marketing manager are college buddies. She admits that the marketing manager cashed in a favor to get you to cover the team after seeing how you somehow brought good impressions to Bastard München. 

As much as you want to get mad at your editor, you can’t. This was the woman who took a chance on you. The same woman who took you under her wing, believed in you when no one else would. How could you even say no to her?

You shake your head. It wasn’t your editor’s fault, really. That’s just how this business works.

And isn’t it good? People are asking for you, specifically. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Then why doesn’t it feel good?

You should be feeling good about it, right? Swelling with pride, even.  Finally, people were putting a name to your work, treating you as more than a faceless, invisible byline. More than just an unfamiliar face in the video content.

Yet somehow, this void inside of you swallows every shred of accomplishment. And it leaves you unsatisfied and wondering if you truly deserve it. 

And maybe—just maybe—it’s because you can’t untangle work from everything else. Because the lines are blurring, and you’ve let Hiori seep into every corner of your life. You’re not even sure you mind.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’s the one who made you believe in yourself, who made you feel like you could be more than just a name at the bottom of an article no one reads. He gave you the confidence to think you belonged here. And now, the thought of him lingers like a shadow, casting doubt over everything you do.

It’s not his fault. You know that. But it feels like the push and pull between your career and the “thing” you have with him is tearing you in two. That undefined, messy connection was supposed to be your escape—a rare piece of joy in the relentless grind of your career.

Instead, it feels like you’re being forced to choose.

Career or connection. Ambition or affection.

The tension in your chest is sharp and unrelenting.

No, you didn’t have time to dwell on that. At this point in your career, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Your personal life? Your preferences? None of that mattered.

You just had to suck it up. And do your job.

The stadium continues to buzz with energy as Manshine City wraps up their match with another clutch win. You just finished interviewing Nagi and Chigiri, notebook clutched in your hand.

Exhaustion pulls at you, but you linger a bit longer, tempted by the upcoming match between Bastard München and Italy Ubers. You have to get going if you want to get started with writing at home and sleep early.

Before you can give in to that temptation and the idea of seeing Hiori even from afar, Reo and the Manshine City marketing manager pull you into a conversation about potential content collaborations.

Despite their excitement showing, you’re pretty much drained. Instead, you offer your goodbyes, attempting to avoid getting roped in further to their impromptu planning.

“Stay, Miss Journalist, stay!” Reo calls out dramatically before he drapes himself over Nagi like a cat. With an apologetic smile and a small wave, you quicken your steps to get further away. 

As you turn, you freeze when you nearly collide with someone. Hands catch you by the shoulders, steadying you before quickly letting go. 

“Hiori…” you breathe as you lock gazes with him.

For a moment, you swear he looked… hurt. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual calm mask. He takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from you. 

You’re just about to speak but Chigiri’s voice slices through the tension. 

“Hiori, hey!” Chigiri bounds over, oblivious to the atmosphere. His bright energy collides with the moment like a sledgehammer.

Hiori forces a strained, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“You’ve met Miss Journalist, right?” Chigiri gestures at you with a grin. “Sorry for stealing your fan.”

Hiori eyes the Manshine City jersey draped on your shoulders. A casual gift from the team manager, thanking you for the support and hard work. 

His jaw tightens ever so slightly, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. You feel your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Oh yeah? I’m hurt.” A laugh escapes him but his sarcasm is unmistakeable.  

“I-uh, I’m a Bastard München fan at heart, y’know that.” you stammer, gripping your notebook so tight. 

“Well, we don’t mind changing that, do we, Nagi?” Reo teases, his smirk sharp.

Nagi, ever the enigma, tilts his head lazily. “Hmm, changing someone’s mind is a hassle. But Miss Journalist seems worth it.”

That statement doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on in that guy’s head? Are they really riling up Hiori? 

“Wanna make a bet?” Reo’s voice is light, but the edge in his tone is clear.

“I don’t think she needs a bet to know who she likes better,” Hiori cuts in, his voice sharper than usual.

Usually, Hiori won’t be provoked by such trivial things. He gets enough shit like that within his team already. And it doesn’t faze him.

But this—this is different.

Because somehow, you’re involved and in the middle of it. And because it’s you.

He hates the way Reo’s arm brushes against your shoulder as he tries to invade your space. He hates the way Nagi’s detached comment earns a small laugh from Chigiri as if they’re onto something.

And most of all, he hates the image of you in that damn jersey. Or any other team’s jersey. 

Not to mention, he never saw Nagi take an interest in you before. Nor Reo. Not that you’re not attractive. Because you are. But this possessive feeling, is it even right?

It’s irrational. He knows that. He has no right to feel this way. But the jealousy festers anyway, fueled by weeks of silence between you.

“Scared she might like us like us more?” Reo continues to taunt him, his grin widening as he zeroes in on the crack in Hiori’s composure.

Hiori’s fists clench tighter. “Yer delusional,” he snaps, the words biting.

Men. Are. So. Full. Of. Themselves.

You’re not a prize. You’re not some trophy for their ego-driven competition.

Or whatever pissing content is happening between the guys.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps firm and purposeful. But before you round the corner, you throw a seething glare in Hiori’s direction.

He sees it.

And it hits him harder than anything Reo could have thrown.

Hiori stares at the untouched plate of food in front of him, the hum of conversation around the dinner table fading into a dull, distant noise. His teammates' laughter and energy fill the space in the way only Bastard München could.

But he can’t focus. 

The moment from earlier—Reo’s teasing smirk, Nagi’s casual remarks, and the way you looked at him with such anger—loops in his mind like a highlight reel he couldn’t escape.

He doesn’t know what to do with the emotions simmering under the surface. The possessiveness, the jealousy. 

It doesn’t make sense, not when the two of you aren’t even together. Both of you haven’t talked about feelings, about whether you even felt the same way. 

So why did it feel like something sharp had lodged in his chest every time he thought about you with someone else?

His fingers drum lightly against his thigh as he fights the urge to check his phone again. He’s already done it too many times, looking at your messages, and wondering if he should text you. The silence between you has stretched so long that Hiori isn’t sure how to bridge it.

Am I being pushy? He thought, the question hanging heavy in his mind. 

Is it selfish to want more when we haven’t defined what this is? Am I not being a creep?

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

To understand the little things that make you smile. To know you outside the boundaries of work. To know you in a deep, personal, and intimate setting.  

To be the reason for all those moments.

The weight of the thought crashes into him. His chest tightens as the room around him seems to blur—teammates laughing, cutlery clinking, voices overlapping—fading into a hollow echo. The world slows, yet his pulse quickens, each beat louder and heavier than the last.

And then, it hits him.

“I do like her.”

The words slip out of him before he even knows he’s saying them.

The jealousy, the longing, the unspoken hope he’d buried deep enough to convince himself it wasn’t there. But it was. It always had been.

The realization doesn’t just hit—it collides, with the force of a meteor smashing into the earth. It leaves him shaken, reeling, and terrified in all equal measure.

Oh god, I like her.

He’s been running from it, denying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But there’s no escaping it now. No undoing it. It’s real, undeniable, and alive inside him, threatening to consume him if he doesn’t let it out.

His gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting against his jeans. He hates the jealousy twisting in his chest. It wasn’t fair—to you, to the relationship you shared, undefined as it was.

Is my possessiveness hindering her job? She’s here to do her work, and I’m… what? A distraction? A complication?

The weight of the thought makes his stomach churn. And then there was the nagging doubt he couldn’t shake: Does she like me for me? Or is it just Hiori Yo, the athlete? The player?

His teammates’ laughter jolts him out of his thoughts. He blinks, realizing he missed half the conversation. He forces a tight-lipped smile as Isagi nudges him, but his mind wanders back to the phone in his pocket. 

He reaches for it, his heart quickening at the sight of your name on the screen. A message from you.

/yn_offthepage: what the fuck was that about earlier?

He freezes, his thumb hovering over the notification. He hasn’t heard you curse even once. Even through the text, he can hear your biting tone inside his head, ringing.

The screen dims, and Hiori lets it. The weight of his uncertainty presses heavily on him. For now, he couldn’t bring himself to open the message.

Later that night, back in his room, Hiori sits at his desk, staring blankly at his PC screen. Even the idea of gaming felt hollow. His mind was too restless.

His eyes wander to the image of you and him sitting at the pitch all sweaty. It was the candid shot someone had taken during the content shoot where he taught you how to dribble.

You were looking afar with a big smile on your face, and he was looking at you with so much yearning, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, betraying him.

The sight of it stirred something in him. A longing, sharp and bittersweet. He wanted to know if you ever looked at him the way he looked at you at that moment.

But what if opening up ruined what you already had? What if his feelings crossed a line you weren’t ready to acknowledge?

Hiori sighs, leaning back in his chair. The questions linger, unanswered. 

For now, all he can do is sit with them, hoping he’d find the courage to face you—and himself—soon.

Your schedule finally winds down when the JFA hosts a midseason party disguised as a roadshow for the upcoming months and next season.

It’s a rare opportunity to step away from the chaos of your work, and you’re willing to take it. Networking, getting insider info straight from the lion’s den—and of course, free food and drinks.

Especially the free-flowing alcohol.

Despite the “casual” label slapped on the event, it’s still as lavish as you’d expect. Thank goodness there’s no formal dress code. You settled on your favorite gray high-waisted trousers paired with a tight-fitting black sleeveless turtleneck. Professional but bold, with just enough skin to leave an impression. 

You can never go wrong with a little show of confidence, after all.

At the venue, you exchange pleasantries with Anri and Ego. The three of you make for an unusual trio, seated together like this. While you take notes as part of your routine, Anri occasionally scolds Ego for yawning or delivering sharp quips from the side. 

The roadshow presentation is a mix of team management personnel, media representatives, investors, and a few JFA partners. As usual, the rest of the crowd is either running late or loitering outside, waiting for the afterparty to begin.

At least, you’re at ease knowing that you won’t bump into any players. Not just yet.

As soon as the program ends, the three of you continue to chat at the bar counter over drinks. But before you can even swap gossip with Anri, she’s whisked away by a group of Blue Lock graduates—punctual players from Italy Ubers. That leaves you alone with Ego, who sips whiskey neat while you nurse a Long Island iced tea.

“You’re doing better than the last time we met. Not bad for an unpolished gem,” he remarks dryly, lifting his glass.

It’s a backhanded compliment, but you can’t help the small flicker of pride it sparks.

“It’s... okay, I guess. But honestly, I didn’t expect how tough it’d be. The lines between work, passion, and personal life blur so easily.”

You ramble about juggling deadlines, clashing assignments, and the weight of endless expectations. Ego listens in silence, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“Then be an egoist,” he says bluntly, cutting through your ramblings like a knife. “You think those brats are just selfish jerks? They are. But egoism is what keeps them on top.

“It’s what makes them grow, thrive, and become the best. You’re no different. You have to feed your ego too, or else you’ll be devoured and spat out until you’re an empty husk of yourself.”

His words settle heavily in your chest. Before you can respond, Ego stands up, gives a half-hearted wave, and strides toward the exit, muttering something about how his tolerance for the evening’s schmoozing has reached its limit.

Scanning the room, you notice Anri still deep in conversation with some JFA people by the dance floor, while others mingle in scattered groups. The bar counter feels empty now, save for you and the two bartenders.

It’s a good time to pause and gather your thoughts—or maybe strike up a conversation with someone if the alcohol kicks in enough courage. 

For now, you sit quietly, Ego’s words echoing in your mind.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself—to push for better assignments, to confront Hiori, to stop burying your frustrations under layers of professionalism and fear.

Liquid courage starts to course through your body, loosening your hesitation. You pull out your phone and quickly type a message to your editor.

“I want a new assignment. I think I deserve that much, don’t I?” You hit send and switch your phone to Do Not Disturb before you can even second-guess yourself.

Before your musings can go deeper, someone slides onto the stool to your right. You glance up to see Reo with his cheeks flushed pink and his smile wide with mischief. 

Behind him, Nagi trails, hands stuffed into his pockets, his disheveled hair giving him an even lazier charm. The scent of whiskey clings to them both, Reo more noticeably so.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite journalist,” Reo greets, his voice dripping with playful charm. “What are you doing here all alone? Don’t you know parties are for mingling?”

You glance up, managing to offer a small smile. “And here I thought parties were for free food and drinks.”

“Touché,” Reo laughs, leaning against the bar counter. “But c’mon, there’s more to this party than just snacks. Like us, for instance.”

“Us?” you echo, your brows raising slightly.

“Me and Nagi, of course,” he says, draping an arm over Nagi’s shoulder. “You know, we were just talking about you earlier. He thinks you’re cute.”

Nagi gives a small, noncommittal shrug, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you. “He’s not wrong.”

You blink, the casualness of his statement catches you off guard. Before you can process it, Reo leans in closer, his grin widening. “You should come dance with us. I mean, what’s the harm? A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

Your laughter is polite but nervous as you shake your head. “I’m fine here, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Reo presses, nudging Nagi toward you. “You look real nice tonight. Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit here all night while looking like that.”

The warmth of Reo’s arm brushing against yours sends a strange buzz through you. Nagi watches quietly, an amused glint in his eyes, as though content to let Reo take the lead in whatever this is.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Nagi asks suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through the noise around you.

The question startles you, and your answer comes almost automatically. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Reo murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Then no one’s going to mind if we take you home tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You almost choke on your drink, coughing slightly as you gape at him. “Wait, what?”

“Take you home,” Reo repeats, his smile slow and deliberate as if testing how far he can push. “You, me, and Nagi. What do you say? We’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Nagi’s lips quirk into a faint smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Reo’s kidding… mostly.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of intrigue that makes it hard to tell where the joke ends.

Your pulse quickens, confusion and a strange heat mingling as you glance between them. Reo’s boldness is dizzying while Nagi’s quiet amusement only adds to your disorientation.

“I… I’m flattered,” you stammer, your voice wavering. “But I’m not interested.”

“Aww c’mon! Give us a chance?” Reo pleads, lightly touching your bare arms.

“I’m really-” 

You wonder if this is just a game to him or something more. But before you can untangle your thoughts, a firm hand lands on the counter to your left, the loud cutting through the tension like a blade.

You turn your head to see Hiori, his smile strained but unwavering. His gaze flickers between you before settling on Reo.

“Mind if I borrow Miss Journalist for a while?” he asks smoothly, though his words leave no room for argument.

Reo raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. “Alright, alright. But I’ll get my dance one day, Miss Journalist! Think about it!”

Hiori doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, he places a gentle but firm hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the bar as Reo and Nagi watch the both of you saunter away. 

"Hey," a small smile plays on Hiori’s lips as he greets you. 

"Hi."

The balcony door slides shut behind him, muting the pounding bass and chatter from the dance floor. It’s just the two of you now, isolated from the noise, the cool autumn air biting at your skin.

You take a good look at Hiori. A white t-shirt tucked into matching trousers, paired with a soft navy cardigan that clings to his frame. He looks effortlessly put together, as always.

"Ya alright?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you lie, the words feel heavier than they should.

"What was that about?" Hiori frowns, tilting his head slightly.

"I… think Reo was asking me to uh… sleep with him and Nagi? Are they like, together?" you blurt out, half-laughing, trying to lighten the tension you can already feel brewing.

"Yeah, they are. Pretty low-key 'bout it. Wild, huh?" he chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases.

But the silence that follows grows heavy. For a minute, neither of you talk. The soft whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the city fill the void between you, but neither of you moves to break it. Finally, you speak.

"You don’t text me anymore," you say suddenly, the accusation sharp.

"Ya never replied," Hiori counters just as quickly, his tone flat but the edge unmistakable.

You bite your lip. "I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were accusing me of something."

Now, Hiori looks guilty, his lips pressing into a thin line.  "Just… just stop tryin’ to avoid this. Shuttin’ me out isn’t going to fix the problem."

"I wasn’t shutting you out," you argue, but even you don’t believe it. "I just—didn’t know how to respond. It felt like no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough."

"And ya thought ignorin’ me was better? Just pretendin’ nothin’ happened?" His voice rises, frustration simmering to the surface.

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, it was just work. I’m not interested in Nagi or Manshine City.’ What am I to you to have to defend myself like that?" you snap back, your voice trembling. 

"I don’t know!" Hiori snaps back, his frustration breaking through. "I thought we were close enough to say things like that to each other!"

"And your message had no emojis!" your words overlap with Hiori. It was definitely a petty statement but at this point, your emotions are spilling over in ways even you don’t understand.

Hiori’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Didya ever care about me?"

"Because it doesn’t feel like ya do. Ya ignored me when we won. I looked for ya. I know ya saw me. But ya wouldn’t even look my way.." His voice cracks and you see the hurt he’s been burying. 

"Do ya know what that felt like?" His voice is a whisper, pleading. 

You know the answer. That it hurt like a bitch. Because you felt the same pain when both of you went on the silent treatment for weeks. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

This could’ve been resolved easily by just talking things through. This confrontation could’ve been avoided and saved you both the time. But no. 

Instead, you let the hurt fester even further, creating this invisible barrier between the two of you. And now, the blame game is on. And it doesn’t even make sense. 

"It wasn’t about you!" Before you can even think, your words tumbling out in desperation. "It was for work. I-I didn’t want to be seen as the Bastard München… fangirl."

"Why not?" Hiori’s voice rises, taken aback by your words. "We ain’t good enough fer ya? Or is it just me? Am I not good enough fer ya?"

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. "I didn’t say that," you whisper, your voice trembling.

"And why should that matter?" Hiori snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "Why does it feel like yer always running away from me?"

Even Hiori himself can’t comprehend why he’s so frustrated. He’s felt betrayal from his parents before. For them caring more about his stature as an athlete than his well-being as their son.

But this one’s different.

He knows how petty he is being. But he can’t help himself not be vulnerable around you. All reason, all logic thrown out of the window because of you. 

All he can think at this point is how good it felt talking to you about work and games. How good it felt when you would talk about football with him with such a glimmer in your eyes that it fascinates him to see how you view the sport. 

How it felt good when you would run up to him to interview him and the team as you guys exchange knowing smiles, fingers grazing just barely. All he knows is that you are magnetic. 

Even right now, all he can think about is being close to you. 

You turn away from him. A shiver runs down your spine, regretting not wearing something more warm for this party.

I can’t do this. Not now, you thought. 

“Please leave me alone. For now. I can’t do this, Hiori.”

The autumn air nips are your arms. Instinctively, you cross your arm in hopes of warming yourself, eyes gazing away from Hiori still. A warm hand envelopes one of yours and you feel the thick cardigan drapes over you, shielding you from the cold wind. 

Hiori’s gaze softens, but his voice remains firm. "M’not leaving until ya tell me what’s going on. Why are ya pushing me away?"

Your shoulders slump as the weight of it all crashes down on you. "Because I feel guilty, okay?" you say. "I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

"People talk," you continue, your voice breaking. "All I hear is how I’m some opportunist, bandwagoning on Bastard München—on you."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. "I don’t know what this is," you finally admit, gesturing between the two of you. 

"I don’t know what we are, or what I’m even allowed to hope for. And I don’t want to push you or cross a line, but it’s—" Your voice breaks, tears threatening to spill any moment.

"It’s like I’m trying to walk on this invisible tightrope, and I’m scared of messing it all up."

Hiori’s gaze softens, but you keep going, unable to stop now. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to navigate this—whatever this is—without hurting you or myself or both. And why should you care, right?" you add bitterly, the words tasting like poison.

Hiori steps closer, his voice breaking. "I care. Yer the one person who made me feel like more than just a player. And it hurts like hell to feel like I don’t matter to ya."

"You do matter," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You’re the one thing I think about when I work, Hiori. You’re the reason I believe in myself. But you’re… you’re s-so out of reach, and I’m terrified of ruining what little we have."

Your voice quivers as you reply, "And I don’t know how to fix it, Hiori. I don’t even know where to begin. And it’s not fair to you. You’re you—amazing and steady and… everything I’m not."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Dontcha get it? I don’t need us to have all the answers now. Just need ya to stop running."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in. "I’m scared," you whisper.

"And ya think I’m not?" he shoots back, his voice cracking. 

"Yer all I think about, and it terrifies me. But I don’t care. I’m here. I’m stayin’. And I’ll wait as long as it takes fer ya to figure out who ya are—because I already know who ya are to me."

For a moment, the world holds still. Then Hiori closes the distance between you, his hands cupping your face gently. He hesitates, searching your eyes for permission, and when you don’t pull away, he leans in.

"Yer amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your lips. "And ya don’t even realize it."

The kiss is soft at first, testing, but quickly deepens as the emotions between you spill over. His lips are warm, grounding you, and when his tongue brushes yours, it leaves you breathless.

You melt under his touch. The kiss itself is intoxicating, as if you’re drowning, lightheaded by the swirling emotions and the budding heat within you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. "I like ya too, y’know" he murmurs. "M’sorry fer doubting ya. Fer making ya feel like ya had to carry this alone."

He kisses you again, slower this time as if savoring the moment. "I’m sorry for being a coward. For not talking to you."

You clutch at his shirt, your tears mingling with his kiss. "I’m sorry too," you whisper into his mouth.

He smiles faintly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "All this because my message didn’t have an emoji, huh?" he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension between you finally giving way to something lighter. In this moment, with him, you feel the weight of your worries start to lift, even if just for now.

In this moment, with him, you wish the night would never end.

amari's notes: struggled to write this one, i wanted to really get this chapter out quickly but i wasnt satisfied with my first drafts so i had to rewrite it so many times. i really wanted this to come out well. this chapter is close to my heart, esp when hiori and miss journalist talk about their insecurities. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[luvhughes43]

is it too much to ask | quinn hughes x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: missing q when he's on the road! based off the song, "is it too much to ask" by faye webster.

word count: 1.2k

I’ve been waiting for so long

Waiting for you

Maybe you’ll give up and come home

I just want you

you felt a little childish counting down the days till your boyfriend would be back from his roadie. but really, who could blame you? It seemed that recently, with the canucks winning streak and Quinn's captaincy, you’ve seen less and less of your loving boyfriend. 

“Quinn!” you smiled at your grinning boyfriend once the facetime call connected. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting ready to get down to the rink” he replied, throwing his tie over one of his shoulders and using his other hand to pull it around his neck.

Quinn adjusted his tie, and you watch on in silence as he gets himself dressed. his belt comes next, and you stare as he stepped back and adjusted the long piece of leather to his body.

“you’re being quiet,” Quinn mumbled, still too caught up with what he was doing to glance back at his phone. 

you hummed softly. “just admiring you”

Quinn laughed, that carefree ringing sound that reminds you of those endless summer days on the lake. “you’re cute”

when Quinn finally looked up at you, you felt as if you’ve been caught doing something inappropriate. heat nips at your cheeks, and you look away to the stove to distract yourself from his gaze. 

“you look really pretty today,” Quinn continued, missing the redness of your cheeks.

you looked back towards your phone and you can’t help but smile at your boyfriend. “you look really hot! I can't wait to see the HD photos,” you joked. after the walk in photos were posted to the canucks twitter, you would send them to Quinn and comment on how attractive he looked. Quinn liked that a lot. 

Quinn chuckled before leaning forward and clicking on his phone to check the time. he deflated upon seeing the little numbers on his screen, letting you know that your short call would have to end soon. 

“i’ve gotta get down to the bus,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes scanned his messy hotel room.

“okay, well good luck! I’ll see you later?” 

Quinn hummed as he stood up from his hotel chair. he held the phone in a low angle and blew a kiss to you through the screen. “Yup, i'll text or call after the game” Quinn said, moving around his room and throwing various things around in an attempt to find something. 

“Your airpods are right there,” you hear Elias mumble in the background. 

Quinn moves again, and without a second thought turns to you before uttering a quick, “love you!” 

“I love you too!” you respond, and then the call abruptly fades into black. 

after the call ended, you trudge over to your and Quinns couch and switch the tv on so you were prepared for when his game started. 

you sit around and wait for the game to start, wishing for nothing more than to spend some time with your boyfriend. you knew captaincy was going to include a lot more responsibilities, but the distance combined with the extra hours at the rink… you just wanted your boyfriend back at home. whenever those thoughts of wanting Quinn to quit and come home to you flooded your mind, guilt would wash over you. hockey was his dream, and in a dream world you would be able to spend a little bit more time together.

All these letters that you wrote

They remind me

You’re not far when you leave home

That’s the best part

as usual, after the game Quinn sent you messages and little voice notes telling you all sorts of things. 

Quinn (voicenote) okay, so basically I was handling the puck, I don't know if you watched this part? But like anyway i’m lining up the shot-

a lot of the time it was Quinns narrations of the game he just played. you would lay in bed and listen to his warm voice explain all the intricacies of his and his teammates plays despite having witnessed it all go down on your screen.

when the voice notes end and you find yourself staring at your dark ceiling, you’d move onto reading the messages he’d send you throughout the day. 

Quinn: The sunset reminds me of you

Quinn sent one image

Quinn: I love you! Sleep well❤️

Quinn: i’ll call you in the morning

Then you’d scroll through old text messages. Brief declarations of love, lots of missing yous, and tens of pictures taken of mundane things that litter both of your everyday lives. 

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

“you're back!” you squeal the next morning, lifting yourself up off the couch and into Quinn's awaiting arms. you snuggle in close, choosing to rest your head in the crook of his neck. you can feel Quinn's wide grin against the side of your neck and you giggle when you feel his lips tickling open mouth kisses all along your skin. 

“we got in earlier than expected,” Quinn replied, lips still hovered over your skin. 

you hummed, “well send my compliments to the pilots”

Quinn kissed your shoulder again, before pulling you into a tight hug. “I missed you,” he sighed. 

“I missed you more,” you replied easily, thinking back to all your late nights spent watching the latest of Quinns interviews. in all honestly, you were practically a twitter stan when it came to your boyfriend. 

“Bath?” 

You nod, “i’ll start running the water” 

five minutes later you sit on the edge of the tub, hand dipped into the scorching water as you listen to the sweet sounds of Quinn trudging and stomping through the apartment. he had never quite learnt how to walk quietly, but you couldn’t say you minded how loud his presence was. 

It’s the road that takes you away

That's the worst part

‘Cause once it takes you, makes you stay

There's no way out

you knew that this was just one of many days off, and that in two week’s time he would be gone again. you’d lay alone in bed, replaying voice memos and rereading texts as you usually do. 

“what are you thinking so hard about?” Quinns soft voice makes you smile. you shift from your place in bed, looping one of your legs over Quinns and pulling yourself closer to him. 

“just you,” 

Quinn nodded. “atta girl” he teases, lacing his fingers through yours. 

you detach your hand from Quinns and rest your palm against his cheek. you brush at his hair, and you let your hand wander down his face as you start tracing circles onto his jawline. 

“i love you,” quinn sighed. his eyes are closed now, fully enjoying your light massages and all of your attention. 

“i love you,” you whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask you to hold me even close?

Is it too much to ask you?

Is it too much to ask you?

Is it too much to ask you to never let me go?

Is it too much to ask?

that night, laying in bed wrapped up with Quinn made you realize once again that it was all worth it. even though you desperately wanted to spend all your time with your person, reunions like this were always worth it. 

for the next few weeks you’d bask in the light of his company, and then you’d repeat the process a hundred times over. because in the end, he was worth it every time.

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs. 

She deserved so much more. You deserved more. 

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them. 

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all. 

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did. 

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together. 

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand. 

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter. 

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible. 

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours. 

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts. 

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?” 

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.” 

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again. 

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.” 

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it. 

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.” 

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run. 

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky. 

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night. 

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored. 

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court. 

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out. 

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough. 

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words. 

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here. 

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone. 

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.” 

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.” 

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.” 

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.” 

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcoffeescotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn @minnieoo @maddybraps @mariahoedt @witchymomfrien

[hannahssimblr]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[katsu28]

hi my lovely kait!

i saw your requests were open and i actually was thinking about if ive ever requested smth from you before (i think maybe once but im not sure)

i was wondering if i could get ‘Kissing away their tears’ with charles but i wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do it with anyone else as well! i’ve been craving some hurt/comfort.

love you and have an amazing day <33

hali!!! love u love u thank u for being so sweet <3 here's some hurt and (hopefully) some comfort for u!

charles leclerc x reader, 1.4k. request something from here!

You can tell that Charles is dejected the moment he climbs out of the car. He doesn’t have that spring in his step he usually gets after an exhilarating race, and his feet drag on the asphalt as he trudges over to the weighing station with the rest of the grid, barring the podium goers. 

Carlos finished high up in the points, which is a win for Ferrari and you know Charles is happy for him, but you can’t imagine what it must feel like to constantly miss out on points and positions while his teammate consistently comes out in the top five every time. 

Formula One is a different breed of competition—your teammate might be your friend, but they’re also one of your biggest rivals. You fight to keep your seat, race after race, season after season, and this downhill spiral Charles has been in ever since his home win has been disheartening to say the least. 

You don’t know much about the strategy of it all, but you know Ferrari’s hasn’t been working out for him. He’s had a rough go of it lately, and your heart hurts for him. 

Charles looks up to where he knows you are, lifting his hand in a haphazard wave at you before being ushered away to the media pen. You’ll wait for him where you always meet him after races.

Somehow, he looks even more defeated than before as he trudges into his driver room after post race interviews conclude. He throws his paddock pass off to the side. You’re sitting up on the countertop, legs swinging mindlessly, only stilling when Charles shuts the door behind him. 

“Hey,” You say softly, gently. 

“Hi. Thank you for coming.” He tries his attempt at a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. You hold out your arms, and immediately, Charles steps forward, folding himself into your embrace. You know Charles well enough to know that he won't believe you if you compliment him right now, so you don’t. You sit with him in the heavy silence instead, waiting for him to make the first move. “I’m sorry I could not do better.” 

“You did the best you could with what you were given, Charles,” You say assuringly, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. He sighs long and hard, like you’re just telling him what he wants to hear. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Can we just go back to the hotel now?” He asks quietly, muffled because of how his face is buried into your neck. “I’m done for today. Anything else can wait until tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” You hum, carding a gentle hand through his hair one more time before releasing him. Before he can get too far, you kiss him, short and sweet. He smiles then too, a little bigger than before, but still quite sad. 

Charles puts on a pleasant facade as you make your way through the paddock back to the car park, taking pictures with waiting fans, signing things for them if he can reach them like most drivers do whilst leaving the track. Most of them are sweet to him. They tell him to keep his head up and believe, that a few bad races don’t discredit how talented of a driver he is. 

There’s a few hecklers as usual, upset fans who’d made bets on Charles’ performance and lost that money, people who say he could be doing so much better—as if them telling him that would magically make everything alright again. You give your own deadpan stare to that lot from where you hover a good distance away from him, not caring that they can definitely see you. 

Charles may be media trained, but you’re not. You have no problems with shutting up a few twats with your expertly crafted death glare. Fred Vasseur might call you in for a meeting with the PR team if he sees the photos on social media, but you don’t care. 

The car ride back to the hotel is understandably silent, but Charles still holds your hand tightly, rubbing absentminded circles along your skin because it soothes him, every so often lifting it to press a kiss to your knuckles. You don’t push him to talk, and you don’t think you need to. You know him well enough to know he’ll let you in when he’s ready. 

Dinner is room service and holds a little more conversation, though you can tell Charles is still off in his own world, thinking about everything that’s gone wrong these past few races, wondering if he could’ve done anything to get a better outcome. 

You come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth, well and ready to go to sleep and forget this day, but instead you find your boyfriend sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up, and you can tell he’s been trying hard not to cry. 

Glassy eyes stare back at you, the beautiful green eyes that you adore filled with so much pain and sadness it makes you want to cry too. His teeth dig hard into his bottom lip, but it still wobbles just the slightest. 

It isn’t until you’re across the room, sliding on your knees to hug him against you that the final string holding Charles up snaps, and he leans into you heavily, pressing his face against your shoulder with a shuddering breath. He cries and cries, and you let him, holding him as tight as you can just so he knows you’ve got him. 

You’ve always got him. 

His body shakes with silent sobs, hot tears soaking into your shirt, and all you can do is murmur quiet reassurances into his ear, even if the feeling of wet cotton against your skin makes you want to peel yourself out of it. Charles needs this, needs to let it all out so he can focus on what lies ahead without being dragged down by the past. 

Eventually, his sobs come to a hiccupping stop. He lifts his head, red rimmed eyes meeting your own tearful ones. His nose is even running a little bit, and if it were anyone else you’d push them away, but it’s Charles. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why…” He trails off without finishing his sentence, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“Oh, my love,” You sigh, stroking both thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. You press your lips against his, hoping it can convey just how much you love him without you having to even utter the words, wiping away his tears gently before drawing back to look at him. As much as you hate it when Charles cries, he’s pretty like this. Tears cling to long, dark lashes, mussed hair a soft tornado of brown from how your fingers had been running through it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. And you never have to explain anything to me, yes? I’m here for you, always, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, leaning back in with his forehead against yours. “Thank you, mon amour. Your support, your love, it means everything to me. You are why I can keep doing this. ” 

You shake your head. “No I’m not.” Charles cocks his head, and you poke his chest, right over his heart. “That is why you can keep doing this.” 

One more poke, this one softer and on his forehead. “And this. Your mind and your heart, your determination, your strength, that is why you keep going. You are the most hard working, talented, brilliant driver I’ve ever seen. You can bounce back from whatever this is, and you will. But not because of me, because that’s the kind of person you are.” 

Charles pats the spot next to him and you oblige, looping your arm through his once you’re there, leaning against his shoulder now. He lays a lingering kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of appreciation towards you. He appreciates you more than he can put into words sometimes, a fact that hasn’t and will never change.  

Even though he’s still frustrated and sad and upset, this silence seems considerably lighter as you sit with him. You hope for brighter days ahead, and you’ll always try your best to be his strongest support system, no matter what the future holds.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[no1frogfan]

Endless hour

Kita Shinsuke x gn reader

Word count: ~800

Tags & warnings: fluff & angst, long distance relationship

Note: HELLO it’s been like a year since I've written anything or been on tumblr, which is wild. I started this so long ago and now it’s clawed its way back out of my heart. Inspired many moons ago by Laura Gilpin.

Tomorrow, when Kita drives you to the station, you won’t cry even though you’ll want to.

You’ll lean out the window of his dusty truck and take in the morning bustle — or, as much bustle as you get in this small town. At the intersection, two elementary school kids will run past with their bucket hats and matching uniforms and a weathered-looking obaasan will chase after them, reminding them to be careful of cars and watch the road. It’s hardly necessary here considering there’s little traffic, and that’s probably what the kids will be thinking too, but they’ll slow down nevertheless and squirm impatiently at the crosswalk before darting off again.

Their parents will already be at work in the repair shop, or the soba place, or the grocery store, and it will make you nostalgic for the hometown you haven’t even left yet. Wistful for the last honey-dipped days of summer. Scared of what you’ll miss once you’re gone.

The midnight-purple grapes of autumn and the jewel-red persimmons of winter. Grandmother’s warm silken tofu and popsicles after dinner. Sticky kisses stolen in the shadow of the camphor trees. What will ‘Samu’s opening night be like? How many games will you miss? How many wins? How many losses? Aran and Suna won’t hold it against you, but ‘Tsumu might. Your group chat will be active at first while everyone is settling in to their new lives and awkwardly falling into new friends, but as time goes on, as ‘Samu works late, as the boys plunge into practice, as the semester gets underway and you get swamped with homework, the messages will slow to a trickle. And you’ll be across the ocean, halfway around the world. It might as well be another planet.

How will Shinsuke fare without your help with the harvest? Will he have to work through the nights to finish it all himself? How many weeks will there be until summer break? Maybe you’ll even have to get an internship, some work experience, a leg up in the industry that will keep you away even longer. And when you do come back, will he still look at you the same way in a year? Two years? Three? The nights will be long, but the days will be longer. Will it be too hard without him? Hands twisting with restlessness, meals cheerless with one body instead of two. Will you have anything in common anymore? Will you grow apart? Will you find someone new? Will he?

Tomorrow, his eyes will still shine with their perpetual luster. You’ll avoid turning to look so your tears won’t fall, and you’ll hope that the breeze streaming in will dry them.

Tomorrow, the sun will crest the hill, and Shinsuke will glow like your own north star.

But tonight, he leads you down to the paddies.

It is a perfect summer evening. The chirping crickets can barely be heard over the drone of cicadas. The stars drape over the fields like a glimmering veil. The moon hangs bright and full. Or, almost full. It’s waning, and not for the first time, you wish the night could go on forever.

Shinsuke pulls you along the curving paths with no sense of haste. He talks to you about his day, his grandmother, the weather, the harvest. His neck bent and eyes fixed on you with every step, as familiar with the paddies as the back of his hand.

Rice plants tickle your calves, heavy grains dipped low, smearing the moon’s reflection across the surface of the water.

He finally slows near the canal at the edge of the farm. Dropping your hand, he presses a finger to his lips and points to the reeds toward a tangle of frogs in chorus, damp bodies glinting as they crawl over one another, a densely layered symphony of kero keros. Gingerly, gingerly, he bends down, and snatches at one, holding it up to your face with boyish glee. And then you’re both off, running, splashing, leaping after the throng of frogs that burst forth like a clammy firework in every direction, mud whirling, laughter erupting.

Like when you were kids. Like every summer.

You catch five frogs. He catches six.

Somewhere, it is raining.

A sense of serenity swells, spilling up and over and out into the endless dark. You stand there in the paddy mosquito-bitten and mud-spattered, smothered by the humid night. You think of Shinsuke draped over you in the wildflowers, the glide of shoji and the grassy scent of tatami, you think of white grains gleaming. He rinses the mud from his hands, pulls you close with damp fingers, and kisses you until you forget there will be a tomorrow.

[whydotheycallitanoven]

little wip i’ve been working on since gem’s hardcore ep dropped! basically wl angst lol

Gem wasn’t sure why she ended up back on her hardcore world. maybe it was something about the quiet. there was a calming nature to the solitude, no screaming, no need to look out for traps. only the quiet gossip of her villagers as they went about their days. 

she’d missed her villagers, she realized. back on Hermitcraft and other SMPs she’d lived on, the player consensus was that they were too much trouble - their pathing and career choice were too much for all but the most dedicated players to work with. she’d had several conversations with Impulse about his woes whilst working with them over the past two seasons.

she hated to think about what he was doing now.

but if there’s anything Gem had learned from her travels, it was that there was something comforting in predictability. with her villagers, the conversations were easy - “you’d never believe what x said while you were gone” - and their trust was similarly easily won. she would do anything to make sure she kept it.

above all though, she decided, it was the privacy that she valued the most. the villagers didn’t come up to her out of the blue, and when she was in the mines she could pretend there was nothing more important than the deepslate she was collecting.

she tried not to think about what happened after secret life. the way she remembered it all, recurring nightmares of a chase waking her every night. the way she wanted so bad to just move on like everyone else — moving to the new season, basing at magic mountain. she couldn’t help the way she tried to distance herself from a certain pair of blue eyes, asking her what was wrong. the way she could see them turn red whenever the light glinted just the right way. the confused glances sent her way whenever she brought up songwriting or the mounders or god forbid the camel. she couldn’t help but confront Scar one night, hoping someone remembered. the tears that formed in her eyes before she could even get the words out. the silence was definitely better.

the wind bit through her clothes as she climbed back up the long staircase. It was the kind of wind that took your breath away, and Gem welcomed the numbing effect. the scars of six deaths had made their home on her body in the past few days, but the cold had helped take the edge off. it dulled the burn of lava, the aching left by explosions. only the wounds left by the vex’s knives continued to bother her — she should’ve expected it, last deaths always stuck around longer — but she suspected it had something to do with how their icy blades were the last to break in her torso. 

“kill the vex or you’ll be down a teammate”. she’d yelled a few moments before the hit that would take her out. she’d forgiven Joel for overlooking the little furies almost instantly - it hadn’t suited her to hold grudges after all. she was almost glad she hadn’t made it to the final moments this time. she heard he’d won a few days after she’d left the arena. she couldn’t bear staying to watch the final battle. she just hoped that Joel’s memories wouldn’t treat him like they had Scar. 

she’d head back eventually. she always did. she’d say her congratulations and go on with collaborations and build her base up once more. eventually. for now though, she’d lose herself in the biggest project of this world yet and listen to her villagers heap praise on her walls and dog for keeping them safe while she was gone.

she wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t look them in the eyes.

Pearl wasn’t sure why she ended up back on Hermitcraft. maybe it was something to do with the fact she couldn’t stand being left alone.

[yaksha-lover]

Heyyyyyy~ I was bingeing your Vamp AU! And was wondering how you thought Rugs, Jamil, and Lilia would try to make MC feel safe and comfortable in the mansion? And after a while.... Maybe how they'd try courting them a lil. Just some sweet fluff 😍🥰

Vamp AU! Ruggie, Jamil, Lilia + helping MC feel safe and comfortable at the mansion

Ruggie, after getting closer to you, can’t help but notice that you don’t quite feel ‘at home’ yet at the mansion. He felt the same when he first moved in, so he tries to bring ‘home’ to you. He’ll make you snacks you’ve talked about missing, distract you with the stray cats that he occasionally brings home to feed, bring you books and other small trinkets that he thinks could help with your situation.

If he wanted to start courting you, he’d continue to do the same as above but to an even greater degree. Ruggie bargains with vendors to buy you more expensive things like jewelry or a nice watch. He starts to touch you more (once he knows you’re okay with it), putting his hand on your shoulder when you talk or giving you hugs here and there. Ruggie also likes to try and spend quality time together watching movies so he can try and cuddle closer to you.

Jamil would take pity on you at first, knowing that you’re trapped at the mansion in a situation you never wanted to be in. He’d try to make you feel more at ease by chastising the other vampires if they make you feel uncomfortable with jokes about taking your blood, making sure no one goes too far. He prefers to help you out from a distance, until you begin to want to spend more time with him, now trusting him.

Once Jamil starts to become interested in you, he’ll go out of his way much more to do little things to make you happy. He’ll cook your favourite meals, ask Lilia to let him bring you out of the mansion more often, give you some of his favourite books to read. Jamil shows his care for you in subtle but significant way, even just with the effort he goes through to spend time with you every day.

Lilia knows it’s his fault that you’re trapped here, so he’ll go all out to make your stay at the mansion as good as possible. He’ll spare no expense, providing you with every luxury or necessity you ask for - and some that you don’t. Lilia will redecorate your room to your liking, showing you that you aren’t meant to be treated as a prisoner here, but a treasured guest. He will also try his best to ensure you befriend the other residents so you can have some companionship; he truly hopes you can come to see his mansion as a home, even if it’s only temporary.

If Lilia decides to begin courting you, his treatment of you will become much more personal. Before, he’d try to keep his distance - providing you with items and letting you get closer with the others - but now he’ll take things much more into his own hands. If he knows you reciprocate, Lilia will offer to spend more time with you - reading together in the mansion library, going out to dates restaurants. He’ll also begin to show you more trust, opening up to you about his past and his feelings; he hopes you’ll do the same.

[poopersdoopers]

This is my first post ever:

Imagine Shanks and Mihawk (fem presenting reader) in a poly relationship. No beta. Not reading this over.

TW: spanking, BDSM, cursing, rough fucking.

Both daddy doms.

Where they use you as they like and punish you.

—————————

Mihawk comes home late from work one day, goes into the kitchen to grab some juice to drink. The sight displayed for him is breathtaking.

Shanks has you over the marbled kitchen counter. His hand pressing down against your back, your bottom half stark naked, red where he just spanked you.

“You wanna run that back to me again, little one?”

You moan. It earns another spank.

“What’s my name?”

You flush in embarrassment. “If you’re not going to answer me you’re gonna have to take more punishment. Count after each spank daddy gives you and maybe he’ll forgive you enough to give you a reward”.

Shanks was grinning, a glint danced in his warm chocolate eyes, as he massages your hot flesh with both of his hands. He loved teasing his sweet little girl to the point of tears, especially when he had an audience. He glanced over at his other lover, his smile widening.

Mihawk, as silent as ever, walked over to your form splayed over the kitchen island.

“Be a good girl for Daddy”, he whispered gently in your ear, grabbing the back of your head. You stared at him, with big hazy eyes tears threatening to spill over. You weren’t expecting him to be back so soon.

A wash of shame flushes over you as you remember misbehaving earlier this morning.

——Flashback——-

Rolling your buds between your fingers, begging to be touched. Trying to be oh so quiet. Mihawk woke up first, silently watching.

“Puh..please…”, you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from begging more lest you wake them both up. Your hand snaked down your panties, rubbing between the folds before sticking a manicured finger in, and spreading the wetness all over your throbbing over-sensitive clit. You whined behind your flushed hand,it all being too much at once.

You roughly ground on your clit when suddenly, a hand held your wrist tightly.

“Don’t you dare cum, little one. Not without permission.”

Mihawk stares at you with intense eyes. You gulped, “Sorry daddy…mmmhmm!” He grabbed your wrist away from your throbbing clit. You started to openly cry, “Please I wanna cum!”

“Hush girl or I’m going to punish you more severely”.

You shivered, it’s been a while since Shanks or Mihawk were this attentive towards you.

Mihawk stood up, slightly groggy from sleep, and strongly grabbed your jaw. His intense eyes bore into yours. You couldn’t help but feel so small, as he looked you up and down. You were naked as the day you were born, you stiffened peaks begging to be kissed by his full lips, your pussy leaking steadily all over your massive king’s sized bed where Shanks lay fast asleep.

He pinched your nipple harshly, “ Im going to clean you up so. you don’t leak all over our bed. There will be no talk of this until later my dear. After this you will be the punished tonight, as it seems you miss me that much, my dear.”

As Mihawk walked out barking a behave, you crawled over to Shanks sleeping form. Nuzzling at his neck, before sucking deep hickeys. You felt his strong arms surround you, before ruffling your hair.

“I heard you being naughty baby”, he smirks, “You’ll probably get it punished for this too”.

You whine, something in your chest tightened, you wanted this more than ever. You needed to feel him inside you, claiming you, the little distance between you two too much to bear. You wriggled under the blankets. Discovering Shanks fully hard, putting the girth of it between your hands.

“Can I please, daddy?” You begged with big glossy eyes.

And how could he deny you when you begged so sweetly?

“Sure baby girl but don’t blame me for what happens next”, he chuckled.

Your mouth was on him in no time and by the time Mihawk came back with a wet cloth and bowl, your fate was decided.

You lay fast asleep at the foot of the bed, suckling Shank’s softened cock. Dried tear marks and cum decorated your face.

He stared blankly at Shanks.

He put his hands up defensively, “I can’t say no to such a cute face”.

Later on you begged Shanks to let you cockwarm him. He obliged, letting you sit on him as long as you behaved. Surprisingly enough, you were good for the most part. Nuzzling into his thick neck, hands laying deftly on his chest. He melted, kissing the sides of your face, murmuring about how a good girl you’ve been, while he’s been in meetings all day (with the camera off of course). You cutely moaned at this, his strong calloused hands ran up and down your spine.

He would stay here all day with your warm walls clinging to him, but alas he couldn’t.

“Baby as much as I love this…Daddy has to go to a lunch meeting”.

You whined, gripping to his length with a vice grip. He moaned in response, “Baby you are killing me.”

“You can’t go Daddy! You’re always gone. Stay here with me, I promise I’ll be good.”

“Aww baby I know, we haven’t been paying much attention to you but this is important”, he bopped you on the nose. You responded by biting him on the finger. You could feel his laughter building from the bottom of his stomach and bloom into his chest. It almost made you less mad. Almost.

“Okay as much as you know we both love this,you cannot get in the middle of Daddy’s work. Stand up.”

His voice may have been playful but his eyes glimmered with danger.

Your vice grip on his length didn’t relent, as you started to grind slightly.

Shanks, gripped tightly on your hips with both of his hands.

“You little minx are being naughty so now you have to take what I give you”.

He slammed his hips into you, sharp and fast, chasing his high. Dragging you back onto his cock. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe, you could only feel Shanks.

“Daddy I—Im gonna cu-“, he pulled your wide hips off him in an instant.

“We said no cumming without permission. Clean Daddy up on your knees.”

You obeyed. Sniffing at yet another orgasm ripped away. Such mean Daddies.

You took the length of Shanks in your mouth.

“You ready? I am not going to be gentle, little one. You have disappointed me.”

Your sobs were muffled by his cock.

“How are we doing baby? 1 Finger up means green, 2 means yellow, 3 means stop.”

You held a finger up. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down to his pelvis. Petting your head softly.

“Okay princess hold on tight, if you need to stop pinch my thigh. Can you demonstrate?”

You pinched him. “Ahh Good girl.”

He roughly fucked your throat. One hand on your head, the other texting his executive assistant to reschedule his lunch meetings and cancel the rest of his afternoon.

He looked you in the eyes, before glancing and seeing you rubbing your puffy clit. His fault, he should have been watching his slutty baby girl.

“Hands behind your back bad girl. Daddy’s gonna give all everything to you right now”. You moaned on his length, spit dribbling down your jaw. He sat back, pushing his length out of your sloppy mouth. Taking it in his hands, rubbing down the side of a vein. You gasped slightly, lips tingling, throat too used to be speak. You whimpered.

“So fucking sweet”. Open your mouth and Daddy will give you what you want.

You obeyed. He spat in your mouth.

“Swallow. Good girl.”

He grabbed the back of your head again.

“My cute little cock dumb baby”.

He chuckled darkly, before slapping his thick cock across your flushed cheeks, smearing pre cum. “Hold still baby.”

He added a few small smacks to the rest of your head, before deciding to decorate it.

“Open your mouth baby girl, daddy has a gift for you”. He slammed his cock down your throat as you struggled to breathe.

“You still green, little one?”

You held a finger up, tears streaming down your throat.

“Good girl, be extra good. Daddy’s going to send mean Daddy a present. Now suck.”

You sucked at the head, as Shanks started the video. Licking the underside and tracing the vein down his thick length. You both moaned.

“Fucckk baby just like that. Being so good for us.”

Look at how much of a fucking slut you are. You took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head, he grabbed your head and edged it down to his pelvis again. You swallowed. He traced the lines of his cock in your throat.

“Shit. Im gonna cum.” He stopped the video in favor of grabbing your face, to fuck you faster. He pulled out and you whined for him.

“Shhh be good and Daddy will give you a treat. Open that mouth”.

His hand sped up down his length, before slamming back in you.

“Swallow”.

That you did as you felt him shoot down your throat, he eased up and came across your fiery hot face.

“Hold on one second, baby. Let me show Mihawk how much of a pretty little whore you are”. You flushed in embarrassment. Will Daddy know you were being naughty again?

Your core was on fire. You hoped he did.

“So beautiful”.

He snapped a picture of your cum strewn face. “Now lick your lips and swallow. Show daddy after you’ve finished.”

You did just that, shivering.

“Good girl, now what do we say?”

“Th-thank you, Shanks”.

“Come on doll, you know that’s not my name”.

You stayed silent. Wanting to be punished further. Basking in the glow of his anger, his praise, his hands. You watched as he sent the videos and pictures to your lover.

—-Which lead you to where you were at right now—-

“Perhaps we have been too lenient towards you, little one. Perhaps we have not been as attentive as you needed us to be.”

You sobbed, the knot in your chest all day had been released.

“Don’t worry we are going to make it better all night. Right after your punishment is over. Now hush darling and let us take care of you.”

He kissed you deeply. You felt breathless. Finally falling down into that hazy place.

“Good girl.”

Mihawk pinned your hands down to the island as Shanks began his spanks.

“What do we say after after each spank my darling?”, his intense eyes scanning over your body.

“Th-thank you Daddy!”

“Good girl, but we have to start over so you can count. Can you give Daddy a color?”

“Green..Daddy I’m Daddy Im sorry Ill be good I promise!” You sob and shudder.

“I know baby.” A spank to behind emphasized his point.

“One. Thank you Daddy.”

A thawck to the back of the thigh.

“Two. Thank you Daddy”.

Another hit to the other thigh and lower ass. “Three? No Four Thank you Daddy”.

The spanks got harder and in quicker succession until you were left a shivering, slobbering mess. Mihawk’s grip on you never faltered, no matter how much you bucked up or twitched in pain. “Mmmm thank you Daddies. Thank you.”

“I think you’re ready for your reward now…hmm?”

“I agree. Our little one is so pliant now.”

Both men looked at you like wolves.

[atinyniki]

big heart, little actions.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee minho x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, horror movies, nightmares, crying, reassurance, love confessions.

authors note: had a thought... so i wrote it ! this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 919

everyone knows how minho is, even his members. ever since you started talking, you’ve had to learn to get used to it. it was a little difficult to rid yourself of your habits, but you wanted to be as amazing of a girlfriend as you possibly could be to him.

unfortunately, that meant almost no touching. sometimes he’d hug you or hold your hand, but that was just about the extent of it. he did show love in other ways, of course.

he’d buy you gifts, help you make dinner, spend lots of time with you, but you crave more. it feels selfish to want even more than the things he had to offer, but you can’t help it. 

you’re big on skinship but he isn’t. you need to respect that, so that’s what you do. you show affection in the same ways he does, as to not clash with any of his boundaries.

today though, it became incredibly difficult. work has been getting incredibly exhausting, and you’re thinking about quitting. although it isn’t the best option, you’re miserable there. 

your boss hates you, as do your coworkers, completely confused as to why you’d work so hard with a rich boyfriend. things only got worse from there.

“jagi? i’m home!”

you turn your head slowly towards the door, giving him a light smile. “hey…”

“bad day?”

you nod your head lightly, and minho walks to the kitchen to fix you a plate of the food he brought home. 

he brings it to you once he’s done, sitting on the couch next to you but keeping a fair distance. “you wanna watch a movie? just to get your mind off it?”

“sure.”

the two of you sit in silence while the movie plays, jumpscares coming from every which direction. you flinch every time you see one, curling closer into the corner of the couch.

you don’t want to say anything of course, as it seems like minhos enjoying this. you try to suppress your little whimpers, squirming in your seat as to not disturb him. 

the movie ends, but you don’t even notice it, still too shaken up. “you okay?”

you only nod, scared that if you talk you’ll just spew out your fears along with word vomit.

you stand up, “i’m a bit tired. probably going to go to sleep…”

minho is a little confused, he knows how much you hate going to sleep early. you climb into bed, minho not far behind. “i’ll sleep too, then. i have nothing better to do anyways”, he giggles.

you smile at the sound of his laugh, missing the way his face would always scrunch up and show his perfect bunny teeth.

still too exhausted to speak, you lay down onto your side of the bed, facing minhos back.

you want to reach out so badly. you want to tell him to come closer, to hold you. to kiss you. but you can’t. the two foot long distance between the two of you still remains, but you’re too tired to cry about it now. 

you slowly drift off to sleep, trying not to think about it.

the peace didn’t last for long of course, and your slumber is broken by a blood curdling nightmare. maybe you shouldn’t have watched a horror movie tonight.

you suppress your sobs, keeping them down so that minho doesn’t hear, but it’s already too late.

he turns around, looking you in the eyes with a concerned look on his face. “why are you crying…?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just a nightmare.”

he nods in acknowledgment, thinking about ways he could possibly comfort you. you can tell he’s thinking just by the look on his face, but you don’t know what it’s about. 

you continue thinking about what happened in your nightmare, your sobs getting a little louder. minho didn’t notice it before because he was thinking, but it breaks him out of his trance.

almost immediately, he grabs your arm, pulling you flush against him. your eyes go wide, incredibly confused as to what’s happening right now.

he swipes away one of your tears with his thumb, his actions tender. “why don’t you ever touch me?”, you whisper.

he looks down at you, a little confused. “is my touch not comforting?”

“what? i- no! that’s not it, don’t worry. i just don’t like much physical contact.”

you nod your head, finally accepting the fact that these things aren’t gonna happen often, as much as your truly want them to. 

he cups your cheek with his hand, looking at you with stars in his eyes. “i love you.”

he catches you by surprise once again.

“what?”

he pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “i love you. i’m sorry i don’t show it.”

before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a kiss. more specifically, the best kiss you’ve ever had.

the first kiss he’s ever given you.

“minho? is something wrong…?”

“no? why would anything be wrong?”

“i don’t know, you’re just… acting all sappy”

his heart clenches, he knows you don’t mean it in a bad way, and that you’re just confused. “i… i don’t like seeing you cry.”

he pulls you even closer again, kissing over your eyelids and gently rubbing your back with his hand.

you start crying even more, finally giving in and wrapping him in a hug. “thank you… i really needed this.”

“i did too.”

a moment of silence.

“minho.”

“hm?”

“i love you too.”

<3