#nothing will help my pain i feel for these two

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 20 - sweet time erasing you

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, angst, i recommend listening to sad beautiful tragic while reading this...

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the girls all arrived to your place as fast as they could, finding you in a state.

"oh my god" kie said, taking you in. all the girls did nothing but hold you as you fell to the floor, heartbreaking sobs escaping you.

sarah pulled you into her arms as you completely broke down. kie and cleo followed, wrapping themselves around you like they could physically hold you together while your entire world was shattering.

“it’s okay,” sarah whispered, even though it wasn’t. “we’re here. we’ve got you.”

but nothing felt okay. nothing felt real.

your chest ached like someone had physically torn it open, leaving you raw and exposed. sobs racked your body, each one more painful than the last, and no matter how tightly the girls held you, it didn’t stop the emptiness from swallowing you whole.

“i—” you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, another choked cry escaping instead.

“i know, y/n,” kie murmured, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “i know.”

but she didn’t. none of them did.

“i can’t-” shaking your head. “i can’t do this. it hurts. it hurts so much.”

sarah tightened her hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i know, honey. i know it does.”

this wasn’t just heartbreak, this was losing him, losing everything.

"i don't know what to do." you cried.

"there's nothing you can do." cleo said, wiping your tears.

"i have no right to be upset, i broke up with him." you mumbled.

"you have every right to be upset." kie started, "this is raw, this is painful. you're going through heartbreak. allow yourself to feel this."

you swallowed hard, your breath still coming out in uneven gasps. "but what if he never loved me?" the words felt like glass in your throat, cutting you open on the way out.

sarah pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowed, eyes filled with something close to anger. "don’t do that to yourself, y/n. you know he loved you."

"did he?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "because it sure as hell didn’t take him long to replace me."

kie let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "that doesn’t mean what you two had wasn’t real. but you were the one who walked away. he was always going to do something reckless after that."

you wiped at your swollen eyes. "well, congrats to him. he fucking won. he destroyed me."

sarah cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. "no. you ended it because you knew you deserved better. and that’s the strongest thing you could have done."

kie squeezed your hand. “ heartbreak is messy. it doesn’t make sense. it tricks you into thinking you need someone who hurt you. but you don’t, y/n. you don’t need him.”

but you did. at least, that’s what it felt like.

rafe had been your everything. your home in a new city, your comfort, your person.

and now?

now, he was just someone kissing another girl on your phone screen.

fresh tears welled up in your eyes as you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself like you could physically hold in all the pain. “i hate him,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, not believing yourself.

because no matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. you hated how easily he seemed to let go. you hated that he got to be the one moving on while you were stuck here, picking up the pieces of something that had already shattered.

sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “you don’t have to be okay right now. but one day, you will be. and when that day comes, you’re gonna realise that you deserve so much more."

maybe one day, you’d believe that, but not today. not yet.

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a/n: i am very sorry about this one

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes@judesgfirl@4urvalidation@chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover@yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld@blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers @darlingstarkey @sassyvillaintrophy  @pogueprincesa @stylestarkey @sodapopwaldorf

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft’, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna’ die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

[ppixienous]

BEETLEJUICE, joe burrow

pairings ➸ joe burrow x ex-fwb!black!reader

synopsis ➸ you were lured to the fire and got burned.

warnings ➸ angst, that's it.

word count ➸ 822

a/n ➸ was in the process of writing another fic when this idea popped up in my head. everybody say thank you laufey and mariah the scientist ayeeeeee! (not proofread !)

tags ➸ none! but lmk if you would liked to be tagged in the future! <3

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. it was impossible. there was no way he could be this stupid; there was no way you could be this stupid. “this is yvonne, my girlfriend,” you didn’t even have to look at joe to hear the smile through his words. his girlfriend…

everyone seemed to welcome her with open arms, including some of the ones you viewed as close friends. looking at the happy couple, her smile was just as big as joe’s, if not bigger. the screeching of voices was making your head spin and heart pound. a loud scrape against the floor echoed as you looked over to your best friend to excuse yourself from dinner.

step after step, it felt like you couldn’t get further away from the party. finally making it outside, the cold air wrapped around your body, like an odd source of comfort. or perhaps it was a punishment for your relationship with joe. the past few weeks, you knew he was acting more distant than normal, but those sweet words and blue eyes had you hooked. you tried to focus on the cold air, but the bitterness and pain in your heart was too strong to place your focus elsewhere. a figure cleared his throat behind you, trying to make his presence known without scaring you.

joe…

walking closer to you, he draped his large jacket around your smaller frame. you cling to the sleeves of his jacket and put more space between the two of you, afraid that if you let go you would fall back into old temptation. the busy street felt so quiet around you, as if it was just you and joe outside. “y/n…”, a faint cloud of frosty air escaped his lips as he spoke, “come back inside. you’re shaking.”

you couldn’t help but to scoff. this is the same man that knew how to touch you the way he did, place his hands where they didn’t belong, made you feel beautiful like no other man has. the same man that professed his love to you as your bodies connected as one. that same man that did all those things, but wanted you around him and his girlfriend for the rest of this godforsaken night. “yeah, no thanks. i ordered an uber.”

“which could take up to 20 minutes to arrive. don’t be stubborn, y/n. come back inside, enjoy the night, then you can leave.” this got to be the dumbest nigga on the planet.

“don’t be stubborn,” you scoffed, “you want me to “enjoy” my night with your lil girlfriend? you want me to smile in her face? give her a big hug while we’re at it. want me to be her friend as if her man wasn’t just fucking me the other night while saying that he loves me?! is that what you want me to do joe, huh?!”

it could’ve been from the cold or your outburst, but you noticed joe’s face turning into a red hue as he looked around at nosey onlookers. “would you just lower your voice so we can talk about this inside, y/n/n? it’s freezing and i don’t want you to get sick.”

listening to his words and watching his indifferent demeanor, you couldn’t help but to be filled with more rage, bordering hatred. happily snatching his jacket off of your body, you aimed his jacket for his face but he caught it before it connected. goddamn, quarterback.. tears started pooling your eyes, slowly running down your face, “nigga, fuck you! you lied to my face, time and time again. nothing about this shit was love, this was just lust to you. you never cared for me, the way you were supposed to joe.”

“what the hell are you talking about? i never cared for you?”, his face turned up.

“exactly what i said! you never cared for me! this is not showing you care for me. there is no reason, no sane explanation for you telling me that you love me then popping out with some girl the next damn week! do you know h-how devastating that feels?” your heart was pounding rapidly like a drum. you did your best to calm it down, but this situation was too much for you. “i truly hope for yvonne’s sake, you treat her much better than you did me.”

beats of silence surrounded the two of you as joe studied you. dried tears painting your swollen face with bloodshot eyes. in some twisted fantasy, he knew that he could have the best of both worlds. but he made his bed, now hump in it. the sound of a car coming to a stop got your attention. “uber for y/n?”

you nodded to the uber driver, signaling that you would be in there momentarily. taking one more last look at him, you let out a deep sigh and a weak smile, “have a good life, joseph.”

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 4

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use (WC: 4.1k) A special thanks to @sixpennydame for her help on this chapter.

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Your eyes lock with his. Amber light kisses half of his face, placing the shadows under his eyes in the spotlight. They seem more present the nights before expeditions.

He raises a brow, as if asking, ‘what demons are you running from?’

“I draw,” your voice fills the silence. “Nights before expeditions. It helps me clear my head.”

.

.

.

The first memory Levi has of his mother is him combing through her long, black hair.

Not many could keep long hair in the Underground. The lack of sun exposure, for one, made it hard to keep healthy hair. And if not that, the lice usually did it. When it struck a brothel, women and men either found a way to kill those nasty fuckers or they were forced to shave their hair and wear cheap wigs instead.

And yet, his mother did manage. It was one of the things that drew men to her—Olympia and her hair that shone like midnight.

Kuchel’s hair was black, and it did, at times, seem to be made of darkness itself. Only, it was none of the misery found in the shadows of the Underground. Instead, it felt more like the darkness found in the night sky. Liquid starlight. Levi remembers running his fingers through her hair, marveling at the contrast of it against the paleness of his skin. 

Yes, Kuchel Ackerman’s hair was beautiful. Elegant, even.

When she died, people often told Levi he was her spitting image. He doesn’t know about that—he often wonders whether people only said this out of pity, a handout to somehow assuage his grief, or whether they truly meant it. But Levi supposes that if he inherited something, it is his mother’s hair. He has a decent amount of it, thick and dark, and when he runs his hand through it, he feels a little part of his mother in him.

Beyond that, he is different.

Levi has known for a long time that he is nothing special to look at. He’s boyish, nothing like the people Levi’s met over the years. Men and women alike, born with just the right set of genes and under the right circumstances. Levi’s not like that, and that’s just fine by him. He’s not a self-conscious man, after all; he knows his value. 

Still, the question begs to be asked: knowing all of this, why do you choose him as your subject today?

Levi looks up from his reading, considering this very question. Early morning is in full bloom, and Levi’s sitting around the table on the porch, enjoying his first tea of the day while reading the newspaper—two activities he’s neglected these past minutes. 

He’s been too busy pretending not to see you hiding your sketchbook.

What are you even hiding it for? You’re not fooling anyone. If your seated position—a blanket draped around your knees, tools tucked behind both—wasn’t a dead giveaway, your face certainly is. It always carries an intensity to it whenever you draw. Tight, puckered lips, like you were extorting all the pressure to the center of your face. A crinkling of concentrated brows. Vivid eyes, sharp with focus.

Levi reels all his restlessness in his fists. He should not interrupt you. He will not.

This is, as far as Levi is aware, the first time you are picking up a pencil in the last three years. The first time you show an interest in getting back into drawing at all, in fact, in the time since the Rumbling.

Which explains why Levi’s frozen like a statue, scared to pop this moment.

Don’t say anything, he tells himself. Don’t fucking ruin it for her.

Levi remembers the first time he caught you drawing like this. It was an evening before an expedition, one of the first ones that followed Isabel’s and Furlan’s deaths. Everyone huddled around the campfire, but you sat alone. He’d approached you then, the loner he was, seeking your presence like a moth to a flame. He remembers that look you wore when he caught you—wide eyes and parted lips. You thought he’d come to judge, to call you a creep for drawing others.

Instead, Levi asked if he could watch.

(Later, he would even tell you the hard truth—to keep on doing what you did, because this was the only way to immortalize every face, that many men and women in your drawings would not come back.)

From there on, Levi would often catch you drawing here and there. Cadets, squad leaders, horses—no subject seemed out of reach. He remembers Hange even trying to convince you to draw titans on a particular expedition (“Unfortunately, Hange, I think drawing a real-life titan, while also on a moving horse, would end in my untimely death.” “Boo…”).

You loved to draw and Levi loved to watch.

They say an artist’s gaze is alluring, and while Levi can agree your eyes have this magnetic way of pulling him in, there’s another thing Levi loves to watch.

It’s your hands. With them, you draw lines on paper. With them, you bring tenderness and kindness. With them, you heal people.

Recently, Levi's started to wonder how your hands would feel on him. The memories of last night are still on his mind; Levi remembers just how close you got to him.

“Hey, what do you think Erwin and Hange would be doing if they were with us?” your voice cuts through the silence.

Levi’s gaze widens slightly as he meets your lifted stare. He’s unsure if he heard you correctly. 

But no… he did. 

And Levi finds himself at a loss for words. 

This is the first time you’ve brought up this subject—brought them up. It isn’t that Levi doesn’t want to talk about Erwin and Hange, but he doesn’t remember the last time he could talk about anyone from his past. He thinks the 104th sometimes walks on eggshells around him, as if bringing names up might summon a curse best left forgotten.

But he supposes, if anyone would want to talk about the Survey Corps veterans, it would be you.

He’s grateful that it’s you.

“Erwin,” Levi finds his voice again, clearing his throat, “Erwin would bury himself in knowledge. That know-it-all would probably run the local library by now.”

“Ohh, good one. See, I would have bet on him becoming a teacher, but now that you mention that, well, I change my mind.”

Levi makes a humming sound, imagining Erwin following in his father’s footsteps. Fitting, certainly.

“He could do both,” Levi suggests.  

“He could do both—no! He would do both.”

An excited smile graces your lips then, just as you focus back on your sketchbook. The low morning light catches the scar on your face, and Levi thinks he would love to trace over it with his fingertips, to bestow softness where there was once pain.

“Erwin would have books from everywhere, I’m sure of it,” you continue with a bubbly tone. “He’d have an entire collection of it.”

“Yeah, his home would be a real mess.”

You snort, raising a brow at him. “You’d help him sort it out, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck no.” Levi scrunches his nose, remembering how often he used to clean after Hange and Erwin. “Erwin would need to learn to clean once and for all—or find someone to do it for him. Until then, I’m not stepping foot into his house.”

“Tough love, huh? Well... that just means he’d have an excuse to come here then, to enjoy the porch the way we are now.”

“Mm.”

“What kind of book do you reckon he’d be reading?”

Levi shrugs with one arm. “You’d know better. You were a designated member of his precious book club.”

You roll your eyes. “It was hardly a bookclub; we were four people.”

“At one point, you met every Sunday evening. That’s a book club to me.”

You tilt your head, amusement gleaming in your eyes. “You know, some might call knowing so much about a bookclub you’re not a part of rather unsettling, ‘Vi.”

“Please.” Levi crosses his arms over his chest, shooting you a look. “You just wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“That’s because we always hoped you’d join on your own. We all considered you our non-official member, you know.” Amusement flashes across your face as you seemingly scour past memories. “Like... a grumpy mascot, or something.”

Levi clicks his tongue, shaking his head dismissively.

Silence falls. Levi takes to watching the horizon. This side of the house with the porch faces the ocean; it’s just a few minutes walk to the beach from here. Today, Levi can tell that the waves are calm, that the tide is low; he can’t make out the sound of water. 

“What about Hange, then?”

Levi’s gaze focuses back on you as you ask this question; you’ve placed your bare feet on the chair, one arm looped around your knees and propping your chin on it.

“I think Hange would’ve poured themselves into modern inventions,” you say. “They only got to see some of Marley’s technology, but Kopon’s nation is more advanced, so I’m sure they would have wanted to go there... or at least see what remains of it.” 

Levi thinks if Hange’s life hadn’t been cut short, that they would have followed in Onyonkopon’s footsteps and ended up working on those damn flying machines. They showed such an interest for trains and moving vehicles—something Levi could never understand. Flying seems like the natural next step. 

He tells you as much.

“Walls, you’re right," you say. "We’d look up at the sky and see one of their inventions. I’m sure about it.”

“Yeah,” Levi suspects there’s fondness in his tone just about now, “we would.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, where Levi can just admire the sky and the clouds and you. He thinks this exact view would make a nice subject for a drawing—if he could draw.

It might be this realization that causes him to speak up, “Hey…”

“Mm?

“What are you hiding for?”

Your eyes fleet up, at first surprised, before melting away into a sheepish expression. You lift a hand to scratch the back of your neck, like Levi catching you hiding your sketchbook was somehow shameful. 

“You noticed, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” Levi mutters, brows scrunching low, “you’re shit at hiding.”

“Hey!”

“Face the truth, Adler. I’m half-blind and even I noticed.”

“You say that like you’re not one of the most perceptive people I know... I’m pretty sure you’re still leagues above everyone else.” You take to tapping the eraser side of the pencil against the arms of the seat. When you glance back at him, your expression softens. “Fine, you caught me. I was drawing you. But... well. It’s just that you’re easy to draw, Levi. Drawing you feels… natural, I guess. Always did.”

At that, Levi doesn’t have a reply. There’s a burning sensation forming in his belly, a flutter that’s close to panic, only he knows it is not quite that.

“Sorry,” you say, “does it... does it bother you? I can stop.”

“It’s fine…” this time, Levi is the one to glance away, heat prickling at his cheeks, “though I don’t know why you do it.”

A light breeze picks up his bangs; he gets a whiff of salt and sand.

“I guess I never told you before, but… you’ve always been a good subject.” Levi’s eyes flicker onto you, finding you glancing at your sketchbook with a gentle expression. “See, everyone always thought of you as this emotionless soldier, but… I never saw you like that. Those evenings when you’d sit by the fire and read, or stare into the flames, there was always... something slipping through the cracks.”

“... Something.”

“Yeah. Something.”

“And now?” Levi’s voice sounds hoarse to his ears. What he’d give for loud waves to muffle his words, for him to fall deep below waters. “Why draw me now?”

“And now�� and now it seems like the easiest thing. Muscle memory, you know? My emotions are easier on paper than they are in my head.”

A ball forms in Levi’s throat. He wants to ask you about what sort of emotions you’re trying to make sense of, but saying those words seems unwise right now. Impossible, some might even say. 

“Keep on drawing, then,” is all he manages. 

For the rest of the morning, Levi lives something he never thought he’d experience again: you peacefully drawing while he savors the quiet morning. 

.

.

.

“Stay safe,” you tell him by the stables. You’re geared up for the expedition, your horse’s reins in hand.

Levi says nothing, but he squeezes your shoulder to convey his own words: Don’t die.

.

.

.

“Marigolds, periwinkles, carnations. These flowers will go right here, here, and… here. What do you think, ‘Vi?”

Levi squints, trying to ignore the glare in his eyes cast by the sun. He follows your delicate finger, pointing to spots in the garden, filled with different colors and scents.

“Looks fine to me,” Levi mutters.

You hum, placing a marker beside each plot of turned soil.

As promised, Levi is helping you decide what to plant where today. Ever since lunch, the two of you have been treating the space like a canvas that’s yours to fill—sectioning the land, preparing the soil, uprooting and transplanting potted flowers out of their containers, assigning them to specific spots of dirt. 

“I picked these flowers because they’re supposed to be good for beginners.” You roll your shoulders back as you shrug off your stiff crouching position. “I wonder if they’ll thrive.”

Levi makes a noncommittal noise in response, not knowing the answer to that question. He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to ignore the way his shirts clings to his skin. 

On account of the warm weather today, Levi has rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He’s currently trying to ignore the urge to scratch at the red spots darting across his forearms—rashes from an overexposure of sun. Levi knows he ought to go back inside, but he stays rooted to his spot. He tells himself it’s because he promised to help, though he knows you’d chastise him if you noticed the state of his skin.    

He slides his sleeves back down before you notice. 

“They look like every other flower to me,” he finally declares, eying the delicate petals between your fingers, “fragile.”

“Well, flowers are more vulnerable than other plants, I’ll give you that. But you gotta trust in the process, right?”

“It’s not a question of trust,” Levi places a hand on his hip, attempting to fan himself using the edge of his shirt, “just trying to manage your expectations in case they die.”

“Whatever for?”

“So you don’t end up all pouty and sad.” 

You snort. “I won’t. We used to grow herbs near the infirmary back on Paradis, remember? Sure it’s not much different.”

Levi isn’t so sure about that, but he doesn’t say a thing to refute your observations. What does he know about growing things, anyway? All he’s ever seen of flowers is how they’re placed on graves. 

His peripheral vision catches you glancing up at him. Something akin to fondness flashes in your eyes, and Levi inextricably looks away. There’s a smudge of dirt streaked across your cheek, he noticed earlier. He has to urge to smudge it off of you, at least to inform you about it, but he holds back. 

“Hey, did you know flowers have unique meanings here in Marley?” he hears you babble on. “That each color and species is symbolic of a specific emotion?” You lift your index to point at a particular flower bed with flaxen petals. “The girl working in the library, she explained it to me. Yellow marigolds represent passion. Purple periwinkles serenity. And pink carnations are all about gratitude.”

Levi studies each flower, learning to commit the names and meanings to memory. “So you use them to express feelings and shit?” 

“Something like that.”

“Why go through all the trouble?”

“For many reasons. Some people like the poetry behind such gifts. Others like the game. And sometimes, people are just too shy to say the words out-loud, so they find comfort in finding other ways to express themselves.” 

“Is there a flower that says you’re a pain in the ass?” 

“Not that I know of.” You quirk a brow up at him. “Is that one directed at me?”

“Who else would it be about?”

That isn’t quite true. For you, there would be a thousand feelings to express. No flower could do it justice. But Levi doesn’t quite say that, either. 

Under the heat of your gaze—of feeling every fucking element working against him—Levi speaks up, “What about these blue ones?”

Levi has gestured to the flowers by the porch’s staircase, the only ones already planted into the garden’s soil. They’re the flowers you planted on your first weekend here. 

“Oh, that’s technically a herb,” you say. “Myosotis. The forget-me-not flower. It represents... love, in many ways.”

Levi watches the blue flowers sway with the wind. In the distance, running along the half-broken wooden fence, Scout is crawling around, attempting to catch butterflies.

The sight of the kitten distracts him for a moment.

“Hey, can I ask for your help?” You lift the lot of flowers in your hand. “I’m having a hard time digging this hole. I think there're pebbles blocking the way, but I’m scared these flowers will get all tangled up if they're not held properly.”

Levi peers over the edge of the garden plot. You’re planting carnations, holding them with one hand as you attempt to shovel a hole with the other. 

He grumbles something beneath his breath but walks closer anyway, his cane digging against the turned soil. Slowly, Levi leans on his uninjured leg and cane, bending to sit on the ground. He lets his ass fall on the soft grass with a gentle thud, cane laid by his side. Levi then turns towards you and accepts the fragile set of flowers with both hands. 

With a parting smile, you move back to your task. You shift your weight by pressing onto your knees, using the small shovel to push stubborn roots and obstacles aside.

Incidentally, it also gives Levi the perfect view of your ass.

And fuck, if your gardening outfit (worn-out denim overalls with a white t-shirt) didn’t already make his mind swim, this view now certainly does.

Not for the first time since you arrived, Levi has to wonder about the questionable fashion choices from Marley, and why you’ve so readily accepted to wear them.

And why, of all things, does it make his heart stutter?

Levi knows that human attraction is perfectly natural; he’s experienced it here and there across his life. Hell, even if he hadn’t, the world never shied from showing its brutal reality. 

But human attraction never mattered much to Levi. 

He’d be lying if it didn’t matter now.

Because Levi now imagines leaning back, his hand pressed on your lower back as he helps you stay balanced crouching. He tries to envision the texture of your overalls under his fingers. Would it be rough, or would it be soft—soft, like what he pictures your skin’s texture to be? How would you even react if he touched you? His touch would probably repulse you, right?

And yet, last night, he swore—

Levi closes his eyes, groaning inwardly.

What the hell is wrong with him? 

Is this really all because of last night, when he thought he saw you leaning in? Fuck, for all he knows, everything he saw was just a figment of his imagination. A trick of the light. He’s only able to see from one eye—should he rely on his sight? 

Sweat trickles now down his back, thick like honey. 

“Oi,” he blurs out, desperately trying to change the focus before his mind wanders further. “After all this shit grows, what will you do? You planning to open up a flower shop or what?”

“I’m not sure if I’d make for a very good florist.”

“You'd learn.”

“Maybe, but I’m afraid my motivations are more... selfish, in that regard. I wanted to experience what it was like, to tend to a garden. Do things normal people do, you know?” 

Levi stays silent. In the distance, Scout lets out a little meowing sound as she fails to catch a butterfly. 

“And... I also figured you might like something pretty in your home, too,” you add.  

At that, Levi has to click his tongue, the sound sharp against the gentle rustle of the wind. He looks out at the horizon. “I’m not much for pretty things.”

(That’s not entirely true. There’s you, and he’s certainly into your prettiness, as exemplified by the way his body is reacting in your proximity.)

“Who ever needs pretty things?” you point out. Levi frowns, turning his attention to you again. The sight of you surrounded by a myriad of flowers is like something straight out of a painting. Enchanting. “That’s the point of prettiness. It’s there to bring people joy, it’s there to be admired and inspiring. It may not be needed, but it’s appreciated, right?”

Levi's suddenly reminded of his mother, of the way she used to keep the house clean, of the way she used to teach him to drink tea. 

He remembers asking her why she did it. In his memories, her voice is soft like a feather. “Because it is pretty and elegant,” his mother answered, “and you are all those things, my Levi.” 

“Are you aware that even animals like pretty things?” By now, you’re a little out of breath from all the shoveling. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “Take pigs, for example. We think of them as dirty animals because of how they’re kept by humans, but... out in the wild, they’re pretty clean. They even like to decorate their homes with pretty things they collect.”

“Tch. Are you comparing the garden to a pig’s sty?”

You laugh. “'Course not. But what I’m trying to say... what I’m trying to say is that this garden feels like planting something… I don’t know, hopeful. Not because we need it for anything, but because it just... it just exists.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his hand test the soil between his fingertips. He thinks about how he used to hate the feel of dirt under his nails—how it reminded him of crawling his way out the Underground, of survival. That sentiment hasn’t changed here, only he finds himself being... willing to be in this state. 

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs. 

Later, when Levi finally reaches out to place his handkerchief in your hand, telling you there's dirt on your face, he’ll come to another realization: That for the first time, he doesn’t have to worry that it’s blood you’re cleaning off your face. 

Just a bit of dirt. 

.

.

.

It’s like blood rains from the skies that day.

The expedition is declared a disaster.

.

.

.

A few days later, when Levi comes home from work, he finds another gift waiting for him on his dresser.

You’re not home tonight; you’ve volunteered to help with the preparations for the upcoming Equinox Festival, so he doesn’t get any opportunities to scold you for spending your money on him—again. 

Instead, Levi gets to unravel your letter. 

Levi, Mark my words, you’ll see that flowers have their use-cases, even for a tea-maniac like you. I hope this suits your tastes :) -A

Levi unwraps the gift, guessing already what its content might be. He isn’t disappointed. The bag contains loose tea leaves, filled to the brim, along with tiny white buds that remind Levi of snow. 

Elegant cursive adorns the note on the satchel, its reading clear as day.

Jasmine flower tea. 

I hope you enjoyed this update. The plot is going to start picking up from next chapter onwards, so I hope you can look forward to that ^^ If you have time, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments as they really keep me going. Take care!

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

[simplyhale]

thanks for the distraction t.b.

tim bradford x fem! reader

summary; after having a hard shift tim offers to take you home and it leads to something you had been wishing to happen

notes; i did in fact love writing the most cutest fluff possible for the characters that haven't heard of peace. this is how my brain works and i fully blame @sleepymissy for the tim brain rot.

words; 2534

— 𝜗𝜚✧* ₊˚ෆ՞

The cold metal of your desk relaxed the pounding feeling in the right side of your head. The pain had been so bad that it caused your whole body to heat up. Of course, today was the day that the universe decided to align. Not only did you have a mind splitting migraine, but the weather had created a heavy monsoon. And the cherry on top were the countless people that thought that the rain would make them better at driving. 

Today wasn’t your day.

But did it have to be this fucking bad?

The sound of ceramice hitting the metal next to your limp body. Picking your head to see the white mug with beige colored coffee on the inside almost caused your knees to buckle. Nothing was touching the pain in your head but you hadn’t had the time to try and chug anything with caffeine in it. Pushing your palms into the edge of the desk to help prop yourself up onto your elbows. Trying not to move too fast. Pulling the mug closer to you by the rim before lacing your hand through the handle. “If you’re about to say we’re going out on another call, I will throw you through that glass window.”

“And here I thought I was your favorite.” Tim’s voice remarked. 

Looking up you watched as he leaned against the frame of the entrance of the meeting room. Bring his own mug up to his lips before taking a long sip from it. 

You were one of Tim’s first boots. You were the walking blueprint on what he would now do in order to teach his current boots. Tim would be nitpicking every little thing that you did wrong on a call. In result causing you to challenge and argue that if it was as big of a deal as he made it then why did the call end pretty well. This would then result in an argument that would last till the next call where he would pick something else to complain about. People would start taking bets on how many arguments the two of you would have before lunch.

Your thoughts on him changed once you graduated from being his boot and becoming an official officer. His overprotectiveness, by-the-book attitude that made you want to throw something at him came from a place of care. Your life was in his hands and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to his first boot.

This realization caused the two of you to become more friendly, working yourselves up to friends. Still having moments where two of you would argue in the shop as both of your boots watched wondering if it would end a bloodbath or the back of a supply closet. 

There it was again. That feeling in the bottom of your stomach that you had suppressed when he was your TO. Was now rearing its ugly head back to light. Taking a long deep sip from the mug as your eyes stayed on him. The way his shirt was tight around his biceps that you of course spent a little too long looking at. His hands were wrapped around his mug. The same hands that you had imagined the feel of them along your skin – Nope not this way. A distraction was something you wanted, needed right now. Anything to get away from the pain. But not this type of distraction when the muse of it was looking right back at you.

Throwing your head back, closing your eyes before the bright white hanging lights above you met your eyes. Taking a deep breath, bring your free hand up to rub your dry tired eyes. “The shift feels like it’s never gunna end.” 

“It ended five minutes ago.”

Your head shot towards him with wide eyes and brows knitted in confusion. He wasn’t right. The last time you checked the clock it was still an hour and a half left. But the smug smartass smirk on his lips made you question yourself. His eyes not leaving yours, silently daring you to look away and prove him right.  Watching the brim of the mug reaching up to lips. The things you had thought about doing to them. The things they could do to you.

He was right. The digital clock on your home screen of your phone next to you gave you the answer. “Guess I lost track while finishing up my last report.” 

Pushing off the edge of the desk before taking a hold of the mug and tossing the rest of the warm liquid down your throat. Feeling Tim’s eyes never leaving you. Especially feeling the burning of his stare when you brought your thumb up to the corner of your mouth and whipped the bit that spilled out. But it was probably just because he was worried about you. Knowing how bad any migraine can be. Even though you two were both TO’s he was still considered higher ranked than you. Meaning that anything you may want to happen couldn’t. 

Taking the blue bucket that was used for the leaky faucet of the farest left sink of the locker room. Making sure to wash it out before filling it up with as hot of water you could handle. Bring it over to one of the benches before dunking your feet into it. Quickly feeling the pressure from your head relief. The complete relief cleared your head from everything…well almost everything.

Absolutely nothing could happen between the two of you. Even though you two were both TO’s he was still a rank or so higher than you. You couldn’t risk the thousand different ways it could bite you in the ass. He was your coworker. He was Tim.

But of course the moment you try to shake off any type of thought about him, he always had a way of popping up.

This time it was leaning against the driver door of your car. Scrolling on his phone while his other hand was dropped by his waist holding onto his backpack. Clearly waiting for you. “And just when I thought I was rid of you.” His head shot up smiling ever so slightly, but enough for you to notice. 

“You really thought I was gunna let you drive home?”

You rolled your eyes, there was the over protectiveness that drove you nuts. But that voice in the back of your head would always take over as it was his way of showing he cared.  “I feel fine enough to drive Tim.”

“Okay, but I was mostly talking about the downpour.” His head nodded in the direction of the open area of the parking garage. The sounds of heavy rain echoed throughout the concrete building. It was peaceful and yet eerie. 

“And my shift tomorrow?” You asked, already knowing what he was about to say. “Come on, we’re scheduled for the same time.” He answered, causing you to smile but quickly turned your head. Swallowing it down before looking back at him, “Only if we get coffee beforehand.” He nodded his head. “And we get doughnuts.” His smile became more prominent. 

The drive was oddly calm. You would think after the amount of accident reports you had been filling out at the end of your shift you would have at least seen a few. Or almost be in one. It wasn’t that you thought Tim was a carless driver, he could be reckless when needed but in normal everyday life he was the opposite. This along with the rain hitting the windows almost made you fall asleep. The only thing keeping you awake was him, and all the distraction that the thought of him would bring.

Bring you back to reality the truck was now parked outside your apartment building. The rain was now pouring even harder than it ever had. Pouting at the thought of walking the few feet up to your building's door knowing you’d get drenched. “And of course it gets harder before I get out.” You complained turning around into your seat. 

Tim let his body hit the back of the seat, fully relaxing after shifting into park. “We will just wait it out. I’m in no rush.” 

Resting the side of your head onto the window. Allowing the skin to cool against the cold glass. Positioning your body to diagonally face Tim. Allowing for the second time all day for your body to relax. Even though your eyes were shut you could still feel him. His gaze burning into your body. “You’re staring.”

“I’m waiting for the rain to lighten.”

You let out a scoff, opening your eyes back to see his drawl back to the windshield. “Sure and I’m the Easter Bunny.” While you spoke you tried to reposition yourself. Hating the way the door was currently digging into parts of your back. Not taking in the factors of rain water and leather seats. Causing you to slip and almost fell face first into his center console. Inhaling deeping as every muscle from your shoulders up tensed. Bracing for the impact that was about to come. Knowing that it mixed with the previous migraine pain wasn’t going to make for a pretty night. 

Instead your collar was forcefully gripping. Yanking you upwards and then forwards. Followed by a hand wrapped around your waist pulling you towards Tim. You breathed heavy trying to catch your breath. Finally opening your eyes to see just how close you were to him.

His eyes stared into you, never daring to leave him. Feeling the grip on his waist never leaving. His finger digging into the small bit of flesh that came from his hand slipping under your hoodie. It felt like every second that held caused a burning sensation to come from them.

Your heart was thumping out of your chest. Partly because of almost splitting your head open on the center console. But also because if you were to slip again you two would collide. 

You were hoping for that to happen. 

The pounding of the rain had relaxed your body enough to forget about your headache. And now the adrenaline rush of being only a few inches from the man you’d had dreams about. Everything in your body was screaming not to turn away. Not to even blink. Afraid that if you did then it’ll all fizzle out into an uncomfortable silence. 

A far bright vein of lighting lit up the car. Followed swiftly with the cracking of thunder. 

The sound somehow made you finally tear your eyes from his. Quickly darting down to his lips. Ones you had dreamed about feeling on your neck, on your shoulders. Looking back up to see his tense jaw. Watching from the corner of your vision his throat move as he swallowed harsh. This caused your heart to somehow race even faster. The pit in your stomach started to twist and move lower in your body. 

With the countless times the two of you had gone over body language. Insisting that it was the way between life and death. He was giving you all the telltale signs. 

He was debating on pulling you into him.

No he couldn’t be. Your mind had to be messin with you. A sick joke…But what if it wasn’t? What if him swallowing was a reaction from you looking at his mouth. There was only one way to make sure you weren’t thinking too much into it. 

Down and back up. Your eyes trailing from his right to let and there it was. His hand still holding your waist tightened. 

Another flash of light hits, as if a spark ignites inside of you. Causing any fear or anxiety about him washes away with adrenaline. It was now or never and you wanted this. With the crackling boom of the thunder you pushed forwards. Collide the two of your lips, allowing only a second before pulling back. His brows furrowed as he sat there like a deer in headlights. Watching as his eyes slowly opened, looking almost hurt that you pulled away. Lips hovering inches from each other for a few seconds before barely brushing against the other as you opened your mouth to say something. Wanting him to say something. To say anything. The hand on your waist pulled you right back in. Pushing you flesh against the center console and right up against his hard chest. 

Melting into him as the kiss completely engulfed your body. Every sense of emotion being pushed towards the bottom of your body. Replaced in its wake was a warm, excited feeling. One that made you not want this moment to ever end. The smell of his musky cologne was just the right amount to not be overpowering. Mixing with the refreshing comforting smell of the rain had you intoxicated.

His fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin caused you to every so slightly pull back with a gasp. Allowing him to deepen the kiss even further. Your fingers slowly wrapped around the nape of his neck. Pulling softly at the roots trying to use it to your advantage to move in sync with him. It felt like you two were the only living things in the world.

Finally pulling apart resting your foreheads against each other. Trying to both catch your breath and wrap your head around what just happened. Blinking your eyes open, pressing your lips together feeling the swollenness and warmth of them. Your cheeks quickly hurt from how hard you were smiling. Looking back at Tim who was currently struggling to open his eyes afterwards. Trying to bask in the moment before fully opening them. But when they did his gaze never left yours and his lips quickly matched your smile. Looking at you with utter and complete awe. 

Your eyes slowly drifted away towards the front windshield seeing that the rain was now turned to a light drizzle and not a downpour. An evil and yet sad smirk fell onto you. Knowing this was the only opportunity to not get drenched from head to toe. But you didn’t want to leave this moment.

Yet you were quick to climb out of the car, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head. Placing a strap of your bag on your shoulder. Looking at him as all he could do was watch you leave. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes now had a slight plea from them for you not to leave. 

Using the seat as a brace you launched yourself towards him. Quickly kissing him once more before pulling back, all your weight now on your hand and foot on the truck's side bars. “See you in the morning.” You spoke with a small scrunch of your nose fully knowing you were a tease. Hoping back out of the truck and shutting the door. Running up to your building's door quickly putting in your code before walking in and over to the elevator. Your back hit the wall of the elevator, your smile only growing knowing you get to see him again in a few hours. 

[sunrisecaminus]

Hi hi! I read a few of your posts and love the way you write. I was wondering if I could request a fav duo of mine Knockout and Breakdown x nonbinary reader. SFW or NSFW, wherever your creativity takes you!

I had a blip of a dream where KO and Breaks were analyzing the aftermath of an emergon mine and come across the reader half buried in the rubble outside. Half dazed and panicked, begging, asking the two if they see anyone else in the rubble and if they can get them out (they are a ranger who was helping a search and rescue, and have no idea if anyone else made it out after them). I can't recall what happened next, but the reader lost half of their left leg and was recovering, going to physical therapy when the duo wanted to stay and check up on them. Feeling guilty that they passively caused the accident and help the reader recover.

But the thing is... what would happen during their time together? Love? Friendship? A new understanding of earth?

The reader, best to my meory, was very loyal, honest, selfless, and kind. Though they had the vibes of a punk, think tattoos and piercings along with the spiky jacket - the hard shell to keep their very sweet and soft side safe.

Thank you! 💗

Message - Not me listening to sad music while writing this. I got a bit too deep in the story. Sorry if it gets a bit sad ;-; (ALSO LOOK AT THE SCREENSHOT!!! IS KNOCKOUT DOING A uwu?!)

Breakdown x Injured Reader x Knockout SFW

Summary - Knockout and Breakdown take care of a Cybertronian search and rescue soldier. All three get together after a rough night.

Warnings - Hints of Depression

Fanfic Type - Hurt/Comfort

You have been stuck in the Medbay for far too long. Your leg was shredded, your chassis ached, and one of your servos needed surgery. Laying here in bed and doing nothing was one of the worse things that could happen! Well…except you being blasted by an energon mine that got you in this mess in the first place. It doesn't matter! You need Knockout to hurry up with the fixing so you can go back out there to help others. Your duty was to rescue and protect, the job meant everything to you, as the war has made you lose so many comrades. Cybertronians everywhere were dying by Autobot hands and needed someone to hold them when they travel to the Allspark. Everyone needed someone to care for them, and that was what you were going to do once you GET OUT THIS BED!

Knockout has a chart on how many times you have tried to desperately break out the Medbay. Breakdown is basically a bouncer now, making sure you stay in bed and force you into it when you try to leave. It was annoying for them both, but now it has become a regular task for them, so they have now known you personally for a few months. A Decepticon who wants nothing more than the comfort people around them. It was spark breaking to tell you there was no survivors at the mine. Nothing could make you guiltier, knowing you couldn't be by those soldiers to help them rest or even maybe save them. After the news the first week you were hospitalized, you didn't say a word to anybody. You had to load in everything in your processor and tried not to be disturbed to help yourself heal mentally. Breakdown was a soldier you knew more than Knockout, so Breakdown had to tell Knockout himself who you were and your function was. Knockout saw you as a naive child, nothing more. He couldn't care anymore about the people he lose everyday, so many lives lost because he couldn't do his job right. You only got one chance to save someone's life on the operating table, and in war, most of the time it is a failure. He could understand your pain, but honestly he wants you to be like him and shut the guilt out before it hurts more people. Being a Doctor, Search and Rescue, or anybody that has the job of saving another life…is hard.

Megatron has more than once told Knockout that you were a lost cause, telling him to shut you down and throw you out the airlock when he had the chance. He was going to do it the first month…but hesitated. Knockout hates himself for not ending your life sooner, as you have been diagnosed with PTSD and depression from the incident. Unfortunately, you have been so nice to Breakdown whenever you weren't trying to break out of the medical bay. Breakdown told you many stories of fun times to help you forget what happened, and it helps a lot. You tell him stories about your days in training, and how people usually were goofing around. Knockout couldn't take Breakdown's friend away, so he sucked it up and hid you. After the second month passed, you were in a private medical lab to hide you from Megatron. Knockout lied to him about getting rid of you and slowly give you successful surgeries to repair you. Nothing can give them more pleasure than to see you smile, knowing you are one step ahead to get out and do your job again. Having a free hand to do stuff with, you help Knockout with folding stuff and reading new edition medical books when he is busy. He doesn't have enough time to learn more about being a medical doctor when Megatron is keeping him at work 24/7. Knockout may be a sassy know it all, but he actually goes in stasis only 4 to 5 hours daily. Knockout rarely has time to sleep, and needs to keep going on missions or testing some chemicals that Megatron wants him to have.

It has now been five months, the leg surgery is tomorrow and you see Breakdown coming in after a scouting mission. He gives you the news that Knockout is going to be late for dinner today (you all have been eating together everyday now to catch up on things). You understand Knockout's busy schedule, but it was still sad to see him not be able to do things he likes now a days. "I have had it with Lord Megatron and keeping him away from his birth! Let me speak to hi-" You were going to sit up when Breakdown puts a hand on your shoulder and leans you back on the pillow. "Nope, he would kill all three of us if he figured out you were alive y/n. Keep yourself at bay." He hears you give him a joking huff and grabs his servo with yours. You look up at him and give him a supportive pat on the servo. "Once I heal, I will dump a whole bucket of scraplets on that man." Both of you get a little chuckle, knowing damn well you would never do such a thing.

Breakdown gave you food and both of you started to drink what you had when the topic got serious. Breakdown asks you if you really would want to go back to being a search and rescue. You put the cube down on your lap, looking at him like he just asked you a simple math question. "Of course! It was one of the many things in my life that I pride myself in doing." Breakdown looks down at his energon he didn't drink. "No I mean, what if you get into another accident? You won't be able to live next time it happens." You stop to think about what he said. Well yeah, it was a surprise that anyone could find you the first time. Knowing you could even live with your injuries was lucky. Some would even say you were given a chance by Primus. "I can be more careful next time." Trying to comfort Breakdown was the best you can do. The war is nothing, but death. There is always a way for you to be injured again even if you don't go back to your job.

"No you won't." Breakdown and you both hear a stern tone and look to see Knockout, who had just come back from Megatron's talk. He gives you a glare. "Don't lie, when all you have been doing was injure yourself every time you try to leave this place." You didn't know where this was coming from. Knockout usually wouldn't say anything or make a snarky comment to you whenever you say you were ok. He doesn't seem to be in the mood for light hearted responses from you. Breakdown gets up and sets his drink down. "Knockout what happened?" You see Knockout's expression changed from serious, to grumpy real quick. "Nothing, but I don't want to hear anything about you, y/n, wanting to go back to your old position again." You put your free healed hand up in surrender. "Look I was just saying I can do lighter jobs! I can stay clear of mines for now and just go back to the basics. I use to just come into battle fields after they ended to find people. I can start doing that again." You tried your best not to get on Knockout's bad side. You have no idea this would trigger him. You never saw him angry before. He walks over to his desk and tosses a few files next to the computer. He does not sound anymore calm than he was a few minutes ago. "That will just turn into you doing dangerous stunts again. I am not stupid." Breakdown walks to him from behind and sets a servo on him, about to say something, but got interrupted by Knockout turning to face you. "Y'know I have the authority to take you out of the position? I can right now sign your time of death and send you out of the solar system to keep you from trying to destroy yourself again?" Your optics turn narrow, giving him a serious look. "You better not! I can't leave when I can do something for our peopl-" Knockout interrupts you again. "Stop caring about lives that don't matter anymore!"

…

It has been a few days after the argument. Your surgery was delayed and the only person who has been visiting you was Breakdown. You still have no idea where Knockouts anger came from. Breakdown tries to tell you he didn't mean it, but you told him you didn't want to hear it from someone else. You wanted to talk to Knockout about it, but he has been avoiding your room ever since. Your leg has been needing another dose of medication to stop it from hurting. The pills were next to the Medbay birth, in reach for you to grab. You sleepily try to grab it with your free servo, hissing when you feel your leg stinging from rubbing against the blanket. Your digits nudge the medicine bottle, when it drops to its side and rolls off the table. "Frag". You look back up at the ceiling, now having to wait for a few hours before Breakdown can come back in. You wish you could get Knockout's attention, but him not being in the room is going to be hard to get him here. You already tried to com him, but he won't answer. You thought first that it was because he is still in a sour mood, but honestly the Star that human's call a sun just came out of the clouds, he probably just got back to sleep after a full night of missions.

Closing your optics, you try to get yourself some rest as well, but you hear footsteps walk in the room. It was odd because Breakdown shouldn't be here this early in the morning. Thank primus they were light footsteps, because you would assume Megatron found you if they sounded heavy. You feel your servo being gently grabbed by another. You open your optics to see Knockout next to your side, having the medicine that was on the floor in his other servo. You don't know if you should speak, his face shows he hasn't really slept good (worse than usual). He looks at you with his red pupils and his expression goes soft. "Hey…" You gave him a supportive rub on his servo with your digits, motioning to him to continue. "Y/n…how do you do it?" You gave him a look of confusion, lifting your head just a bit to show him that he has your attention. He stops looking at you and looks down at your leg, grabbing a cup and opening the medicine bottle. "How do you not feel…empty after so many lives taken from you." The feeling of sorrow and love washes over you. Was this why he was mad? Was he jealous of your hope? You let go of his servo and press your hand against his cheek. "Oh Knockout, you think I haven't lost my will yet?" He looks up at you, his ears twitching a bit of hearing your words. You give him a soft smile. "When I find people who haven't perished yet, I don't try to prolong their pain anymore. I use to…but now, I try to hold them and say whatever they want to hear before they pass. Some mechs just need to hear how proud their mentors are, how they will meet their friends again in the Allspark, others just wanting to be promised to have a respectful burial." You rub your digits on Knockout's upper cheek. "My job is to give them closure…nothing more."

He gives you a look of understanding. Breakdown walked in as you were talking and now has his servos on Knockout's shoulders for support. Knockout lets a sigh out. "I just wish you could give the same care to yourself." You nod. Honestly you needed to hear that. There has been no self care for you in years. It was just other people that was your priority, but having a break to yourself was always seemed useless to the cause. Breakdown, Knockout, and you eat together, finally back together after a bit of a bump in your relationship. You think for a moment and look to Knockout. "Were you angry from what I said or was it something else?" Knockout smiles to himself, knowing his anger was from something dumb. "No, Starscream told Megatron I do nothing and is just lazy. Megatron talked to me about demotion, but I saved it by showing him my paperwork." You look back at your energon cube and think for a second before looking at Breakdown. "Hey that bucket of scraplets wasn't too bad of an idea after all."

[bitingdrivers]

hi tysh <3 i'd like a 24. showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house for the fic game maybe?

hi esi!

so.. I kind of messed up. I meant to save the ask game post to my drafts for when I'm feeling like playing, but I posted it instead. oops!

But! I did write a little thing for you! it was actually kind of nice since I didn't write anything fic related this week.

I put a little spin on the prompt and made it bones au because I miss them. so, here. 500 words of bones au maxiel!

Max hears a muffled “Come in” from inside Daniel's apartment after knocking on the door. He slowly turns the doorknob and steps through. Max hasn't been here a lot, but Daniel's flat is easy to navigate – a short corridor that leads to the living room and the kitchen. 

On the big but worn out couch lies Daniel, still in his light blue work shirt and gray pants. His face is covered in abrasions and little cuts, and he's holding his left arm weirdly, laying it over his stomach, hiding it from Max’s view. 

“Bones!” Daniel exclaims, trying to get up from the couch, but wincing and gingerly laying back down. “To what do I owe this pleasure?"

“Just came to check on you,” Max answers, sitting on the arm of the couch, closer to Daniel's legs. 

A few hours ago Daniel went to the victim's place – a small house somewhere in a suburban area. Max wanted to go with him, but he still had work to do in the lab. He tried to convince Daniel to wait for him, Max needed half an hour at most to finish his notes, but Daniel was impatient, said it would be just a quick check, since the victim lived alone anyway, and left without Max. 

Two hours later, Max received a call from him, and had to listen to Daniel explain how when he entered the victim’s house, a man barreled into him, frantic and suspicious, trying to run away. And how Daniel heroically chased the man through the small backyards and spiky bushes, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car and tumbling to the rough asphalt. The guy ran into a dead end and surrounded, letting Daniel arrest him. 

Apparently they had quite a scuffle, judging by Daniel's beaten up form on the couch. 

Daniel is yet to tell Max who the guy is or why he was running, but it can wait.

“Nothing I can't sleep off,” Daniel grins, waving his good hand, the other still hidden. Max needs to check on that later. “They gave me the rest of the day off, might as well use that."

Max hums. “Are the wounds that bad? What did the doctor say?” he asks, standing up and moving closer to Daniel to inspect his face. 

“Uh. Nothing,” Daniel falters, following Max’s movements. “I went straight home,” he adds, looking away. 

Max furrows his eyebrows, looking at the scrapes on Daniel's cheekbone. “What? Why?” 

“It's just a few scratches, I'm fine,” Daniel replies, still looking somewhere behind Max. 

Max asks where Daniel's first aid kit is, thinking, What an idiot.  

Max could've probably stayed in the lab, there is no serious reason for him to be here, rooting through Daniel's bathroom cabinets, looking for something that might not be there. But learning that Daniel was injured – even if it's just a couple of scrapes and a bruised hand – still made Max worry. He could've been there, could've helped Daniel catch the guy, or at least make sure Daniel's wounds would be looked after. 

But he wasn't there. So now he has to gently angle Daniel's face and dab a cotton pad with iodine on the small scrapes. 

Daniel hisses from the sting and after lifting the pad, Max softly blows on the wounds, hoping it will help with the pain.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Your Own Personal Demon

[This story contains body horror, non-consensual sexuality, and brief mentions of vomit.]

"And now all you have to do is stand in it!"

I look down at the pentagram, drawn sloppily with table salt and surrounded by freshly lit black candles. The bed had to be pushed aside to make room, the spare bedroom was the only place without a carpet where her parents wouldn't find us.

"Hey, what are you waiting for? You're the one who wanted to do this, right?" Grace says to me, clearly annoyed I haven't done as she said. I remember her being the one to breach the topic, explaining to me how fun it would be to have a volunteer, ignoring my hesitation. Susan was just on her phone, just as she was now.

I suppose I don't have a choice. I've learned many times that compliance is always the safest and easiest option.

I feel a shudder as I step inside. It's just apprehension. I'm just being scared, like she said I would be. Nothing more.

I flinch as I hear a click from Susan's direction. She's pointing her phone right at me. Every time I look at her, I can't help but think about Grace making fun of her for being too skinny. She's just a normal girl, if a bit gloomy, but that's mostly because she doesn't take her hair out of her face very often. She looks like she doesn't want to be here, like always.

"So?" Grace demands attention. "Feel anything yet?" She impatiently shifts her weight onto one side, and her blond hair bounces with her. I still don't know why so puts so much work into it, it's just hair. God, her eyes look so sharp, it... hurts.

I stifle myself, looking away and telling her it's nothing. She takes on an accusatory tone, but with an undercurrent of playfulness so nobody gets mad. "Oh, so I fucked up then?" I try not to look to uncomfortable, she's already poked fun at me too much for being a baby about swearing. "Are you sure you're standing right? Ugh, I really wanted to see something happen..."

She kicks at the outline, only for her foot to catch. The salt is solid, calcified into place. Seeing this, I try to poke at one of the lines with my sock, and it doesn't budge. Oh god, I can't let them see me actually feel worried... w-why does it keep hurting...?

Susan, closest to the door, looks back just in time to see it swing closed. With the hallway light blocked off, there's nothing but the roar of the candles lighting up the room. They're getting brighter.

This... is actually happening, isn't it? Am I going to die?

I look to the other two. I need to leave, to run, but I can't move. My legs are stuck in place, it feels like they're pinned to the ground with needles. I need help, Grace, someone...

She just takes a single step away. She looks... curious. She looks to the door, past Susan. She's not worried for me, she's just scared.

"Hey, I didn't... expect this to work." Susan speaks up. For the first time, she isn't forcing some disaffected monotone. "We need to help her, right? We should-"

Without looking away from me, she gestures to Susan. "No, no, wait..."

She's... smiling. For god's sake, she's...!

My legs buckle and I fall to my knees. This isn't pain anymore. This isn't just some vague burn in my muscles. There's something deep and disgusting welling up inside me, trying to claw its way out. I can feel the longing, the yearning to be free scraping at my chest.

I can't hold it back. I wretch and vomit, and it feels... wrong. I've vomited before, and it wasn't this... thin. It didn't taste like iron. It didn't coagulate so quickly in my mouth.

"Oh my god!" It's Susan. She says something after that, but I can't, I just can't. There's a ripping inside of me, everything shifting and fighting gnawing underneath every inch of skin. It needs to be free, it needs to be let out.

I dig, claw at my forehead, where the gnawing is worst. Scratching my skin away doesn't hurt at all, it can't compare to the depths of my soul being ripped apart. I dig my nails in and rip chucks of flesh away, feeling it peeling and clinging in strands to my face. Finally, some fucking relief. I can still feel them stretching out, fitting through my skull as comfortably as putting your arm through a sleeve. Horns. My horns.

I'm bleeding... so much. I know I just tore away at myself, but it's just gushing out, splattering at my feet and covering my skin. My face must be totally buries already, hidden by a thick layer of my own blood. I... should care more about this, but I just... can't.

The girls are saying something, but I don't care. This is serious, something is wrong. It doesn't feel wrong, but... isn't that the problem? I can already feel the same gnaw at the base of my spine, and all I can do is smile. Oh for fuck's sake, they're still talking?

"I, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I never thought this would work, I never..." She's whimpering. No, she's cowering. She's the one afraid of me. "Please, God, forgive me, I nev-"

"SHUT UP."

I can't hold back, not right now, not anymore. I can't bury myself just to save the feelings of others when I already feel like I'm six feet deep. I can't swallow my pride when I feel like I'm choking. I can't...

That's wrong. I don't want to. I'm not being forced to do anything. Not anymore.

I do everything I can to stand, my joints hissing and popping with every motion. The blood still flows from me, the crimson trailing down my body like a gown.

With a single step into the world, I tower over the little blonde cunt. A head higher at least. I can't tell what face I'm making, and for the first time, I don't care.

"You're not fixing this."

I reach behind me and tear another hole, like I'm ripping a cheap whore's dress. My tail finally tastes the air, no matter how dingy and stagnant it is in stuffy-ass fuckless room. It feels like something that should've been with me the whole time, finally allowed to be free.

I grab her hair by the roots, pull her close, and tongue-fuck her mouth. I can't help but laugh at how pathetic she looks flailing under my grasp. I think she's actually gonna cry. How precious.

I spit her out and toss her on the floor. She hacks and sputters, rubbing at her mouth to try and rub the bloodstains away. I wanna tell her that she'll wish the taste never left when I'm done with her, but that's between her and whatever she prays to for now.

"You." I look at Susan, and she's petrified. She's scared of me, she thinks I can really kill her. No wonder Grace got off to fucking around with me. Not that I'm any less pissed. When I'm done with her she'll never feel big again.

"I don't care about the other bitch. You're the one who summoned me." I take a knee, letting my eyes level with hers.

"What's your first request, Mistress~?"

She's finally smiling, just like me.

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

I haven't read all of these series, because I want to wait until the series is complete in English before I read it, but this is my ranking of the books I've read:

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): It's my favorite for so many reasons! I'm so attached to Mo Ran and Chu Wanning. Meatbun is an amazing writer. It's crazy how many emotions I felt while reading this series. I read fan and machine translations of the book first and am rereading it as the official translations come out. It's even better (and infinitely more painful) the second time around! The foreshadowing and big reveals are more impactful than any other book I've ever read. Also, I am so glad I got to read the whole thing without stopping, because if I had to wait for the next book to come out that would have been far too painful! 2ha destroyed me emotionally in ways nothing else ever has. I refuse to read any other series by Meatbun until all the books are out because I've heard they are also painful, but brilliant, books! I have a feeling that Remnants of Filth and Casefile Compendium are going to be high on my favorites list when I do read them.

2. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): My first danmei, and my favorite by MXTX. The drama and the anime are also wonderful, but because the adaptations had to be censored, the books are definitely the best! The relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is absolutely perfect! The side characters are endearing, the humor is witty, and the action/suspense scenes are done very well. This book is also has my favorite confession scene of all time! I got into the series for the romance, and was blown away by the writing and the mystery plotline. However, it can be a little confusing when it comes to switching between timelines.

3. Thousand Autumns (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): The author basically thought, "What would happen if a man with no flaws and the worst man ever were to meet?" And then she wrote this book. Shen Qiao is the most perfect man ever. He's kind, gentle, beautiful, strong, intelligent, forgiving, and is basically the ideal Taoist priest. Yan Wushi is a demonic cultivator who is the exact opposite of Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi is arrogant, cynical, harsh, violent, mercurial, and is so strong that no one could oppose him if they wanted to. The book begins with Shen Qiao laying almost dead, blind, and amnesiac at the bottom of a cliff where he is found by Yan Wushi, who takes Shen Qiao home because he wants to try and influence him to become evil just for fun. As their paths meet and they travel together, Yan Wushi shows Shen Qiao parts of the world he had never known existed and they do end up influencing each other, just not in the way either of them expected. Yan Wushi is quite the character and Shen Qiao is absolutely perfect. They may not seem to be made for each other, at least not at first, but they were. I love the two main characters of course, but I also love how realistic the historical setting is and the power struggle between the three main Chinese philosophies, Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Thousand Autumns is thought provoking while also being exciting, suspenseful, fun, romantic, and downright silly at times. It isn't the most well known danmei series, but I think it is one of the best written.

4. Heaven Official's Blessing (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): This is probably the best writing from MXTX. It has beautiful symbolism, which helps to make the official artwork and donghua look spectacular. The whole series is like a work of art. Xie Lian is one of the most intriguing protagonists because he is as simple as he appears on the surface but is also equally complex deep down. He never changes throughout the series, either. You just learn and understand more about Xie Lian as his past is revealed. The same can be said about Hua Cheng; his character is straightforward and unchanging, but he is also an enigma. For me, Heaven Official's Blessing is amazing because of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's relationship and how they have influenced each other. The other characters and side plots are interesting and well written, but the whole draw for me is Hualian. Even during the moments when they are not the main focus in the plot they are still my main focus, if that makes sense. The world of Heaven Official's Blessing and the entire cast of characters are well written, and with Hualian at the center of it all this series is spectacular.

5. Scum Villain Self-Saving System (⭐⭐⭐⭐): This series is so much fun. There are so many stories where the main character dies in real life only to wake up as the villain in a story, and I thought this would be more of the same. But SVSSS is very satirical and pokes fun at the overused genre cliches. It is so easy to relate to Shen Qingqiu and to love Lou Binghe. I really enjoyed how the series is so entertaining at first, but it becomes so dark and realistic despite being an over the top stallion novel setting. The whole book is a wild ride and I enjoyed every moment of it.

6. Guardian (⭐⭐⭐): I think it was a fun choice to choose a modern supernatural detective setting and include Chinese mythology. It made the cast of characters unique and fun. I also really enjoyed the humor in this series. The character development and plot weren't as deep and impactful as the other danmei in this list, and I think part of the reason is the author gave a lot of hints and help for the reader. As a result, it felt like this series was written for a younger audience. It's not bad, but it made the series a lot less engaging for me, even though I do love the two main characters.

7. Stars of Chaos (⭐⭐): I wasn't really a fan of this series. It had so much potential, but ultimately the plot boiled down to a paranoid emperor, greedy court officials, an underfunded military, and the two main characters who are so perfect that they turn literally every situation around and everything goes according to their plans. The politics and military issues were realistic, but they were explained so thoroughly that there were no surprises. The main characters are amazing, but their backstories aren't explained even half as well as the politics were so we don't really know much about how they got to be that way. In the first book the main character travels for four years and changes from a snotnosed kid to the impressive and skilled protagonist who can take on literally everything. His godfather/love interest is astonished and wonders what he was doing for those four years. I was also curious, but the author never told us. There was so much emphasis on world building, political intrigue, and military strategy that I felt the characters took a backseat to everything else. Which is a shame, because the characters are so cool! I actually enjoyed the extra chapters more than the main story because we got to see more of the characters and how they interact with each other. (Whenever I talk about Stars of Chaos I sound like Shen Yuan talking about PIDW from SVSSS. I know and I'm sorry, so please remember this is just my opinion. Please don't hunt me down for revenge.)

To Be Read:

Remnants of Filth

Casefile Compendium

Peerless

Ballad of Sword and Wine

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish

You've Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post

Danmei novels but they are Pokémon to collect so yeah. Show me your collections and favourite series I’ll show you mine

I’m loving these so much. Erha is my favourite at the moment, but I need vol 3-9 to complete the collection. And I’m super excited to get through the rest of tgcf since I watched the anime and read the comic so IM EXCITED FOR MORE MATERIALLLL

[natromanovxx]

"And I know that you won't fear me But I fear that you cannot help me And I know every day that I'm lost in a dream"

- Dream (Acoustic) Amaranthe

Read my fanfic here <3

Playlist Links I made for songs that remind me of these two ~ Apple Music Spotify

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[actual-changeling]

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[practically-an-x-man]

my mom's diverticulitis is flaring up and it's really tough bc on the one hand I obviously empathize with her and i really don't want her to be in pain. but on the other hand she's even more difficult to be around when she's in discomfort because she literally does not stop talking about it