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lucimaaie · 2 days

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we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #santa barbara ellie

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featherdixon · 3 days

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aftercare / daryl x mute!reader

summary: after spending a night with your boyfriend, you need to tell him how much you love him during aftercare. but the only problem is that you can't.

warnings: daryl x reader, mute!reader, fluff, kisses, sightly angst, aftercare, mentions of sex (they just had it ♡).

words count: 880.

taglist: @negansbestie & @vaniniweenie / if you want me to add you, just let me know!

You pulled a thin cotton sheet over your bare skin. Its softness embraced your legs, just as it did your arms. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and when you opened them, the darkness was gently pierced by the faint glow of fragile stars. Your body was still unraveling all the emotions—your lips, swollen and tasting faintly of him, your hands still feeling as though they were intertwined with his. Deep inside, an ache settled in the space he left behind.

Your hazelnut-colored hair spread across the pillow, and in a flash, you remembered something that made your cheeks burn—how he loved to grab it, pull it, in the heat of the moment. In a world where sound had been stolen from you, every sensation became sharper, a pleasure heightened when it was him who provided it.

Daryl sat at the edge of the bed, framed by the window, bathed in the soft light of the stars, as if they clung to him like dragonflies to a flower. You smiled, feeling a slight pull at the corners of your mouth, the happiness you felt by his side so immense it almost hurt.

What you admired most about him was how he embraced silence, turning it into a safe place. He rarely spoke, even though he knew you could read his lips; instead, he always tried to use his hands. A month after meeting you, he found a book to teach himself sign language, just so he could tell you one thing.

"I want to teach you how to use a bow." He could’ve communicated it more easily, but he wanted to learn your language. Soon after, he started using his new skills to warn you of danger or to tell you he’d brought food. Everything he did was genuine; they were little details he had for you because his heart guided him. That made your heart tell you to love him.

You had never been this lucky before.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away before he could notice. The same finger that caught your tear traced the scars along Daryl’s back. He turned his head slowly, catching your gaze. Every time you were together, he would ask if you’d enjoyed it, if there was anything he could do differently, or if you wanted more. That last question was always the hardest, because there was no reality in which you wouldn’t want more of him.

You parted your lips, trying to form a word. It had been years since you’d attempted this. You knew it was impossible; sound was a world closed off to you, but it still felt unfair not being able to tell him you loved him. Daryl turned gently when he realized what you were trying to do, placing his warm hand on your cheek.

Your throat ached from the effort. Heat surged there, yet no sound would come. You felt helpless, overwhelmed by the pain of not being able to express how much he made you feel. Daryl picked up the book to refresh his memory, and it broke your heart even more. He spent hours learning your language, while you couldn’t speak a word of his.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his gray eyes searching yours. You pressed your lips together because you didn't wanted to be in tears.

"Nothing," you signed with your right hand, though your heart ached. You sat up in bed, letting the sheet fall from your torso.

Daryl moved closer, placing his lips gently on your bare shoulder. His touch made you shiver, and his lips were as soft and warm as ever. Before he could pull away, you reached for him, bringing your mouth to his, deepening the kiss, letting your tongue savor the taste of him. You wanted him to understand everything you couldn’t say. He wasn’t expecting that boldness and gently pulled back.

Before he could speak, you moved your hand swiftly.

"I just wanted to tell you I love you." Daryl blinked, staring into your eyes.

"You’ve been telling me all night," he replied softly. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you lay back down. He didn’t hesitate to move over you, his lips tracing delicate patterns on your neck, collarbone, shoulder, and down to your stomach. He always lingered there, he loved leaving kisses on your belly.

He lifted his head slightly, and you tenderly caressed the scar beneath his eye.

"I wish I could say it out loud..." You traced the words with your lips, and he understood them instantly, without even looking at your hand. He dragged his lower lip from your belly button to the mole near your most sensitive spot. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling your heart open wide.

He moved back up to kiss you, and you glanced at his hand.

"I love you," he signed. You smiled, mirroring the same sign back to him.

He lay beside you, and you rested your head on his chest. Even if the words would never be spoken, together you had created a language of touches, signs, and kisses that no one could break. You hoped with all your heart that your future daughter would be able to say those words for you—words you would have shouted a thousand times for this man you loved.

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead angst #the walking dead smut #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon #twd #angst #daryl fanfiction #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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imwetforyourmom · 2 days

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JUST FINE.

CW: Unrequited love, unresolved angst, crying, swearing, cheating in a way if you think about it, yelling

SUMMARY: When you’re the only thing Chris has ever wanted, and ever will, but, when you dont see him that way, and probably wont ever, how will he take it? Or, you’ve stood the poor boy up on a date, hoping he’d get the hint.

A/N: Doc give it to me straight, did I fall off?

·˚ ༘

“You didnt have to do that.”

The dark alley way lit you and Derek, the light providing the perfect visionary to Chris’ nightmares. But, oh gosh, how he wished it hadnt. He would’ve given anything to not see your and his actions. It all sending an itch to gag at the back of his throat and tears beginning to take their place along his waterline.

His eyes took in what they could with his consistent wiping of the back of his hands to rid of the shedding tears, trying to see, to acknowledge what you wouldnt do to Chris, what you could never picture doing with Chris.

What wasnt meant to be for Chris. Your hands were never meant to be running along his body, rubbing seductively while your lips pressed against his, your lips teasingly keeping shut, depriving him of a more intimate kiss. But, what more depriving than watching the love of your life do the actions you’d begged for if she’d asked, do to another without hesitation? No holding back seemingly present in your movements, everything raw and unforgiving to chris. Why couldnt that be him?

Why couldnt he be the one pinning you against the brick red wall, why couldnt he be the one you were moaning and inhaling sharply for, the one where your stomach fluttered with butterflies, the one where you planned to live old with? Why couldnt he be ‘the one’?

Why wasnt he meant for your love? Why was fucking derek the one in his place? Out of all people.. Derek. Derek was the one you desired the most, the one you couldnt hold your composure with, the one your heart beat raced with.

Why couldnt it fucking be him?

His body felt heavy with each second he stared, his eyes beginning to puff with each unshed tear, or hard sob being held deep into his throat, making it harder for him to watch your sinful actions.

The flowers he’d especially boughten because they were your favorite, slowly began slipping from his loosened grip. Too distracted with the utter sight of your carefree actions to keep hold of the now useless flowers.

If you’d told him a year ago, he’d be here, watching his unrequited love makeout with another man—after standing him up, he would’ve laughed in your face. Collected his breathing, and looked you into the eyes, with a puzzled expression, “who is my ‘unrequited love’?” even despite the gleam in his eyes that was present just minutes ago, now gone with the forced laughter that escaped his body.

His body would crash on the inside, but his face would stay stoned, eyebrows raised with questionairre and a clenched fist with the grasp of the little tamed composure he had left. He’d act as if he’d no clue whom his unrequited lover was, but, as much as he wish he did, he knew who she was and now the name brought an itch to throw up at the back of his throat.

The mere thought of you would strike his entire being with the pain he thought he’d never experience, but thats what everyone thinks, until it happens, then they’re never the same.

Everyone swears the love they experienced in highschool was one of tragedies, but tragedies to adore, to admire, to wish you’d had.

Its the tragedies that get to your soul, tear you apart and leave you with the thought ‘Will I ever be the same?’ tears lining your eyes and the ghost feeling of being ‘you’ again, whoever that cold, distant memory may be.

Till that special person falls to their knees and mends you back together entirely, their hand a delicate reminder that you’ll always be worth something to them, never differentaiting from the earths grime, to the earths wonders, the northern lights being danced inside your eyes, but even the skies that withold the mesmerizing colors go dark, see the nights light, an uninteresting black, but they still stand colorful again.

All it takes, is that special person.

And Chris wasnt your special person, the one that would hold your face in his palms and whisper soothing praises as you cry about the tragedies currently overtaking your soul and claiming it as its own.

Derek was gonna be that person, at least, for what he hoped, until highschool was over.

A few years later, on that same street, Chris thought he healed, he’d wished he had, but he knew he didnt. Sure, maybe majority of him healed, but deep down, in his gut he knew a part of him would never heal from the possibilites of you and Chris becoming more, becoming everything he’d ever dreamed of.

His mind never left that brick red wall, too tangled with the mingling of your and Dereks bodies, lost in the desperation and confusion of why he couldnt be Derek. What did Derek have that Chris didnt? What was so good about Derek?

But to you, your voice could never end when Derek was mentioned, the nervous beating of your heart when his name was even mentioned, you could go on and on about Derek, seemingly never having an end towardd what was so good about Derek, and when Chris was mentioned, your arms cradled yourself, curling into yourself as the guilt in your stomach filled, replacing the rapid beating of your heart with its rightful pace.

You knew what you did that night, you saw Chris watching you and Derek, but in that moment, you were too caught up with the fire Dereks fingertips danced along your skin, his lips pressing on yours with comfort and need all at the same time.

Everything about Derek was everything you’ve ever described as ‘begging to want’, the love you’ve so desperately latched onto even the second it was offered, with no thought. Too desperate to experience the love you’d crave everynight, cradling yourself in your arms as your mind did the best it could, creating the fake scenarios for love.

Nothing about Chris was in your desires, nothing he seemed to do gave you the same fluttery in your stomach as Derek did. Even when Chris did his best to adopt Dereks mannerisms, try and be a little more like him—he couldnt. That wasnt him, Derek wasnt him. He was Chris, he just needed to accept the fact that he was him.

The sound of small splashes against rain puddles and footsteps broke Chris’s train of thought, his ghost train, to be specific, his better judgement the ambulance just begging to save him.

He looked away from the same spot he witnessed his entire world fall, only to meet your gaze. The same, cheerful gleam in your eyes, warmfilled smile overtaking your features. Everything about you was comforting.

“What’re you doing out here at,”—you pulled your puffed jacket sleeve from your wrist, checking the familar patterned numbers on the watch, comfortably placed on your wrist, before looking back at Chris—“Twelve ‘o clock at night?” You asked, even with the question in your voice, the same bubbly features remained on your face.

Chris looked back at the wall beside the streetlight, licking his lips dryly as he thought of an answer, his mind running laps, desperate for a reason as of why he was here.

His head dropped to look at his feet, his throat closing with the dry sensation.

“Just, y’know, thinking.” He replied, looking back at you, his tongue peeking back out to lick his lips again.

“What about?” Your curiosity overtook your tongue, though, chris expected no less. You were always naturally curious.

“Us,” his eye contact faltered, deciding it’d just be best to stop lying, to stop living his life in his own shadow.

Your eyebrows stitched, your loud smile beginning to fall to a slight frown. “Whats there to think about us, Chris?”

“Everything, Y/n,” he looked away again, his voice faltering between a cracked whisper, to the non-chalant tone he was desperate to keep.

“I cant keep pretending like im happy with ‘us’. I’m not, fuck, I’ve never been happy with how we are. I dont want this.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he fought the overwhelming emotions slowly taking over his features, the frown enveloping his mouth, the slight crack in his voice each time he spoke and a slow start to the never ending whirlwind of emotions he’s about to speak of, and experience, all over again.

Your eyes ran over his face, slowly understanding everything that he was saying. Your heart fought its own thumps to stay unwounded from his own hurt.

“Chris, I-“ your voice was cut off with his, a seemingly urgence in the way he spoke.

“No. Let me finish.” He shifted on his feet before turning to look at you, taking in a small breath as preperation before continuing.

“I, I was fucking standing there, watching as you and Derek got all- fuckin,” his voice began to break, thinking of the night he witnessed why you stood him up, “all that. Do you know how fucking bad you hurt me that night? Words dont even begin to explain how hurt I was. You were feeling Derek up, while I was fuckin crying in the empty space of my room.” He exasperated, the look in his eyes gave it all away, he still wasnt finished. His mouth was still full of words he wanted to say, but he wanted to let his previous words sink in first.

“Chris, im sorry, I really am—I dont know what I was thinking- I truly am sorry.” You begged, your eyes filled with sympathy and your voice beginning to crack with guilt.

“You can’t say that, Y/n, you’re not sorry. You dont have a right to be sorry, all you had to do, Y/n, all you had to do was go on the date with me. You didnt fucking have to stand me up, you could’ve even shot me a text cancelling the date, but you didnt. You didnt, you left me there to watch. To watch what you weren’t willing to do with me. And I get that, I understand that you dont want me, but you could’ve fucking said that!” He snapped, his emotioms overtaking his everything. Tears brimmed at his eyes, his voice gave signs to the vulnerabilty he was giving.

“You didnt have to do that.” He sighed, unwilling to let the rest of his emotions flow, he didnt want you to see what you did to him, only hear what you caused.

The shield you’d made just minutes ago to keep your heart together, crashed down. You could feel the radiating thump of your heart against your rib cage throughout your entire body, but none of it amounted to the pure guilt that claimed your body, the sinking hole inside your chest beginning to sink with the guilt overlapping, becoming too heavy.

Tears brimmed at your waterline, a lump grew in your throat, creating the effort you should’ve put in Chris, now replaced with the effort to apologize to Chris.

“Please Chris, you need to understand, I didnt mean to hurt you!” You begged, your voice becoming desperate. Yet, not even beginning to be as desperate as Chris ever was.

Hearing your words sent anger coursing through his blood, “Didnt mean to hurt me? You didnt fucking mean to hurt me? Can you hear yourself, Y/n? Are you out of your mind? Of fucking course you were gonna hurt me! You stood me up for some low life, I would’ve given you the world! But you chose fucking Derek—who, remind me, left you for a slut? No?” His words pierced right through you, re-opening the carefully stiched wounds Derek had left on you.

Fighting off the sobs became weaker and weaker, before your body felt absolutely broken from it all. Sobs racked through your body, and guilt replaced the tears spilling from your cheeks.

“No, no, no, Y/n, its fine. I’ll be just fine without you.” He mocked, shaking his head before sparing you one last glance, moving his begrudgingly feet away from you, walking away and leaving you there just as you’d done to him.

Even despite the pure need Chris felt to run back to you, to cradle you in his arms, soothe and apologize to you, he knew you didnt deserve that, he knew he was better than what you were going to offer to him anyways. You didnt fucking deserve the love and pure adoration Chris would’ve offered, would’ve given with no hesitation.

2096 words.

TAGS

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@chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx

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@elas3

#Spotify #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #angst

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incorrectly-quoting-murderdrones · 1 day

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Looking back on the entire show after watching the finale makes me realize just the insane amount of detail and foreshadowing present.

Whenever N’s memory gets brought up, it’s usually paired with him being beheaded

Ep 1: Gets his head blasted off by Uzi and loses 2 hours of memory

Ep 3: Brings up his memory to V who slices his head off

Ep 5: The episode is all about N’s memories and we briefly see his worker drone body missing it’s head when they get to the basement

Ep 8: The Solver rips N’s head off, and after regrowing it, he recalls another memory of the Solver tearing him apart as a worker

The constant emphasis on hands in the show

The disassembly drones having swappable hands

Uzi gets stabbed in the hand in episode one

The Solver and eldritch J with the weird human hand tentacles

The fact that characters are constantly losing hands and arms

V’s weird monster arm from the flashback

The handlights indicating whether a drone is possessed

The constant close ups of whenever N and Uzi hold hands

The secret handshake

Uzi’s hand burning in ep4 and her hand burning as she destroys Cyn’s heart in ep8

The Solver using Tessa’s hand and fingerprint to get past a Captcha Test

The solver powers revolving around hand movement

The hands on Uzi’s wings

Doll’s knife going through Uzi’s hand

Alice chopping Uzi’s finger off

N chopping Uzi’s hand off to save her

There’s more here, and it happens in the other Glitch shows too. For example, Pomni’s glitched hand, the Meta Runner arms being the main catalyst for the conflict in MR, and meme guardians holding hands for power in SMG4

The constant foreshadowing for CynTessa and the little details that make so much more sense in hindsight

Episodes 6 and 7 we see N, V, and J’s yellow eyes reflected in Tessa’s helmet

The creepy apparition of CynTessa in Ep4

Cyn and Tessa having the exact same haircut

The whole entire scene with Tessa and the sentinels

Without the context of ep7, that scene plays out like Uzi’s stress at seeing N get attacked by the Sentinels causes her to be briefly possessed by Solver in order to override the controls

Looking back at it, however, the Solver only fully possessed Uzi when Tessa got bitten by the sentinel. It was trying to save itself not N.

It literally saved itself and disguised the attempt as Uzi trying to protect N. If that’s not a perfect metaphor for who and what the Absolute Solver is, idk what is.

And it did it again at the end of the episode where it yet again it possessed Uzi to get the door open right when the sentinel charged at Tessa.

The Sentinel briefly shutting down and getting confused at what it thought was human blood, and then a few scenes later it comes back and guns directly for Tessa, with her blood no longer working to distract it.

Tessa and Cyn’s matching fondness for N in particular.

Tessa outright beheading a drone in her first introduction which contradicts her character in ep5

Then there’s the Solver/Cyn’s almost stalker-like obsession with N

N being the only DD to not feel pain. J and V grunt and yell when they get stabbed or lose a limb, but N gets ripped apart and doesn’t even blink

Cyn calling N “big brother” which the Solver does as well. V and J are never once called “big sister”.

N being the only DD to have lost his memories, possibly so the Solver could control him better. N is a sweetheart by nature and by continuing to override his memories every time he tries to protect the Workers, the Solver can keep him bloodthirsty and feral.

The weird hologram of Maid V that the Solver used to taunt him

The Cyn hologram hugging him

The Solver purposely exploiting N’s feelings for Uzi to keep him from fully attacking her while she’s possessed.

The whole puppy dog eyes thing

“Your backups will forgive me” and the fact that she has backups of N even before the mansion massacre.

The Solver N, V, and J retain their personalities only because it liked N’s in particular

The fact that it sent the nicest, kindest drone in the entire show to slaughter its own kind

The low, annoyed “Hello Uzi” followed by the high pitched, upbeat “Hi N :D”

How the Solver plays around with Tessa’s corpse and her affection for N

Again with how it plays with N’s relationship with Uzi by using Tessa’s voice to tell him that he has to kill Uzi to save the universe

The Solver using a hologram of N to fuck with Uzi twice

The Solver using the hologram of N to fool V into calling out for him so it could lure the real N out

The Solver’s obsession with N technically never going away. With Cyn as the main host it was a sibling bond, but with Uzi now the main host it’ll likely latch onto her romantic love for N

The absolute insane foreshadowing to Uzi becoming the Solver itself

The occasional reflection of N and V’s yellow eyes in Uzi’s visor

Uzi overwriting Cyn’s admin control and replacing it with her own

Uzi possessing the Solver cameras while in N’s memories, and the cameras having purple eyes

The protagonist’s journey graph in presentation in the very first episode alluding to a big fight and monstrous transformation at the end.

Uzi overpowering CynTessa with her own Solver

Uzi breaking through possession via the powers of angst and teenage rebellion, without even needing the patch like Nori and Yeva

Uzi and Tessa having the same fleshy bat wings

Uzi’s core number being 1001 just like Cyn’s

Uzi’s tail chewing on N’s head for some reason in episode 6, likely foreshadowing to Cyn being in her tail

Uzi possessing Braiden just like the Solver would

Other little details

Uzi’s purple being a perfect complement to N’s yellow which also matches their personalities

The background posters having just the stupidest/funniest notes on them

Uzi’s tail looking like a sentinel head

Lizzy having seemingly infinite phones

The drones treating the school bus like it’s an animal with sentience

Braiden’s head literally always being on fire, even in death

The references to Until Dawn and Friday the Thirteenth in episode 4

The soundtracks having just the stupidest fucking titles (affectionate), with some of them even referencing each other.

N going from being J’s doormat in episode 1 to outright beheading Tessa in episode 7 when he realized she lied to him

The Solver making its biggest mistake asking N to choose “the universe over the life of one little drone” because it didn’t account for the “one little drone” being Cyn, not Uzi

The Protagonist’s Journey chart foreshadowing Nori being alive with the “help from an unexpected source” close to the end of the timeline

Khan going from leaving Uzi for dead to rebuilding her rail gun and directly attacking the Solver in the hopes of saving her

Also Khan’s behavior and bad parenting suddenly making a lot more sense once we finally see a full photo of Nori and realize that Uzi is damn near identical to her mother.

Uzi’s teeth aren’t sharp until after her transformation in ep4

In a roundabout way, the humans on Copper-9 were successful is making something that could stop the Solver, as they caused the incidents that would eventually lead to Nori meeting Khan and passing down her genetics to Uzi

#hoo boy this got long #and this still isn’t all of the crazy details and foreshadowing that are in this show #murder drones #long post #uzi doorman #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j #cyn #the absolute solver #khan doorman #nori doorman #Md lizzy #md braiden #even as I’m typing out the notes I’m still remember more details

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doc-who · 3 days

Text

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 10/?

Words: 1958

Catergories: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

The walls of the alley loom over you like a shadow, the frigid air biting at your skin. It’s not the cold that sends tremors through your body, but the words that fall from Emily’s mouth.

“This was a mistake,” she says, voice devoid of all emotion, her eyes as cold as the night that surrounds you.

“Emily, please don’t do this,” you plead, desperation lacing your voice.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she sneers, her face twisted in disgust.

Your throat tightens with barely repressed sobs. “You don’t mean that. ”

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms seize you from behind, squeezing tightly around your torso. You fight with every ounce of strength, but it feels like you’re trapped in an iron cage.

“Emily!” you scream, “help me!”

She watches you struggle, her expression void of any concern, as if you mean nothing to her.

“You’ve always been a mistake,” she shakes her head, turning her back and fading into the mist of the alley.

“Please,” you sob, “don’t leave me.”

Tears stream down your face as you’re dragged backwards, your feet scraping along the pavement. As you’re pulled deeper into the shadows, the sinister voice holding you captive chuckles in your ear.

“I’m going to have fun with you.”

Your eyes fly open, and you sit up with a jolt, heart hammering in your chest. You’re surrounded by darkness, and for a disorienting moment, you think you’re still being dragged away, trapped and abandoned.

Breath coming in desperate gasps, your blurred vision focuses, and you realise you’re not in the cold alleyway, but in your hotel room.

You’re faintly aware that someone is speaking to you, but all you can hear is the echo of Emily’s voice, cold and detached, ringing in your ears.

A hand rests on your shoulder, and you flinch, pressing yourself back against the headboard.

“It’s just me,” a voice says gently, and you blink, turning your head to find Emily next to you.

The warmth and concern in her eyes is a stark contrast to the hateful stare that’s burned in your mind.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispers gently. You nod, not quite trusting your voice yet, still trapped in the horror of your dream.

The bedside lamp flickers to life, and the shadows that surround you retreat into the corners of the room. Emily’s face is bathed in a soft glow as she searches your eyes, trying to understand the reason for your distress. Gently, she takes your hand in hers, her thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

“Nightmare?” she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

You nod again, still unable to force words from the pain that tightens your throat. The image of her walking away from you, her cold indifference as she watched you be dragged away, refuses to loosen the hold it has on you.

The real memories of that night overlap with the imagined ones of your dream, the similarities they share bombarding you with questions you thought had been put to rest. Struggling to separate the Emily sitting next to you to the one from your nightmares, you pull your hand from her grasp.

With a deep breath you raise your head, finally daring to look at her. By the look on her face, you know that she’s realised this wasn’t just any nightmare. She frowns in confusion at the hurt and accusation on your face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks hesitantly.

Eyes dropping to your lap, you study the bedspread, attempting to hide the hurt in your eyes.

“It was just a nightmare,” you murmur, trying to convince yourself as much as her.

Emily’s hand tightens around yours, and you know she’s not going to drop the subject.

“What about?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Emily insists.

Wiping your hand over your face and feeling wetness on your cheeks, you sigh. Emily says your name softly, wiping away a stray tear you missed.

“Tell me,” she pleads.

You hold your knees to your chest, anxiety twisting in your stomach. Even though Emily has told you she loves you, the hurt caused by what transpired that night still lingers. You know this heaviness in your chest won’t go away until you get answers. Until you know why Emily ended things that night, why she said what she did.

Looking into her eyes, you search for any trace of the coldness and disdain she displayed in your dream. When you find only sincerity in them, you take a deep breath.

“It was about that night, outside the bar,” you admit quietly.

Emily’s eyes soften in understanding, but she doesn’t pull away like you feared she would. Instead, she squeezes your hand, encouraging you to continue.

“Did you mean it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, “when you said we were a mistake?”

Emily’s eyes flicker with a mix of pain and regret, “No, I didn’t mean it,” she says firmly, bringing your hand to her chest.

“Then why did you say it?” you say, voice trembling, “I don’t understand.”

Emily takes a deep breath, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “When we started seeing each,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “we both agreed that it wasn’t going to be anything serious.”

You nod, remembering how your arrangement started.

“That night, when I saw you with someone else…” she continues, her voice low and pained, ”I’ve never felt like that before. It was so intense, it scared me.” her hands tremble around yours, unshed tears in her pained eyes.

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” she pauses, taking in a shaking breath, “so I did the thing I was always best at,” she chuckles darkly in self-deprecation, “I pushed you away,” her voice cracks, “I hurt you before you could hurt me.”

The weight of her confession lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. You pull your hand from hers, needing the space to process everything. The memories of that fateful night come rushing back. The anguish that you thought you had buried reemerging with a vengeance, tearing open the old wounds that you had tried so hard to heal.

Emily releases the breath she’s been holding. “Say something, please.”

Her eyes search yours, desperate for any sign of understanding or forgiveness. You understand now what drove her to do what she did, to say the things she said, but it doesn’t automatically erase the months of doubt and heartache that followed.

“I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you admit, your voice raw with emotion. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you turn your back on her.

“Anything,” she begs, shifting closer, “just don’t leave, please.”

“Why wait so long to tell me?” you finally ask, your voice still thick with emotion. “Why let me go all these months thinking that’s how you really felt about me? That I was just one big mistake to you?”

Emily moves closer until she’s sitting behind you, tentatively wrapping her arms around your waist.

“I thought I was the only one feeling this way,” she whispers into your hair, “so I kept it all inside. I never let myself believe that you could feel the same,” she admits.

You shake your head, your throat tight with unshed tears. “How could you not know?” you ask incredulously, your voice shaking with the effort to keep your emotions in check, “how could you not realise how I felt about you?”

Emily’s arms tighten around you, “After everything I said, everything I did, I didn’t think you could ever forgive me, let alone love me.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath and turn around in her lap so that you’re facing her. Feeling the warmth of her embrace, you look into her eyes that are now brimming with tears.

“But I do love you, Emily,” you whisper, your voice trembling with sincerity, “I always have.”

Her eyes widen, a tear slipping down her cheek as she searches your face for any sign of doubt. “Always?” she breathes out, her voice filled with disbelief. You nod, feeling your own eyes fill with tears.

The astonishment in her eyes that follows your confession quickly morphs into one of guilt as the realisation dawns on her. It’s clear that she truly never considered the possibility that you felt the same as she did, and you can see the turmoil playing out on her face as she realises the true consequences of her actions. That you have been suffering all this time just as she has, all because she was too scared to admit how she felt.

Her hands come up to cradle your face, her thumbs wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking, “I’m sorry for everything. For pushing you away, for making you believe that I thought you were a mistake. If I had known…” she shakes her head, and scoffs at herself, “all this time, I thought that if I just gave you space, kept myself away from you, that you’d realise that you’re better off without me.”

“Emily,” you whisper in disbelief, “how could you ever think that I would be better off without you?”

“Because all I ever seem to do is hurt you!” she cries. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been there that night. That if I had just been honest about how I felt, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

You sigh in understanding, holding her face in your hands. “Emily, you know I never blamed you for what happened to me.”

“I blamed myself,” she whispers, her arms trembling around you, “I still do.”

“Emily,” you sigh, “you can’t take responsibility for what happened to me,” you say, your voice firm but gentle. You trace your fingers along her cheek, feeling the dampness of her skin. “You didn’t know what was going to happen that night. No one did.”

She nods hesitantly, but you can see that she’s not convinced, that the self-imposed blame still lingers.

“Emily, look at me,” you say firmly, hands guiding her face up.

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the guilt she’s been carrying. The guilt that’s been eating away at her just as your doubt has been consuming you.

“I need you to believe me when I say this,” you say fervently, “what happened to me had nothing to do with you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Emily swallows heavily, her hands gripping your shirt.

“You’re the one that found me, that saved me,” you say, smoothing her hair back off her face, “okay?”

For a moment, she doesn’t speak. Her arms tighten around you as if she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go, then she takes a deep breath, “Okay.”

The tension in the room eases, and you lean into her, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. Gently, you extract yourself from her lap, pulling her back into bed, the coldness of the room replaced by the warmth of the covers as you slip beneath them.

Emily’s arms wrap around your waist protectively, pulling your body into hers. You lay there with your cheek pressed against her chest, listening to the rhythm of her heart. It’s a comfort you hadn’t realised you had missed so much, and you tighten your hold on her.

Emily buries her face in your hair, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

“I love you,” she whispers, the words soft and filled with emotion.

The weight of the past months seems to lift, and for the first time in a long while, you take a deep, easy breath, “I love you too.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss/reader

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mercwiththem0uth · 19 hours

Text

another drabble because i have soft!wade literally living on my mind 24/7. not proof read!

x gn!reader showering with deadpool and caring for him when his skin has a bad flare-up.

you had been in a relationship with wade for a couple of years now. you knew him inside-out. you loved him so deeply and would do absolutely anything for him, and he was totally head-over-heels for you because of it.

unfortunately, sometimes his mutation causes the scars on his skin to flare up, becoming irritable and painful. he would say that his skin essentially hurt him all the time, and he was just very used to the pain. however when these rare moments happened where it hurt more than usual, you tried to do everything you could to make things more comfortable for him.

in the earlier stage of your relationship, when the first flare-up happened, you spent a long time stood in the kitchen surrounded by a huge amount jars, test tubes, liquids, essential oils, and syringes, trying to find the best combination for a special lotion that wade could use to moisturise his unique skin.

wade stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face as he watched your eyes narrow, tongue poking out of your mouth slightly, concentrating so hard on the task in front of you.

you were so engrossed in measuring out the ingredients and stirring your lotions into different labelled pots, that you hadn't noticed him observing you.

"what are you doing, doll?" wade's voice spoke gently as he stepped towards you in the kitchen. you jumped, heart almost skipping a beat as you hadn't suspected anyone to be home with you.

realising it was him, you relaxed. "you're back early" you smiled at him, tilting your head.

"no I'm not" he smiled widely, motioning his head towards the clock, which read 7:36pm.

oh...

you had been stood in the kitchen doing your little experiments for much longer than you had realised.

wade came behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, dropping a kiss to your exposed shoulder, before whispering in your ear. "so... you never told me what you are doing." he stood back and leaned against the counter, inhaling a deep breath of the different smells that you had created. he was getting senses of ginger and honey... coconut and oatmeal.

"if i was to guess, you're starting up some sort of etsy home-business?"

you giggled at his silliness.

"i'm trying to create a lotion for you. to help... you know... your skin. i know it's been hurting recently." you blushed slightly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

wade felt his heart swell at your words. he almost melted right there on the floor. you had only been together a couple of months, and wade was still very insecure about his appearance around you. but the fact that you were going out of your way to make something to help him, almost made him want to cry.

he knew in that moment that you were something extremely special. you were still in the early stage of your relationship, yet you were being so selfless and kind towards him.

"oh, baby" he whispered, a small smile on his face. "that is so kind. thank you."

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter. you hadn't seen a very affectionate/grateful side of wade yet, but little did you know that this was only the beginning, and you are yet to meet the very clingy, loveable deadpool.

he came and wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you spent the rest of that evening sat together round the kitchen table, testing the lotions and altering some of the recipes, before he settled on one that he really liked. he still uses it to this day, and you happily make him a new batch every month.

wade sat in the passenger seat of dopinder's taxi, staring out the window. his lips were curled until a soft smile as he thought about that memory. you had been his biggest supporter since day one.

he climbed out of the taxi and gave dopinder a high five, before slowly making his way up to your shared apartment. his footsteps were slow and heavy as his muscles ached and his skin screamed against his suit with every step that he took. he finally crashed through the door, immediately relaxing slightly as the familiar scent and warmth of home surrounded him.

"hey baby!" he heard you call from the bedroom, as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to find you. you were folding laundry as you looked up at him and smiled, having missed him all day. he managed to smile back, never once breaking eye contact as you approached him for a kiss. resting your hands on his shoulders you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, a toothy grin on your face as you pulled away.

"are you okay?" you said gently, watching as your boyfriend began to take his suit off, his face screwing up and flinching in agony every once in a while. "does it hurt?" you whispered.

he just nodded his head, a small sigh and grunt escaping his mouth. you frowned, wishing you could take away his pain. "i'm sorry baby, anything i can do to help?"

"i'm gonna take a shower" he said, voice barely above a whisper, as he peeled the last piece of his suit from his body. you followed him into the bathroom, watching as he leaned to turn the shower on to a lukewarm/cool temperature, making you frown again. he couldn't even enjoy the feeling of hot water. "what's the frown for, kitten?" he said, pulling his underwear down and kicking them off his feet.

"i just feel bad for you", you sighed, hating to see the love of your life feel this way.

"don't be silly" he pulled you against him, holding you in a small hug, "i'm used to it."

"but still, you don't deserve it."

"hey now, if i wasn't a mutant, cancer would've got me a long time ago and I never would've met you." he squeezed your shoulders before pulling away, watching your face waiting to see you smile.

he climbed into the shower, before turning back to you. "you can join me if you like," wriggling his eyebrows, "i wouldn't recommend it though, your sweet cheeks will get cold."

you smiled and rolled your eyes. eventhough he was in pain, he was trying to be his usual-self that always cheers you up. you pulled off your clothes and joined him in the shower, letting him stand at the water end. his big eyes looked down at you, filled with love and adoration, but underlying sadness. he was just in pain, and needed some comfort. you noticed immediately, reaching round to grab his soap. it was an expensive one, formulated to be kind and gentle to his skin.

you poured some onto a soft sponge and used your hands to lather it up with some water, directing him to turn around. you placed the sponge ever so gently at the top of his shoulder blades, before slowly moving it down across his back. he tensed up, liking the feeling but hating it at the same time. his hand reached backwards and he used his fingers to brush against your thigh, indicating to you that he wanted to hold your hand. you reached down and locked fingers with him, giving it a small squeeze, whilst still using the other hand to slowly sweep the sponge across his backside. you squeezed the sponge in your hand, letting the soapy water trickle down his body, so you weren't putting any friction on his most sensitive and inflamed areas.

you brought his hand up to your mouth to kiss it, before tightly tugging him to face you again. he turned around to let you wash his chest and stomach.

you peeked up at wade, his head was dropped down to his chest with his eyes screwed shut. you put an arm around his waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, wanting more. you breathed a laugh against his skin, giving one more kiss, before passing him the sponge and letting him finish washing his more intimate areas. (although he definitely would not have minded if you'd done that for him)

once he was rinsed off, you helped him out of the shower and passed him the fluffiest towel you could find. you left him alone and ventured back into the bedroom, pulling out some clean pyjamas for the both of you, before going to the kitchen to order his favourite chimichangas.

wade eventually appeared, wearing nothing but some cotton underwear. you looked at him confused, "i got some clothes out for you, bub."

his eyes darted down to his hand, where he was holding a bottle of your home-made lotion. your eyes softened as you whispered an "okay", before quickly washing your hands.

you joined wade on the couch where he was turning on a movie, sitting next to him and rubbing some lotion between your hands. he leaned into your touch and began to finally relax against you, as you gave him the gentlest massage you possibly could.

you spent the rest of the evening cuddling your big baby of a boyfriend, using your fingers to moisturise every nook and cranny of his back, arms, chest, legs, and feet. your heart melted every time you heard him let out a sigh or a grunt of pleasure, knowing his pain was finally easing. even if it was only slightly.

after you'd eaten, wade laid across the couch with his head in your lap, your hand resting lightly on his head. you were both fighting sleep as you tried to make it to the end of the movie.

before drifting away, you felt wade tilt his head up to look at you. you met his eyes, softly blinking at him, trying to read his thoughts.

"i don't deserve you," he mumbled, reaching his fingertips up to caress your cheek. "thank you for everything"

you stared lovingly at him for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to his lips. he meant every word. what did he do to deserve someone who loved and cared for him so deeply?

guys I'm so in love with this fictional man it's not even funny i just wanna kiss his face and give him the love he deserves :'(

#deadpool #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool x reader #ryan reynolds #fluff #deadpool and wolverine #x reader #deadpool imagine #wade wilson imagine #marvel imagine #marvel

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nastyenemyeater · 2 days

Text

Rockstar Choso 🫣👹🎸🥁- FANFIC

I saw some tiktoks about Choso being a drummer and it gave me some ideas.

Here are the links :

SHOUT OUT TO NARUTOSS.RAMEN

either way here's the plot : basically Y/n got cheated on by her bf at a club and she got revenge by kissing the drummer of 'The curses' rockstar band .

“Look Y/n isn’t that Nathan?” asked your best friend, pointing at a guy during a hardcore kissing session with a random girl.

The blasting music, the heat in the club and the moving people passing by and occasionally shoving you to pave their way, were not helping you in any way digest the scene you just witnessed.

Your knees felt weak, your heartbeat increased considerably, memories flashed by, tears started overflowing and millions of questions exploded inside your head “why? Am I dreaming? Why did he cheat so easily? Did he even love me?”

“Go confront him Y/n! What are you waiting for? The fuck??” shouted your best friend, shaking you fervently and bringing you back to the hell.

You couldn’t. Or you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

“That motherfucker” you seethed in anger.

Alcohol was all you could think about. Yes, you needed to drink a shit ton of it. After all, you came to the club to enjoy your Saturday night. You didn’t plan on having your heart broken but … life never goes how you want it right?

You made your way to the bar, jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger and determined to drown the night’s misery in alcohol. The bartender handed you the strongest shot of vodka, and you backed at least five of them. Each one went down smoother than the last, but the pain refused to fade.

"Maybe I should just make out with the first guy that comes along," you thought bitterly, resting your head on your arms as you looked to your left.

Unexpectedly, a pair of dark, hazy eyes were already locked on you. He sat back against the bar, elbows resting casually behind him. His dark, messy hair clung to his sweaty forehead, framing his sharp features – a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and tired, yet piercing eyes that studied you intently. Tattoos snaked up his neck and down his muscular arms, accentuated by the sleeveless black shirt that clung to his broad frame. His legs were spread wide, exuding a quiet confidence and control.

Without thinking, you locked eyes with him, staring intently with no thoughts, just an empty, heated gaze. A faint smirk played on his lips as he stared back, silent but sharp, as if he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Whatch’you lookin’ at?” he asked with an amused tone, breaking the silence between you two.

You didn’t have the strength to engage in any conversation yet, and all you could do was stare at him. Being in that inebriating state made easy for you to prolongate the eye contact.

He let out a low chuckle, stood from his seat and made his way toward you.

But before he could take another step, 2 other guys suddenly pulled him away, dragging him toward the other side of the bar. A chaotic stream of girls followed, screaming some names as they swarmed after them.

You watched as he winked at you before disappearing into the crowd. Despite the commotion, you remained rooted to your spot, an amused smile playing on your lips as you took in the scene.

“Wow, they must be somebody for them to get followed liked this” you wondered. You groaned loudly as you realized your mistake “Fuckkk ! I just blew my chance … fuck fuck fuck … Uh give me another one please” you said, asking for another shot to forget about this massive fail.

By now, the alcohol coursing through your veins made you feel more at ease, braver, and a little reckless. Confidence surged with every beat of the rock music that pounded through the club, filling your body with raw energy. The tension that had been building up inside you needed an outlet, and before you knew it, you found yourself weaving through the crowd toward the dance floor.

You moved with purpose, shaking off the accumulated stress with each step. The crowd was electric, and soon you managed to slip right to the front of the stage, where you spotted the two guys who had dragged your "new friend" away earlier. They were performing, and you finally recognized them as The Curses, a rockstar band.

You also spotted your "new friend" as their drummer. His name was Choso apparently.

The music reverberated through your body, each beat syncing with the rising tension inside, a strange mix of hurt, anger, and alcohol pushing you to the edge. By the time they finished their set, the adrenaline was pumping so hard it was like a shot of fire to your system.

Without thinking, you somehow climbed up on the stage. The crowd’s roar faded into the background as you grabbed the microphone, your voice raw with emotion as you shouted, “FUCK YOU NATHAN!”

The audience gasped, some laughing, some unsure what was happening, but you didn’t care. Your mind raced as you continued, “GO FUCK YOURSELF NATHAN! YOU DON’T DESERVE SHIT IN YOUR LIFE”

The two guys from the band rushed over, trying to calm you down, but most importantly trying to yank the mic out of your hands. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, but you jerked your arm away and continued, “YOU HEAR ME, NATHAN? YOU MANWHORE”

Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you slightly back as a voice whispered, "C’mon, miss, don’t embarrass yourself. Get down from the—"

But you cut them off, shouting, “DON’T TOUCH ME! I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SPEAK!” Your voice rang out, fierce and defiant. Then, you turned and realized it wasn’t a stranger—it was Choso. His intense, steady gaze met yours, silently pleading for you to calm down. For a moment, everything else faded, and it was just the two of you, his eyes trying to pull you back from the edge.

The noise and chaos seemed to fade into the background. Staring into his captivating eyes, you thought, It’s now or never. Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his plump lips, and without hesitation, you acted.

You dragged him down toward you, while rising up onto your tiptoes, and then you kissed him fervently, all the pent-up emotion pouring into that moment.

His pink-haired friend cackled into the mic, “You hear that, Nathan? You fucked up! Your girl’s gone now!”

“yeah you son a bitch! look at me eating up this guy’s mouth!” you thought, deepening the kiss.

You would be a total liar if you said that making out with Choso was just any other chore to get back at your ex.

No, no, no, no… that man was a beast. The second your lips touched his, he yanked your body against his, your breasts colliding with his large, hard chest.

Every inch of him was solid, muscle-packed beneath his shirt like he was carved from stone. His body radiated heat, and the faint sheen of sweat from his earlier performance mixed with the scent of his cologne—a powerful, intoxicating blend that made you want him even more. The mix was engulfing, dizzying, wrapping around you like a drug, making it impossible to pull away.

What started as a kiss turned into something deeper, more intense. His mouth was commanding, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His tongue was battling against yours, and all you could do was respond.

He was devouring the fuck out of you.

His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The feel of his body against yours – strong, immovable – made you crave more. Your fingers roamed up his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him, to get closer.

This wasn’t just some kiss to get back at Nathan. Choso’s kiss was raw, overwhelming, and consuming – everything you didn’t know you needed.

“Ok ok lovebirds! time’s up! you both can finish this later” suggested his sexy black-haired friend.

The crowd's reaction to your passionate kiss was a mix of emotions. Some voices rose in anger, hurling insults, while others cheered loudly, celebrating your bold move. The air buzzed with a clash of discontent and admiration. Some of them even started chanting “fuck you Nathan” in chorus.

But eventually, all good things must come to an end … and you had to shed yourself from Choso’s addictive body. You were both panting and staring at each other’s soul trying to figure out what just happened and what was going to happen afterwards.

“So ... do you make a habit of kissing random guys on stage?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes lingering on your face, taking in every detail.

“I … I have to go …” you stuttered, pushing him slowly away.

“Oh nah you can’t go now. There is no way I’ll let you leave after what you just did to me” he said, pulling you closer.

“I acted impulsively … I’m sorry … I need to go” you said, still trying to get out of his grip.

“Oh, so you’re just going to run back to Nathan?” he spat bitterly, holding you even harder.

You immediately frowned upon hearing his name again.

“Fuck you” you gritted, putting all your almighty force to push yourself away from him.

“That’s perfect, I have a 20-minute break anyway” he said, grinning. Before you could respond, his strong arms encircled your waist. In one swift, fluid motion, you were lifted off the ground. Panic surged as you were hoisted over his shoulder. It wasn’t a gentle lift; it was firm and unyielding.

“Guys, if you don’t mind, I have something to take care of” he informed his friends.

“Man, do whatch’ya gotta do, we lost you the minute she got on stage” said the black-haired guy.

You kicked and hit desperately, your fists pounding against his back. “Put me down!” you screamed, struggling against the grip holding you. “Let me go!”

“I don’t know about you, but I like to kiss a little before fucking. That being said, if you like it rough I can do that for you baby” he said, spanking you.

“The fuck??? did you just spank me?? how dare you??” you screamed at him, outraged.

“oh so we were literally dry-humping each other on stage 5 minutes ago but I can’t spank you now? That’s bullshit! You’re mine now!” he said, pushing an exit door.

When he finally set you down, the cold night air jolted you back to reality.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t think this through, ok? I just saw my boyfriend kissing a chick and I saw you as an opportunity to get revenge … I’m sorry please, just let me go” you pleaded.

He leaned in, slammed both of his hands on the wall, caging you with his body “So you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy our kissing session?” he asked faking a pout, but clearly amused.

“I didn’t say that” you shyly admitted, looking away.

“Then why are you running away?” he whispered in your ear, his lips now dangerously close to your neck.

“Please understand my situation here, I still have to deal with my feelings” you said, trying to get your neurons to work.

“I know for sure I can get him out of your head and give you new feelings to think about” he whispered against your neck.

“Look, I’m not trying to fuck … I told you I acted impulsively, I’m sorry” you asserted. Your mouth said no but your body craved this man with every alive and dead cell.

“Hey, as much as I love sex, I’m not going to fuck with you if you’re not willing. What I’d really like to do, though, is to get to know you better. So, what’s your name” he asked, his tilted curious face looking at you.

“I … uh … Y/n” you sighed. You knew there was no point in faking a name. You would have forgotten about it anyway.

“Y/n ... I can see myself moaning your name”

“Shut up. Choso.” you said, trying to hide your fluster.

“I definitely can see you moaning my name” he added, with a smirk.

You could see yourself doing that too. Just thinking about it, sent tingling signals to your pussy.

“Can I get another kiss before going back to stage?” he asked with a demanding look on his face. He looked so adorable, with his pleading eyes and his slightly parted lips. He held your chin up with his hand, forcing you to look up to him.

That bastard … He wasn’t playing fairly …

“if you keep looking at me like that I might have to bring you home, and keep you all for myself” he whispered again in your neck.

You couldn’t speak. You were unable to focus on not acting impulsively again and trying to formulate long sentences. Your brain was in a total meltdown.

“Just so you know, I still plan to get my revenge and kiss you first, and when I do, you’re not getting out alive” he added, gently kissing your neck.

Silence.

“Please ... say something, you’re driving me crazy” he whispered, desperation lingering on his voice.

His hands slid on your back, pulling you closer to him.

“Fuck … baby … please … don’t give me the silence treatment …” he whined, holding you harder.

“Ok …just one peck” you sighed, finally making a decision. You had surrendered to this man’s desires.

You got on your tippy toes and gave him a 4-second peck on his soft lips. But no light brush of lips or polite peck was enough for Choso. As soon as your lips touched again, he kissed you back with everything he had, hungry for so much more.

“Hey! C’mon man, we need you back on stage. Sex time’s over” interrupted pink-haired guy busting the exit door open.

“Fuck off man” Choso growled between kisses, as you both slowly came to a stop.

“I want to see you again baby. Gimme somethin’ more than your name” he asked, visibly frustrated.

“How about you look for me here next Saturday at your concert?” you suggested, smirking unknowingly, your hands roaming on his broad chest.

“And when I catch you,” he said with a grin, “you'll see the things I’m going to do to you.” he finished, with a hard squeeze of your ass.

i hope you liked this story ❤️ don't hesitate to comment and reblog !

#jujutsu choso #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #sexy choso #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu fanart #jjk x reader #geto suguru #ryomen sukuna #jjk geto #jjk sukuna

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seikosas · 13 hours

Text

The house. | VI

pic from @/sevikasupremacy !!

synopsis: she never really thought what the both of you had would stay, so she decided to leave.

contains: angst, boxer!vi, piltie!reader, arcane universe, timeskip, possibly a pt.2 ???

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: inspired by the new trailer that just dropped (woooo!). Disclaimer this isn’t related entirely to the plot of the show, but it is in that universe. Also my first time doing angst so I hope you enjoy!!! not proofread btw.

“Don’t say you mean it, Please.”

Every punch she flew, and every hit she took, was a constant reminder of what she left burning to the ground. The only remainder being the smell of carbon, and what covered the memories, black soot.

Vi had never meant to fall in love with you. You were only supposed to give her information about what you witnessed, what you saw. And she just kept coming back to you for more information, then soon enough, it wasn't about the information anymore. She couldn't help it, she couldn’t stay away, she was like a moth to where you were a flame, but instead of burning her, your touch keeps her own light aflame.

The feeling was the same for you. Like the air you breathe, like the fire that keeps you warm, you need Vi’s presence in your life to be a constant. It didn't matter to you that you both came from different worlds. So what? That didn't matter to you.

But to Vi it did. Your light was the fire that kept her feeling warm and soft, but it was also the constant reminder that she was born in the dark. She thought she could never give you everything you need. She thought everything you needed was here. Everything you need is Piltover. It didn't help whatever situation you had both entangled yourselves in when she found out her mission was already over.

You followed her out to the pouring rain, to which she got angry at, and when you were gripping onto her wrists, she finally bursted,

“Get back inside!”

“No! You tell me why you're leaving me! What about us?”

Her back straightened, her face stiff as if her jaw could break like glass at how hard she was clenching it,

“What about us? That was nothing, we are nothing. You were just a source of information, nothing more.”

As if she already wasn't breaking your heart (and her own) into a thousand pieces, she added onto the fire,

“Oil and water. This is where your life is supposed to be, up here. Down there is where I belong.”

The rain was masking the fact that you were tearing up by everything she was saying,

“Please don't let go. Don't say you mean it, Please.”

If she had any trust in herself, she would've pulled you in closer, closing the distance between you two. She would've apologized, she would have never let you go, ever again.

But she didn't. So she dropped your hand, and left, leaving you on your knees under the cold rain, with the pain of the memory of the time you shared together.

—

“Oi, Vi. You're up next.” She was seated on a rusty bench when her sponsor came up to her to say that.

It had been years since that moment you both had shared in the rain.

And it had been years where that was all she could think about.

When she had come back to Zaun, that's when the routine started. Drink. Fight. Win. Drink. Party. Drink. Wake up with a ringing in her ears, and do it all again. From the moment it started, it became difficult to stop. A never ending loop.

It was funny, honestly. She did all of this to forget about you, but in every breath she took in, every drink she downed, every move she made, it only amplified the thought of you.

On this particular night, she had won again, per usual. So she does what she does every time she wins. Drink. And dance. Then drink again. Her friend had started telling her off again on how she needs to cool it down on the drinks, to which her only response was to weakly put up her middle finger in front of his face. He gave up. As he did every night. When she had started to feel dizzier than normal, she decided maybe it was time to get up.

She started wobbling all the way to the dance floor. When she reached the middle all of the sudden she fell to her knees, almost like her lower half was shutting down because of all of the abuse she had done to it. A few seconds after falling to the ground, a hand reaches out.

Like the hand of an angel. The strobe lights concealing the owner of the hands’ face. She normally would have shoo’d off anyones attempts to help her, but with the way the lights were dancing, the way her head was beating, her guard was lowered and she took the hand.

When she was finally able to take a look at the angel's face, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Was she hallucinating again? Her head was beating out her mind and she was starting to regret being this drunk, knowing she could have better comprehend this situation sober.

In this moment, the person had realized they never let go of her hand, so they tried to. But Vi was too quick. And she called out your name. “Please. Don't let me go.” She raises your hand to cup her face. You hadn't recognized her at first. Her hair once vibrant, now looking dull and covered in the shade of what seemed to be ashes. But looking at her eyes, and the tattoo near it, it was clear to you. It was her. Vi. Your Vi. Before she could speak anymore everything went blurry, then as she started to go down, everything went black.

---

She woke up with the sunlight invading her eyes. Wanting to avoid it, she turned her body to the other side where the sun wasn't. When she opened her eyes, her whole body jolted awake, backing away from what she's seeing and causing her to fall to the bed.

“I guess you're still running away from me,huh?” You mock, looking down at the tray filled with things to help her hangover, “Don't worry. I won't be here long. I'll leave you al-”

You get cut off by her, tangling herself to you from behind. With her eyes closed, holding onto you like everything that had happened before the present was just a bad dream she was waking up from.

“You can stay. Please, stay.” It wasn't a suggestion, it wasn't a demand, it was a plea. This was starting to feel abit too much for you, but regardless you stay holding onto her and turning to face her, knowing it's what she needs the most right now. “Okay.”

When it finally dawned on her you weren't just a hallucination that would leave once she stopped holding onto, she let go. You let out an exhale and it makes her a little bit embarrassed because it made her realize how hard she had been squeezing you. You sat down on the side of her bed, and she mimicked your movement. You were both staring in front of you, not daring to look at each other.

“How did you know where I live?” She was first to break silence,

“Your friend actually helped me get you to your house. I don't even know how he knew to trust me enough to take care of you. But he did.”

You lower your gaze to your hands you were fiddling with, a thing you used to always do. This made her eyes twinkle, knowing you had barely even changed. At least based on everything she had seen.

“I talked about you.”

“You did?”

“I do. You're all I ever think of.”

She thought maybe her confession would make you open up, would make you proud of her that she was finally ready. But you get up instead, pacing the room to get your things you had scattered throughout her room, and with this she follows you around the.

“I’m so sorry, Vi. I thought I was ready to do this again, but now I’m realizing now maybe I’m not.” You say it with such hurry if she wasn't hanging onto every word that came out of your mouth she wouldn't have caught it. But she did.

This makes her do the one thing she had always wished she had done in the first place. She comes closer, holding onto you. She makes her lips linger above your own, and you both stay there for such a short time, but each second was chipping away at your sanity.

When she finally pulled you in to close the distance, you pulled back. Widening the distance once again. She's confused as to why you pulled back, until she finally saw the expression on your face. The hues of blue, the shades of pain, the strokes of regret, painted none other than her.

What she had thought was a house that stayed the same and never changed, was filled with black soot, from the fire she had once ignited, the fire she had walked away from, burning the whole house on the inside.

She took a breath and closed her eyes to say something, but when she opened them she saw you shakily opening the door, and leaving her in her own home, standing alone.

Like deja vu, this was how she left you, and now this was how you were leaving her. Like a muse, recreating the creation of her artist.

All of this could have been avoided if she had just trusted herself that she was ready for you. Because now, you weren't ready for her.

#vi x reader #arcane #wlw angst #vi arcane #arcane fandom #lesbian #vi fanfic #angst #arcane fanction #i might make a part two who wants???#i kinda want a happy ending...

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sovonight · 2 days

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a radri-sarevok swap au but also xan is there:

xan:

refused the moonblade

tried to join the greycloaks and failed

exiled from evereska until he gets his act together (aka accepts the moonblade)

hopped from one adventuring party to another, offering his services as a wizard, but few could stand his company for very long

after he joins radri, she validates his choice to refuse the moonblade & further convinces him that the fact that he's not allowed back into evereska just for that is total bullshit. he cuts ties with his house & devotes himself to her

radri:

gorion raised sarevok, not her. she was eventually taken in by the iron throne for her aptitude in combat, and rose to the point where rieltar anchev came to view her as the daughter he never had

constantly felt out of place her whole life, and instead of turning it inward made it everyone else's problem

cuts (hacks at) her hair herself and keeps it shoulder length at most, and frequently wears a hood to conceal her ears

encountered xan during her work for the iron throne and rescued him from unemployment. 5 years later they've become inseparable

xan/radri:

they each believe the other has had such an unfair life and deserves so much better. they believe this to the point of prioritizing each other over almost anyone else

radri's first memory was of sharing minds with her mother & knowing without a doubt that her mother planned to kill her. she's avoided other elves & elven customs/interactions, and it took her a long time to consider even sharing reverie with xan

despite knowing that shes a bhaalspawn, radri doesn't care about the bhaalspawn prophecy. her motivation for being a boss battle for sarevok is that he's ruined the iron throne (and thus her comfortable livelihood). when radri dies, xan is devastated and loses the will to fight back; he's spared by sarevok's party and is still kneeling beside radri's scattered remains as they leave

in tob, radri is resurrected because sarevok thinks she could be a powerful ally in combat (and not for being a font of bhaalspawn knowledge, bc she isn't really one). she eventually seeks out xan and they go on being cringe and borderline evil together in the epilogue

somehow they went from this:

X, muttered, in elvish: You smell like a human.

R: I know elvish, jerk.

X: And yet you do all you can to pretend you are human, save for cut down your ears. Have you no pride?

R: So that I can look better in the eyes of elves like you? Don't you have a city to hole up in and pretend you're better than everyone else?

to this:

R, about to escalate a random tavern insult into a fight: What did you say?! I'll murder you, you little--

X, grabbing her arm to hold her back: Radri!

X, quietly to her: You have plans in a half hour, and you know how it pains you to arrive late. Allow me to handle it.

R: ... (sigh) Fine, have them rip each other apart.

(R turns away, X casts the spell, and screams are heard as they leave)

#xan x radri #radri would be such a disappointment of a villain she just doesn't have the ambition for it 😞

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bbernard-03 · 9 hours

Text

Begin Again

˚｡ ❀ ˚｡The Beginning˚｡ ❀ ˚｡

Summary: The weight of it all finally gets too much, and the decision is made, but will the kind words of a stranger be enough to shine a light into the blinding darkness?

Warnings: use of y/n, mentions of suicidal thoughts/suicide

thank you @bernardsbendystraws for proofreading and being the best <3

**i do not consent to my work being copied, used for inspiration, or republished**

prologue <- -> next part

----------

Two weeks ago, I was prepared to take my own life. The decision made, the plan in place, the letter… almost written. The plan was halted when a brown-haired, ocean-eyed stranger reminded me why life was worth living. Why my story was worth completing. Matt spent hours with me that night discussing everything from dreams and fears to thoughts and memories. He breathed life back into me, and I will never be able to repay him for that.

Today, I was walking down the streets of the small town I had escaped to, facing the daily challenge that Matt had so graciously deemed upon me: Do something for yourself. After much deliberation and argument, I walked towards an ice cream shop I used to love as a kid. The happy memories were plagued with the dark events in the years that followed. I paused as I approached the double doors, taking a shaky breath. I took out my phone and typed out a message.

Y/N:

I can’t do it.

I stared at the screen, watching the bubbles appear almost instantly in the bottom corner.

Matt:

Yes, you can. Remember, there are things worth living for. You’re working on finding them.

I sigh and gnaw at my bottom lip.

Y/N:

I’m trying. I really am. But I don’t think I can do this. It’s too much.

Matt:

Look up, sweetheart.

I lifted my eyes and saw Matt standing a few feet away with a comforting smile as he approached me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, his thumb gently caressing the bare skin.

“You can do this. You have to do something for yourself. Ice cream is a treat, right?” He asks softly, his words firm and encouraging.

“Yeah, ice cream’s a treat. I just..” My voice trails off as I stare at the ice cream parlor before me. “I just haven’t been here in a very long time.” My voice is soft, filled with nostalgia and a hint of pain.

“Do you want to try something else?” He offers gently. Despite my stubbornness and hesitations, in the past two weeks, he has never once lost his patience with me.

“No,” I say softly. “This used to be my favorite place.. This is for me.” I say with as much confidence as possible, which isn’t much. He smiles softly at me.

“Lead the way.”

I shakily grasp the door handle and pull it open, the familiar scent filling my nose as I step through the door, Matt following closely behind.

“Oh, our little Rainbow!” A voice exclaims from behind the counter. My head snapped up as I saw Belinda, the older woman who runs the shop.

“Mrs.B!” I exclaim happily as she rounds the counter and crushes me in a hug.

“It has been too long, my girl. You’re all grown up. Let me look at you!” She states and holds me at arm's length as she examines every part of me. “Your hair is longer.” She says softly.

“I decided to grow it out.” I smile softly. “It’s so good to see you, Mrs.B.”

“I love it; it suits you and makes you look like an adult.” She smiles widely and then notices Matt. “And who’s this?” She asks with a slight smirk on her face.

“This is Matt,” I say with a smile. “Just a friend, Mrs.B.” I giggle and turn to Matt. “She tends to romanticize everything.”

“I can’t help being in love with love!” She exclaims with faux dramatics. “You want your usual, Rainbow?” I can’t help but smile at the fact that she remembers my order despite it having been almost ten years since I’ve set foot in the shop.

“Yes, please, Mrs.B. One for Matt too,” I say sweetly.

Five minutes later, we’re both sitting at a small booth in the corner of the shop, sipping strawberry milkshakes. I hum lightly along with the music and glance around at the parlor. Nothing had changed in the last decade and it’s oddly comforting.

“What’re you thinking about, hm?” Matt asks, looking at me curiously.

“Just how much nothing has changed here. It’s.. comforting.” I smile softly at him.

“How often did you use to come here?” He questions gently.

“Every day, every summer.. Until I was 13.” I glance around again as if trying to memorize every detail.

“Why’d you stop?” His question, seemingly innocent, creates a heavy pit in my stomach.

“Mom and Dad got divorced that spring. Nobody was really up for family vacations after that.” I say quietly, omitting most of the details, unsure if it was for his or my benefit. Matt looked at me curiously, almost instantly knowing there was more to the story but choosing to pick his battles in breaking down my walls.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he spoke softly. “This seems like a very special place, especially to you.”

“It was.. Is.. This town, this shop, it was the focal point of my childhood. The happiest memories I have.” My voice was dripping with heartache as I recalled all the years spent here before my family crumbled to pieces.

Matt and I sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the visit. The only sound being the hum of the machine and occasional conversations between Mrs.B and customers. Despite the ache in my chest remembering the happy moments, I can’t help but feel a sliver of relief that I’m here. I’m making new memories, happy ones. I look at Matt, a small smile on my face. He was the reason I was here.

“What?” He asks with a soft chuckle. “Do I have something on my face?” He wipes around his mouth.

“No,” I giggle. “I.. I’m just.. I feel a little better than okay right now.” My words are met with Matt's bright smile.

“I am so glad, sweetheart.” He reaches across and squeezes my hand before pulling it back. He’s made sure to respect my personal space these past two weeks, never having physical contact with me more than necessary. Another fact on the list of why he’s the best person I’ve ever met.

“I’m grateful for you,” I say simply. He looks at me, and I can see the happiness on his face.

Once we finish our milkshakes, we begin the stroll back. The air swirling around us, the hint of saltiness from the ocean soothing every ache in my soul. I take in my surroundings inch by inch. A flower had bloomed more than it was yesterday, I saw a new face pass by us, a little girl hugged her Mom after getting a toy. Joy. A feeling I had almost forgotten existed.

This was where I was meant to be. I think.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #fresh love #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfic #bec💚

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wolfsteax · 9 hours

Text

Grief is such a weird feeling.

It's been 3 days since we had to put Smokey down and I still can't put a finger on what I'm feeling.

At times, the broken routine and absence are so loud. I'll go to put food in his dish or call him onto the couch and then flinch when I remember he's not there. I see him everywhere, and nowhere at all. He exists in empty spaces where I can't touch him and I start to cry. Suddenly, I feel the day we adopted him feel like yesterday. How could 5 years ever be enough? He was meant to die elderly on his favorite spot, body healthy and simply old. I crave what I didn't get to see. I mourn memories I didn't have. Not only are his places here empty, but all his places in the future are as well. The absence is screaming.

Sometimes, I feel it's already been years since he passed. It was this week it happened, but i feel like it was ages ago. I feel so far ahead with the pain becoming a dull ache. I almost feel I start to forget him, like feeling so far away has put me in a fog. I feel I've drifted so far away I'm able to fake cheerfulness riddled with guilt. It's like a mania, a twisted joy fueled by a constant hurt.

Then, I feel a bittersweet comfort. Smokey is all around me. I believe in his little spirit still being here, relaxing in the sun. I swear I see him at his food bowl out of the corner of my eye or sitting on the back of the couch. I have dreams of him laying on me, purring deeply and warming me. They're so vivid and tangible. We saw a cat-shaped cloud in the sky the day we said goodbye. It was there when he got home from the vet. It looked so happy on that cloud, a sign of peace. I feel a sad relief knowing we prevented a miserable death from his end-stage cancer. I feel his thanks and freedom all around the home, radiating off the places he would sleep.

Grief feels like the epitome of "will happen, happening, happened". I cry, laugh, hurt, and yearn. No matter what, my heart aches. I know it always will. I'm glad it always will. It's the mark of intense love. The deep scar of surrendering your heart to another soul.

I don't regret listening to Smokey's needs. I don't regret letting him fall asleep surrounded by us, before cardiac arrest took him. I would do it all over again, all 5 years, in every life. He was worth it. He will always be worth it.

I know I'll slowly accept what happened. It's just really hard and confusing right now.

So, I'll continue to walk the road. And, everyday, I'll put a bit of food in an empty dish. The one where a fat, grey cat sits purring. Unseen, but not absent.

#vent #tw animal death #tw pet death #dealing with grief #grief #grieving #tw grief #coping #grieving process #thoughts

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newwritergirl · 23 hours

Text

Starting over | Part 23

Masterlist

Summary: A special day for y/n is just around the corner and her boys are trying to make it the best she's ever had.

Trigger Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI,hurt and comfort, injuries, mention of past bad relationship, a tiny little bit steamy but not really smut

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: I took me soooo long to get this chapter out, work was crazy and I had so much to do that I didn't find the time to write. I'm not happy with this chapter, not at all. It's just a small filler but it has to be done. The next chapter is going to be smutty!

A warm nearly hot feeling is enveloping Jake's chest when he wakes up from his nap. Slowly coming to and getting more awareness of his surroundings he starts to feel a vibration beside him. No, no vibration but shivering. Memories of the previous events flood his mind, y/n giving her statement, exhausted from reliving the memories of Welsh's attack, his girlfriend being afraid that they don't believe her, him cuddling with her on the couch and finally falling asleep. He opens his eyes and sees the source of the vibration against his chest. Y/n is violently shivering, her teeth nearly chattering. Jake peels his hands away from the young woman's back and wander higher up until he rests one hand on her neck. She is burning up. The blonde aviator softly cups her face which is pressed against his chest and tilts her head back to get a look at her face. Beats of sweat had already formed on her forehead. Even not awake y/n looks like she is in distress, in pain during her sleep.

"Y/n? Hey sweet cupcake…" Jake strokes over flushed cheeks, trying to rouse her as softly from her nap as possible. He is greeted with a small moan which is immediately followed by a painful whimper when his girlfriend tries to pry open her tired eyes. The light which filters through the living room windows is way too bright for her head which seems like having a raging tornado inside. She fists Jake's shirt into her hands to distract herself from the pain radiating through her body.

"Hey my girl. Did you sleep well?" Jake asks in a loving voice admiring the beauty of his girlfriend even with sweat coating her forehead and her cheeks flushed from her fever. The blonde pilot places a cautious kiss on her lips. He would have never believed that he ever feels so much love for a woman let alone for Rooster. But here he is, madly in love with his roommate and friend and this wonderful woman in his arms.

He gets slightly concerned when he doesn't get a real answer from y/n, she must be feeling really bad.

"Your fever is back, y/n. I think you're ready for some more painkillers and something for that temperature of yours."

Bradley is brought out of his thoughts when he hears soft mumbling coming from the living room area. He just talked to Maverick over the phone who gave him some interesting information about both Fillon and Welsh.

He stands up from his seated position at their dining table and makes his way over to his partners, who are still huddled on the couch.

He crouches down beside the sofa cringing when his eyes land on the huge bruise on y/n's lower back where her, well his shirt, has ridden up. He exchange a concerned look with Jake who is already fully alert, cuddling their violently shaking girlfriend into his chest.

"Hey, welcome back." Bradley says before he kisses y/n head, inhaling her sweet scent. A soft 'Roo-y' can be heard but it's muffled by Jake's chest.

"What about you two, my sleepyheads, stand up now and I'm going to make us something to eat. You must be hungry." Bradley suggests while drawing patterns between y/n's shoulder blades.

---

Y/n was desperate for a shower, to rinse away the remaining memories of the disastrous interrogation she endured by the two Lieutenants of the military police. When the painkillers finally set in and took the edge away she gave Jake her best puppy dog eyes to convince him that she is fit enough to take a shower.

So here she is, clinging to Jake's wet body in the shower of the master bathroom. Droplets of lukewarm water cascading his muscular body. Goosebumps are littering her feverish body. The two conditions her boyfriends gave her were that she is not going to shower alone, which was no problem for her, she loves to shower with one or even better with both of the pilots, but the second condition is much more difficult for her. She has to take a nearly cold shower to help lowering her temperature. Even after taking her medication her body is still not able to fight the raging fever completely.

Two strong hands are massaging her scalp, washing her hair and soothing her headache. Y/n leans her body further into Jake's chest feeling his strong body deliciously close to hers.

"Baby, when you come any closer I can't restrain myself anymore." Jake chuckles into her ear, intensifying the goosebumps littering her body even more and now not because of the cold water but because she can feel Jake's member poking into her abdomen.

Butterflies are raging a storm in her body when she traces pattern on the blonde aviator's muscular chest while his fingers massaging the conditioner into her hair.

Y/n places soft kisses right above Jake's heart. She loves her two boyfriends unconditionally and this fact just manifests only more when she realizes how both take care of her without claiming something back from her.

"Gonna wash this out, it's getting a bit colder now, baby." Jake whispers into y/n's ear when he finishes massaging her scalp and before he starts to rinse her hair with the hand shower.

A small yelp tumbles out of y/n's mouth when more lukewarm water hits her head. She stumbles another step into Jake and his warmer Body, grabbing his hips to steady herself.

The cold water and the uncomfortableness is soon forgotten when she can feel his semi hard member now much better with no distance between them.

Jake looks down and is greeted with a mischievous but cute grin from his girlfriend.

When her right hand slowly wanders from its secure place on Jake's left hip right to his sensitive cock, Jake hisses and closes his eyes from arousal. But soon he catches the wandering hand placing it back on his chest.

"You feel that? You're going to be the death of me…" He chuckles while holding her hand in place to show her his rapidly beating heart. The blonde pilot takes her other hand and slowly lead it up to his face until his lips touching y/n's fingertips, slowly kissing all five digits of her left hand.

---

Enveloped in a fluffy and preheated bath towel Jake hoists y/n up onto the bathroom counter, a soft giggle escaping her when she drops her gaze on the small towel around Jake's hips. The small fabric clearly struggling to shield his still hard member from her prying eyes.

"I see you two had your fun?" Bradley asks in a playful strict tone when he steps into the master bathroom finding both his partners still not dressed.

When his gaze lands on the slightly flushed cheeks of the blonde aviator he is afraid that he too is sick now, that his cheeks are also flushed with fever. But soon he realized the real reason for Jake's bright red cheeks.

"This little vixen, too sick to help with the household, but fit enough to touch her nurse inappropriate." Jake says in playful banter, glad that both his partners are laughing, forgetting the stress of the previous days just for a small moment.

"Well, I can't blame her for that," the brunette softly laying his arm around y/n's smaller frame, "who doesn't want to touch a naked Jake Hangman Seresin?"

---

The following week was an up and down for y/n. There's still no sign of Welsh. Him being out there makes the young woman nervous. Is he out there watching them? Is he over the hills and long gone or is he coming back for revenge? Especially now that Lieutenant Fillon told the whole story he has with Welsh, y/n is certain that the psycho is going to make an appearance. The only question is when.

Her physical recovery is still taking slow. Some days she feels better than others. Over the last days she gained some more energy to even wander around in the house. On other days she feels like a train hit her. Even if she knows what side-effects her bruised kidney can cause such as pain, fever and blood in her urine, one night she was shocked to see the amount of blood in the toilet. She knew she didn't drink enough water that day and the amount of pain she was in during the trip to the toilet in the middle of the night made that very clear.

On shaky legs she finished her business but her strength was soon completely exchanged with excruciating pain spreading from her lower back into all fibers of her body. Sitting on the floor making herself as small as possible is how Bradley found her after he stared for several minutes at the rays of light from under the closed bathroom door which illuminated his bedroom.

His concerns only grew when more than ten minutes went by without any audible movement behind the closed door. So he tiptoed into the bathroom without waking Jake up and found their girlfriend in a concerning condition.

Y/n was more than ashamed that she once again disturbed one of her boyfriends' sleep.

Fortunately she was able to avoid a trip to the hospital and during the following days she got some of her energy back.

---

"Baby! Babygirl!...Y/N!" Jake softly stops his girlfriend from swirling her way further around the living room. It's two weeks since she has been released from the hospital into the care of her overprotective boyfriends. As much as she loves both of them after 14 days of them pampering her, she is bored out of her mind. So she made the decision to clean the living room, even if it was spotless thanks to Jake and Bradley, just to feel somewhat useful.

Y/n sneaks around the living area when both her partners are hitting the home gym, she finally could convince them that it is absolutely not necessary to keep her under observation 24/7, especially under the aspect that one of them will be back at work at the base rather than staying at home writing instructions for their recruits.

"I just wanted to tidy up the living room a bit." She says while Jake softly turns her smaller body around to face her completely. Tomorrow their friends, the whole Dagger Squad, are showing up, it's y/n's birthday and Natasha would've gone feral if either Jake or Bradley would've refused her to come and visit her friend. Y/n was able to convince both her boyfriends that they should invite their whole friend group. Because of her being injured Jake and Bradley are in great need to forget the stress for one moment and being with all their friends and colleagues will be the perfect arrangement, at least if you ask y/n.

Jake lowers his gaze to catch his girlfriend's sparkling eyes, a loving grin on his face.

"Cupcake, it's spotless in the living room. Heck, the house is spotless. Bradley and I did the whole cleaning yesterday, remember?"

"Just wanted to be helpful, useful. I feel like," the young woman looks down to the floor, the fluffy carpet in front of their sofa seems to be much more interesting as the man in front of her, "-feel like I'm useless. You two did so much for me. Not just after the- the incident, but in general. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/n lets out a long and frustrated breath.

Jake tilts her head up, softly stroking his pointer finger under her chin.

"Y/n, my love. You're the most important thing in our life. Don't you ever think that you have to pay us back." Y/n shrieks when suddenly the blonde aviator sweeps her up, his hands under her bum. The young woman embraces her legs around Jake's midsection while he searches for her plump lips.

---

Y/n feels a gentle tickling on the soft flesh of her neck. A warm hand strokes wisps of her silky hair out of the way. Soon she feels warm lips covering her neck in kisses a sweet 'happy birthday, Princess' is whispered into her ear. She smiles into her pillow, enjoying the morning cuddles of one of her boyfriends. She stretches one arm out but is greeted with a cold bedside. Jake seems to be long up, fortunately Bradley is still with her in bed. The young woman rolls over to greet the brunette pilot properly by placing her hands on his warm chest stealing a kiss from his delicious looking lips. She lets out a shy moan when his mustache tickles her upper lip.

"How did our birthday girl sleep?" Bradley mumbles against her slightly opened lips.

A shiver runs down her spine when she feels his arms tightening around her to bring her closer to his muscular body. She can feel his warm skin on hers, his muscles flexing when he starts to stroke his hands over her back, cautious not to touch her still prominent bruise.

The door to Bradley's bedroom, in which the three often sleep together, creaks open. Y/n breaks away from Bradley's lips to raise her head from the comfy pillow.

Like a Greek God Jake stands in the doorway. The bright light from the living area envelopes him like a halo. In his right hand he balances a small cake with a white silky looking cream sprinkled with colorful dots like small confetti, a single candle already lighted up. In his other hand he carries a suspicious looking turquoise gift bag.

The blonde bare chested aviator makes his way over to the empty side of the spacious bed, deposits the gift bag on the nightstand to secure the cake with the burning candle in both his hands when he crawls his way over to y/n.

"Happy Birthday, y/n!" Jake breathes out in a quiet voice, keeping the calm in the bedroom. The young woman sits up snuggling her back into the brunettes chest.

"Make a wish, Princess." Bradley whispers into y/n's ear, catching all her loose hair into his hand to help her lean forward towards the cute looking birthday cake.

---

She can't remember one birthday which was so filled with love and affection than this one today. More than a spiteful and hateful 'happy birthday' she has never gotten from Michael, her ex. When she is honest the most prominent memory of one of her birthday is five years ago. Michael was in an extraordinary bad mood this day and it only gotten worse when he found y/n in the small kitchen baking a cake for her colleagues at work. A small amount of flour was spread across on the kitchen tiles when the man entered the kitchen. It ended with y/n sporting a broken rib and painful burn on her hand when he forced her to get the cake out of the oven without any protection such as an oven mitt.

Today is entirely different, the three of them shared a big piece of cake while still cuddling in bed together, laughing and chatting the morning away.

A small tear is making its way down y/n's cheek, soon followed by more. A steady stream of salty tears drips into her lap when she stares at the present in her hand.

The cool material in her hand reflecting the rays of light which filter through the curtain. Y/n traces the heart shaped pendant with the pointer finger of her other hand. A small diamond framed with the well-known 'Return to Tiffany & Co." decorates the silvery material.

"Turn the heart around cupcake." Jake puts his under y/n's shaking one. Embedded on the backside she finds their three initials.

A load sob tumbles out of her mouth when she first looks into Jake's eyes and then turns around to look at the other pilot.

"This- this is too much…" She stumbles over her words. This the most expensive, most beautiful present she has ever gotten.

---

The light mood which spreads in every corner of their shared house is nearly physical palpable. Y/n never have thought that she would ever have such a fun birthday with friends and all the people she loves and more important people who love her. Phoenix brought a huge helium filled balloon and the guys each brought a nice bouquet of y/n's favorite flowers. Bradley was the designated chef, grilling burgers, steaks and vegetables for his friends.

After a very nice sunset which they all enjoyed watching on the cozy deck of the three's garden the cold wind picks up, creating a deep chill in y/n's bones, so that she was thankful when Jake suggested to go inside and huddle in the living room together.

This was the longest time the young woman was on up and about for nearly two weeks and she can already feel the exhaustion spreading through her body. But despite her feeling more and more drained she doesn't want to let the good time end. When she is sure that she can't stifle the next yawn she makes her way into the kitchen to start the dishwasher.

---

"I guess we should hit the road. Our birthday girl can't keep her eyes open any longer." Phoenix speaks in a hushed voice. She knows that y/n would never kick them out even in pain or being utterly exhausted. So one by one envelopes their friend in a tight hug, silently thanking God that she seems to be on her way to recovery.

"Thanks for coming. Seeing you all was the best present…"

---

"Okay Princess, time to hit the pillow." Bradley says while he envelopes his girlfriend in a tight hug, embracing her smaller body completely into his. Y/n looks up into the pilot's warm brown eyes, slowly stroking her pointer finger over his plump lips.

Feeling her soft finger dancing over his lips, Bradley can't stop the moan which tumbles out of his mouth. In a strong but nor painful grip he catches y/n's hand and lowers his head to place a kiss on his girlfriend's waiting lips. It's now y/n's turn to let out a shy moan when she feels another set of strong yet soft hands caressing her back.

"Making out without me?" The woman feels Jake's hot breath against the shell of her ear.

@djs8891

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@lyn-js

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#hangman x reader #new writer #rooster x reader #tgm #top gun fanfic #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun

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fanfic-writer-and-rambler · 19 hours

Text

Zatanna: Nightwing- God Damn! Oh boy, I forgot you wore that and looked like that!

Zatanna looks away seeing him in his suit.

Zatanna: Sorry, I've not seen you in a while and the only guy I've been around is Constantine.

Nightwing: Oh okay, understandable, but you called me.

Zatanna: Oh great heavens, right! I- I can't look at your physique and talk to you.

Zatanna turns the other way, looking at a billboard. She pulls out her phone and calls her father, Zatara.

Zatanna: Daddy, explain.

Zatara (sighing): She needs help with capturing a killer and you're the only one she wants to work with.

Nightwing: That's all? Sure.

Zatanna: Yes!

Zatara: One thing, Nightwing?

Nightwing: Yeah?

Zatara teleports himself into the area his daughter and Nightwing are in and grabs the man by the neck.

Zatara: If you do anything with her that is not apart of this mission, if you even kiss her hand, Batman will not be able to stop me from the punishment I will wreck upon you! I will turn you into the glob that was in "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream." Then I will turn you back with the memories of that pain. You understand me?

Nightwing (terrified): Crystal clear, sir. I won't do anything to her.

Zatanna (lamented): Oh man.

Nightwing: Zattie, not now.

Zatara: Don't call her that nickname or I will make you relive your worse memory and not the one you think it will be.

Nightwing (scared): Zatanna it is. I won't touch her or look at her, I promise.

Zatara: All right.

Zatara releases Nightwing and the man walks a few feet nervous.

Zatara: Sweetie, be safe and keep the mortal alive unless he attempts to have his way with you again, then contact me.

Zatanna: Daddy, I am a grown adult.

Zatara: That doesn't matter when it comes to the possibility of you being with a Wayne child.

Nightwing: I mean I'm not that bad.

Zatara: Did you forget what I just said!

Nightwing looks down at his feet.

Zatara: Good luck, Zattie.

Zatara kisses his daughter on the forehead and vanishes out of the area.

Zatanna: Dad's I swear. Nightwing, you ready?

Nightwing whimpers, laying on the ground scared.

Zatanna: Chill, daddy was kidding around.

Nightwing: He's never cursed a man by turning them into a faceless glob in constant pain?

Zatanna: ...Okay that guy cheated on me with my friend and he turned him back. The guy's in an insane asylum, but you're not that bad.

Nightwing: You're lucky we're at least friends.

Nightwing gave her a thumbs up still trying to analyze what just happened.

Zatanna: Eh, that's more a benefit for you and don't worry I got us two separate hotel rooms.

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rogueshadow1124 · 3 days

Text

HOMECOMING

[Simon 'ghost' Riley x reader]

Summary: after being away from home for over five months, simon comes home to find more than a surprise waiting for him.

Word count: 1630

Warnings: none.

The hum of helicopter blades faded into silence as Simon "Ghost" Riley stepped onto the tarmac. After five long months of covert missions, intense training, and countless sleepless nights, he was finally home. But as he looked around, a familiar ache settled in his chest. Home—what did that even mean anymore? The streets of his small town felt both comforting and foreign, and he found himself longing for the warmth of his wife, Y/N.

As he approached his modest home, the memories flooded back: laughter echoing through the hallways, quiet moments spent in each other's arms, and the promise they had made to wait for each other, no matter how long it took. The door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out, beckoning him inside.

With a deep breath, Simon pushed the door open. The scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with a hint of something sweet. He stepped into the living room, his heart pounding with anticipation. But as he moved toward the kitchen, he halted, his breath catching in his throat.

Y/N was there, her back turned to him, stirring something in a pot. Her hair cascaded down her back, and she wore one of his old sweatshirts. The sight of her made his heart swell. She turned at the sound of the door, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Simon?” Her voice trembled, a mix of joy and shock.

“Y/N,” he managed, taking a step forward. But before he could reach her, he noticed the small bundle cradled in her arms. Confusion surged through him as he stared at the baby boy, whose tiny features were a mix of both parents. “What…?” His voice trailed off, disbelief swirling in his mind.

“This is Adrian,” she said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Our son.”

The weight of her words crashed down on him like a tidal wave. “What? No, that’s impossible. I was gone for five months.” His heart raced, and panic began to set in. “How… how could this be?”

Y/N stepped closer, determination in her eyes. “I know this is a shock, but he’s yours, Simon. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted you to see him—to meet him.”

Simon shook his head, grappling with the reality of what she was saying. “I don’t believe you. How do I know he’s mine?”

Her expression shifted to one of hurt, but she remained calm. “I have the paternity test results,” she said, reaching for a nearby drawer. She retrieved an envelope, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it to him.

Simon opened the envelope, his heart pounding as he scanned the paper. The bold letters confirmed what he had never expected to read: Adrian Riley was his son. Yet disbelief still coursed through him. “This doesn’t make sense. I missed everything… How could you not tell me?”

Y/N’s face fell, a mixture of pain and understanding. “I wanted to wait until you were home. I didn’t want to burden you while you were out there, fighting for our safety. But I also didn’t want to be alone. When I found out I was pregnant, it changed everything for me.”

“But you could have waited!” Simon’s voice rose, the frustration bubbling over. “You could have told me. I needed to know!”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped closer, cradling Adrian protectively. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought you would want to focus on your mission without the added weight of this news.”

“Protecting me?” he repeated, his tone softening as he glanced at the baby. Adrian cooed, his little fingers reaching out, seemingly sensing the tension in the room. “This… this is too much.”

Y/N took a deep breath, steadiness returning to her voice. “I understand it’s overwhelming. But please, just hold him. You’ll see how real this is.”

Simon hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at him. “What if I’m not ready for this? What if I screw it up?”

She took another step forward, a mixture of love and desperation in her eyes. “You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together.”

Finally, he nodded, his heart pounding. Y/N gently placed Adrian into his arms. The weight of the child felt both foreign and familiar. As Simon looked down at the tiny face, a rush of emotion flooded him. Adrian had his dirty blonde hair and, if he squinted, he could see the resemblance in the shape of his jaw.

“This is… incredible,” Simon murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled, wiping her tears away. “He’s waiting for you, Simon. He needs you just as much as I do.”

As Simon cradled Adrian, he felt a connection begin to form, an undeniable bond that stretched beyond the confines of disbelief. But the doubts lingered like shadows in the corners of his mind. Could he truly be the father this child deserved?

The days that followed were a whirlwind of new experiences. Simon struggled to adjust to fatherhood, often caught off guard by the demands of a newborn. Y/N was patient and supportive, guiding him through the challenges of diaper changes, midnight feedings, and the overwhelming joy of witnessing Adrian’s milestones.

Yet, Simon’s past weighed heavily on him. He found himself haunted by memories of his time in combat, the horrors he had witnessed lingering at the edges of his mind. On particularly difficult nights, he would wake in a cold sweat, heart racing, fear gripping him. Y/N would soothe him back to sleep, her presence a comforting balm.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Simon sat in the nursery, rocking Adrian in his arms. The soft glow of the nightlight cast a warm hue across the room, and the baby’s gentle coos filled the air. As he looked down at Adrian, the realization of his role as a father began to settle into his bones. This was his mission now—protecting this child, nurturing him, and providing the love he had once feared he might not be able to give.

“Adrian,” he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right, like a missing piece finally falling into place. “You’re my son.”

Y/N appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. She watched him with a soft smile, her heart swelling at the sight of her husband bonding with their child. “You’re doing great, Simon,” she encouraged, stepping inside.

Simon looked up, meeting her gaze. “I want to be a good father. I want to be there for both of you.”

“You already are,” Y/N replied, her voice thick with emotion. “You just need to trust yourself.”

As the weeks turned into months, Simon found a rhythm. He immersed himself in the role of a father, and with each passing day, he became more attuned to Adrian’s needs. The baby’s laughter was a melody that played in his heart, a sound that lifted his spirits. He marveled at every tiny milestone, from the first time Adrian rolled over to the moment he began to crawl.

Yet, even amidst the joy, Simon still grappled with the weight of his past. Sometimes, in quiet moments, memories would rush back—flashbacks of chaos, gunfire, and loss. On those days, he struggled to shake the shadows, but Y/N remained his anchor, reminding him of the light that had returned to his life.

One evening, after putting Adrian to bed, Simon and Y/N sat on the porch, the stars twinkling above them. The air was crisp, filled with the scents of autumn leaves and the distant sound of laughter from neighbors. They shared stories, dreams, and fears, their connection deepening as they navigated this new chapter together.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Simon confessed, gazing at the sky. “I always imagined myself on missions, living in the shadows. But now…” He paused, looking at Y/N. “This feels right.”

Y/N smiled softly, reaching for his hand. “You fought for this, Simon. You earned this life, and you’re meant to be here.”

As they talked, Simon’s heart began to feel lighter. He realized that while his past would always be a part of him, it didn’t have to define his future. He could choose to embrace the love and joy that Adrian and Y/N brought into his life.

Days turned into months, and with each passing moment, the bond between Simon and Adrian grew stronger. They would spend afternoons in the park, Simon pushing the stroller while Y/N walked alongside them. Simon reveled in the way Adrian would giggle at the sound of birds chirping, his laughter infectious.

One sunny Saturday, as they were having a picnic in the backyard, Simon looked at his wife and son, his heart swelling with pride. Adrian was crawling toward a pile of leaves, reaching out with tiny hands, laughter bubbling from his lips.

“Look at him go,” Y/N said, her eyes shining. “He’s going to be trouble!”

Simon chuckled, feeling a sense of purpose he had never known. “Trouble is what I do best,” he replied, his voice playful. “But I’ll make sure to keep him in line.”

As Adrian explored the world around him, Simon felt a profound sense of gratitude. This was what he had fought for—not just the missions and the battles, but the life he was building with his family. Each moment was precious, a reminder of the resilience of love.

But the shadows of his past still lingered, sometimes creeping in during quiet moments. Simon knew he had to confront them if he wanted to fully embrace this new life. This was his home. His family. It was where he belonged all along.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod #x reader #x y/n #ghost #tf 141 #task force 141 #call of duty

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paddockletters · 11 hours

Text

chihiro | trent alexander-arnold

request:Can you please write something for Trent inspired by chihiro something angst when Trent becomes distant toward the reader (gf or wife ) and less attentive . But she still gives him all of her but soon realizes that it breaks her, and it breaks her more because he hasn't realized pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader summary: You find yourself in a heart-wrenching struggle as Trent pulls away, leaving you to question your worth. Despite your devotion, his distance shatters your spirit. As you confront the painful truth, a life-changing decision awaits, forcing you to choose between love and self-preservation. warnings: angst, gaslighting author's note: i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you liked it, ... Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I’ve been feeling it for a while now—the distance, the way Trent pulls away without even realizing it. At first, I thought it was just me being too sensitive, that maybe I was expecting too much. But as the days went on, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. He was no longer the person who used to look at me like I was his entire world. Now, it felt like I was just... there.

I remember the early days, the way he used to hold me so tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear. I’d catch him staring at me with that boyish smile of his, and he’d say, "What? Can’t I look at my girl?" I’d laugh and tell him he was ridiculous, but I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel seen, loved, important. That version of Trent feels like a distant memory now.

Now? Now he barely looks at me.

The other night, I tried to talk to him—really talk. I had been holding it in for too long, trying to give him space, hoping he’d notice on his own that something was wrong. But he didn’t. So, I brought it up, carefully, not wanting to start a fight.

"Trent," I said, sitting on the couch while he scrolled through his phone, "I feel like we’re not… us anymore."

He glanced up, brow furrowing for a moment before looking back at his screen. "What do you mean?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just… I miss you. I miss how we used to be. Lately, it feels like you’re a million miles away, even when you’re sitting right next to me."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I’ve been busy. You know that."

"I know, but…" I hesitated. "It’s more than that, Trent. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to fix it."

His response was so simple, so dismissive. "You’re overthinking it."

Overthinking it. That’s what he said. And maybe I was, but it didn’t change the fact that I felt like I was pouring everything I had into this relationship while he was barely giving me scraps in return.

I gave him a small, sad smile, hoping it would break through his detachment. "I’m not trying to push you away, I just want… I just want us to be close again."

Trent shifted uncomfortably, clearly not in the mood for a deep conversation. "We’re fine. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this."

The silence that followed his words was suffocating. I remember how my chest tightened, and I had to fight back the tears threatening to spill over. Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he see that I was breaking right in front of him?

There was a time he would come home, exhausted from training, and still find the energy to cuddle up with me on the couch, kissing my forehead, telling me about his day. I remember one evening after a tough match, he had pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me, and whispered, "You’re the best part of my day, you know that?"

But those days feel like they belong to a different lifetime now.

Another night, I cooked his favorite meal, hoping it would spark something between us—bring him back to me. He came home late, as usual, tired and distracted. He barely glanced at the dinner I’d spent hours preparing.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely looking at the table. He grabbed a plate and sat down, eyes glued to the TV, like I wasn’t even there.

I sat across from him, pushing my food around my plate, trying to find the courage to say something, but the words died in my throat. It wasn’t just that he was distant; it was like I had become invisible to him.

When did it get this bad? I wondered, feeling a heaviness in my chest. The love I had for him was still there, burning painfully bright, but it was slowly killing me to keep holding on when he wasn’t holding on to me.

And then came the night it all fell apart.

I couldn’t sleep. I had spent hours lying next to him, staring at the ceiling, my heart aching with the weight of everything left unsaid. I needed to say something, to make him understand, but I didn’t know how.

I slipped out of bed and went to the living room, sitting in the dark, hugging my knees to my chest. I must have been there for a while because, at some point, Trent came out, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you out here?" His voice was groggy, but there was no concern in it. Just exhaustion.

I looked up at him, tears already spilling down my cheeks. "I can’t do this anymore, Trent."

He frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"This." I gestured between us. "Us. Whatever this has become. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. I’m breaking, Trent, and you don’t even see it."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "What do you want me to say? I’m doing the best I can."

"But your best isn’t enough anymore," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I’ve given you everything—my love, my time, my heart—and I’m still left feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’m the only one fighting for us."

He sat down across from me, sighing heavily. "I don’t know what you want from me."

"I want you to care," I said, my voice breaking. "I want you to look at me the way you used to. I want to feel like I matter to you again."

There was a long silence. I stared at him, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to make me feel like I hadn’t lost him completely. But all he did was look away, rubbing his face in frustration.

And that was it. That was the moment I knew. He didn’t have it in him anymore, and I couldn’t keep pouring my love into someone who wasn’t willing to do the same.

"I love you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But I can’t keep hurting like this."

He looked at me, his eyes finally softening, but it was too late. "I don’t want to lose you."

I smiled sadly through my tears. "You already have."

That night, after Trent and I sat in silence, I knew it wasn’t just a phase. It wasn’t going to change overnight or even at all. The weight of it all was too much, and I didn’t know how to carry it anymore. My hands were shaking as I reached for my phone, scrolling through my contacts. I needed to talk to someone—someone who might understand.

My thumb hovered over my best friend's name, Jess. I hadn’t told her much about what had been going on, mainly because I didn’t want to admit how bad things were. But now, it was like the dam had broken, and I needed to get it all out.

I hit call.

She picked up after a couple of rings, her voice groggy. "Hey, what’s up? It’s late, everything okay?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady my voice. "Not really."

Her tone shifted instantly, becoming more alert. "What happened? Is it Trent?"

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. "Yeah. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Jess. It’s like I don’t exist to him. I love him so much, but I feel like I’m losing myself in the process of holding on to him."

There was a pause on the other end. Jess wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, but she also wasn’t the type to push unless I was ready.

"Has he said anything about how he feels? Have you guys talked?" she asked cautiously.

"We tried. Well, I tried. It’s like he doesn’t even see the problem. He keeps saying I’m overthinking it, that I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But it’s not nothing, Jess. It’s killing me."

There was another silence, and then she let out a deep sigh. "Babe, you deserve someone who sees you, who cares enough to put in the effort. I know you love him, but if he’s not giving you anything to hold on to, what are you supposed to do?"

I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I want to believe things will get better, but he’s so... distant. Like he’s already gone, and I’m the only one holding on."

Jess’s voice softened. "Have you thought about what would happen if you walked away?"

My breath caught in my throat. I had thought about it—many times. But actually doing it? The idea felt like ripping my own heart out. "Yeah. I’ve thought about it. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let him go."

“You are. You’re stronger than you think,” she said firmly. “But don’t make any decisions until you’re sure. Give it some time, see if he changes. But if he doesn’t... you deserve better, and you know that.”

The next day, I found myself dialing a number I hadn’t used in a while—Trent’s mom. She and I had always gotten along, and part of me wondered if she could help, if maybe she’d seen this side of him before.

"Hello?" Her warm, familiar voice answered, and for a moment, I felt a little less alone.

"Hey, it’s me," I said quietly.

"Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you?"

I hesitated, my voice catching in my throat. "Not great, to be honest."

She paused, clearly sensing the heaviness in my tone. "Is everything okay with you and Trent?"

I let out a shaky breath, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling over. "I don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost him. He’s been so distant, and I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t know what to do anymore."

She was silent for a moment, and then she sighed. "I’m so sorry, love. I’ve noticed he’s been a bit off lately, but I didn’t want to interfere. You know how he is—sometimes he gets so wrapped up in his own world that he doesn’t realize how it affects the people around him."

"Yeah," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "But I feel like I’m breaking, and he doesn’t even see it."

“Have you told him this? Really told him?” she asked gently.

"I tried. I told him how I felt, but he just brushes it off, like I’m overreacting."

There was a long pause before she spoke again, her voice soft. "I know he loves you. He may not show it the way you need right now, but I know he does. But if he’s not making you feel loved, if he’s not making you feel like you matter, you have to think about what’s best for you. You can’t keep giving and giving until there’s nothing left of yourself."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest because they were the truth I hadn’t wanted to face. I couldn’t keep pouring everything I had into Trent if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway.

"I don’t know what to do," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t keep living like this."

"No one can tell you what to do, love. Only you know what’s right for you. But whatever you decide, you deserve to be happy. Don’t settle for less than that."

That night, after talking to Trent’s mom, I lay in bed next to him, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. The silence between us was louder than ever, and for the first time, I wondered if this was how it was always going to be. If I was going to spend the rest of my life feeling like a ghost in my own relationship.

I thought back to the last time we’d had a real conversation—weeks ago, maybe more. I had asked for space, told him I needed some time to clear my head, to figure things out for myself. I had been so overwhelmed by everything then, but I thought that maybe stepping away, even for a little while, would make me feel better.

"I need to be alone for a bit," I had said quietly, standing in the doorway of our bedroom, my hand still gripping the edge of the doorframe.

He’d looked at me, his face unreadable, but nodded. "Take your time."

It had been a relief at first. I had gone for a long walk, let my thoughts run wild as I tried to make sense of what had been happening between us. I’d told myself that once I came back, we could figure things out, rebuild what had been crumbling.

But when I returned that night, the house had felt different. Colder. Like something essential had disappeared. And Trent… he wasn’t there in the way I needed him to be. Physically, yes, he was there. But emotionally, mentally? It was like he had already checked out. I had walked back into the same room, into the same life, but somehow, I was the one who felt lost.

Now, as I lay beside him, I could still feel that same emptiness between us. I rolled over, my back to him, blinking back tears as I whispered, "I miss you."

He didn’t respond. I don’t even think he heard me.

And that’s when I knew—I had taken a break, hoping to come back to something familiar, something that we could still fix. But instead, I had returned to someone who was already gone.

Weeks passed after that night. The silence between us only grew, consuming every corner of our relationship. I kept hoping—foolishly—that maybe something would change, that Trent would look at me the way he used to, or that he would finally notice the cracks that had been widening for months. But nothing came. No words, no apologies, no acknowledgment of the distance that had turned us from lovers into strangers.

One morning, I woke up and knew. It was like the weight of everything had finally sunk deep enough for me to let go. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep waiting for him to realize how much this was breaking me. So, I packed my things in silence. The room felt eerily calm, like it knew what was coming before I did.

Trent was at training, and for the first time, I was glad he wasn’t there. I didn’t have the strength to explain myself again, to beg for him to see me, to see us—the version of us that once existed. I left him a note on the bed, my hand trembling as I wrote the words that had been festering inside me for weeks.

"I can’t do this anymore. I gave you everything I had, but somewhere along the way, you stopped giving me anything back. I love you, Trent, but I love myself too much to keep breaking for someone who doesn’t even realize I’m shattered. Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

I walked out the door, my chest tight with pain, but for the first time in months, there was also a small sense of relief. I hadn’t felt this light in ages, even if it was paired with heartbreak. The hardest part was over. I was leaving.

"I guess this is it," I had said, my voice barely a whisper.

Now, weeks later, I sat in my new apartment, staring out the window as the city buzzed below. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe. The space around me was mine, filled with my own choices, my own life. But the ache in my chest was still there, lingering like a bruise that hadn’t quite healed.

It took time—too much time—but I finally realized something that had been staring me in the face all along. I had been waiting for him to notice me, to care enough to fight for us, but Trent had already made his choice. He’d been gone long before I ever walked out that door.

And now, after everything, I was the one who was finally gone. And for the first time in weeks, I realized… I wasn’t going to come back.

Then, one evening, while scrolling through my phone, I saw a text from a number I almost didn’t recognize anymore. It was Trent.

"I didn’t realize until now. You were gone, and I didn’t even notice. I’m sorry… for everything."

I stared at the message for a long time, feeling the tears pool in my eyes, but I didn’t reply. Because now, it was too late.

He had finally realized. But I was already gone.

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