#can't tell if he took it to heart or was just silenced from exhaustion after climbing to the 象山 lookout after dinner

[thistransient]

View from Taipei 101

[taojjang]

riize in an argument

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: angst, warnings: cussing, jealousy, medication, lovebombing, (light) forced affection pink text > reader blue text > riize

part two here .ᐟ ★

♡⸝⸝ getting into petty arguments with your boyfriend

shotaro . . . can't understand why you don't trust him.

the two of you had just gotten home from a dinner date, which shotaro thought had gone well but apparently not. shotaro was confused as to why you were suddenly silent during the drive home. "are you tired, honey? you're not talking much." he figured you were just sleepy since you didn't respond, only quietly resting your head against the window.

after the two of you changed from your date clothes and unwound for the night, shotaro grew concerned. he could tell you were upset about something, but he couldn't tell what. he kept poking at you, reaching to pry at your silence. "did i upset you honey? did i say something wrong?" you took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, finally deciding to come out of your silence. "i don't like how you were talking to the waitress." shotaro tilted his head and stepped closer to you. "what do you mean?" "you know what i mean, shotaro. you saw how she was looking at you. you were even giving in.. you flirted back." shotaro slightly furrowed his eyebrows and lightly held your hand. "what flirting, honey? i was only being nice to her." you began growing frustrated by how innocent he was acting. "you're just so oblivious sometimes, taro. you think i couldn't see the looks you were exchanging with her? she was all over you, you should've known her intentions." shotaro scoffed and let go of your hand. he felt quite hurt that he spent so much effort taking you out for a nice dinner just for you to accuse him of dedicating his time to another woman. "she was just being nice and i was returning her energy. you're just overanalyzing like you always do."

as soon as those words left shotaro's lips, your heart began to sting. taro's eyes softened as he realized what he'd said to you. you nodded and grabbed your pillow, standing up to leave. you kept silent knowing the ache in your throat would soon turn to tears. taro held your hand and tried pleading with you; "i didn't mean it like that honey, i just-" "no, it's fine." you pulled your wrist out of his weak grip and muttered a defeated "goodnight" before leaving to spend the night on the couch. once the door shut behind you, taro sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath as he realized how much he'd just hurt you.

eunseok . . . can't tolerate your disobedience.

he was cleaning the bathroom when he saw your pill case sitting on the counter. he sighed and snatched the full case off of the counter, walking to the living room to confront you.

you sat confused as your boyfriend held the box of pills in your face. "hm..?" "darling, how many times do i have to tell you to take your medicine?" he sighed and looked down at the 3 days worth of forgotten pills in the tin. "i'm not your doctor, i can't keep reminding you. it's getting tiring." you sighed and threw your head back in frustration. this was a common thing for eunseok to bring up every so often, but it was getting exhausting. "then you don't have to keep reminding me, seok. i'm also tired of it." eunseok scoffed and bit his lip. "tired of what? me looking out for you?" you wanted to roll your eyes at his condescending tone. you always hated how arrogant he gets, thinking he's so much smarter than you and telling you off like you're a misbehaving toddler. "no, seok. i'm just tired of taking these stupid pills all the time. i'll live without them for a few days. i don't like it when you're bossy like this." eunseok bit his lip at your ungrateful tone grating at his ears. he looked down at you with a stern glare, squinting in annoyance. "making sure you're healthy is being bossy? you're being a brat, y/n. i wouldn't have to be 'bossy' if you listened to me and at least tried to get better. you're just lazy." you felt your blood boil as you poked your tongue through your cheek. you were far more than angry at this point. you looked up at him and huffed, "i'm not lazy for being sick of taking pills every day. all i want is for you to chill out and stop shoving pills in my face all the time. i'll be fine." eunseok sighed and nodded, tossing the case on the table in front of you. "alright, then. i'll stop caring so much. fuck, i can't stand you sometimes."

it's not rare for the two of you to get mean during arguments, but it is rare for eunseok to say something that hurts you this much. you didn't expect to feel your heart aching after simply choosing not to take your medication. despite wanting to snap back at him, all you could do was nod, snatching the pills off the counter and swallowing them in one go. even after saying something so blunt, eunseok couldn't help but worry about your sudden silence and compliance. you stood up and put the pill case into the pocket of your hoodie. you swallow back a mixture of frustrated insults and hurt tears as you look up at him with glossy eyes. "i'll leave you alone since you can't stand me so badly." you coldly walk past him to the front door, slamming it behind you. eunseok sighed and walked back to the bathroom, hoping to distract himself from the idea that he'd just crossed the line.

sungchan . . . can't tolerate your mood swings.

as much as he hates to admit it, you're hard to handle. no matter how well he treats you or how much he spoils you, you'll still come home and find a reason to be sad. but he can't understand that sometimes you just need time alone. you had a long day at work and simply wanted to come home and recharge, looking forward to lying down and maybe watching your comfort show. but sungchan had other plans for you. as much as you love him, it gets tiring to be suffocated with cuddles when you just need time alone. today, you couldn't suppress your discomfort. you just didn't expect sungchan to get so angry.

"my fault for wanting to comfort you when you're upset." sungchan let go of your waist and moved to the opposite side of your bed. you sighed and sat up, turning to him. "thank you, sungchan. i'm really not mad at you, i just need time alone sometimes." you tried reassuring him once you heard his pained tone, but to no avail. "you ever think i need comfort, too? i had a horrible day and you can't even hug me for a few minutes?" for a second, you thought he was joking. but once you saw the angered expression on his face, your smile dropped. "baby, are you serious? i had a shitty day, too. all i need is some time alone. why are you taking it so personally?" "because it feels personal, y/n. you're pushing me away when i was just trying to make you feel better." you felt almost sickened by how ridiculous he sounded. you've already had a terrible day and you certainly weren't in the mood to argue. "that's not what i mean, sungchan, and you know it. all i'm asking is to be alone." sungchan seemingly felt the same way, leaving one last message before avoiding the conflict. "fine, didn't know i bothered you so much. don't bother coming to me later."

sungchan stormed out of the room. soon, the echo of his bedroom door slamming shut rang through the house. though you got what you wanted, your bed began feeling empty. you wanted to sleep it off, but the guilt now felt heavier than your fatigue.

wonbin . . . can't fathom the idea of losing.

wonbin is so adorably whiny. so adorable that you like to tease him just to hear him cry "stop it!" you admit to being a little too harsh sometimes when he gets frustrated with you, but you can't help yourself. wonbin is just too cute :( when the two of you play games, he's always whining about losing. if he's winning, he'll be giggling and having the time of his life— but god forbid it's the opposite.

"ah, this is getting annoying!" wonbin whined, moving farther from the table. you laughed and gestured at the pile of cards in front of you. "your turn! come on, at least try to beat me!" wonbin sighed and tossed another card on the table. before he knew it, your cards were almost used up and you were this close to winning the game. "this isn't fun anymore." wonbin groaned, leaning back with a pout on his face. you sighed and joked, "baby, you're always complaining. such a sore loser!" but something about your teasing ticked wonbin off. his sulky demeanor soon turned bitter and he gave you a resentful glare. "i wouldn't have to complain if you didn't get all cocky every time you won. you never give me a chance." wonbin's whiny complaints were beginning to get to you. you felt as if he was blaming you for his losses. "i'm just playing the game. it's not my fault i'm good at it." you immediately regretted your defense when the deck of cards were slammed onto the table in front of you. "gosh, i fucking get it y/n." wonbin stood up and stormed off, mumbling "this is why i can't do anything with you."

you felt your heart tear at his empty-hearted words. with the slam of his bedroom door, your tears began falling down your face. you never thought a simple card game would drive wonbin to this level of annoyance. you stood up and put the cards back into the box while considering whether to apologize or leave him be. you stand in front of his bedroom door, hesitantly muttering through your shaky breath, "i'm gonna go home now." you stood there like an idiot waiting for a reply, but you heard nothing other than the tapping of your tears dripping onto the hardwood floor.

seunghan . . . can't understand why his affection hurts you.

it's rare for the two of you to argue since seunghan travels extra lengths to make sure you're happy. after all, you're his entire world and he'd give up anything to keep you satisfied. but that's why so many problems go unanswered. whenever there's an issue between the two of you, seunghan just tugs you into a hug and tries to take your mind off of your frustration while the problem sits in the dust.

"it's called love bombing," you explain to seunghan, who was staring at you with confused yet hurt eyes. "i know you're just trying to make me happy, but it's bringing up so many more problems than we need, love." seunghan looked down at your hands and furrowed his eyebrows. "well, how? does my affection not fix anything? wouldn't you rather cuddle than argue all night?" you sighed and bit your lip in frustration. seunghan had expected you to agree, but his heart began hurting once you shook your head. "that's the problem, seunghan. making up without resolving anything is only making things worse for us. you need to talk to me, love. i can't keep kissing you to forget how hurt i am." seunghan felt all of his efforts go to waste. he'd truly hoped his affection could mend every rift between you two, but he was mistaken. seunghan picked up his phone from the bed and stood up. "i'm sorry, y/n. i just thought maybe my love would be enough to fix things."

seunghan turned around and made his way to the bedroom door, utilizing every ounce of strength in him to refrain from kissing you goodnight. "i promise i'll work on communicating, just... not yet. i don't know if i can speak to you right now. goodnight." seunghan left feeling shattered and simply exhausted from the confrontation. though you'd finally been able to address a longstanding issue, you felt everything but relief. now, both you and your crushed boyfriend wouldn't sleep a wink.

sohee . . . can't understand the concept of distance.

these past few days, sohee's noticed how different you've been acting. you've been coming to his house less and when he'd visit you, your attention was never completely his. worried, sohee brought up his concern to you, you brushing it off and telling him it's exam season, you've just been super drained from school. it all started to make sense, but that didn't solve any of his concerns. if anything, he was even more worried for your wellbeing, wondering how you could care for yourself if you don't even have the time to sit and talk with him for more than 10 minutes. so he began coming over more often to take care of you and keep your house tidy while you worked hard on your laptop. all of this hard work, yet you wouldn't let him sleep over.

"what..? why can't i?" sohee asked, hand frozen reaching for the pajamas he'd brought. "i'm just so exhausted, baby, i'm sorry. maybe you could sleep over when my exams are all finished..?" sohee was confused. he started to believe you weren't tired of the exams, but him. you noticed the sullen look forming on his face. you place your hand on his cheek and sent him a reassuring yet weak smile. "it's nothing personal, alright? i'm just tired." you'd expected sohee to understand, but his eyes shot up to you with an unfamiliar dark glint in them. "but you're making it personal, y/n. you can't even look at me when i'm beside you, not even for a second. are you tired of your work or me?" your heart rate began rapidly rising as sohee grew more and more frantic. "what makes you think i'm tired of you? i told you, i'm just tired. i want to rest alone, is that so terrible? i'm only-" "you don't have to keep making up excuses. i'll leave if you want me to but i'm not gonna let you lie to my face. stop sugarcoating it and tell me, y/n, you're just tired of me, aren't you?" you wanted to tell him he was wrong; he was the only escape you had from your excruciatingly repetitive schedule, yet he only believed you wanted to get rid of him. you tried to explain your feelings, yet all you could manage to do was scream, "you're not listening to me!" sohee scoffed at your sudden yelling. he bit his lip and picked up his bags, muttering, "there's nothing to listen to. there's no excuse you can make for not wanting anything to do with me."

you panicked as sohee left the room. you wanted to explain to him that he was completely mistaken and he was all you needed, but he wouldn't let you speak. you sighed as the front door slammed shut, the cold air leaking inside and stinging your tear-stained cheeks.

anton . . . can't let go of even the smallest slip-ups.

don't get me wrong— anton is the most forgiving boyfriend in the world. he could still smile and give you a goodnight kiss even if you ate the leftovers he'd been saving for dinner. but small things you do can lead him to make drastic assumptions about your relationship. last night, you were so exhausted that you'd forgotten to say your nightly "i love you" before hanging up on him. of course, you love him to death, but you were simply so tired after the horrible day you'd had that it'd slipped your mind since all you could think about was your bed. while you were knocked out cold, anton was sitting with his knees pressed against his chest, wondering if he'd done something wrong to not deserve an i-love-you. your poor baby is just a chronic overthinker.

"do you still love me..?" anton asked, sitting beside you on your bed while gently holding your hand. you let out a sleepy giggle, slowly nodding. "of course i do, silly. what makes you ask?" anton swallowed back his uncertainty and explained, "i don't know... you just didn't say 'i love you' last night before you hung up. i thought maybe i did something wrong." you let out a long sigh and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. "that means nothing, dummy. i was just so tired, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?" things should've ended here, but anton just could not brush off his insecurity. "but you didn't say it..! it's such a normal thing now, how could you forget to say it? do you really not love me anymore?" anton was deeply hurt that you forgot such a crucial part of your regular routine with him, but you didn't realize how important this was to him. it only hurt to know all of your efforts to make him happy were blown away by this minuscule mistake. you'd been so busy and stressed with how packed your schedule was. nevertheless, you still tried your hardest to make time for your boyfriend. yet this one mistake lead him to believe you had no love for him. you were beyond frustrated. "i've been trying so hard to make sure you feel loved, anton. i keep in contact with you all day no matter how occupied i am and i still find time to cook dinner for you while i still have shitloads of homework waiting for me. how do i not love you?" anton was taken aback by the intimidating change in tone. your sudden anger only worsened his anxious overthinking. but of course, he remained avoidant. anton let go of your hand and nodded, looking down at his hand. "i'm really sorry, y/n. i didn't mean to make you angry. goodnight, love you."

you didn't realize your anger had scared him off until he left your room with tears in his eyes. regret pooled in your stomach and you began feeling sick. nothing hurt more than seeing that inconsolable look on your baby's face. tears made their way to your eyes as your mind traced the idea that you were the worst girlfriend you could possibly be.

—

(a/n: my first time writing angst..! i hope this was okay... it hurts so much writing angst without a happy ending :( if you're like me and need closure after every angst you read, there's a part two coming! do not fret my sensitive sisters 🙂‍↕️)

[hexlenx]

EVEN IN OTHER UNIVERSES, I LOVE YOU. — aaron taylor-johnson

In which you came home tired from work and only just wanted to lay down on your shared-bed with your husband. Only to see five different version of said husband.

note: hello! So I have come to write another one shot or fic or whatever you call it because I couldn't help myself but write this new idea I thought of. I do hope you enjoy!

warnings!: none because we fluffy today pookie.

__________________

Sighing tiredly you let out a groan as you took a small break in your car, resting your head on the steering wheel as you closed your eyes for a few moments.

You just finished your work from helping your director write the script for the next movie you're starring. You see, you've been an actress in the industry for a long time now and even though it's tiring you continue to work through it as it is your passion. Plus, it's where you met your lovable and handsome husband. A fellow well-known actor in the industry.

The director asked for your help because you had experience in directing as well as a degree for it. So hence why you also came home late while your husband went ahead after a bit of your persuasion. Thinking of your husband, you smiled fondly. How can you be so lucky to have such a man?

While you were taking a small break from your car, said husband was sweating profusely in the kitchen with a spatula in hand while wearing a pink apron.

Looking at the five males in front of him, Aaron cursed underneath his breath.

"Fuck me."

The gate opened automatically after scanning your car's number plate. Before driving in reverse towards the garage door. Humming a soft tune you put the car on park and grabbed everything you need from the car before coming out of it.

Opening the door connected to the kitchen, you took off your shoes and hanged your coat on the hanger before calling out to your husband with a bright smile.

"Honey, I'm home!" Your smile slowly turned into worry as you were greeted by nothing. Usually you were greeted by a beaming charming smile as well as a giant hug lifting you off from your feet while being spun around by your husband.

Where could he be?

"Aaron? You there?" In slight worry you walked around the first floor of the house searching for your husband, but alas there was no sign so you moved upstairs.

There was a thump in one of the rooms when you were in the middle of walking on the stairs making you feel worry and fear when you heard a voice groaning as well as cursing. Your mind was running in a fast pace as you run up from the stairs towards the source of those noises.

No it can't be, please tell me he didn't—

The scene in front of you shocked you. The noises stopped as the figures looked at you in silence.

"Love, I can explain—" Aaron was the first to break the silence with his hands up as if he was trying not to anger you. And let me tell you, you do not want an angry wife at you.

However, instead of an angry wife. You looked like you were about to cry. You see, another thing about you is that you are quite an open and very sensitive person. Your legs gave up as you collapsed on the floor, tears running down your face as your exhaustion mixed with your anxiety was not a good combination right now.

"I—i thought you were with a w-woman—" you stuttered as your husband immediately went over you to put you in his embrace the moment your knees buckled whispering praises as well as reassurance to you. Desperately trying to calm you down. He knew you were very tired since it's about ten in the evening by now and he supposes that the noises he and the others made, made you think of something else.

His heart broke just by thinking he was doing things to another woman other than you, he cannot and will never do such a thing to you. He loves you too much to do so.

The five other male in the room looked at the scene in front of them, disbelief clear in their faces as they looked at your figure. Hearts beating uncontrollably as the younger looking male in the room muttered a name.

Your name.

This made all of you to snap your heads up to the male. Now that you look at it, they all looked just like your husband. No, actually all of them are your husband. No one can impersonate your husband unless it's your husband himself, his face is too unique to be able to copy.

"Why are there five more of you?"

Now that the situation has calmed down, you, your husband and five more of him sat in the living room in silence. Assessing the situation.

"So you're telling me that you, Dave was getting beaten up almost to death before coming here? James, you got here when you were stuck by Voldemort. Alexei, got here when you fell from your horse at full speed, head first. Tangerine, you got here after getting shot on the neck trying to kill the White Death's child and Pietro, you got shot multiple times by saving Clint from dying? Have I summarized it correctly?" You summarized outloud as the others nodded to confirm your statement. You sighed as both you and your husband looked at each other, not knowing what to do since unlike some of their worlds, you guys don't have the power to bring them back to theirs. But they all don't seem like they're hurt from their explanations. Maybe it's cuz they're in a different world.

"What were you doing before I barged in the room?" You asked your husband who looked everywhere but you.

"I was trying to give them some clothes, Dave, Pietro and James was the only one who accepted it but the other two wanted something that fit their styles." Aaron sighed as he took a sip at the coffee he made since it was getting late. He really thinks that you should rest first and let him handle it though.

"Sorry gentlemen, but it's quite late in the evening and I would like to take a nap and rest. We will take care of this tomorrow." You sent them a tired smile as you stood up from your seat and towards your bedroom upstairs, leaving all six of them in the room.

As soon as you were out of hearing range, Aaron's expression turned cold as he looked at Dave. Even if he knew the kid wouldn't hurt his wife because he played his character years ago, he will still not let loose his guard. Dave flinched from the glare and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while the others stared at him the same way as Aaron, that's weird.

"How do you know my wife?"

This made the men's eyes go wide. Wife? That made them collectively let out a sigh of relief. Wife..

"She's also your wife?" James asked Aaron, it's kind of weird talking to yourself as he looked at the older one in wonder.

"also?" Aaron questioned.

"Yea, I mean. In my universe I married her and had Harry after we got married at twenty-one." James enthusiastically explained as his face brightened up when talking about his lover.

"Uh.. she's my girlfriend in my universe too." Dave lifted up his hand awkwardly. Though you can see that he is also happy to announce that you are his lover.

"I'm also her lover when I have escaped Hydra with my twin sister." Pietro said with a charming smile, his face brightening up whenever he mentioned his wife.

"I'm married to'er in my universe. Doll, was the only one who accepted me other than my brother." Tangerine uttered out as he lit up a cigarette before puffing it out the smoke from his mouth, where he got that from? I don't know and neither does the others.

"...she is my affair, my lover that I intend to protect with all of my soul. The only maiden who saw me for me and not some viscount." Alexei said as his eyes were clouded with the memories of his lover. Ah, how he longed to be in her arms again.

"All of us are her lovers in another universe, huh?" Aaron sighed out, his smile coming out as he thought that even in different versions of himself, he chooses you and is still with you. It makes him sigh in content and happiness as he is assured that no matter what happens, he is still with you in the end.

"Even in every other universes, I love you." All men uttered out, the atmosphere becoming serene as they sat in a few moments of silence.

Warmth filled their chests as the leaned back in their seats as their thoughts only circled in one subject.

You.

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes

pairing: old man!logan howlett x gn! reader

word count: no idea but this one isn't very long.

part two is out!

tags: major character death — angst — reader is logan’s sunshine — mention of blood & wounds — logan low-key proposing 5 seconds before he dies — non established relationship

author's note: this has been on my mind since 2 days ago so I had to do it now.. I hope you guys enjoy reading this heartbreak! and yes I wrote this after watching Logan (2017) again. just a bit of an alternative type of ending so I can write abt logan x reader! as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

god stood me up

and I don't know why

lights are on

but nobody's home

you find him leaning against a tree trunk, a chunk of wood piercing his sides open as blood soaks through his shirt. that isn't the only wound he's sporting but it's the most evident one; the one that'll possibly lead him to his demise.

logan blinks upon noticing you as if he's just seeing things or dreaming. when you crouch down beside him and place your hand on his arm, he realizes exactly just how real you are. “logan?” there are tears in your eyes and he hates that you're crying because of him again. you had been living with him, charles and caliban way before it all turned to shit. and somehow the only ones left standing were laura and you. and the kids that logan had managed to save; he truly had saved so many lives.

there's a silence aside from his heavy breathing before your shaky hands cup his face. the blood flows out of his wound and mouth like a river. in some way you're bleeding too — inside your heart. “hey sunshine.” logan whispers with a soft smile and you feel something tear your chest apart from the inside. “I made you cry again.” you see the way his hand twitches by his side. he wants to touch you but he's old and tired and wounded. there's no energy left in him to move anymore. “the kids are okay, laura is okay— I have the car and..and there's still time— the hospital—” your voice trails off when logan closed his eyes.

“you know what makes me angry, sunshine?” logan asks and you simply stare at him, shaking your head. when he opens his eyes again, they are full of unshed tears. “gonna miss my daughter’s first birthday with me—” logan mutters brokenly and the vision of laura swims beneath his half-opened eyelids. and after laura there is you; smiling. at the beach. you've always wanted to go to the beach with him but he never took you since he was working day and night to take care of everything. of everyone. “and i’m also gonna miss my sunshine.” his eyes fall on you, on your crying face. the tears sliding down your cheeks are plenty and there is so much emotion pooling in those orbs of yours. logan wants to kiss you, tell you it'll be alright. but he can’t even move.

he coughs, some blood spluttering on his white shirt and you flinch. your fingers shake as you slide them through his messy hair, stroking them in the way he’s always loved. “logan, I'm sorry...I— I'm so sorry logan..” you keep chanting and logan feels the frustration in his bones when he tries to move his arms. he can't, he's too weak now, and he's angry with himself that he's unable to comfort you the way he wants. the way he once could but never did. “not you nor the entire world could ever prevent this, sunshine. it was meant to be like this.” he says before coughing again, more blood trickling down his beard.

you crawl by his side, on the dirty ground, and press against his ‘good’ side while leaning your head on his shoulder. you tilt your head back enough for your eyes to reach his exhausted face. logan maintains a smile you haven't seen in forever. in damn years to be precise. “charles spoke to me of other timelines and some shit about— multiverse was it?” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don't fucking know. I just wanted him to take the damn pills.” his sentence makes both of you laugh although logan is holding back with that — it'll only cause more physical pain after all. “point is..if it's true then—”

“—we gotta find each other yeah? and laura.” his eyes aren't on you anymore but they're in the sky. it's bluer than ever and the clouds part to show him the sun. logan doesn't look away even if it makes his eyes ache. you stare. “wanna make it right, sunshine.” he tells you as you sniffle by him. his fingers flinch again between your bodies and you slide a single hand down to hold his own, to intertwine your fingers in a gentle mess. “but for now I want to rest.” logan whispers and your grip tightens around his hand. if he had the strength, he'd squeeze back. you knew this.

“you did excellent.” you finally manage to say, a little steadier this time. logan averts his gaze to you as you continue. “you did a good job. you did such a good job.” you repeat with a smile so soft that logan starts yearning for you already. his faint chuckle turns into a rough cough and he takes some time to recover before speaking again.

“maybe after I rest, I'll open my eyes and..” you watch as logan’s eyes begin closing and how the heaving of his chest slows. he's deathly pale by now, the veins underneath his eyes are prominent, but your grip never slackens. you crawl closer until your foreheads touch. logan draws one last breath and you swallow down your cry. “and I'll see my daughter. and my... spouse.” your eyes shoot open wide but logan’s remain fallen shut. your chest heaves up and down intensely but logan’s remains still.

when the time comes, your feet are forcefully dragging you away towards your old car while logan lies beneath the ground.

[f1amour]

「 ✦ F1 GRID — ANGST DRABBLES.

pairings include | max verstappen x assistant!reader, carlos sainz jr. x wolff!reader, charles leclerc x mexican!reader, lando norris x pr!manager!reader

authors note | if you have any requests for some drabbles send them my way! my inbox is always open <3

navigation | main masterlist (coming soon)

— MAX VERSTAPPEN ¹

unrequited love assistant!reader

Becoming an assistant to Max Verstappen was not your plan when you visited Monaco during winter break to celebrate completing your degree. It was a trip you’d been looking forward to all year long after all the long nights of studying and exam taking.

Bumping into Max and getting coffee with him to end up with a one in a lifetime job opportunity was not your plan. You had never imagined going on vacation and ending it with a job.

You also were not planning to fall in love with Max.

Spending two years loving him in the dark was the hardest time in your life. You kept those feelings because he was your boss and you were just his assistant.

But standing here now at the Dutch Grand Prix as Max takes second place you could see the disappointment in his eyes but also the exhaustion. You knew the pressure he has been putting on himself after not having won since June.

"I know it isn't first place but you did amazing out there give the circumstances of how shitty the car is. You made it work." You tell Max while you sit in the seat beside him on your jet.

A few of the drivers were going to join but Max needed space from everyone. You weren't sure why he asked you to stay, you could have given him space as well and booked a flight with everyone else.

A small part of you hoped maybe he needed you and nobody else.

"I just...I don't want to talk about that right now. I'm sorry." With a frown on his face, he traces circles on your thigh; a habit he had for awhile now when he felt upset or anxious.

It wasn't the right place or time to confess your feelings but would there ever be a right time? You figured this was your chance to say it before you fell into a deeper hole of keeping this in.

Maybe he will feel the same way. Maybe.

"Okay we won't talk about that...we can talk about something else? Something I have been wanting to tell you for awhile now."

You take a deep breath, "Okay we won't talk about that...we can talk about something else? Something I have been wanting to tell you for awhile now." Bracing yourself for the confession that is about to come.

Max knew just from the look in your eyes that what you wanted to say was something he had been trying to avoid. But now in the air with no where else to go he would have to hear you out.

"Please y/n don't. Don't say it." His pleas come out almost pathetically. He did not want to hear those three words come out of your mouth when he knows he won't say it back to you.

"I can't keep holding this in any longer than I have. Max, I love you--."

"You can't. No. Y/n please don-."

"I love you. I love you and I need you to hear that now I can't go another two years with you not knowing. I've tried to hide it, I've tried to push it away, but it's no use – I can't escape these feelings for you. From the moment I met you, there was something about you that just...captured me. Your smile, your laugh, your presence. It all took my breath away. I've tried to ignore this feeling, to push it down and forget about it, but it's always there, lurking in the back of my mind. I can't deny these feelings for you any longer."

Y/n's heart sinks into your stomach as the silence hangs heavily in the air after your confession. Max looks at you, and in the depth of his eyes, you see your fears confirmed. There is no glimmer of affection, no hint of reciprocated feelings. Just a cold, unspoken rejection.

You can sense that your words have not had the desired effect, and realization sets in: he does not feel the same.

Max breaks the silence, his voice soft and quiet, "I'm sorry. I don't feel the same way. I'm so sorry."

Feeling vulnerable and exposed at the moment she gives him a soft smile to conceal her tears, "t's okay. It was silly of me to think you would ever love me anyways. I just needed to say it before it consumed me more. I can move on now. I'm just going to do some work on my laptop back here." It was like a switch turned on inside you and you became cold.

Not letting the awkwardness of a now two hour flight ahead of you, you decided to bury yourself in work. Max was unaware of what you typed away on your computer was a letter of resignation something you sent right after separating ways at the airport.

You denied having a proper goodbye because you knew in the end you would have stayed. You love Max but you loved yourself enough to leave instead of hoping one day he would feel the same. Instead of trying everything you could do to get him to love you; you leave hoping you won't have to beg for your love to be reciprocated.

— CARLOS SAINZ JR. ⁵⁵

lovers to enemies wolff!reader

“Did you know?” Carlos questions you, entering the apartment slamming the door. His eyes filled with anger and a hint of sadness.

You smiled at him from the couch, “Hello to you too, grumpy. I don't know what you're talking about.” You say going back to your book.

“Y/n don't play dumb with me. I just got out of a meeting with the team, Lewis is taking my seat next year. You had to have known from your father. Why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos glares at you standing in front of you forcing to take your eyes off your book.

You sit him down next to you and continue, “Can you just try to remember that I’m his manager? We both signed nda's with Ferrari we couldn't tell anyone not even his family, Carlos please I really wanted to tell you but my job would be on the line i would have been fired and possibly sued if the news got out.” You grab his hands, begging him to look at you.

i couldn't tell you

“You…you’ve known all this time? And didn’t tell me?” His face flashes with hurt and you feel so much guilt being the reason he is feeling this way. You knew it was messed up not telling him but this was your job you had to be professional when it came to things like contracts. You hadn’t even told your Dad about it until Lewis was ready to confirm it to him,

“Lewis has been in talks with them for months but he and his agent handling it for that time because he knew how conflicting it would be for me knowing I would probably tell you. He didn’t tell me until a month ago when we had to go through his contract and what not. Baby, please I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t. But I promise all this will fix itself we have a plan!” You explain to him, the last sentence filled with hope and surprise for him but he’s too angry to see through that.

“Promise? You promises seem to have meant nothing as of now. You promised me a lot of things and have kept them but this one? Betraying me? You promised we would be truthful in our relationship turns out only I have been. I can't forgive this. I can’t forgive you.”

His next words hit you like a ton of bricks, “I’m done. Our relationship is done and I need you out of here by tonight. I’ll be back later tonight hopefully you’ll be gone by the time I am back.” He stands up grabbing his keys and you tug his hand back begging him to stay.

“Please please Carlos, I’m begging you you just listen to me. All this will make sense you just need to trust me, please? I love you and you love me—.”

“No. I don’t think I do anymore. Someone who loves me would have never done this to me. Have a great life.” He pushes your hand away and walks out not glancing back as you yell for him begging him to come back.

It took you a few hours to gather all your things taking a few breaks in between to stop yourself from crying but there was no use in that, if anyone saw your puffy read eyes they’d know immediately.

As you zip up your final suitcase you hear the door open and expecting to see Carlos coming into your bedroom you’re met with a blonde woman wrapped around him.

You clear your throat as they almost kiss in front of you and Carlos quickly turns to you not expecting you to still be here and his heart drops to his stomach, “What are you still doing here?” You scoff wiping your tears away, that’s all he had to say?

“Just finishing up. Charles said he will grab the rest of my bags tomorrow since I’m staying with him and Alexandra for now.” You tell him and grab your purse before taking the picture frame that was filled with collages of you and Carlos, taking it with you to the living room as Carlos follows after you.

You throw the picture frame into the trash can, “Why did you do that?” Carlos asks you.

You shrug pulling an envelope out of your purse, “Our relationship is done like you said. The decent thing you could have done is fucked someone at least 24 hours after we break up not three hours later. When you realize what you've lost you will fucking regret it all, Carlos. Have a good life.” You mimic his previous choose of words in your last sentence.

Shoving the envelope to his chest he watches you in confusion as to what it pertains, “Congrats.” You tell him walking out the door and out of his life not giving him a chance to ask anything.

It’s as if his heart felt you getting further and further away with every step his heart began to feel heavy. As he opens the envelope his heart stops seeing the words written in bold; CARLOS SAINZ JR. 2025 MERCEDES DRIVER CONTRACT & AGREEMENTS.

— CHARLES LECLERC ¹⁶

friends to lovers to strangers mexican!reader

FRIENDS.

Meeting Charles in 2019 at the Mexico City Grand Prix was one of your favorite moments you’ll ever have. Closing your world tour in your home country he and a few of the other drivers along with their girlfriends had gone to your closing night. You were a fan of the sport and more specifically a fan of the Ferrari driver.

Your team let you know he was out there which made you much more nervous but either way you killed it out there and made lots of eye contact with him. They go backstage per your request and you get along easily with everyone but it was Charles you connected with most.

Form then on you guys became an inseparable duo that the world shipped so much but you both always denied the dating rumors. Your friendship with Charles was purely platonic.

You both experienced each others best and worst moments personally but also career wise. Maybe that was one of the first things that made you both realize the platonic love you had might be a little more.

LOVERS.

You both had been in bed watching a movie one night when Charles finally made a move with a simple sweet kiss that turned to more later that night.

You were attached to each other even more now despite having busy schedules. You made it work and planned out your schedules to spend the most time you can together. It was perfect for the next three years and despite the small arguments you would have every now and then you guys always made up.

Charles was devoted to you. He would be exhausted from a race weekend but would get home excited to help you create new music. You’d be singing or on the guitar while he played the piano sharing ideas on what melody to use. He understood you so well. He knew every single thing about you even the smallest of details that you didn’t notice yourself.

You knew all his habits. The ones he had before and after racing. He’d go into a little mental bubble hours before a race trying his best to push himself to do his greatest. You knew he loved massages after a race so you’d always be waiting in his room to give him that. He adored the little notes you’d leave him in various spots where he could find them on different occasions while you are off touring.

Until one day, the loving touches and words of affirmation turned into bitter arguments and no loving touches at all.

“It’s over isn’t it?” You smiled at Charles as he holds onto you, he had been visiting for a few days during summer break but it was time to get back to work. You spent the days arguing a routine that you’ve both been getting used to now.

Questioning why he spent only a few days with you and spent most of the break with friends. He threw the argument back to why had you scheduled your tour dates around his break.

It had been the moment of realization for the two of you that you loved each other but you were no longer putting each other first. You didn’t act like lovers. You didn’t act like best friends. You acted more like strangers.

“I’m so sorry.” Charles apologizes, tears filling his eyes that match yours. You shake your head wiping his tears away and he mimics you, “I’m sorry. We both love each other but we stopped trying. We stopped taking care of each other…of our love.” You lean against his hands cupping your face.

This would be the last time you’d be in each others arms and you wanted to cherish it forever.

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” Charles chants, closing his eyes he says it repeatedly almost a if he were hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

“Te amo, Charles. Siempre.” Your lips meets his one last time savoring the moment for as long as you can until he is called over for his departing flight.

He walks away hoping maybe one day you could meet again and it would be a different story. Maybe your love story didn’t end here.

STRANGERS.

A year had passed and you’d been taking a much deserved break from singing. Enjoying life in Mexico exploring new spots and meeting new people. You made new friends but never forgot about the ones you made in the past.

The Mexico Grand Prix once again coming up this weekend and you had been invited by Red Bull Racing. An offer you didn’t decline wanting to support your fellow Mexican driver and friend Checo Perez but also to catch up with Max who you’d grown close to the last year.

Everyone in the paddock talked about your arrival and what was to be expected if you bumped into your former ex. You could care less what the media asked of you as you walked alongside Max and Kelly talking about your next album. As you walk your heart stops when you see Charles walking towards you with Carlos next to him eyeing the situation Kelly and Max doing the same with you.

But as you approach each other you simply stare straight ahead spying no attention to him and his teammate who give a quick wave to the couple next to you and continue walking past you.

No one else seemed to noticed your hand reaching for Charles as you walked by him, his hand reaching for yours as well. It felt like a force of habit. Maybe that’s why they reached for each other

But in the end they walked away as strangers.

Strangers with memories of each other.

— LANDO NORRIS ⁴

grumpy x sunshine pr!manager!reader

You weren’t sure why Lando had grown such a strong dislike from you since the moment you met. You were hired as his new PR manager for the 2022 season and you were the youngest member of the communications team but they didn’t underestimate you.

You proved yourself being Daniel Ricciardo’s PR manager for the 2022 season but after he left you were assigned to be Lando’s PR manager after his last one left the team.

Being in charge of Lando was…a mission.

It could have been easy if he didn’t treat you so terribly. He treated you as if you were a robot; pure work and no worry that his hurtful words affected you.

Despite the hurt he made you feel every day you spent together you still arrived to every race weekend with a smile. You played the part of the perfect PR manager despite the constant belittling of received from the McLaren driver.

But sooner or later that light would dim.

“She’s just aggravating. Always coming in with a smile and giving me advice on what I should do or say when I’m with the media.” Lando rants to Oscar as they sit in his drivers room waiting for interviews to begin.

“I mean…that’s technically her job.” Oscar defends you, he had grown close to you and your bubbly personality always lighting up a room. He wasn’t sure why Lando was so angry towards you.

Lando was fine with everyone else but you. He was a charming guy with a smile on his face but plenty did notice the scowl on his face that would cover his usual smile when he was around you.

He was cruel to you but for some fucked up reason you found yourself developing a crush on him. You weren’t sure why you liked him why every thought you had was about him. He was invading your mind and heart, even if he hated you.

You noticed the small things he enjoyed, like distressing with a good playlist after a race. He enjoyed finding new cameras to add to his collection. He wasn’t an avid drinker but did enjoy a vodka cran ever so often. He wouldn’t admit it but you could tell he was get homesick sometimes and wish his family were with him at every race.

So you made it your mission to FaceTime his family every weekend before and during a race. Whether he made it to the podium or not you’d hand your phone over to him so he can talk to his family. He had always assumed it was his family who asked you to do this gesture every race week but oh boy was he wrong.

You walk into the McLaren hospitality ready for the weekend with a plate of homemade cookies in your hand. You made sure to hand a cookie to everyone you said hello to until you arrived to the garage and saw Lando with his race engineer and Andrea beside them.

You approach them with a smile ready to offer them some cookies, “Hey guys, I made—.”

“Y/n can’t you see we’re busy right now? This is an actual job and we put time into it unlike yours you just tell me I need to smile and be fake, I got it. Let us be now.” Lando’s word spit out like venom intended to hurt you in every shape possible. His mind is telling him how fucked up that was but he was so stressed about his car that he didn’t realize it until it was too late and you had tears in your eyes.

“Right. Sorry.” You smile tearfully walking away quickly not having the chance to hear the two men next to Lando scolding him for treating you with such disrespect.

“Get that attitude fixed of yours against the girl, Lando. I’m not gonna deal with it any longer if you keep it up. She’s a great girl and has proven what a great job she does for this team and for you especially.”

Andrea’s words echo through his mind the entire race weekend and despite his cruel words towards you he noticed you still managed to put a smile on your face.

It was time to head out after scoring second place at the Chinese Grand Prix. Lando was looking around for you confused why you hadn’t been at the press conference and you had sent an intern instead.

He gets to his room hoping maybe you were in there and he was ready to apologize but found an empty room instead. A plate of cookies on his table and papers next to it, he approaches the table and looks at the small note on the plate of wrapped cookies, “asked your mom for her recipe since you said you missed her baking cookies for you. hope i do them justice <3”.

He felt guilt consume him realizing that your earlier gesture was made for him specifically and he had blown you off. His eyes look at the papers next to the plate and he sits on his chair in disbelief reading your letter of resignation papers. You quit on the spot and had already been long gone since the race began.

Good luck on the rest of your season, you’ll be a winner soon I’ll always believe in you.

He read the text over and over again that you had sent prior to leaving but he not seen it since he was racing. He spent the next week going back to the text and your note, you showed him so much kindness and all he ever was show you the opposite.

Arriving in Miami he didn’t realize how crucial your role was in guiding him with the media. The new PR manager wasn’t terrible but they weren’t like you. You still have him the liberty to be himself as he had the right to but this manager was useless.

The most unexpected part of this weekend was him finally winning his first ever Grand Prix in his career of being in Formula One. His heart beating with all the adrenaline running in his veins as he reaches his team celebrating with them.

But as he hugged everyone around him he looked around waiting for the one person he wanted to see and celebrate with; you.

It was all too late. He realized his feelings for you until you were gone and now here was begging to see you smiling face in the crowd.

Getting a small moment to himself he opened his phone and saw a text from you;

“Congrats. I knew this year would be yours. Keep on winning, future world champion.”

He didn’t deserve you not when his cruelty pushed you away and still somehow showed him the love he now wanted to give you.

[unpublishediary]

Why didn’t you tell me?percy jackson x injured reader. (hurt/comfort) Part 2

part one ✵ part two

✵ synopsis: after a fight on the Argo II, reader tries to hide their injury but Percy is determined to find out what’s wrong… he figures it out, but hopes he wasn’t too late

✵ interest: percy jackson (HOO)

✵ warnings: mentions of blood, pain, loss of appetite, isolation, loss of consciousness, and leo.

MASTERLIST

Consciousness returned like a gentle tide, bringing with it the soft rhythm of nearby breathing. Your eyelids felt leaden, and when you finally managed to pry them open, the infirmary's muted light was a blessing to your sensitive eyes.

Percy was there, but not how you expected. He wasn't slumped in sleep or pacing with worry, he was just... staring. Sitting perfectly still in the chair beside your bed, his sea-green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

His jaw was set, hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had gone white, and you couldn't read his expression. You'd never seen him like this before, caught between anger and something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart twist.

When you tried to shift position, a deep ache flared through your side. His eyes tracked the movement, and something in him finally broke.

"Six hours," he said, voice low and rough. "You were out for six hours."

You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry. Without breaking his stare, he reached for the water glass, helping you take small sips. The gentleness of his movements contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in his eyes.

"Percy—" you started.

"No." The glass clicked against the side table. "You don't get to—" He stood abruptly, running both hands through his hair. "Do you have any idea what—" He cut himself off, turning away, then whirling back. "You were bleeding out. Right in front of me. And you didn't say anything."

The last words came out as a shout, echoing off the infirmary walls. You flinched, and instantly saw regret flash across his face.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't want to—"

"To what? Trust me?" His voice cracked on the words. "To let me help you? Gods, when you collapsed, I thought—" He broke off again, dropping heavily back into the chair. All the anger seemed to drain out of him at once, leaving something much more fragile in its wake.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he said quietly, not meeting your eyes now. "And the worst part was knowing you didn't even think you could tell me. After everything we've..."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. When he finally looked up, the vulnerability in his expression took your breath away.

"I can't lose you," he admitted, barely above a whisper. "Not like that. Not ever." His hand found yours, tentative at first, then holding on like an anchor. "Next time you're hurt, you tell me. I don't care if it's a paper cut or a broken bone. Promise me."

You nodded, throat tight with emotion. "I promise."

Some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders. He didn't let go of your hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, letting the quiet wash away the last echoes of anger and fear.

"Annabeth going to kill me for yelling in here," Percy finally said, a ghost of his usual smile returning.

"Probably," you agreed, feeling your own lips curve upward. "Worth it though?"

His expression softened as he looked at you, and that something deeper was back in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Worth it."

As exhaustion started pulling you back under, you felt him shift closer, his free hand brushing hair from your forehead with impossible gentleness. The last thing you heard before sleep took you was his whispered, "I'll be right here. I promise."

The next two days in the infirmary blurred together, marked by the steady stream of visitors and Percy's constant presence. He'd only leave when someone else insisted, and even then he'd return looking like he'd barely slept, dropping back into his chair like it was the only place he wanted to be.

"You know," you said one afternoon, watching him fight to keep his eyes open, "your room probably has a more comfortable bed than that chair."

"I'm fine," he insisted, though he was practically slumped over the armrest. "Annie said you might be able to try walking today."

As if summoned, she appeared in the doorway. "Speaking of which." Annabeth crossed her arms, giving Percy a pointed look. "You're not going to be much help if you pass out from exhaustion."

"I don't pass out," Percy protested, but she was already shooing him toward the door.

"Go. Shower. Sleep. She'll still be here when you get back."

Percy hesitated at the doorway, giving you a look as you laughed at the exchange. "I promise not to do anything stupid while you're gone."

"Better not," he said softly, something warm in his eyes before he finally left.

Annabeth checked your bandages, nodding with satisfaction. "Walking should be much less painful now."

The first attempt at walking wasn't exactly graceful. Your legs felt like jelly after hours on hours in bed, and the stitches pulled uncomfortably. But Annabeth was patient, letting you lean on her as you made your way slowly across the room.

You'd barely made it halfway when familiar voices drifted in from outside.

"If you're going to hover, you might as well come in," she called out, amused.

Jason was the first through the door, followed by Leo, their faces lit up seeing you on your feet.

"Look who's vertical," Leo joked at the sight of you.

"Barely," you admitted, grateful for Annabeth’s support as your legs trembled. Jason immediately took that as his cue to support your other side.

"Baby steps," Leo said as you gave him a look, but Annabeth cut in,

“Let’s get you back to—”

"I've got her." Percy was suddenly there, like he'd materialized from thin air. His arm slipped around your waist, careful to avoid your injury as he took your weight from her. "I thought you were going to sleep," you murmured as he helped you back to bed.

"Tried. Couldn't." His voice was low enough that only you could hear. "Kept thinking..."

He didn't finish the thought, but his arm tightened slightly around you.

"Well, now that the gang's all here," Leo said once you were settled, pulling something from his bag, "movie night?"

"In the infirmary?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Percy sided with Leo. "She's been staring at these walls for days. And we'll keep it quiet." He looked toward the daughter of Athena.

Annabeth sighed the sigh of someone who knew not to fight it, "Fine.”

Once the others were gathered, everyone settled in around your bed. Including Leo perched at the foot with his laptop, Annabeth claiming the extra chair, and Percy back in his usual spot beside you. As the familiar opening credits rolled, you felt some of the lingering tension finally ease from your shoulders.

"Hey," Percy whispered, his hand weaving through you hair before finding hand in what had become a familiar gesture. "You good?"

You looked around at your friends, your family really, and squeezed his hand. "Yeah. I'm good."

His answering smile was soft, private, meant just for you. And as everyone argued about plot holes and character arcs, you realized that maybe getting hurt hadn't been the worst thing.

Sometimes it took falling apart to understand just how many people were there to help put you back together.

By the time the movie ended, you'd dozed off against Percy's shoulder, his thumb still tracing absent patterns against your skin. The last thing you registered was the quiet murmur of your friends' voices and the steady rhythm of Percy's breathing, anchoring you safely in the moment.

You were going to be okay. All of you were. And if hidden injuries caused this, maybe next time you’ll hide a paper cut.

part one ✵ part two

MASTERLIST

follow for more like this !! Thanks for reading!! And feel free to request!

[ghostboneswrites2]

Safer

Summary: After the fall of the prison and a brutal assault, Daryl cares for you.

NOTE (please read): A mutual requested this a while ago. Took a long while to write, and tbh I considered turning the req down given the premise and my firm stance on writing graphic SA which you can find here. However, they explained to me that they are a victim of a violent s*xual assault, and they expressed it would be healing in a way to have a story where they were cared for by their comfort character. After some consideration, I decided to go for it. I'm sure a lot of us have been victimized by people who couldn't control their urges, or those who lacked respect for our boundaries, bodies, and consent. Myself included. So, this story is for us, to those of us that can stomach it. 

DISCLAIMER: There are no scenes of graphic SA, only the aftermath. While I will not be telling any descriptive scenarios of being assaulted, I do want to clearly express that this is a generally heavy story and it may not be suitable for all audiences. Please consume responsibly.

**I will not be tagging anyone on the taglist due to the content of this story**

18+MDNI ||  WARNINGS: non-graphic allusions to SA, violence, mild nudity descriptions, generally heavy content so I can't say it enough: TW!!!

Banners credited on my masterlist!!

        Daryl's vision was blurred as he blinked himself to consciousness. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and recognize his surroundings. His wrists and ankles were bound together, his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted of sweat and filth. He stared up at the treetops towering over him. It was dark outside, save for the dim light of a dying campfire a few feet away. He lifted his head from the forest floor and looked down past his feet. Lumps of sleeping bodies under raggedy blankets and torn sleeping bags rested around him. His heart raced as his memories crept back in; of you, screaming his name, of him fighting off the group of men who caught him off guard, of twigs snapping and a searing pain over the side of his head. Was that why his face felt so sticky? Was it dried blood?

        His eyes strained in the fading light of ember and ash. Where were you? He noticed a crumpled form at the foot of a tree. Her breathing was shallow and her clothes were torn, pants not even pulled up over her bare behind. That much, he could see. His throat tightened. His eyes watered. What the hell had he let them do to you? How could he have let this happen? He had to get you out of there, and fast. If they hadn't killed him yet, that was surely on their agenda.

        He began to squirm and writhe against his restraints. Whoever tied him up had experience. Just as hopelessness began to set in and cloud his judgement with fear -- real, genuine fear -- he noticed a reflection in the leaves. Just a few feet past his boots, a man was curled up on his side, snoring lightly in the calm breeze. His back was turned to Daryl, and behind him set a grungy backpack with a blade sticking out of the smallest pocket in the front. He glanced back  to you, shivering on the ground, unsure if you were awake or unconscious or simply passed out from the exhaustion of prior events. 

        The sight of you in your disheveled mess was all her needed to kick him into gear. Carefully and hastily, he scooted himself down toward his only chance at redeeming his status as a loyal protector of the weak and vulnerable. Ideally, he'd be able to accomplish this in silence, but he was not in an ideal situation. His circumstances were heavy, laced in sweat and angst. The leaves beneath him rustled as his back slid across the ground, twigs snapping or moving to the side as he made his way closer to the large hunting knife. He'd pause between each scoot, studying the sleeping men around him for any sign of movement or wakefulness. When he'd decide the coast was clear enough, he'd resume. It felt like an eternity, but he made it there. 

        His core muscles strained as he sat himself up. He realized how sore he was. He must have taken a good beating. Seemed fitting, though. He was never one to go down without a fight. He left that sort of weakness in his past.

        He guided his shaky, bound hands over to the bag. He slowly slid the knife out of the front pocket. His heart raged against his ribs. He didn't dare take a single breath until it was secured. 

        Slow. Slowness. Slowly. He repeated every variation of the word in his mind as he positioned the knife between his palms and dragged it back and forth until the rope finally severed. A silent breath of relief escaped him as he ripped the gag from his lips and worked on the rope tied around his ankles. When he was free, he stood and counted the sleeping bodies beneath him. Excluding you, there were four. 

        He considered waking you up and running for the hills, but he couldn't leave any loose ends. No, he thought of it like when your t-shirt has a loose thread. You could leave it to keep unraveling, or you could burn it at  the base and extend the lifetime of your clothes. He decided he needed to burn this string before it could unravel any further.

        Starting with the man closest to him -- the one who so graciously left his knife in plain sight for the archer -- he krept over and crouched down, plunching the blade into the base of his skull. Then, he moved on to the next, and the next one, and the one after that, until they were all a problem of the past. Until that pesky little thread could do no further damage to the rest of the shirt.       

        When the dirty work was behind him, he dropped the knife and rushed over to you. Your wrists were tied like his, but you were tied to the tree so you couldn't run. He eyed you over and gulped. With your pants not fully covering you and your shirt all ripped up, he could see the finger-shaped bruises littering your skin. There was blood on your inner thighs. Your lips were swollen and cut. His blood heated until it hit a boiling point. His hands trembled as they hovered over you. Touching you  felt like a crime, but he had to wake you. He had to get you out of there.

        "(Y/N)." He whispered as he laid a hand on your shoulder. You were shivering in the cool air, but a thin layer of sweat blanketed your exposed flesh. He gave you a gentle shake. "((Y/N), c'mon. We gotta go." He pleaded softly.        

        Your body jerked and you jolted awake. You gave him no chance to explain as you scrambled to your knees and cowered away against the tree. 

        "(Y/N) it's me. It's Daryl." He attempted his most soothing tone of voice. "C'mon, let me get ya cleaned up."        

        He outstretched his arm, offering you his  hand. Without making eye contact you made a move to take it, but you were stopped by the restricting force of the rope that kept you anchored to the tree trunk. He moved quickly for the knife he tossed to the side earlier and returned with it. Without the pressure of remaining silent, he had your hands free in seconds.

        He wasted no time helping you to your feet and averting his gaze as he slid your pants up where they belonged. He found he had a hard time keeping his mind straight and focused as your weeping filled the quiet campsite. 

        "Shh.." He cooed, keeping one hand on your upper back as he ushered you along with him to gather his things and yours. A smart man would have rummaged through the belongings of the ones he killed, too, but he wasn't concerned with making a smart call at that point. He was only worried about you.

        "It's alright. C'mon. Let's get ya somewhere you can rest. It's alright. C'mon." He felt useless as ever, repeating the same generic words of comfort as you limped along beside him. He never urged you to up the pace, he didn't drag you along or have you carry your own bag. He felt like the least he could do was shoulder the weight of survival on behalf of you both. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of ou laying there,caked in blood, sweat, and bruises. A girl like you should have been caked in perfume and makeup. You hair should have been done up nice for a Sunday brunch, not matted with leaves and dirt. Your clothes should have been pristine and well fitting, unlike the filthy torn clothes that were beginning to hang off your frame like tender meat falling from the bone. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it.

        Eventually he found an acceptable spot that looked like it could have been a den for a hibernating bear. It was a big shrub by a little stream, perfectly indented to give you both enough room to crouch under its foliage. He gently set you down, dropping his bow and your bags beside him. He crouched down in front of you and scanned you, worry written articulately over his features. 

        Your eyes remained glued to the ground. Your nose was upturned in disgust but your eyes told a different story; one of pain and despair and mourning for the person you were before that night. Your frown was deep enough to leave a scar. 

        "(Y/N)..." He breathed. Your eyes slowly found their way to his and welled with tears all over again. Of all things you had -- meaning, being alive and away from those men -- there was nothing you were more grateful for than his blue eyes staring back at you. You hated the way he looked at you with defeat and pity, though. You hated that he had one more thing to worry about. Still, he was there, and he was welcome. "Let's get ya cleaned up, okay?"

        You nodded once, if absentmindedly. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't pinpoint their location, though. They were scrambled, swarming all around you, like gnats you couldn't swat away.

        He pulled an old shirt from his bag and leaned over to the stream, getting it nice and wet before wringing it out. He turned back to you and brought it up to your cheek, gently dabbing and swiping away at the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He moved on to your neck and hands, then he paused. You both looked down at your jeans. You knew it needed to be taken care of, and he did too, but the question was really about which one of you would be brave enough to work on the gruesome scene between your legs.

        One look at your expression and he knew it couldn't be you. But, how could it be him? He couldn't put you in such a vulnerable position. No, not him.

        That's when the lightbulb went off over his head. The stream, of course.

        "Here." He offered you a hand. You took it slowly and he led you to your feet. "Wanna get in the water?" He asked. You stared down at the serene flowing water, trickling just before your feet. He cleared his throat. "I don't gotta look."

        You almost could have laughed. After everything that had happened, Daryl seeing you bathe wasn't really a concern. Still, you had to maintain some shred of dignity, and washing those men off of you was a much needed stride toward leaving that horrid night in your past. So, you nodded, and he turned away to start a fire where you could warm up after rinsing off.

        The button was busted off of your jeans. You guessed they couldn't waste their time with something as simple as undoing a button. You let out a shaky sigh and gritted your teeth. You moved to bend over and slide your jeans down, but a searing pain shot through your insides. You whimpered. "I can't." You barely managed.

        "Huh?" He asked over his shoulder.

        "I can't." You spoke up with a tremble. "I can't get them off. It hurts."

        His throat tightened up. Had they really been so cruel to you?

        "Ya want me to..." He trailed off.

        "Please." You whispered and shut your eyes. He stood beside you and pulled your pants down to your ankles, kneeling down as he did so.

        "Grab my shoulder." He instructed softly. You did. "Left leg." He said. You pulled it out. "Now the right." 

        With your jeans off, he stood up and looked down at your face, which you his from him, avoiding his gaze. 

        "Your -- Uh.." He glanced down at your underwear. You nodded, not needing to see what he meant. He followed the same process with those and turned away as soon as he was done. You cleared your throat. 

        "Can you help me sit?" You whispered. He sucked in a breath. It wasn't that you were annoying him. Anything but that, actually. He was glad to help you in any way you needed. It was the simple fact that you needed the help that was eating him alive. The thought that those guys could hurt you in this way, to this extent, was infuriating and heartbreaking. 

        He turned back to you and hovered behind you, placing a hand under each arm to support you while you lowered yourself down into the water. Once you were sitting on the creek bed, you adjusted yourself and sighed.

        "Just, uh, watch for snakes, okay?" Was all he could say before turning his attention back to the fire finally.

        Your frown deepened as you stared down at your bloodied thighs. A plop beside you startled you before realizing it was just the old shirt he was using to clean you up.

        "Figured ya might need it." He mumbled.

        You gripped the cloth in your hand and stared at it. Blood and filth stained it. Your lip quivered as you ran it over your inner thighs, scrubbing your own dried blood away and watching it disappear in the gentle current. You hissed and winced as you cleaned yourself where you were really injured. 

        When you were done, you peered over your shoulder, where Daryl stared at the small flame. He felt your eyes on him and he looked up at you. 

        "Need some clothes?" He asked.

        "Please." You replied. He nodded once and rummaged through your bag. He could only find a semi-clean shirt, but no more pants. He pulled his own bag forward and searched for the new two-pack of boxers he'd scavenged awhile back. 

        "I, uh, didn't see no more pants, but... You can have those." He said, holding your shirt and the fresh boxers out to you.

        "Thanks." You pressed your lips into a thin attempt at a friendly smile. 

        He turned away again so you could change your shirt, but you needed his help with the boxers, which he did without you needing to ask, and without a single peek at you.

        He helped you back over to the den where you could warm up by the fire. You kept the blanket in your bag, so he made sure to wrap it around your shoulders while you sat.

        "Ain't got no food." He broke the silence after a little while. You nodded.

        "Not hungry anyways." 

        "Mm." He hummed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

----

        By midday, you were on the move again, trailing right behind him as he stomped slowly over the underbrush so you could keep his pace. He'd stop every now and then, and though he didn't say it, you knew it was because he didn't want to overwork you. 

        By late afternoon, the sun was on the far end of the sky, casting an orange glow over the woods. 

        Daryl had barely been able to look at you, and you couldn't exactly claim any different. You two had taken a break again, sipping water and scanning around for any game or edible plants.

        "I want ya to know.." He cleared his throat, shattering the thick silence that glazed over you both all day. "I want ya to know I didn't see it. None of it."

        "I know you weren't looking." You deadpanned.

        "Nah, not at the stream. I meant -- I didn't see none of it." He clarified. He had a sneaking suspicion the reason you couldn't bare to look at him might have been the possibility of him seeing what had happened to you. He, however, just hated seeing you look so broken, knowing had he been more vigilant yesterday, none of those guys would have been able to sneak up on him. You looked at him finally.

        "I know. They hit you over the head 'cause you were fighting them."

        "Mm." He nodded. "I just... I need to tell ya I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he looked down at his hands and back up to you. His leg was bouncing anxiously and his gums must have bled from how hard he chewed at them.

        "Why?" You pushed your eyebrows together.

        "I shoulda been lookin' out. Shoulda protected ya. Shoulda--"

        "You were. You have been." You cut him off. "You've looked out for me every day since the prison. You've been protecting me since the quarry. You protect everyone. That wasn't your fault." You insisted. He just looked back down at his hands and sniffled, blinking back tears. He scolded himself for being the one to cry, when you were the one who got hurt. "Hey." You pressed on. "Listen to me. You got us out of there. You took care of them. You saved me. Then, you still took care of me. If we were still back there, they would have killed you and robbed you by now. And, if they hadn't killed me yet, I'd be wishing I was dead. I wouldn't be here without you. I would have never survived even before last night without you, and I wouldn't be sitting here telling you that today if it weren't for you."

        He looked you in the eyes as you spoke every word. It was a great relief to him that you weren't angry with him -- that you didn't blame him. Still, he felt so uneasy.

        "Can we camp here?" You asked suddenly. He shrugged.

        "Yeah. We can." He agreed. His voice was still broken.

        "Can I sit with you?" You asked. He looked confused but he still nodded, even if he was unsure what you meant.

        Ignoring the aches all over your body, you crawled over to him and sat in front of him, between his legs, leaning your back against his torso. He was stiff, unused to being so close to someone, but he didn't resist. As you settled in and got comfortable, he rested his arms by your sides.

        "You didn't fail me, Daryl. Nobody makes me feel safer."

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[virtualreader]

under the stars

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: somehow the night watch shifts got jumbled, resulting in a maybe-not-so-forced proximity with the married, appealing leader of the group.

word count: 2,2k.

genre: smut, and a lil' bit of angst.

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, adultery, etc. (not proofread)

a/n: this was requested by an anon, I really hope it is what you wanted, enjoy!

+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!

The night sky laid before your eyes. It was the only thing that had improved with the outbreak. There were plenty of stars that night; they had always been there, but you just couldn't see them.

Contemplating the bright stars made everything seem right as if you were still enjoying summer nights in your backyard. But you were not. You were on watch.

The silence around you was only broken by the crickets and the occasional distant howling of the wind. The moon above shone brightly, casting eerie shadows around you, and the first dewdrops settled down onto the wisps of grass.

Suddenly, you heard a twig snap, and your heart skipped a beat. You turned around and saw Rick approaching you, his brows drew together as he asked, "Whatcha doing up there, y/n?”

“Watch duty,” you spoke simply.

Rick found it strange; he could have sworn that it was his turn tonight. As a matter of fact, it was. However, Glenn had asked for you to cover his shift, as they would not return until late into the night.

"Wasn't I supposed to be on watch tonight?" he asked, shifting his weight to his right leg.

You observed him from your perch atop Dale's RV. His hands rested on his hips, and a substantial amount of blood stained his clothes. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his torso, highlighting the physical exhaustion he must have been experiencing.

"Were you?" you rubbed your forehead. "Glenn told me you couldn't make it here in time for your shift.”

"Mind if I stay?" Rick asked. "I won't be able to sleep a wink anyway, and I think you could use someone to talk to, don't you?”

After accepting his proposal, Rick climbed up the handrails to sit beside you. With your feet hanging off the vehicle, you felt the cold breeze hit your skin, but it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Instead, you welcomed the refreshing feeling, which provided a momentary escape from the tension and stress of everyday life in this new world.

You observed Rick as he took in the view, his expression softening as he relaxed, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the world around him.

As Rick sat beside you on top of the RV, you both found yourselves lost in a conversation that went on for hours. It was a rare moment of tranquility in a world filled with chaos, and you were grateful for it.

"You know what I miss the most from the old world?" he asked, breaking the settled silence.

You looked at him, nodding to encourage him to continue.

"Coffee," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "There was something about that bitter taste that just made everything better. It was like a warm hug in a cup, and it's something that you just can't replicate with anything else." He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "I remember how people used to line up for hours just to get their hands on a cup of coffee from their favorite shop. It was a social event, a way to connect with others over a shared love of caffeine. And now, it's just gone.”

You kept on talking for a while, exchanging memories from the time before the apocalypse. Although it felt like only minutes had passed since he arrived, you found yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life before the dead walked the earth.

You reminisced about renting movies every Saturday night, a ritual you followed religiously. You described dancing around the house with a broom in your hands, singing along to your favorite 80s songs. You explained how you would wander the neighborhood streets for hours with your dog, even on rainy days.

Rick's eyes drifted towards the horizon, and you could see the sadness etched onto his face. "I miss it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss my family, my friends, my job…everything. I miss everything."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. "We all do, Rick. We all do."

"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it," Rick said, his voice heavy with emotion. "All the fighting, all the pain…for what? Just to survive another day?"

You turned towards him and rested your hand on his arm. "It's worth it, Rick. We have to keep going, for ourselves and for the people we care about.”

"You know," you began, hesitating as you tried to gather your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about the world we live in, and how chaotic and violent it can be. It's easy to feel lost and alone like we're all just struggling to survive. But then I look at you, and I realize that you make me feel safe, protected, and cared for." you said, voicing the thought that had been brooding in your mind. "And I believe I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate you as our leader.”

Your cheeks blossomed with red as Rick’s enlarged pupils bored into your soul as if he could read through you. His mere presence was enough to put you in a fight-or-flight mode, making you aware of an attraction you had not acknowledged before.

Rick Grimes was not chosen to be the group leader - it was a role that he fell into almost organically. His rise to leadership was not unexpected. He had always been a man of great integrity and his strong moral compass meant that he was a natural choice to lead the group. Rick's unwavering commitment to the group's survival and his ability to remain level-headed in times of crisis meant that he quickly gained the trust of his peers.

The graze of a hand in your tight startled you, averting your eyes from the sky that had you entranced, to Rick's face. He took advantage of the moment and reached out to gently caress your cheek. You felt a rush of emotions as your heart began to race.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as Rick leaned in closer, responding to the adulterous desire you had ignited within his heart. His breath felt hot on your skin, and you could hear the beating of your own heart as your lips met in a passionate kiss, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been brewing between you for days. Though the world may have been gone, at that moment, everything felt right.

As you embraced the married man, your heart was racing with excitement. You could feel his lips on yours and his arms tightly wrapped around you. But as you both pulled away, a sudden realization dawned on you. What were you doing? You were kissing a married man, and his wife laid just a few feet away, sound asleep. The guilt and shame crept up inside you, and you couldn't help but feel regretful for your actions. It was clear that this was anything but right.

“I-I’m sorry. I should not-” you breathed, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. You looked down at your feet, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You had always been good at thinking on your feet, but at this moment, your thoughts were scattered and disjointed.

"Don't do that," he said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. You tried to look away as if avoiding his gaze would excuse your immoral actions. But the hand he had on the side of your face prevented you from doing so, gently forcing you to look at him as he confessed, "Don’t apologize for something we've both obviusly wanted for a while now.”

And as if he knew what was going through your mind, he added, "Please don't worry about Lori," his voice soft and comforting. "Our relationship had decayed well before you and I met, so don't beat yourself up. If anything, that responsibility rests on me." His words were like a balm to your soul, a soothing reassurance to your worries, easing the fears that had been gnawing at you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself ogling at Rick's physical appearance. You couldn't help but notice the veins on his arms or the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the feeling of desire for him was overwhelming. You knew that your actions were wrong, but in this world, who was there to judge? You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time, something was different. This time, you knew that there was no going back.

When he turned you over onto your back, your heart raced with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down to your hips, gently but firmly holding you in place. As your lips remained locked in a passionate embrace, you couldn't help but shiver from the cool metal of the RV's roof against your skin. You felt a deep connection as he looked into your eyes, his gaze burning with desire and affection. In that moment, you knew that this was more than just physical attraction, but a true emotional bond between two people.

"Don’t make a sound," he muttered pulling away as he placed a finger over your mouth, hurriedly getting free from his dirty shirt. You had to be indeed quiet as to not be heard by the rest of the group, especially his wife.

After struggling with the zipper, you finally freed yourself from your tight-fitting pants. As you did, Rick's mischievous grin grew wider, his eyes lingering on the laced panties that you were wearing underneath. The silky fabric felt smooth against your skin, and you couldn't help but blush as Rick's gaze lingered on you. The enflaming feeling of a light gust of wind grazing your cunt sending a shiver down your spine.

"God damn it," Rick whispered. "You look so good beneath me.”

Rick began exploring your body with his hands, savoring every inch of your skin. He slowly lifted your shirt above your braless chest. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple, causing your back to arch lightly at the sensation. His touch was electric and you couldn't resist the urge to pull him closer, wanting to feel more of him against your body.

Your hands whirled in the back of his head, feeling the texture of his coiled hair in your fingers as they intertwined with it. You felt a rush of passion as your lips connected once again, savoring the taste of his. Your fingers fumbled with his zipper, your eagerness growing with each passing second. His tongue met yours in a frenzied dance, both of you desperate for more.

Once you’d made your way to his hard cock you caressed his bulge, feeling it grow with each passing moment, and you looked up at his face, anticipating his reaction. A muted growl escaped his mouth as he quivered under your touch. You continued to stroke him, your movements becoming more and more deliberate as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

“Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught.” you ordered him after he moaned loudly , smugness emanating from you.

“That’s gonna be hard if your hand stays there any longer, pretty girl.”

His hands slipped under your panties, the circling movements of his fingers over your clit delivering shockwaves through your entire body. You couldn't help but gasp as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, and the pleasure continued to build with each passing moment.

Rick's voice was hoarse as he leaned over you, his eyes dark with desire. "You are so ready for me," he whispered, his fingertips tracing a path down your body until they reached your entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he teased you, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but feel like a dirty girl as he continued his ministrations, but you didn't want it to stop.

He entered you slowly, his fingers teasing your entrance until you were begging for more. When he finally filled you completely, you gasped from the intense pleasure that coursed through your body. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in that moment that you were completely his.

The way he moved inside you was a dance of passion, each thrust taking you higher and higher until you were flying. You clung to him, your hands running over his back as you surrendered to the rapture that he was giving you.

As you both reached the peak of ecstasy, he crushed beside you, his body slick with sweat and his chest heaving. The warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and exhilarating, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

As the night turned into dawn, the two of you lay entwined on the roof of the RV, the cool breeze of the night forgotten. The guilt that had been plaguing you had subsided, replaced only by a feeling of contentment and euphoria. It was a moment that you knew you would never forget, a moment that would forever be etched in your memory as a reminder of the beauty that could still be found in a world filled with chaos.

Perhaps the scintillating night sky was not the only great thing the outbreak bought into your life.

[phoenix-downer]

Next to My Husband

Summary: Penelope can't believe Odysseus is really home, and he claims he isn't the man he once was. But one final test reveals the truth, and husband and wife reunite at long last.

~ 2770 words. Set during "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" in the Ithaca Saga of Epic: the Musical and expands on their reunion. Angst, Romance, Fluff. Check the tags for additional info. POV Penelope.

Penelope waited in her chambers, staring out the open window facing the sea. For a long time, she had despised it for taking her husband away from her. How many nights had she spent staring at it, hoping, wishing, praying he would come home? And now Telemachus claimed he had returned.

It was too good to be true. Odysseus was dead. He had drowned or perished on some faraway island. She was in denial like so many other widows of the Trojan War. This was just a dream, nothing more.

She faintly heard her name called out, and then the door to her chambers creaked open. A man stood there, looking utterly haggard and ragged in the torchlight. He quite literally wore rags, his clothes were stained with blood, scars littered his body, and his dark hair and beard were matted. His eyes were red instead of the brown she remembered. But the way he looked at her…

She swallowed and stood. It had been so long since she had seen Odysseus that she wasn't sure if she could trust her eyes to tell her the truth.

“Is it really you? Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming once more?” she asked.

He smiled sadly. “It's hard to believe, I know.”

She hesitated, then took a few steps closer to him. “Forgive me, but you look different. Your eyes are tired and your frame is lighter. Even your smile is different. It's so torn. Is it really you, my love?”

If this man really was her husband, he had changed so much in the intervening years that her heart and mind were having trouble coming to terms with the differences. She was a practical woman out of necessity, but all those painful days and sleepless nights longing for him to return had created a phantom lurking in her mind, a spectre made up of memories and longing. Her phantom husband was not the same as the man before her now—he was young and kind and optimistic, not middle-aged and jaded and haunted.

But then again, she was hardly the same woman either. She was also middle-aged now, and exhausted, and cautious. Naivety was the luxury of fools. She’d had to be clever and cunning and deceitful to survive. To raise Telemachus and keep the kingdom running and hold the suitors at bay.

His face fell. “I’m not the man you fell in love with,” he admitted, and she was confused for a moment before he continued. “The man you once adored—he's long gone.” That haunted look returned to his eyes, and he hung his head in shame. “I'm not your kind and gentle husband, and I don't deserve to be called your love. Because I'm not that man, not anymore. I don't even know that I deserve to be called a man after what I've done.” He ran a shaking hand through his shaggy hair.

She wasn't sure what to say. If he truly was a monster, he wouldn't feel remorse. But those blood-soaked clothes certainly spoke for themselves. The servants were currently cleaning up the aftermath of his killing spree that had left 108 men dead. And yet he had done it for a reason. Telemachus had told her it was to protect them. He had spelled out their horrible plans, the ghastly fate Odysseus had spared them from. Any good husband and father would do everything in his power to stop such an awful plot directed at his family. It was just difficult to wrap her mind around how far Odysseus had gone.

The world was a cruel place, to turn her kind, gentle husband into a ruthless killer.

He mistook her silence for judgment. “I know you've been waiting for the man who was once your love,” he said, and there were tears glistening in his red eyes and shadows on his face from the flickering torchlight. “But you don't know what all I've done, and I can't change the past. How could you ever love me if I told you?”

“Try me," she said softly, like this was another one of the riddles or puzzles or challenges they always used to make for one another. “What kinds of things did you do?”

She wanted to know. Wanted to find out what he had done, what spectres haunted him.

“Left a trail of red on every island,” he told her. “Traded my friends like they were just objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I can count.”

He continued telling her what he had done, and though it made her stomach turn, she appreciated his honesty. He wasn't sugarcoating his behavior or pretending his dark deeds hadn't happened or weren't his fault. When she had seen him off to war, she had hardly expected him to keep his hands clean. But the war had ended a decade ago, and his journey back to her side had taken another decade and even more bloodshed.

Yes, the world was cruel to drive a man like her husband to commit such atrocities. She could only hope the world would be less cruel for their son. A kind, peaceful world where good men never had to be ruthless to make it home alive…where good men didn't have to leave for war in the first place…if only.

But she was Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, and the scarred, bloodstained, haggard man before her was claiming to be her husband and king. She would leave speculation pertaining to ideal worlds to the philosophers and any actual execution of said ideals to the gods. Penelope of Ithaca for her part would continue to deal with reality.

“And why did you do these things?” she asked, her voice careful and stoic as she paced the room, her expression keeping up the façade of a judge.

“All of it was to bring me back to you,” he said, his voice breaking at the torment he'd been through, at what he still tortured himself with, and her heart broke along with it.

If this was a false Odysseus, he certainly sounded like the real thing.

“If you want nothing to do with me,” he continued, “I understand. Just say the word and I'll be gone forever.” He dared to take a step closer to her. “But if you could find it in yourself to fall in love with me again, not the man I was but the monster I am now, please, tell me.”

He pleaded with her with his entire being. His arms and legs trembled, his eyes begged her, and she could sense how badly he wanted to embrace her.

A part of her wanted to cave completely, to take him in her arms and smother his face with kisses. But she had one more test. One final question to confirm he wasn't an illusion and to make sure he was still her husband deep down. Was he still the same man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, or had the years changed him too much like he seemed to think?

She suspected he needed this test as much as she did.

“If that's true,” she said at last, “if you really have done those things and you really are a monster like you say, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace.”

She gestured to their bed, to where they had spent so many lovely evenings together and where she had spent countless more agonizing nights alone. “See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here.”

It was a trick question, one only Odysseus would know the answer to.

His face twisted in pain. “How could you say this? I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. I carved it into the olive tree where we first met. It's a symbol of our everlasting love.” His voice got louder and angrier, and it was clear he was wounded deeply by her request. “Do you realize what you’ve just asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots.”

His unspoken meaning lingered in the air. He didn't want to destroy the symbol of their love or the reality behind it any more than she did. And that meant he was still her husband, despite what he might think.

She couldn't test him any longer. She smiled as tears filled her eyes. “Only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you.”

His eyes widened. “Penelope…” So much meaning and emotion behind a single word. Twenty years worth of longing and waiting. Oh how she had wanted for him to say her name again. To hear his voice once more.

She cupped his cheek, and he melted into her touch, the tears streaming down his face. “I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she promised him through her own tears. “I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine.” She stroked the faded scar on his cheek that he'd gotten from that boar hunt all those years ago. “Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my husband, and I've been waiting for you.”

He threw his arms around her, holding her close like his life depended on it, saying her name over and over again. He had been through so much to come home, to return to her. There would be consequences for his actions—trials he must endure and people he must face. But they would deal with all that together. And they would do it tomorrow. Tonight, he didn't need lectures or judgments or reckonings.

He needed his wife.

She pulled away a little and searched his face, then leaned closer, closer till her lips brushed against his. His breath caught, and then he was kissing her back with all the desire and passion of the last twenty years spent apart. One hand wove its way into her hair and his other arm wrapped around her waist, and she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him.

He deepened the kiss, and her mind flew back, back to all the times they had done this before. To their first kiss under the olive tree that was now their bed. While they were older and more experienced, their eagerness and passion now reminded her of then.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. She very much wanted to continue, but he insisted on cleaning up first. So she sent the servants to fetch water and heat rocks for the bath. When everything was ready, she glanced at Odysseus.

He still hadn't removed his bloody rags, and he stared at the water with fear in his eyes.

He’d never been afraid of water before. All those years at sea…had he almost drowned?

“Ody?” she gently asked, using his old nickname as she placed a hand on his arm.

“Poseidon has had his revenge after all,” was his cryptic response. “I don't think I'll ever be able to enter a body of water without panicking.” He smiled ruefully. “I can torture a god with his own weapon and slaughter over a hundred men in a single day, but taking a bath is beyond me.”

She glanced at the tub. It really wasn't that big, just large enough for the two of them. Maybe they could start small and he would get used to being in the water again.

“I'll join you,” she said, then carefully unfastened the fibulae holding her peplos in place as he watched. As the garment slipped off her, she had a brief moment of uncertainty and grabbed the fabric. He hadn't seen her in twenty years. Would he still find her aging body beautiful? He’d probably met plenty of stunning mortal women and breathtaking goddesses on his journeys. How could she possibly hope to compare—

He gently grasped her hand and led it away from her body, letting the peplos slip off completely. The way his eyes traveled up and down her body, the hunger and yearning in his gaze, she knew her fears were unfounded.

“You're even more beautiful than I remembered,” he told her, putting her fears to rest for good. He embraced her and kissed her softly, tenderly, and she gently tugged at his rags. Normally, it was the servants’ job to undress and bathe the king, but she wanted to be the one to help him.

When she’d gotten all the rags off at last, she wanted to cry. His scars were even more visible and numerous now. She knew each one carried a story of pain and suffering and survival, and she wanted to know them all.

He misunderstood her expression, shame crawling up his face and driving him to look away from her. She quickly put a stop to that when she kissed the scar on his right shoulder.

“You're more handsome to me than ever, my love. These scars are signs of your survival. Wear them proudly.”

He searched her face and then kissed her again, and they spent quite a while kissing and touching before finally making it to the bath. He braved the water with her by his side, and she carefully cleaned every inch of him. Washed away the blood and the sweat and the grime. Ran her hands through his tangled, matted hair until there were no more snarls or knots. And he carefully washed her too, washed away the fear and sweat and deceit until she felt completely clean.

When they were through, he looked much more like himself again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was about to kiss him when a bright light flashed. When she could see again, it took her a moment to realize Odysseus was still with her, because her husband quite literally looked like a god. He was taller and stronger than ever before, and his hair graced his broad shoulders in thick dark curls. Going by his expression, she had undergone a similarly miraculous transformation.

Then he smiled, a smile so big and bright it lit up the whole room and made her smile too. “Thank you, oh goddess of wisdom, for your support in my romantic endeavors,” he called out to someone she couldn't see, “but I would've taken my wife to bed all the same.”

He grinned and swept her into his arms, and Penelope could've sworn she heard an owl hooting in return. But soon all thoughts of their divine supporter fled their minds as Odysseus carried her to their wedding bed.

Twenty years of absence could not easily be undone in a single night, but they were willing to try. Especially because the night went on and on and on, almost as if Someone was asking Dawn to wait until husband and wife were fully sated.

When at last they were, Penelope smiled and played with Odysseus’s hair as they cuddled together. His eyes weren't red anymore. They were back to their beautiful, natural brown. A sign that he wasn’t a god or monster but just a man.

“How long has it been?” she asked, knowing her answer but wanting to know his.

He grasped her hand and tenderly kissed it. “Twenty years,” he said softly.

Her lips parted. So he had been faithful after all. She had been faithful too, hoping and waiting and longing for his return.

“Twenty years,” she echoed to confirm his unspoken question.

They told each other everything after that, all that had transpired in each other's absences. Athena must be still helping them at this point because Dawn still hadn't arrived, and yet Penelope somehow had the energy to tell Odysseus everything and listen to his tales in return.

When he was through, he caressed her cheek as the first rays of Dawn spread across the sky.

“I love you,” he said, the words simple but profound. Like he was grateful she knew everything and yet still accepted him.

She smiled and kissed his hand. "I love you too.”

They'd both been through so much. She had worn herself ragged raising their son single-handedly and running the kingdom, and she had lied to the suitors. Odysseus had done such terrible things to make it home, had killed so many people. And yet she knew the man lying next to her wasn't a monster. He had much to atone for, but he was her husband, and he always would be.

————————————————————————

A/N: This story was such a joy to write. A big thank you to @aquariusshadow for introducing me to Epic and reading over the story for me and giving her suggestions, and a big thank you to @scoobysnack1107 as well for also reading and providing feedback ❤️ I love Greek mythology and musicals, so Epic is like the perfect combination of two of my interests that I never knew I needed.

Just a few notes about the writing process: I wanted to incorporate how Odysseus’s eyes turn red in the animatics for the song “Odysseus,” and how they seem a little less red when he reunites with Telemachus and Penelope. Also, all the stuff with Athena being his wingwoman is actually legitimately from the Odyssey (giving him a glow up, delaying dawn for him and Penelope, etc.), which cracked me up. I read the 23rd book before I wrote this story in preparation, and you truly cannot make these things up. Also, the scar from the boar hunt is on Odysseus's foot in the Odyssey, but I moved it to his face for this story. I also went down a research rabbit hole about ancient Greek baths and clothing to make sure those details were more accurate, and that was a fun diversion. And of course I loved including the callbacks to “Just a Man,” incorporating the lyrics of "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again,” and exploring Penelope's mindset more.

I feel really lucky to have gotten into Epic right before the Ithaca Saga released. It's been such a fun journey, or shall we say, Odyssey 😎 Congrats to all the cast and crew for all their hard work! And thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! ❤️

[theboardwalkbody]

I just have a Protective/Rescuer Richie x Reader thought in my head I can't shake ATM. This got a bit longer than I thought also its after midnight forgive me if this is all over the place. I can't see straight anymore.

*note: i hate guns and kinda hate that he has one but anyway it kinda just fueled this scenario*

You've been working at The Beef a while. You're 'fully integrated'. Richie has a soft spot for you but you're Carmy's age and besides that he's a Hot Mess and Going Through Shit at the moment so he hasn't actually pursued anything.

One night it's late. Later than when you'd typically be at work. It's just you, Richie, and Carmy left behind cleaning and closing up. Carmy finished the kitchen and has himself holed up in the office. You're not fully convinced he hasn't actually just passed out at the desk from exhaustion, honestly. The day was a disaster and half the restaurant looked trashed. Carmy and Richie had an entire screaming fit over who should clean what and ultimately Carmy took kitchen and Richie took front of house (something about staying in their 'fucking lane' you heard them shouting). After a while Carmy let the rest of the kitchen staff leave because it was well passed a reasonable time to hold them even if there was stuff to do. Kitchen was mostly done anyway, and the bit that was left Carmy handled before heading into the office to 'sort some shit'.

So you and Richie worked front of house (as FOH was your domain, too). He was worked up, you could feel the frustration and aggravation in him spilling over. It was like holding your hand over a hot stove; the energy was radiating from him. You helped calm him a little. You put some music on (to keep you awake and to help you focus on cleaning) - it wasn't really his type and if it was anyone but you he would have made some snide comment on it. But because it was you he let you do what you wanted. You chose to put on Bastille's album Give Me the Future. It was a deliberate choice. It wasn't his type but the album has a sci-fi theme and references to some of his favorite things. During the parts with direct references you snuck glances at him to see if he was paying enough attention to notice. He did. He didn't acknowledge it verbally but you did catch him pause a moment, as if to process what he heard. You looked away and smiled. You liked he was paying attention at least.

As the night went on you tried talking him down a bit more. Tried to get him to at least smile. He wasn't receptive, however, so other than the music you worked in silence.

It was nearly finished. You turned off the music but left your phone on the table. You told him you'd take out the trash and that should be the last of it. You hated taking out the trash. One time you did and a raccoon jumped out at you. As much as you think they're cute it was terrifying to have one leap at you in the dark. It became a 'Richie job' after that but tonight his fuse was short and you were trying to do what you could to get things done quicker so he could get home and calm down.

He tried telling you not to, the most he'd spoken in a while. You told him you got it and walked off.

It was nearly 3am. It was pitch black outside. The flood light on the back of the restaurant had burned out so the only light you really had was what was spilling out from the open door. You held your breath and opened the dumpster. No feral but furry animal greeted you and you sigh in relief. So you toss the bag of garbage inside and close the lid.

Before you can turn around the light disappears. The back door closed and now you were left in the dark. Weird. You had propped it open. Someone would have had to have closed it. But they would have saw you, and why would they if they saw you out there.

Your stomach drops. You're afraid. You don't yet know why.

You're not far from the door. You're not afraid of the dark. You're just alone is all.

Except you're not alone.

You're walking towards the door and you're heart is already pounding and you don't yet know why when you hear what sounded like someone taking a step. You freeze and listen. You can't hear anything over your own breathing and your own heart beat so you hold your breath and try to will your heart to slow down.

You wish you hadn't been holding your breath because suddenly there's a hand over your mouth and an arm tightly wrapped around the middle of your torso making it hard for your lungs to fully expand. You're struggling to get enough air through your nose, your panic increasing your demand for oxygen making it feel like you are suffocating.

One of your arms was still free and you grasp at the hand over your mouth and, to your surprise, you manage to rip it away for a split second. You try screaming. You're not actually sure if you did. It felt like one of those nightmares where you try screaming for help but no sound comes out.

Whoever is behind you gets their hand back over your mouth. They wrap their leg around one of yours to pin you for a moment so you don't dart away when they remove their other arm from your body for a split second to grab something from their jacket. You don't know what but you do feel them place their arm tightly around you once more.

They speak. A man. He's demanding things. Money, drugs, whatever of value you could give. You're crying. You have nothing. But they want something. And you just want to get away. You want to be inside with Richie and Carmy and you don't want to be in the dark alone, but not-alone, with this man who has you in his arms and who smells awful and who has something in his hand and maybe it could hurt you but you don't know what it is.

You aren't sure if its better to freeze or to try and get away but being frozen hasn't worked this far. You just need to turn around and make it to the door. You just need to get your hand free and scream. Maybe someone would hear you. Maybe you'd be able to get to the door and open it and call out to Carmy and Richie.

You kick your foot forward to try and knock his leg from around yours. It works a bit. He staggers as he looses his balance slightly. The hand on your mouth slips, just a tiny bit, and for a split second but you can scream. You call out for Richie. The thing he was holding was a knife you realize as the blade grazes the side of your arm as he stumbles and steadies himself and retightens his hold on you. Then the fingernails on the hand around your mouth dig into your cheek and chin as he repositions his hand. He pulls you backwards. To pin you tighter or to move you you're not sure because you feel like cement now. You feel like your bones turned to stone.

He's speaking to you, voice harsh, but you don't know what he's saying. You close your eyes tight and try to block out everything happening.

You don't see the light from the restaurant spill out through the open door. You don't hear heavy footfalls approach. You don't hear the sound of a fist slamming into the side of your assailants head.

You do feel the body around yours shift and the grip loosen. You do feel them get violently ripped away from you. You do feel someone grab your arm and pull you towards them.

You open your eyes. Carmy is pulling you against him. Your back is against him and both of his arms are around you. He's holding you tightly against him and turning you so his body is between yours and your attackers. He's trying to guide you back inside.

You turn your head and look over his shoulder.

The man who last had your body against his was now on the ground. He had been knocked to the ground, one arm was propping him up so he wasn't laying on his back, the other was pressed tightly to his temple. His eyes were closed. The light wasn't the best but you thought you saw blood. The knife he had been holding was on the ground. Light danced on the part of the handle that was exposed. The blade itself was being stood on, securing it to the ground.

From your angle you could see both men. Richie to the left, and the attacker to the right. Richie loomed over him. His foot pinning the knife to the ground, keeping it out of reach of the man who had attacked you. His arm was outstretched, in his hand was his gun. You saw your attacker open his eyes and realize the situation he was in. You saw Richie look into the man's eyes and slowly shake his head twice. In a way it was as if Richie was silently conveying to the man that he not only made a terrible mistake but that he should not dare try anything else now or ever.

Carmy got you inside before you could see anything else. He took you to the back office, sat you down in the chair, shut the door and locked it. He came over to you, crouched down so he could be eye level with you and asked if you were okay. You nod.

He almost accepts your answer until he sees the scratch on your arm from where the knife had grazed you.

You caught a glimpse of Carmy's hand as he held your arm to look at the wound. His knuckles were bloody. You didn't feel or see any obvious bleeding on your arm. You realized it wasn't your blood, and it wasn't his either.

There was a knock at the door followed by Richie's voice calling for Carmy to let him in. Carmy stood and answered the door.

"She good?"

You nod despite not being the one asked.

"He cut her. On the arm."

"I'm fine." Your voice hurt. You didn't realize you had screamed that loudly.

Richie crossed the small room over to you. "Show me." He had crouched down like Carmy had before.

You looked at it yourself for the first time. The mark ran from the middle of your upper arm to a few inches below your elbow. It wasn't bad. You were lucky. It looked more like a cat scratch than anything.

You were left alone with Richie as Carmy fetches the things Richie ordered.

"That's nothing," you rasped.

He gently took your arm in his hands and examined the cut.

"Carmy. Water. Paper towels. Get her something to drink. Fuck's sake." He ordered.

He stood and reached down for your hands. "C'mere." He helped you up and once you were standing he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his body as if he would leave you if you let go, though he had no intention to.

When he spoke to you now his voice was softer. His eyes locked with yours. You were always stunned by how bright and blue they are. "You okay sweetheart?"

"I'm fine." but it came out as a whisper, and you were crying.

You closed your eyes. It didn't stop the tears from falling.

You could feel the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing, the security of his arms wrapped around you. You could smell his cologne. You could hear his heartbeat and then the way the sound of his voice reverberated in his chest and against your ear as he spoke softly.

"I got you."

[htpssgavi]

pleaseee bestfriends to lovers with gavi🙏🙏🙏

hiii!!! Sorry it took me that much to write it😭😭

Best Friends to Lovers

Gavi and y/n had been best friends for as long as he could remember. Growing up in the same vibrant neighborhood in Barcelona, they shared everything from childhood secrets to teenage dreams. Now at nineteen, Gavi was making a name for himself as a talented footballer at FC Barcelona, while y/n, eighteen, was finishing high school and making waves as a rising star in volleyball.

Their bond was unbreakable, a blend of deep friendship and mutual respect. They were always there for each other, through the highs and lows, laughter and tears. But lately, something had shifted. Gavi couldn't deny the way his heart raced when y/n was around, the way his eyes lingered on her a bit longer than before, the way her touch sent shivers down his spine.

One breezy spring evening, after a particularly exhausting match, Gavi decided to unwind with y/n. They agreed to visit their favorite spot—a quiet beach just outside Barcelona. It was their haven, a place where they could escape the world and just be themselves.

As they walked along the sandy shore, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the waves, Gavi couldn't help but steal glances at y/n. She looked more beautiful than ever, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of the sunset, her smile radiant. His heart swelled with a mixture of affection and longing he could no longer ignore.

"Do you remember when we first came here?" y/n asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

"Of course," Gavi replied with a smile. "We were just kids, and we thought this beach was a hidden treasure. We even made a pact to keep it our secret spot."

Y/n laughed, the sound like music to Gavi's ears. "And we've kept that promise all these years. This place still feels magical."

They found a spot near the water and sat down, the serene atmosphere enveloping them. For a while, they watched the waves gently lapping at the shore, the scene as peaceful as their friendship had always been. But tonight, Gavi felt a sense of urgency, a need to say what he'd been holding back for too long.

"Y/n, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

She turned to him, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "What is it, Gavi?"

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "We've been best friends for so long, and you've always been there for me. But recently, I've realized something… something more. I can't keep it to myself any longer."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

Gavi reached for her hand, his touch gentle but firm. "I love you, y/n. Not just as a friend, but as someone I want to share my life with. I've been afraid to tell you because I didn't want to risk our friendship, but I can't hide it anymore."

Tears filled y/n's eyes as she listened, her heart pounding in her chest. "Gavi, I… I love you too. I've felt this way for a while but was too scared to say anything."

Relief and joy washed over Gavi as he pulled her into his arms. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the sun dipped below the horizon, their hearts beating in sync.

From that moment on, their relationship changed. They were no longer just best friends; they were partners, lovers, soulmates. Gavi's career continued to soar, and y/n's volleyball skills flourished, each of them supporting and inspiring the other. They traveled together, explored new places, and built a life filled with love, laughter, and countless shared moments.

Their bond, once a simple friendship, had grown into something beautiful and profound. Through every challenge and triumph, they stood by each other's side, their love growing stronger with each passing day.

And so, beneath the ever-present Catalonian sky, Gavi and y/n wrote the chapters of their love story, forever intertwined, forever in love. Their journey together was a testament to the power of love and the beauty of finding a soulmate in the most unexpected places.

[sportswriters]

please a trent fic (smut) morning sex after you both wake up surprisingly h0rny??🩷🩷🩷

hey, thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long to be posted, i really loved writing this scenario with trent. hope you enjoy it as much as i did, have a good read! ;) - ella

a morning off - t. alexander-arnold

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x female!reader | s, f | established relationship | wc: 3k+ | warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up, everybody, be fr out there)

WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN, brightening the room, greeting the morning sun to wake us up, my mouth moves in a low, involuntary curse, because any bit of light bothers me and wakes me up almost instantly. I roll over in bed, bumping into Trent's heavy body, not daring to open my eyes, but I know I won't be able to go back to my previous sleep in the same way. He's a heavy sleeper. The world could fall, the light could blind us, Trent won't wake up.

The bad mood reverberates through me for a moment. I lift my hand to scratch my burning eyes and feel his heavy hand on my stomach, an involuntary moan escapes my lips when I realize that he's completely glued to me, our legs tangled together, I couldn't tell where I started and where he ended.

"Trent," I whisper, the complaint taking shape. He doesn't move and I snort. “Damn, you forgot the curtains open again.”

I finally open my eyes. For a week now, the exhaustion of work has taken over our bodies and our routine and we've barely spent any quality time together. The demands of the office have left me stressed and the pressure he felt to get better from his recent injury made him shrink into his own world, but he tried not to add his stress to mine, so we always had dinner together and went to bed afterwards, this being our routine for the last few days and the closest thing to physical contact we had with each other. I can't remember the last time we had sex.

More awake now, I stare at his face, almost too close to mine, serenity taking over his soft expression. Neither of us has to wake up so early or get up for the next few hours, as we finally got the morning off to adjust our sleep and rest our bodies, but my plan to sleep late was ruined by him forgetting to close the curtain so the light wouldn't get into our room.

My lips move involuntarily in a smile. I roll over so that I can lie on my side, facing him, a little closer to his body, and his chest rises and falls in regular breathing. He's shirtless, which gives me a privileged morning view of his body and I start to feel warm. My body has been craving his for days, but exhaustion always overcame me. Now, without the rush that used to surround us almost every morning, I feel compelled to enjoy the moment.

“Darling.” I snuggle up to him, throw my leg over his waist and kiss the tip of his nose, which makes him smile, but he still won't open his eyes. “Wake up.”

I run my hand over his face, admire his beauty in silence and feel my heart skip a few beats. I'll never get used to the feeling of loving this man and that it's all real, because it feels like a dream. A dream that I expect to wake up from every day, but he lives to show me that it's real, that he loves me just as much or more.

Trent starts to wake up. The english player squeezes my waist a little too tightly, forcing me closer and that's when I bump into something hard, quickly realizing that he's aroused. That's great. That makes it easier for me to play.

I kiss his face, move down his chin and onto his neck. I rub against his hard cock and he gives me a husky moan, his hand moving down to my ass, where he squeezes and presses me against him.

“Trent,” his name comes out of my mouth in a moan.

My clit throbs and he finally opens his eyes, staring at me with that sleepy expression of a person who's just woken up, the sideways smile messing up the butterflies in my stomach and I hate that he's so effortlessly handsome. I understand all those girls who insist on sending him DMs on his Instagram profile.

“I've been missing this," he murmurs.

His body pulls me into a hug and he takes the opportunity to kiss the sensitive spot on my neck. I can't remember the last time we woke up so horny like this and I was missing it as well. I'm missing his whole body, his kisses full of ulterior motives, the vibration around my belly that he always made me feel, yearning for more.

“I'm not kissing you," I warn.

The sound of his laughter vibrates through the room and he places one last kiss on the skin at the nape of my neck before turning his face towards me, staring. His fingers smooth the skin of my ass, covered only by a thin pair of panties, all that covers me from then on is just an old shirt of his. He knows I don't like morning kisses before hygiene, so he never objects, although he never fails to tease me.

“But you're going other things, right?” he teases.

His obscene smile gives away his whole idea. There was only one intention for both of us there, and it wasn't the least bit pure. As encouragement, he rubs his hard cock against me again, the friction making us both moan at the same time. Trent's hand slips between my legs and slides down to my panties, teasing me over the cloth.

“Your panties are dirty, baby.”

His thumb swirls against my sensitive clit, the cloth of the panties wet with my moisture. It doesn't take much effort for him to get me like this and, the first few times, I used to be embarrassed by how quickly I got wet because of him, but I've abandoned my shyness. Beads of sweat begin to drip from my back and forehead. I crack a feline smile.

“I am dirty," I tease.

His eyes shine with something I can't identify. The emotion passes through his irises and disappears as quickly as it appears, but the smile has frozen on his handsome face and, taking me by surprise, he gets up and turns me over, leaving me on my back.

“I'll sort it out for you," he promises.

Trying not to throw the full weight of his body on top of me, he starts trailing kisses down my skin, at the same time as his hands go up the shirt I'm wearing by the hem. He does all this slowly until he pulls the cloth over my head and leaves my breasts free, the nipples already stiff with his touch.

“I don't know how I've gone almost a week without this sight," he says, a sigh escaping through his parted lips. I rub my thighs against each other, a bit bewildered by the pleasure taking me, and he smiles. “I'm happy for this morning off.”

“Trent…”

He leans over and bites the nipple of my right breast. The sensation takes me over completely and I thrust into him, wanting more. His tongue circles and sucks and I can't hold back the moans. I want to wake up like this every day. I even forget that a few seconds ago I was angry with him because of the curtains. Now nothing matters more than his mouth causing me indescribable sensations.

I moisten my lips and adjust myself underneath him. His mouth is still busy on my breasts and I want to tease him as much as he's teasing me, but he makes it difficult. His hands slide down to my waist and he spreads my legs further apart, wedging himself in between.

It's a better position and one I take advantage of, crossing my legs around his waist, pressing myself against his cock, feeling it harden. I want to feel him inside me, the morning boner overwhelming me, the longing to be with him like that consuming me and I've never been so grateful for a morning off.

He starts to lower his mouth to my belly and makes a trail of kisses down my skin, sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation moving to the one spot between my legs and I don't mind moaning out loud with his mouth causing me all these sensations so early in the day.

“You're so hot, Y/N” he mutters, kisses my thigh and starts to pull my panties down, getting rid of them by my legs. “That's it, baby, spread your legs for me.”

I obey. He gives me a look before leaning back on the bed, moving his body back a little and leaving his face right between my legs. When his tongue finally touches me, I grip the sheets tightly, gasping, my clit throbbing.

Trent slips his hands under my ass, holding me down, moans escaping me and I'm so immersed in the pleasure he's giving me that I can barely think, sweat dripping down the side of my forehead.

“Oh, that's it,” my moan rises and my hips buck against his mouth, begging for more; a scream almost escapes me when he bites and sucks hard, reaching a spot of mine that drives me crazy. “Trent!”

He laughs against my pussy and tries to make me come. I'd forgotten how delicious it is to wake up like this. I think from today onwards we should think of a way to have some time for both of us in the morning, before we face the day. Maybe it would be a separate exercise to help him with his recent injuries.

A few minutes later, I come in his mouth, my back arches and my breathing quickens. He pulls away and gets rid of the last piece of clothing, his hard cock visible and his mischievous smile mirroring mine. I prop myself up on my elbows and stand halfway up the mattress, admiring him, while he stands by the bed. His curious eyes catch up with me.

“What's wrong?” he wants to know.

My smile widens and I make a point of looking him up and down, proud to be sure that this man is mine and no one else's. If it weren't for my stupid rule, I wouldn't be able to see him. If it hadn't been for my stupid rule about not kissing on the mouth before morning hygiene, I would certainly have pulled him to me at that very moment, but there were still other things we could do.

“Come here," I demand.

I lie back on the bed and he readily comes to me. His body rises on top of mine and he struggles not to let all his weight fall on me, his eyes staring at me with lust. I touch his face, caressing his cheek.

“Make love to me," I ask.

Something in his eyes changes and he adjusts himself between my legs. His smile widens and I know he likes my request, something we haven't done for a while too, although we both enjoyed it very much.

I cross my leg over his body so that he can fit inside me more easily. He moans as he thrusts his cock inside and I hold onto his shoulder as he begins a slow back and forth movement.

“I'm sorry I haven't paid much attention to you over the last few days," he says, his voice a little hoarse, his hand caressing my back, moving up to my face, where he brushes my hair away from my face. “I didn't realize that maybe you were missing me or feeling left out.”

Our bodies move together and it feels so, so good. It's even better than our first time or every other time we have sex. I thrust against him, demanding that he increase the speed a little, his cock sliding in and out easily with my wetness.

"Take this off your mind, Trent," I whisper, kissing his cheek, hugging him as tightly as I can. “There's no way you can make me feel like this.”

There really isn't. He gives me all the attention he can and I understand that our routines can be exhausting, as they have been lately, which has influenced our sex life, but he has never stopped giving me attention because of that. And he always finds a way to reward me. Like now.

“You're amazing, baby," he mumbles, biting my chin to hold back his desire to kiss me, and I smile at his effort.

He increases the speed of his thrusts and my body is still sensitive from the first orgasm, but I don't mind, enjoying being totally intoxicated by the pleasure he gives me. We play a teasing game with each other as he surrenders inside me, our moans and giggles mingling, my nails scratching the skin of his back, his hands squeezing and spreading my buttocks, our sweaty bodies together.

God, I want to wake up like this every day.

“Y/N…” his hoarse voice echoes through the room and I know it's a warning of how close he is.

When Trent mentions pulling out of me to cum, I stop him, wrapping my legs around him. He looks at me with a mixture of confusion, his eyes narrowed.

“Come inside.”

“But…”

I roll against his cock and he moans eagerly. It's enough of an attitude for him to understand that it's okay with me. It's not the first time we've had sex without a condom. Trent turns our bodies, taking me by surprise, and gets on top of me, adjusting himself better. His thumb starts to massage my clit and he wants to speed up my orgasm so that we can both climax at the same time. My back contracts, my toes stretch out and I surrender to him, admiring his beauty with him there, on top, thrusting his cock into me with a speed that’s overwhelming.

My pussy squeezes his cock and he gives me a reproachful look, pinching the skin of my thigh on purpose in silent protest at my teasing him like this. My lips draw into a wicked smile, victorious and satisfied. When I feel him shudder, I know he won't last much longer before he collapses over me with his cum.

He splits my legs even further, pulling them away from his waist, his hands firm against my thighs as he increases his speed, our bodies colliding, the sound echoing in the room. My breathing becomes irregular and I hold back a moan as I feel his thumb continue to caress me, sensitive to his touch.

“Darling, are you sure?” he asks once more.

“Stop holding back and cum already, Trent.”

He laughs at my impatience and fucks me a little harder. My mind can't think of anything else but this, the two of us, his cock inside me, his fingers teasing me, his lips reflecting my smile, our bodies sweating together, our rapid breathing matching the fast, almost erratic beats of my heart.

I push myself even harder against him, I feel him shudder again, his eyes roll back in pleasure and it's when he softens that he finally lets his body reach the apex of orgasm, spilling inside me. I feel the hot liquid and gasp, a thousand sensations reverberating through my body at the same time, all because of him. Trent doesn't pull out immediately; instead, he throws himself over me, without putting his full weight, and I hear his shallow breathing.

“We need to do this every day," he decrees, which makes me laugh.

I put my hands on his shoulders and he pulls out of me, but just when I think we're done, Trent throws himself to the side, but lowers one hand back to my pussy and begins to masturbate me slowly.

“It's your turn," he says.

I meet his mischievous gaze at the exact moment he thrusts two fingers inside me unawares, making sure I come for the second time that morning. He pinches my clit, a moan comes out of my mouth and my eyes light up in his direction. Trent increases the speed of his thrusts, but I don't need much stimulation, the sensitivity of the first orgasm was still present in my body. A few more minutes at that speed, with his mouth now teasing one of my breasts, I reach climax for the second time, my pussy contracting against his fingers.

I feel completely limp, my knees lose their strength and I mentally thank myself that I'm already lying down, or I'd lose my balance. He removes his fingers from inside me and brings them to his mouth, licking up our mixed cum. I'm still recovering, trying to regulate my breathing, but my heart won't calm down at the sight of him.

He pulls me to him, my back against his chest and his hand on my stomach. Trent places a kiss on my shoulder and it's in that position that I forget the world outside, because there's just the two of us, between four walls. It's inevitable not to want to stay in that embrace forever.

“We need to find a way to adjust our routines," he starts. ”I'm a lucky guy that you're understanding of my stresses and all, but I can't not pay attention to my girl.”

I moisten my lips, an affected smile on my face. I place a hand over yours and intertwine our fingers.

"You know I don't mind, Trent," I whisper, reassuring him. “As long as you reward me.”

“Like now?” This time, he bites my shoulder lightly, teasing me.

I turn around, facing him, without letting go of our hands. He looks at me with something in his eyes that looks more like adoration. I love everything about him: the way he always makes me feel safe with his feelings, the way he looks at me, touches me, loves me. I've never even had an excuse to suspect or doubt that. From the start, he's always been transparent.

“Like now.” I touch his face, smiling. “But much more so.”

He laughs, kisses my nose and squeezes my waist. This time, his eyes shine with pure lust and I know what he's going to suggest before his mouth even forms the words.

“Round two?”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

hii brainrot i love your work :}}}

i was wonder if maybe you could do a lil drabble of muriel having to deal with his and mc's kid being an absolute wild card like constantly going to the woods or town to explore without telling, climbing things they aren't supposed and just generally giving muriel constant mini heart attacks

byee have a good rest of your dayy ^^

"What am I doing wrong?"

There's only one person in the world who can make your stoic partner emote like this, and it's the terror of a five-year-old peacefully dozing in their trundle on the other side of the hut. Muriel sits perched on the edge of your bed with his face in his hands.

"And I thought Asra was hard to deal with as a kid ..."

"What happened?"

You try not to chuckle as you sit next to him and lay a hand on his broad shoulder. It feels like touching a very warm boulder, the tension bunching the muscles there so tightly you'd think his back was made of knots. He turns to give you a wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

"They're not afraid of anything."

You suppress a snort.

"Isn't that a good thing? You always talked about wanting them to grow up knowing they're safe no matter what."

"I do -" He sinks his face back into his palms, taking slow, even breaths as the shoulder under your hand slowly starts to relax. "I do, but I-I can't. I can't keep them safe from everything. They're growing up so fast. I don't want them to lose their spark because I can't keep up."

You nod quietly. Muriel's right. Your child has a firmly rooted faith in a big, beautiful world full of love and wonder, and their own boundless curiosity calls them into all the places that would gladly shatter that dream. You want them to explore and learn and grow, but you dread watching a little of the light leave their eyes because you taught them wariness.

"I know." You start to rub your palm along his spine. He relaxes through another deep breath, eventually slumping over in the hard-won ease of years of closeness, laying his head on your lap so you can take out the day's braids. You card your fingers through his hair with a sigh. "I want them to hold onto that safety, too - I guess they're more ready to grow up than we are to watch it happen."

That earns you a fondly exasperated huff. "They chased a bee."

"They - what?" Your fingers pause in shock. You see the corner of his mouth twitch in a tired smile.

"I took them to check the charms. When I turned around, they were almost out of sight."

"Did you catch them?"

"Barely. They followed it to its hive in that old stump by the clover clearing and I caught them trying to climb in to visit."

"Good grief." You sit speechless for a moment, stunned into silence. Muriel's exhaustion finally catches up to him and his voice cracks on a hysterical giggle.

"They said the bee invited them to tea with its family and then they asked me to give them some treats to share with the hive."

You roll your lips in an attempt to fight your laughter. "And?"

"I told them we only have food for people, not bees. They came back to the hut with me after that, but then -" His voice breaks on a snort. You watch in sleepy awe as his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"But then?" You can hear laughter quivering in your own whisper.

"Then they put your shopping basket on their head and walked right back out the door. When I asked them where they were going they said Selasi the baker has food for bees so they were going to go buy some."

Muriel turns his head into your lap to stifle a wheeze. You clap your hand over your mouth and wait for him to recover. Eventually, he resurfaces with tears in his eyes, clearly at the breaking point of loving stress and pure exhaustion that renders everything hilarious.

"I asked them what they meant - they said - heehee - they were going to get - you remember those honey loaves?"

You gasp. "The ones he shaped like bees?"

Muriel nods, his weathered face crinkling up in new laugh lines. "They said Selasi would make them bee bread and they were going to go buy some."

You chuckle into your hand, watching Muriel's shoulders silently shake. "You know Selasi absolutely would if they asked him, though."

"I know," he pauses to clap his hand over another snort and continues, "I told them we'd have to wait until tomorrow to go, so they gave me their money for safe keeping."

You stare down at him in disbelief. "Where did they get money? They're five!"

Your partner lifts himself out of your lap, loose hair falling around his chin and jaw as he stands to rummage in his discarded cloak's pocket. He turns back to you with one large hand out, delicately cradling the small collection of treasures piled in it.

A pretty leaf. Some acorn caps. Two sparkly rocks. And one snow-white chicken feather with a tiny, blackberry-stained fingerprint smudged on the tip. You feel your heart melt at the earnest innocence and glance instinctively back to the trundle, dark tufts of fine hair and round, chubby cheeks happily snuggled into the drool-puddled pillow. You turn back to your partner.

"There has to be a way to let this tea party happen."

He hangs his head and sighs. "I'm open to ideas."

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

I Can't Say Part 2

Summary: An Earthquake turns everyone's world upside down and nearly takes part of Eddie's away from him.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Hurt, Earthquake, Injured Reader, Blood/Blood-loss

Requested?: No   

Word Count: 4,136

A/N: Our grand total of words for this trilogy is 11,325... I'm ngl was kinda stuck on how I'd get from break up to make up but then I was rewatching season 2 the other night and well... Earthquake it is. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Love to all! Requests are Open!

[ A/N: him so purtty... ]

Part 1

--- Your POV --- 

Groaning, I silence my alarm and drag myself to my bedroom to change clothes. I really wish I had changed out of my work clothes last night because it is so uncomfortable to sleep in jeans. I opt for a more comfortable outfit for today since I'm just taking Talia to therapy. My jeans are replaced by sweats, my LAFD t-shirt by an oversized hoodie, and I yank on my high tops to finish it off. 

As I make my way to the kitchen for coffee, with a pit stop in the bathroom to brush my teeth, I throw my hair up into a messy bun and check my phone that had miraculously stayed in my back pocket all night. The smell of coffee fills the air as I swipe through notifications which include a few random info dump texts from Buck that I hadn't checked yesterday, a missed call from an unknown number here and there, and a few texts from Tommy checking in on me.  

After closing out all the notifications and apps, I find myself staring at my home screen and fidgeting with my bracelet. Glaring back at me is a photo that Buck took in which Chris is sandwiched between me and Eddie as we both hug him. All of us are smiling brightly and my heart hurts at the reminder of my boys. My thoughts are racing when my alarm rings again. I quickly silence it and tuck my phone away before pouring a cup of coffee. As I head out the door, I grab my keys and wallet off the counter. 

A good bit later, I'm arriving at Talia's house. I had finally convinced her to let me pick her up if she wants me to drive her to therapy. I shoot her a text to let her know I'm here, forcing myself to ignore my home screen. It only takes a few minutes before she's rushing out of her house and getting in the passenger seat, "Sorry, I woke up a bit late." 

I smile, "All good, you should probably brush your hair though," I respond, motioning to the bird's nest atop her head. 

As I pull away from the curb, she flips down the visor and giggles at herself in the mirror, "I slept hard last night." 

"I can see that," I state, unable to withhold a laugh. Talia has made so much progress in the past week. This is only her second appointment but I can tell a huge difference; she's actually smiling again. She had taken some time off work because she was scared it would either push her over the edge or she wouldn’t be as focused as she needed to be on the job but yesterday, she said she thinks she’ll be ready to get back out there soon. 

She grabs my phone from the cupholder, "What kind of music are we feeling today?" 

I shrug, "Whatever boats your float." 

She erupts into a fit of laughter, "God, I will never stop thanking Tommy for blessing us with that phrase."  

I grin as I remember the time a very exhausted, end of shift Tommy responded to the question, "Where do you guys wanna eat?" with, "Whatever boats your float." I'll never forget the look of pure astonishment on his face when he immediately realized what he said and mumbled to himself, "Boats your float? What the fuck?" Talia and I teased him about it for weeks after but it got stuck in my vocabulary and became a regular response for me, causing Talia to giggle and Tommy to roll his eyes every time I say it. 

Talia cranks the volume up as she decides on a hip-hop playlist and starts singing along horribly on purpose. This goes on for a little bit, with me giggling at her the whole time, before she finally turns it down, "Alright, what's up with you?" 

I tilt my head at her, "What do you mean?" 

"I mean not too long ago it was always Eddie this or Christopher that," she pauses, "You haven't mentioned them in like forever and I kind of miss seeing the smile on your face when you'd talk about them." I shrug and train my eyes on the road ahead. She doesn't give up, "Come on, (Y/N). You've let me trauma dump on you for weeks now. If you need to talk, I'll listen." 

I take a deep breath, "We broke up." 

"What?!" her volume and pitch nearly bursts my eardrums. 

I dramatically cover and rub my right ear, "We just decided that it wasn't gonna work out." I hate lying to her but if she knew the real reason she'd blame herself and I don't want to upset her. 

"So, it was mutual?" her tone says she doesn't think so. I can't even bring myself to nod. She reaches over and tugs lightly on my bracelet, "I could see keeping the bracelet if it was a mutual break up. That kid means the world to you but-" She picks up my phone and shows me the home screen, "Mutual break ups don't keep photos of their ex as their home screen. People who get dumped do." It's quiet for a couple seconds, "Besides, last time I heard about Eddie, you were asking me if I'd be your Maid of Honor when you guys got married one day. Not if! When." 

I internally cringe as the words spill out of my mouth, "Okay, he decided it wasn't gonna work out." 

I see the look on her face out of the corner of my eye and she still doesn't buy it, "You mean the man who would fight the entire world for you? The man who would kiss the ground you walk on and bow at your feet? The man who absolutely adores the shit out of you and can never stop staring at you like he can't believe you're real?" I clench my jaw but her phone rings, saving me from having to come up with a response. 

A short time later, I am parking on the curb outside her therapist office. She hangs up the phone and grabs my shoulder, "First of all, we're not done talking about it. Second, you should come sit in the waiting room instead of wasting your gas." Praying she won't try to continue the conversation right now, I turn the car off and get out, following her inside. 

We ride up to the second floor in the elevator, check her in at the front desk, and take seats in the waiting room before she speaks again, "So, how's Tommy doing? I heard he's got himself a new boyfriend."  

I smile and nod, laying my head on the back of my chair, "Yeah, Buck. I work with him at the 118. They're very happy together." 

"Oh, that's great! What's Buck like?" she asks. I'm certain she's trying to fill the silence without talking about Eddie. 

"If I had to sum him up in one sentence I'd say, there's a reason the team and I call him a golden retriever," I answer and look over at her with a grin. 

She laughs, "Oh my god, tell me more." 

"Well, he's got a heart of gold and loves his job. He's got tons of energy. He's always got something interesting to talk about because he's constantly researching random shit. One time, he gave me an in-depth explanation of how microwaves work," I pause, "Tommy is absolutely wrapped around his finger. I don't think I've ever seen him smile more than when Buck is info dumping on him." 

I sit up, holding my hand up to quiet Talia as she's in the middle of gushing about how adorable that is and how she must meet Buck asap. I stare at the floor beneath us as its small vibrations turn into violent shaking, "Quake!" Everyone in the waiting room ducks for cover. Talia and I slide under a coffee table just as rubble starts falling around us. Quickly covering our heads with our arms, we brace for impact. 

When the quake subsides and the dust settles, Talia and I make eye contact as we hear other people panicking. We shove the slab of concrete off the edge of the table and make to get up but instead have to army crawl under another slab of concrete. Keeping my head low, "I sure as hell don't miss this," I grumble, thinking back to my days of army crawling through muddy obstacle courses and sandy war zones. 

Behind me, Talia chuckles, "What? Earthquakes or army crawling?" 

I pause and look back at her, realizing it has been a while since our last quake, "both," before proceeding cautiously. Our short tunnel opens up into a pocket that is a good bit taller and has more space to maneuver. "Everybody just stay calm. If you're panicking, we can't properly assist you," I announce to those who were blessed by the pocket. 

"Please! Please, you have to help her," a young woman cries by the furthest edge from us. She is hunched over another woman whose legs are pinned by a chunk of debris. 

"Talia, check everyone else over and get a head count while I try to figure out the safest way to get her out," I instruct. 

Behind me, Talia shuffles toward the others, "On it," as I head for the debris. 

"Stay with me, Penny," the younger woman begs as Penny groans in pain.  

I finally reach them, "Penny, my name is (Y/N). I need you to tell me where it hurts." 

"Everywhere," Penny mumbles and I mentally slap myself. 

"Okay, yeah. Stupid question, I'm sorry. Can you wiggle your toes?" I respond. 

I notice the younger woman's name tag that reads Chelsea as Penny answers, "Yeah I think so." 

"Alright, that's a good sign. Chelsea, I need you to see if you can find a piece of wood or something that is big enough for her to lay on," Chelsea nods and begrudgingly leaves to scavenge. 

I drop to my stomach and scoot closer to Penny, "We're gonna get you outta here, I'm just a little more limited on resources than usual." I take her hand in mine and drop my forehead to the floor with a thump. My head is pounding; I think I hit it on the underside of the coffee table earlier. I'm having a hard time thinking straight.  

I remember Bobby's advice for times like this, "Don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time." Alright, first task, get Penny free and on a makeshift back board. 

I check her pulse, it's weak but steady, "Penny, I need you to focus on your breathing, okay?" She nods, taking deep breaths, as I look up at the debris that is pinning her. It looks like a thick and heavy wall but doesn't appear to be supporting anything. I crawl to where her legs disappear out of sight and stick my hand under as far as I can reach, feeling for any bleeding and thankfully finding none. I crane my neck to look at the others, a few are assisting where they can as Talia checks everyone over. "I need as many hands as I can get over here!" I yell across what remains of the waiting room. 

Talia stops what she's doing and points to few men who look to be in pretty good shape considering the circumstances. She directs them to me before squeezing a little girl's hand tightly and joining me herself. As they approach, Chelsea comes hobbling around a corner with a piece of wood.  

When everyone is there and ready for instructions, I start dishing them out, "You guys," I point to the men, "spread out around this wall and get ready to lift." I roll over on my back and scoot until my shoulders are even with the edge of the collapsed wall, "Talia, Chelsea, as soon as this wall is up enough, pull her out as gently as you can and get her on the wood." Once everyone is in position, "On the count of three. 1... 2... 3..." I push as hard as I can against the underside of the wall. The men help lift from their positions and soon they've pulled Penny out. 

"You get out from under there, we got this," one of the men insists.  

I nod and roll back over on my stomach to shove myself up to my feet and away from the wall, "Let it down easy." They do and now I'm left trying to figure out my next task. I scan the pocket looking for any possible exits. A pile of rubble blocks the door to what I hope is still a somewhat functioning stairwell. It will take some time to clear the way enough to get the door open but it's our only shot. I notice the massive receptionist desk is still somehow standing making a decent place for everyone to take cover for the inevitable aftershocks.  

"Talia, help everyone get under the reception desk," I look at the men who are patiently waiting for further instruction, "You guys are gonna help me get that door open," I punctuate my sentence with a point at the door. They nod and immediately head that way, as do I. Behind me I hear Talia start instructing the others. Once everyone is under the desk, Talia joins us in the small bit of headway we're making. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

The 118 is heading toward a downtown building collapse. Despite knowing it's futile, they've all tried contacting various loved ones. Buck sighs in relief as he hears Tommy's voice on the radio, "This is 127 Pilot Kinard. 118 please check in." 

Immediately, Buck grabs his radio, "Buckley checking in. Nash, Diaz, Wilson, Han, and Panikkar all accounted for." 

It's quiet for a split second before Tommy asks, "(Y/L/N)?" Buck hesitates, looking over at Eddie who has been staring out the window ever since he gave up on trying to reach Chris and (Y/N).  

Voice shaky, Buck answers, "No contact. She's off duty." 

Tommy's voice sounds strained, "Copy. Y'all stay safe." 

Buck responds, trying to sound reassuring, "We will." 

As they near the building, Eddie nearly slams his head against the window as he looks back behind them. "Woah, what?" Hen asks across from him, startled by his sudden movement. 

Eddie whips his head around to look at his team just as the engine parks next to another one from the 133, "That was (Y/N)'s car!" He flings his headset off and scrambles out of the vehicle as everyone else piles out behind him. 

Buck catches up to him and grabs his shoulder when he stops in front of a crushed car, "A-are you sure? She's doesn't exactly have a unique car..." Eddie only points at the shattered windshield. As he spins and takes off toward Bobby, Buck looks to where he pointed to find the rubber duck wearing firefighter gear that he and Tommy had helped Chris buy for (Y/N) on her last birthday. Chris had insisted the duck needed a cowboy hat so they also bought a small Toy Story Woody action figure. Woody himself was sitting at home on one of Buck's bookshelves but his hat now laid beside the little duck in the pancake that was formerly a car. 

--- Your POV ---

I wipe the sweat and dust off my face as I hoist another chunk of debris to the new pile we've made. We've made a decent size dent in the blockage but it's still not enough to get through. As the ground begins to tremble again, Talia yells, "Aftershock!" 

I turn and attempt to make it to the desk with everyone else but a bout of dizziness takes me down. I feel a blinding pain as something punctures my lower back close to my left hip. I look back to see a piece of rebar sticking out. When everything stops shaking, Talia rushes over to me. I try to get up but the rebar has me staked to the floor. She presses her hands against my blood-soaked hoodie, "(Y/N) you better stay with me!" I try hard to focus on my breathing as she yells at the men to keep working on the blockage and calls Chelsea over to her, "I need you to keep pressure around this, okay?"  

Talia drops to her stomach, face to face with me, "How bad is it? Be honest." 

I wiggle my toes and reach around to feel exactly where the puncture is, "Shouldn't be too bad. Main concern is the bleeding. Thank god for love handles because I think that's all it hit." 

She nods, "Alright, hang in there."  

Talia returns back to Chelsea who whispers, "She's losing a lot of blood." I hear fabric tear and feel my hoodie lift up. I'm sure Talia is trying to stem the blood flow as much as possible by sandwiching fabric between my hoodie and skin. I lay my clammy cheek against the cool floor and look out at the wreckage. It's starting to get hard to breathe and my vision is already blurry. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

Just as Talia finishes packing fabric around the rebar in her friend's abdomen, another aftershock hits. The others rush to the desk and Talia tries to move to cover (Y/N)'s body as much as possible but one of the men pulls her away, "You can't save her if you take a chunk of concrete to the dome." 

Talia screams, "(Y/N) don't you dare leave me! Stay awake, okay?!" 

As soon as the shaking dies down enough, Talia rushes back to (Y/N), who is now losing even more blood, and adjusts the fabric to accommodate what is now a bigger hole. "(Y/N), you still with me?!" she screams, panic is evident in her tone. She looks over to see that her friend is unconscious, blood trickling down her forehead.  

Chelsea joins her, tearing off a piece of her shirt and pressing it to the gash near (Y/N)'s hairline, "She's still breathing but barely." 

Talia nods, finishing with the pile of fabric, "Swap with me." The two swap places before Talia shakes (Y/N) gently. She softly smacks her cheeks, "(Y/N) you gotta wake up! Please..." Tears flow freely down her own cheeks now as she looks up at the ceiling, "God you wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me..." 

As she continues her attempts to wake (Y/N), one of the men shushes everyone, "I think I hear something," he announces, pressing his ear to the little bit of the door they had uncovered. "It's voices!" he cheers, "Help is here!" The room erupts into excitement as the man bangs on the door, "In here! Hey! We're in here!" 

On the other side of the door, the 118 team hears the banging and rushes up the stairs as carefully as they can. Bobby yells, "We hear you! This is Captain Nash with LAFD. How many of you are there?" 

From (Y/N)'s side, Talia whips her head up and yells back, "10! Firefighter down! One of yours!" 

Panic blankets the team and Bobby has to grab a hold of Eddie to keep him from busting the door down, "We don't know what's on the other side of that door," Buck places a hand on Eddie's shoulder so Bobby can turn back to the door and find out what they're dealing with. 

The man answers Bobby, "A pile of rubble! We've been trying to clear it because (Y/N) said this stairwell is our best bet on getting out." 

Eddie's heart leaps into his throat at the confirmation that it's her. Buck's grip tightens, warning him to calm down. Bobby instructs, "Okay, I need everyone to get away from the door. We're gonna have to saw our way in." 

The man looks down at (Y/N) and Talia, "We can't move (Y/N), she's staked to the floor by rebar. I think if I try to pull Talia away from her again, she might murder me." Buck's ears perk up at the mention of Talia. Maybe Tommy was onto something there. He shoves those thoughts aside as Bobby asks for the saw in his hands.  

"Alright, the rest of you back away. Talia, do your best to shield her," Bobby responds, "Let us know when we're clear." 

In the room, everyone puts plenty of distance between them and the door as Talia covers (Y/N)'s body the best she can, "Clear!" 

Buck drags Eddie away as he and the team back up to give space. Bobby cuts a large enough hole in the door before handing the saw to Chimney, "Buck, help me with this." Together Bobby and Buck remove the metal chunk and as soon as he has a clear shot, Eddie rushes through the hole. Hen is right on his heels, med bag in hand, as Talia moves away from (Y/N) to let them work. 

Bobby, Buck, Chimney, and Ravi set to work helping the others out of the building as Hen grabs Eddie's frantic hands, "You need to calm down, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath before placing two fingers on (Y/N)'s wrist, "Pulse is steady but dangerously weak." The two medics set to work doing their best to stabilize her. When Buck and Bobby join them, she has an oxygen mask on, IV line in, a pulse/ox monitor on her finger, and Hen is keeping pressure around the wound. 

"What do we got?" Bobby asks firmly as he crouches beside Eddie, placing his hand on the distraught man's shoulder. Eddie can only stare down at her, repeatedly brushing her hair out of her face as he silently begs her to wake up. 

Hen answers, "Vitals are steady but in the danger zone. She's lost a lot of blood. Rebar isn't too close to any vital organs but it went all the way through and into the floor." 

Bobby nods, "We transport her with the rebar. Eddie, lift her up as gently as you can. Buck, hand me the bolt cutters and lift on the other side. Hen, keep pressure on that wound and an eye on her vitals." Everyone nods as Chimney and Ravi return from helping the last of the others out with a back board. On the count of three Eddie and Buck lift (Y/N) up enough that Bobby can cut the rebar underneath her. Once they've rolled her onto back, Hen quickly sets to work dressing the untouched side. In minutes, they're lifting her onto the back board and headed out of the building. 

As they approach the scene commander, Bobby states, "We need an ambulance now." 

The commander nods recognizing (Y/N), "We've got more on the way take the 133's." Bobby leads the way toward the 133 ambulance. Behind them, the commander yells, “I still need hands on deck, Nash.”  

As Hen and Chimney load (Y/N) into the back, Bobby looks at them all, “I know we’re all worried about her. One driver and Eddie can go. Everyone else needs to stay here.” Talia takes a few steps back from the group as Eddie climbs into the back and Hen heads to the front. She looks up at the collapsing building and around at the firefighters and paramedics rushing around near them.  

She looks back toward the ambulance as Bobby calls her name and holds his hand out to help her into the back. She’s still nervous about getting back out there right now but she knows she can be of more help here than at the hospital blaming herself for (Y/N)’s injury. She steps up beside him, ignoring his hand, “Got an extra turn out?” 

Before Bobby can ask if she’s sure, Tommy runs up to them already wearing turn out gear and carrying an extra, “Heard you guys are down by two.” He sees (Y/N) in the back of the ambulance and he feels a touch of anger in the worry that settles in his chest as Eddie frets over her vitals. Bobby shuts the doors of the ambulance and gives it a few knocks before it pulls away. 

He turns to Tommy, “Shouldn’t you be in a helicopter?” 

“Commander radioed for extra hands and I’ve been grounded. Our station got hit pretty hard and took my ride down with it,” Tommy answers. He turns to Talia, offering her the extra gear that she can see her last name written on, “I had a hunch you’d be here so I grabbed your old gear before I left.” She takes it and quickly puts it on, looking to Bobby for orders. 

Part 3

More 911

Main Masterlist

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "The One Who Got Away"

You had spent the evening curled up on the couch, watching reruns of your favorite show, trying to forget about everything that had happened earlier that day. Your heart had been heavy for a while now. The world felt dull without Marshall in it, without his chaotic, yet comforting presence. The silence in your apartment felt suffocating. You missed him—more than you wanted to admit.

Suddenly, a knock at your door startled you. It was late. Who could it be?

You stood up, your mind racing, but when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. Standing before you, looking disheveled and vulnerable in a hoodie and jeans, was Marshall—Eminem himself. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion, regret, and raw emotion.

"Marshall?" you whispered, feeling your pulse quicken. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced around nervously before stepping inside, his eyes avoiding yours. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, almost pleading.

You stepped back, allowing him in. You hadn't seen him in months, not since the day he left you. The day everything fell apart.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, taking a deep breath. "I—I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have left you like I did. I was trying to be a better person for Kim, but I hurt you. And I hate myself for it."

You blinked, unsure of what to say. You had been carrying the pain of his sudden departure for so long, the hole in your chest growing with each passing day. "You left me when I needed you the most," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't understand why you did it, Marshall."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, and you saw the pain there, the guilt. "Kim... when she got pregnant, I thought I had to do the right thing. I thought I had to be there for her and for the baby. I thought I was being a good guy, but in doing that, I ended up breaking your heart."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I loved you, Marshall. I gave you everything. And you just... left."

He stepped closer, his voice breaking. "I know, and I regret it more than you could ever imagine. But I was scared. I didn’t know how to juggle everything. I didn't want to hurt Kim or the baby, but I ended up hurting you... the one person who didn’t deserve it."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. You had never seen Marshall like this before—so raw, so open. "Why are you here now?" you asked softly, a mix of anger and hurt still lingering in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands trembling slightly. "Because I can't live with myself anymore knowing I fucked up. I was a coward, and I made the worst decision of my life when I walked away from you. I thought it was the right thing to do, but... it wasn’t. You were always the one I needed. The one I wanted. And I fucked it up."

The tears that you had been holding back spilled over, and you wiped your face, trying to hide the pain. "But it's too late, Marshall. You made your choice."

He shook his head, his eyes desperate. "Please... don't say that. I know I can't change the past, but I can try to make things right. I can try to show you how sorry I am. I’ve been an idiot."

For a moment, you said nothing. Your mind was racing, torn between the anger of the past and the feelings you still had for him. You wanted to push him away, to tell him it was too late, but part of you, the part that had never stopped loving him, couldn't do it.

Slowly, you took a step forward, closing the space between you. "You hurt me, Marshall. You left me when I needed you the most."

He nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry."

You searched his face, the man who had once been your everything. "Why now?" you asked again, your voice shaky. "Why come back now, after all this time?"

"Because I’m done lying to myself," he replied, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I was an asshole, and I was afraid of my own feelings. But now, I know the truth. I love you. I always have, and I always will. I was just too fucking scared to admit it."

Your breath caught in your throat. Could this be real? Could he really mean this?

"Marshall..." you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

He reached out, taking your hand gently in his, as if afraid you'd pull away. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please... can we try again? Can we start over?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this was what you needed too.

With a shaky breath, you nodded. "Yeah... we can try."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

----

A/N this could be a new series guys I swear this is so cute and angsty.

[yxlnst]

Hello! i hope youre having a great day/night

I’ve recently read your fics and i do truly love them, i was here to request something if you dont mind. Feel free to ignore this if its uncomfortable for you!!

I honestly LOVE heavy angst but fluff at the end lmao, could you maybe write something rreeallllyyy angsty with jun, but with a fluff ending? I can’t really come up with good ideas tbh, but maybe a huge argument? Honestly i dont know i just cope with these stuff so anything is fine lol.

Thank you so much if youre seeing this!! Have a great day/night

ofc!! And thank youu aswell, also if the story was not what you had in mind please tell me!! Now lets focus on the ff :DDD

Rebuilding Us

idol!Jun x reader!Y/n

Angst + Fluff

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 664

🎀 Summary : Argument drives you and Jun apart. Reconciliation brings the two of you back together stronger.

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

Jun stood in the living room, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. You had been arguing for hours, and now, exhaustion and frustration were beginning to take their toll.

"I just don't understand why you can't see it from my perspective!" Jun's voice was raised, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the intensity of the argument.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "And I don't get why you're always so quick to dismiss my feelings! It's like you don't even care!"

His eyes softened for a brief moment before the anger flared up again. "That's not fair, and you know it. I care more than you realize, but this—" he gestured between the two of you, "this is tearing us apart."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and hurt. You both stood there, breathing heavily, trying to process everything that had been said. The emotional distance between you seemed insurmountable.

"I just… I need some space," you finally whispered, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. "I can't keep doing this."

Jun's face fell, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability behind his anger. "So, what? You're just going to walk away?" His voice was quiet now, laced with pain.

You turned away, unable to look at him. "I don't know, Jun. Maybe we both need time to figure things out."

As you walked to the door, you heard him sigh deeply. "I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't keep fighting like this either."

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, and looked back at him. The sight of him, standing there with a mixture of desperation and sadness, made your heart ache. "I need to think," you said softly. "I hope you understand."

Days passed, and the space between you and Jun felt like a chasm. You missed him terribly, but the arguments had left scars that were slow to heal. One evening, as you sat on the couch, lost in thought, your phone buzzed with a message.

Y/n can we talk? I miss you.

You hesitated, your heart racing. After a few moments, you typed back a simple reply.

Okay.

That night, you met at the park where you had shared so many happy memories. Jun was already there, pacing nervously. When he saw you, he stopped, his expression a mix of hope and fear.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," you replied, equally nervous.

There was a long silence before Jun spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About how I dismiss your feelings. You're right. I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I didn't really listen to you."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. "I wasn't fair either. I should have tried to understand where you were coming from instead of just getting defensive."

Jun stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to fight anymore. I want us to work through this. Together."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. "Me too. I hate being apart from you, Jun."

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I love you. More than anything. Let's not give up on us."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you squeezed his hand. "I love you too. Let's start over."

Jun pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. The warmth of his embrace felt like coming home. In that moment, all the pain and anger melted away, replaced by the promise of a fresh start.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But as long as you had each other, you were ready to face anything together.

The night sky above was clear, the stars shining brightly as if celebrating your reunion. And as you walked hand in hand, you both knew that the love you shared was stronger than any argument, ready to face whatever came next, together.