#you have it down that old fight for survival

[ijustwannabecool]

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

[kittsuneriyu]

For a while I really wanted to make my own designs for a "role swap" AU.

The idea is that characters change roles, not in between, they change sides but still have their own unique quirks to hunt or survive.

007n7 basically goes insane after losing both Noli and c00lkidd, turning back into his old hacker persona, he decides to make his sorrow into everyone's problem. 007n7's actions are way more destructive and reckless, with nothing else to lose, why should he fear getting hurt or punished? This mentality is what pushes him further into keep living to make hell break lose.

Elliot is still a worker on Builder Brother's Pizza's, the best as always. But sometimes you never felt like making some jerk pay for his actions? That's Elliot's mindset, using his freetime to hunt down anyone that dared to mistreat him or other employees. Having a twisted kind of satisfaction on making "justice" with his own hands. Of course, he would never let it affect the Pizzaria's service.

Chance is a thrill seeker, to achive it he always took the most risky choices. It lead him into involving himself with some shady people. Now working as some hitman, Chance uses this title to coerce his targets into gambling with him in change of their mercy. But somehow Chance always wins either way.

The rest of the survivors aren't as elaborated as those three.

Noob is just some generic killer, the kind that looks like an average person but later shows themselves as some maniac.

Guest 1337 as stated on the drawing works like Fliqpy, genuinely feeling guilty for hurting someone, his flight or fight reaction really blinds him when something triggers him.

Two Time achived a very high connection with the spawn after a bunch of sacrifice's. One life in change of a extra one, this allows them to insta-heal a deadly injury an keep going, of course it doesn't comes without consequences. Each scar and rebirth disfigure's Two Time's form further and further.

Builderman alongside Telamon started an iron fist moderation, punishing and banning anyone that broke rules or defied their ideals.

Builderman didn't changed much design wise, glasses to only focus on their ideals, headsets to not hear their pleas or opinions and a hardhat to protection of course.

Telamon never gave up on his hatred, some still spilled over his creation but most of it still with him.

Dusekkar never agreed with this nonsense, and the two Admins didn't took it lightly, now Duse doesn't mind that much, afterall he doesn't have a thinkng mind at all anymore.

Taph would do anything for builderman, so they hopped along with the two Admin's, Taph happened to mess up a few times but now that they got the message they're not going to fail Builderman anymore.

And of course we have our survivors.

"Poor kidd there's something about us people never really liked." Not sure about what happened to c00lkidd for him to disappear. Up to you I guess.

1x a vessel for the admin's experiment, nothing but that. And when falling purposeless they felt anger, a powerful need for revenge. 1x and 2x never happened to become sepparated entities.

John Doe a mere moderator, only wanting to ensure that robloxia's problems were solved, too good for his own sake. This was his ruin.

Noli since the start aspired that one day he would reach out the starts, but now that he has them in hands theres no one left to share their glimmer with.

Guest 666 was just some rebel, a trouble maker as people say. Unable to properly speak without an account, but also unnable to be properly punished. Not sure how his relation with Noob could go.

Azure was, alongside his partner, one out of the most faithful ones of their cult. This feat led him and Two Time into a huge sacrificial rabbit hole. After being killed Azure turned his back to anything related to spawn or cults in general.

[dear-aubade]

Could you make a joel x reader smut where reader is picked up by Joel & Tess on a hunt one day and has been staying with them. After a while Tess notices Joel’s attraction to reader and gets jealous. Maybe reader & Tess get into a fight or Joel & Tess but either way it ends with reader underneath Joel😩Bonus points for age gap/innocence and dom!Joel

Heyyyy! Thank you so much for this ask, and I’m so sorry for the delay! Things have been crazy lately, I’m trying to get back into writing little by little :) Because this was getting a little long, I decided to turn it into two parts ♡ enjoy!

Useless Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

Summary: You were useless compared to what Joel and Tess could do. You were never allowed to sneak out of the QZ with them on supply runs, or even go with them to any dropoffs that were happening in the QZ. You argued a few times with Tess about it, but the moment Joel spoke up and told you you weren’t going, you’d drop the issue. You still didn’t know why they kept you around.

You weren’t supposed to be alive. Death had tried to come for you a long time ago, but unfortunately his plans were thwarted by a man named Joel Miller.

You don’t really ever remember having a home before now—or, not a traditional one, at least. The group you had previously been a part of was nomadic so you’d always been moving around and never stayed in the same place for more than a few weeks. You guys hadn’t had a specific destination in mind, you’d just sort of…wandered. It was pointless, and definitely stupid, but moving felt better than doing nothing. Part of you had still longed for some sort of stability, for some sort of permanence. At night you dreamt of a world where you’d have a garden with strawberries and carrots and a peach tree. Your house would have a wraparound porch. You’d paint your window shutters blue.

But that wasn’t possible in the world you lived in, so you always pushed those thoughts away and kept going.

Until that day.

Your group of wanderers had been staying in the abandoned city for about a week when the raiders came. It had been a quick job in the middle of the night—they’d killed half of your numbers before you’d even been fully awake. When lucidity had breached the wall of sleep in your mind, you grabbed your backpack and ran like a coward.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been shot until you’d gotten far enough away where you felt like you could breathe again and the adrenaline wore off. The bullet had lodged itself in your upper arm and within days it was a sweltering mess of infection. You’d taken refuge at the top of an old hotel and waited to die.

You didn’t really remember what had happened next, which was probably because of the delirium brought on by the fever. All you knew was that one day you were slouched against the peeling wallpaper, half-conscious, when you heard the voices. They’d been hushed, urgent, whispering back and forth to one another, and a short time later you were being lifted. Your head lolled against the man’s solid chest and you were out.

You’d woken up in Joel’s apartment a few days later, bullet wound cleaned and stitched up.

That had been two years ago.

“No.”

“Awe, please?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But I can help!”

“By doing what? Batting your lashes at any Clickers we come across?”

You huffed as you stared at Tess across the counter of your guys’ tiny kitchen. “I know how to use a gun.”

“Not while aiming at a moving target, you don’t.” Tess’ face was stonelike, lined with crevices around her eyes like carvings in marble. “You’re not coming. This supply run is a two-person job.”

“But—”

A deep voice from the corner of the room muttered your name. You turned to meet Joel’s gaze—he was sitting at the small wooden dining table staring at his hands, all callused from the hard labor required to survive in this new world. He looked up and the message in his eyes was clear: Leave it alone.

You looked down obediently and didn’t further the now-finished argument. You weren’t sure it had even really started.

When Joel and Tess allowed you to stay with them, you’d been surprised. You had expected for them to hand you over to FEDRA or kick you out after you were healed, or something of the sort. You didn’t expect for them to keep you around.

You still didn’t know why they did. You were useless compared to what Joel and Tess could do. You were never allowed to sneak out of the QZ with them on supply runs, or even go with them to any dropoffs that were happening in the QZ. You argued a few times with Tess about it, but the moment Joel spoke up and told you you weren’t going, you’d drop the issue.

That was another thing. Joel. That first week you’d been awake and recovering you had sort of had a permanent starry-eyed look to you and chastised yourself each time you got nervous around him, which was always. You’d only speak when spoken to, and when you did it was in a soft voice that didn’t match your roughed-up appearance. You’d thought that it would go away, that the only reason you were like this was because he’d been the one who had saved you. You’d thought the silly crush would have worn off eventually.

Oh how very wrong you were.

You were better about it now—you’d gotten more used to things. You didn’t talk quite so quiet anymore. You didn’t jump a little everytime he entered the room.

But your feelings lingered. There was still something that changed in you when you were around Joel. You couldn’t help but want to do what he said even if you disagreed with him sometimes. You weren’t sure why. Something about him appealed to a smaller, more primal part of your brain, filling you with need. You couldn’t count the number of times you had been in bed late at night with your knuckle in your mouth as you pleasured yourself thinking about him.

It wasn’t just a physical need, though. Sure, he was handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair, his thick biceps, his strong jaw. You remembered how he’d carried you out of the city in his unyielding arms with you resting against his solid torso. He’d lifted you so easily. A part of you ached to be held again, to be cared for.

You tried not to think about things like that. You knew he saw you as nothing more than a stupid, naive little girl.

“Glad we got that settled. Again,” Tess was saying, voice dripping with annoyance. She slid her gun into the waistband of her pants and looked at Joel. “Ready?”

He nodded and stood, then looked at you. “We’ll be back in about two days. Cover for us. Stay out of trouble. Don’t sign up for any labor jobs while we’re gone—”

“—and don’t be stupid,” you finished, knowing Joel’s little spiel by heart now. “I know.”

A muscle in his jaw feathered. “And make sure you eat while we’re gone.”

“Yes sir.”

You’d meant it as a joke—maybe even a bitter one—but then something flickered in Joel’s eyes and he stood there for a moment before nodding and heading out the door. Tess gave you a sideways glance before following. She shut the door behind her.

And then you were alone.

Your time in solitude wasn’t much different from you you lived when Tess and Joel were there. You organized your meager pantry. You took inventory of your supplies so you know what Joel and Tess took and so you could log whatever they brought back. You cleaned the gun Joel hadn’t taken.

The only thing you didn’t do was sign up for any of the jobs FEDRA had listed for people to uptake to earn ration cards. Joel didn’t like you doing things like that when he wasn’t around. Besides, he was always the one who picked for you, who said what you couldn’t and couldn’t do—he mostly had you write your name down for the more boring jobs like helping with the QZ’s main food supply inventory or distribution. You couldn’t remember Joel ever signing you up for any hard labor jobs.

Usually you might have been insulted that your role was essentially a glorified maid, but Joel had claimed your part was necessary. That was enough for you.

Currently you were attempting to slice a half-frozen loaf of bread you’d gotten from today’s ration pickup. FEDRA always froze rations when they could so that the food didn’t go bad as quickly, but usually by the time you were ready to use them they’d already been sitting in the pantry for a few days so they could defrost. However, you were completely out of bread now and you wanted a sandwich for dinner tonight, so you thought you’d try and slice off a couple pieces so they’d unfreeze quicker.

You wondered if you should slice off more so that dinner could be ready for Joel when he got back. And Tess, you quickly added in your mind. You weren’t sure exactly when they were going to return, but maybe it would be nice to have the bread thawed at least a little more by the time—

The knife slipped.

You dropped it with a yelp and it clattered to the floor right as ruby red blood started to bead on your skin where the blade had cut into you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you thought as tears pricked your eyes from the sting of it. You put pressure on it with a spare cloth and ran for the first aid cabinet, but hesitated when you saw the hydrogen peroxide.

You really did not want to deal with the extra pain that would bring right now, so you decided to just clean the cut with water and bandage it. It wasn’t deep enough you’d need stitches, but the knife had gotten you pretty good still.

A sigh escaped your lips. Tess was right. If you couldn’t even cut bread without hurting yourself, how were you ever supposed to be competent enough to use a gun against a Clicker correctly?

“—s half your age, Joel!”

You blinked your eyes open, brow creased in disorientation. Was that Tess’ voice? You yawned and looked out the window of your room to see that it was still dark outside, though the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of dawn.

“—s not like that.”

Joel’s voice had you wake up a little bit more. You removed the blanket from where it had been twisted around your legs and sat up in bed, now lucid enough to determine that Joel and Tess were out in the living room. When had they gotten back?

“Then tell me what it’s like.” Tess’ voice was like a blade to a whetstone.

Silence.

A scoff, then Tess continued. “Seriously? You’re not even going to try to defend yourself?”

“Can’t defend myself if I’ve done nothing wrong.” Joel’s words were muttered but intense. You could almost picture the muscle feathering in his jaw.

“Fine.” The single word was sharp. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Joel. Come find me when you’re ready to act like an adult.”

The sound of the front door opening and then slamming echoed even in the back room you were in.

You sat there for a few moments but didn’t hear any movement from Joel—not even a sigh or anything—so you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and crossed to peek out into the living room.

Joel was sitting on the couch, legs spread and arms folded as he stared off into space ahead of him, his jaw working ever so slightly. His backpack was on the floor near the couch, though Tess’ wasn’t. She must have taken it with her to…wherever she’d gone.

Your courage waned and you almost turned to head back into the room, but Joel’s head moved and his eyes fell on you, something changing in his expression.

“Hey,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up a bit. “Didn’t think you’d be awake already.”

Caught, you stepped into the room fully and gave a shrug. “I’m a light sleeper.” But then, who wasn’t these days?

Your words caused an uncomfortable silence to stretch between you both as you realized what it meant. He knew that you’d heard him and Tess, and you knew he knew.

“Where did Tess go?” Your voice was unsure.

“I don’t know.”

“Is she coming back?”

Joel sighed. “I don’t know. I…” He trailed off as his eyes caught on something near your hip. “What’s that?”

“What’s…?” You followed his gaze to the white bandage on your hand and you quickly hid it behind your back. “Oh it’s nothing, I was just being stupid—“

He stood. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I just…“ You left your sentence unfinished as he walked over to you and lifted your hand delicately in his large one, examining the bandage.

“You’re bleeding.”

You looked down to see a red spot seeping through. “Huh,” you said stupidly.

“Come on.” Without asking he gently took your wrist to pull you along to the kitchen. The tile was cold on your bare feet.

“Hop up on the counter.”

You frowned in confusion. “What are you—”

Joel’s hands landed on your ribcage and then he was lifting you up and back to sit you on the laminate. A gasp of surprise left your lips; that seemed to reach something inside Joel and he dropped his arms back to his sides. “Sorry,” he muttered, turning to open a cabinet near your head and extract the white box with a red cross on it.

“S’fine,” you whispered. You watched as he flipped the lid open and rummaged around.

“You clean it?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you. “With?”

“With water,” you mumbled. “Really, it’s fine. It’s not that—”

Your heart fell as he pulled the brown square bottle out and set it on the counter along with some more bandages. You were about to move to begin tending to your cut, but to your surprise Joel beat you to it. He lifted your wrist and started to peel back the bandage.

He was standing between your slightly-open legs, close enough so that he could work at a good angle. He was close enough where the scent of him invaded your senses and made you dizzy. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to him….ever.

Apart from when he’d carried you, of course, but you’d been half-unconscious at that point so you didn’t count it much.

“‘S gonna sting a bit,” he muttered. The cold press of the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cloth made you gasp. It bubbled and fizzed and bit into your skin, burrowing deep down into the cut.

You tried to blink your tears away discreetly, but one fell and streaked down your cheek. To your surprise, Joel didn’t say anything. All he did was hand a cloth to you without looking up from his work.

You let out a small surprised chuckle. “Thanks. Sorry.” You took the cloth with your free hand and dabbed at your eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” was all Joel said.

Despite what he said, you went on, voice slightly bitter. “Doubt Tess would appreciate seeing me cry over—”

“Don’t listen to what Tess says.” The tone in Joel’s voice signaled that the topic was dropped. He finished bandaging you, then stepped back and turned, headed for his room. “I’m gonna get some rest.”

And there he left you, sitting on the countertop with a newly-mended cut, utterly perplexed.

——

Stay tuned for Part 2!

[transformers-spike]

Hey hey, I don't know if you've already blessed us with this divine insight, but can you spare some crumbs of Knock Out and Breakdown with their squishy human going through their period? Mine hit like a truck yesterday and the cramps- THE CRAMPS

Ohhhh boyyyy

On a biological level, Knock Out is disgusted by it. Yes, it's fascinating how your body pushes out organ lining every month, but he's terrified of getting blood on his seats.

What starts off as repulsion turns into something akin to pity when he sees you spend the entire day rolled up in a ball of pain, fighting to survive, ignoring him as he pokes you. Yeah, it's amusing, but it gets old quickly

He more or less puts up with you wanting to rest on his frame (so warm...) or tosses you the equivalent of a heating pad when he's busy (either buffing, doing doctor stuff or racing)

If we go for a period kink interpretation, KO has to take a hard look at himself after he eats you out. He swears he won't ever do it again (cleaning his glossa and fuel tanks is a goddamn nightmare), but low and behold, like a spiraling alcoholic, he relapses

Even worse because he can actively sense your period (because it smells of metal - a very recognizable variant too) - it's funny (if not a little creepy) when he knows you have it before you do

Breakdown depends on when you get with him

pre-MECH BD tends to be a lot more empathetic (at least visibly) compared to post-MECH BD...

Still, your situation is yikes, and this really makes him sit down and think about what your body is capable of (no wonder you can take their spikes...)

He's pretty fine with the blood, so if KO is like "Ew" BD will be the one driving you places. Will also put you in his tits (he's got that opening for a reason) so you can be all nice and cozy and stop being so openly miserable

Also he's quite fine with eating you out during your period, it's just that KO gets pissed at him for messing up his fuel tanks... so he can't always do it

[drewsstars]

rafe cameron x reader — class reunion

chaos.

that’s really the only word that ever fit when it came to your high school years. not drama, not rivalry, not even hate, just chaos.

you and Rafe Cameron were like oil and water, if oil and water could talk shit and throw side eyes across the hallway. you weren’t enemies, not officially. but god, the tension was loud. the kind of loud that made people pick sides without realizing they’d picked. teachers, classmates, the random freshman who just wanted to survive algebra, they all felt it. a prank here, a rumor there, a glare that could slice through glass. it was stupid, immature, and if you were honest (which you’re not), a little intoxicating.

but that was twelve years ago.

you’re not that version of yourself anymore. not even close. now, you walk into the same gymnasium where you once failed PE on purpose, only this time, you’re wearing heels that cost more than your entire prom outfit and clothes tailored within an inch of its life. your name tag says your full name, not a nickname. people read it and nod like it means something.

it does.

the school looks smaller than you remember. the lighting’s too bright. the music’s trying too hard. old banners still hang like ghosts from the ceiling beams, and the punch still tastes like a dare. you tell a few stories, make people laugh, but the air starts to press in after a while, too many faces you almost remember. so you excuse yourself, say you need some air.

you slip out the side door like you’ve done a hundred times before. outside, you light a cigarette. it’s not a habit anymore, just a ritual. you exhale smoke

and then you hear it.

and for a second, just a second, you forget you're welcome. because there he is.

Rafe Cameron

he steps out his car like time never touched him, like this is still his kingdom. same smirk, same eyes, same everything, except maybe a little more grown, more weathered, but still so him it almost hurts.

he sees you, and that smirk deepens, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. you roll your eyes, muscle memory, but you're smiling. Jesus, you're actually smiling.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, smoke curling past your lips. he starts walking towards you.

"So… no hug?" he asks, voice smooth you exhale, letting the smoke blur the space between you.

"missed me that much, Cameron?." he doesn’t answer right away. he just looks at the cigarette between your fingers and smirks.

“you still smoke those cheap menthols?” he asks, voice just above a whisper, like the night isn’t ready for full volume yet.

you glance at the cigarette, lips twitching. “only on special occasions,” you say, blowing out smoke in a slow, practiced drag. “like regretting a high school reunion.”

he grins, slow and easy, like he’s remembering exactly who you were “i’m the regret?”

“always have been,” you reply, not even looking at him. but your voice is soft, no venom, no teeth.

he laughs under his breath, low and genuine. then he shifts, leaning fully against the brick. for a moment, nothing moves. no cars, no wind, not even you. just the sound of faraway bass and the soft hiss of your cigarette burning down.

“i didn’t think you’d come,” he says eventually, still not looking at you. “thought you’d be too busy running the world or whatever it is you do now.”

You raise an eyebrow, turning toward him “you know what i do?”

he shrugs, gaze still fixed somewhere out in the dark. “people talk.”

you take another drag. “and what do they say?”

This time, his eyes find yours. “that you got smart, got richer.”

you laugh. short, sharp, like it caught you off guard. “damn. they make it sound cleaner than it was.”

“isn’t it always?” he replies, a quiet kind of knowing in his voice that didn’t used to be there. you watch him for a beat, letting silence settle back in.

“what about you?” you ask, flicking ash to the cracked pavement. “last i heard, you were still trying to win fights that don’t exist.”

he doesn’t flinch, just smiles that crooked smile again. “yeah. took me a while to realize i was the only one throwing punches.”

“so what now?” you ask. “you sell houses?”

“and fix ‘em,” he says. “keeps my hands busy.” you snort. “never thought i’d hear rafe cameron talk about drywall.”

“never thought i’d hear you not insult me in the first five minutes.”

“give it time,” you mutter, flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under your heel. he laughs again, quiet and real. and god, it’s stupid how familiar that laugh still feels.

“you look good, by the way,” he says.

you roll your eyes, automatic, but the warmth spreads anyway. “don’t start.”

“i’m serious,” he says, softer now. “better than back then.”

“well, yeah,” you say, brushing nonexistent dust off your clothes. “back then, i was too busy trying to one up you.”

“same,” he admits. “honestly? it was kinda fun.”

you glance at him, brow raised. “kinda?”

he smiles, shrugs.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 5: War and Peace

Masterlist

Series masterlist

They were going to lose this battle.

He had just given Azriel the command to get out and fight when they came flying in. He knew sending his brother would destroy his wings, but he only knew that if he hadn’t let him, he would have gone anyway.

He had just commanded Azriel to take the northern flank and Cassian to take the southern one, when a warrior with mesmerising iridescent wings landed beside them. Above them thousands of warriors halted in the sky. After him came five more warriors. Two females and three males.

They walked carefully across and stopped beside Cassian in a comfortable distance.

“You’re Cassian,” the male said, and Cassian nodded. “Our General told us to talk to you about where you wanted us. We’re not trained in ground battle, but we’re good in the sky.”

Cassian looked carefully over at Rhys and Azriel, and it was first then Rhys noticed how intensely Azriel looked at the male speaking.

Rhys saw it then. The eyes colour and the shape of the nose.

Out of the other warriors, the two females also shared similar features.

“How many are you?”

“About 2500. The next group left a couple of minutes after us.”

Y/n always talked about her people as her family, he guessed that’s why he never realized just how big this family was. He should have understood that if she herself had 17 children, the rest of her people had many children as well.

2500 extra warriors on their sides. He didn’t dare to hope.

He also realized how far they must be from their territory and that most, if not all, hadn’t been outside in almost 450 years. However, they had come to help them.

How had their general managed that?

“And, you are?” Cassian asked the male. While both Rhys and Az knew about the people, Cassian still seemed hesitant.

“I’m Kyle, second in command.”

That was Y/n’s oldest child, Rhys realized. The one she had cried about when he turned 600 years. Her “baby”. He looked a lot like her. Both in his features and the way he carried himself.

“And your general? He decided to sit this one out?” Cassian again asked a little harshly. Cassian hated generals that didn’t take part in battle, but Kyle just shook his head.

“Do not think little off our general. She’s unable to fly, so she joined the ground forces,” he answered. A female general wasn’t usual in Prythian. Even though there was more and more of them, it was still rare.

Rhys was about to turn to ask Azriel if he knew who this general was, but his brother no longer stood where he was seconds ago.

And that’s when Rhys understood just who this female general was.

The relief still sat heavy in his body. They had all survived. All of them stood together in the tent to debrief. All of them were exhausted, but none of them were seriously hurt. Or at least not anymore. They had healed quickly.

Feyre stood close to his side, and he couldn’t wait for it all to calm down and for him to just spend some time holding her.

Then the doors of the tent flew open.

In walked first a tiny female with iridescent wings, she wore the same fighting leathers as the rest of her people had. In her arms she carried a bunch of wings. Broken, cut off wings that only meant that their carriers were dead. Rhys felt his heart fall deep. It was awful.

Behind the female walked Y/n and Rhys could hear Azriel’s breath catch.

Y/n didn’t wear the leathers the rest of her family wore, she carried an Illyrian leather jacket. A jacket that was so big, she had folded up the arms and had closed it with a belt around her waist instead of using the normal ties. It was a custom jacket with the space for seven siphons.

He glanced slowly at Azriel and realized he wore his old leathers. He must have somehow found Y/n and forced her to take his own leathers. Rhys didn’t know enough about Y/n, but he knew she was stubborn enough to not take the leathers his brother presented her. He could almost imagine Azriel trying to convince her not to fight.

“High Lord, High Lady” Y/n spoke and the female beside her bowed slightly. She still had not acknowledged Azriel.

“Thirty years in the same room and you failed to mention that you were the general.”

“I didn’t fail to tell you, I actively chose not to,” she answered, and Rhys felt the need to roll his eyes at her. He would never get to learn this female. “I present to you the wings of our fallen. If you cut a piece and lay it over the wound, it will heal. Grind a piece of a decent size to a powder and mix with water and the internal wounds will heal.”

The other female handed the wings to Feyre.

It was such an important gift. Rhys realized how painful it must be. How they had known all the fae that had lost their wings.

“Thank you. We understand the importance of your gift, but don’t you need them yourself?” Rhys asked. “Have you many harmed?”

“Our magic doesn’t work on ourselves, only our own wings work,” she explained, and Rhys found it mean. Why couldn’t they heal themselves? Why was losing a wing so groundbreaking and dangerous, for them not even be able to heal themselves. “Every life lost is one too many, but we’ve been lucky. We’ve given wings to all the courts. The ones with the most losses have gotten the most.”

Rhys nodded at her. He wondered if she had lost any of her own children or siblings, but it felt wrong to ask. Too personal after she had introduced the conversation in such a formal way.

“Sarah, you can leave now,” Y/n told the female standing beside her. Sarah was her second youngest. The one Azriel had found in the woods when she was only two. Y/n and Sarah didn’t really look alike at all. Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Y/n didn’t let her. “That’s an order Sarah.”

Sarah let out a sigh but did as her mother and general said.

The second she stepped out of the tent, Y/n made her way to Azriel. For each step she took, her wings glowed brighter and brighter. Rhys had never seen her wings as bright as when she stopped before him. He let an amused smile grow on his face.

“Spymaster.”

“General,” he answered with a nod towards the opening of the tent. “Little Sarah is not as little anymore.”

“Little Sarah is over 500 years,” Y/n answered, but after that her features softened. “Are you hurt?”

“Not beyond repair,” he answered just as softly. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair away from her face. A couple small bleeding wounds covered her face and the rest of her body. “You’re bleeding.”

“It will heal,” she answered plainly.

“In how long?” Azriel asked as his throat bobbed.

“A couple of days.” Azriel nodded at her answer. “Kyle is flying home with the rest of our family. I’m staying to make sure the wounded ones get home. I must go help them leave, but I’ll be back and explain later this evening.”

“You better be,” Azriel told her, and Rhys almost felt shivers down his spine from the iciness in his voice.

“I keep my promises, Spymaster,” she answered harshly.

“Oh, I know you do, General,” he spoke just as harshly.

Rhys thought back to what Azriel had told him. That Y/n had promised to protect him from danger. And that if any danger ever occurred, she would make sure it didn’t happen again.

She had kept that promise and sacrificed their love for one another.

Rhys didn’t know if it was romantic or toxic.

They gave each other a nod and Rhys was convinced Y/n was about to leave, but instead she closed the distance between them and kissed Azriel almost passionately.

Then, she walked away without another word. Azriel didn’t move after her, but his shadows did. It was almost unnatural to see Azriel without a single shadow.

“What was that?” Cassian was the first to speak.

Rhys was about to reach into Azriel’s mind and give him the rest of the night, or week, or month or year off, but he didn’t need too.

He saw the determination in his brother’s face, and it only took him three more seconds to run out the tent after her.

Rhys then felt the familiar feeling of his mate trying to get through his mental shield.

“Yes, Feyre darling,” he spoke knowingly.

“You have to tell me everything.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Azriel had ended up taking first a week and then an entire month off. Then, he had been in Velaris for a week, before he asked for another month off.

Rhys loved having his brother nearby, but he also loved that he and Y/n finally took some time for themselves to get to know each other again.

“I promise to do what I can to keep you safe,” Y/n had promised him in their wedding vows. Her way of keeping him safe, was staying away from him after he had gotten hurt, so that the bounty hunters didn’t hurt him again.

Azriel had willingly told him that, but other than that, Rhys had kept away. He had given them the privacy they needed and asked for.

He realized both Az and Y/n had a lot of trauma they needed to work through. Y/n had the world on her shoulders. She was not only the mother to so many, but also the general to all her people. He understood now that she worked to keep Azriel safe, because that was what she did. She protected her children and family, she protected all of her people and she needed to protect Azriel.

Azriel on the other hand needed something or someone of his own. He needed her stability or their relationship to be their own.

Their needs were very different, or at least Rhys would expect them to be, but neither one of them had spoken to him about it.

He knew too much to not be curious, but too little to understand what was going on.  

He also knew for a fact that Feyre, Cassian and Mor had asked Azriel to bring Y/n to family dinner, but that he never answered them when they did.

That was until a year after the war, when the two of them suddenly showed up.

After spending two full months together, they had gone back to “normal”. Which to them meant Azriel working normally and always taking a day or two extra on missions to be with her. Unless it was something urgent.

He didn’t speak about her. He didn’t talk about how they were doing, and Rhys knew better than to ask. He wouldn’t get an answer if he did.

“Hi,” Y/n spoke awkwardly and Azriel let out a snort at her. She mocked him back.

The rest of them had already started eating, but Azriel found chairs for both, and they sat down. None of them knew how to act. They sat in silence and just watched for a few seconds.

Y/n’s wings were glowing and lit up the room. It took all the other’s attention. Rhys was used to seeing the glow, but he had never seen it so vibrant. It made him happy to see. It was obvious that their relationship was doing okay. Azriel even rested a hand on her thigh.

He wore a ring.

They hadn’t been wearing rings before, or not that Rhys knew about. But now, both had rings on their fingers.

It was small but obvious: they were married and each other’s. Finally.

“I don’t think we have a vegetarian alternative ready,” Rhys spoke before Feyre could fill their places with food.

“That’s fine, we ate before we got here,” Y/n answered.

“Why be a vegetarian when there is so much good meat out there?” Cassian asked and the conversation started boldly. Y/n did great throughout the entire dinner. Both she and Azriel answered a few questions, but Rhys had made peace with the fact that they would never learn all there was to know about their relationship. It was something for them to keep to themselves.

Later in the evening, they had all moved to the living room for drinks and as Feyre and Mor started dancing, Y/n sat down next to Rhys.

“I think we were lucky,” she told him. “Lucky we had so many good people looking after us when we got out.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without them,” he answered and took a few moments to look at everyone. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I’ve never been happier,” she answered, and Rhys noticed how she watched only Azriel.

“Me neither,” he agreed as he looked at Feyre’s smile.

It had been a couple of years, and even though they didn’t hear much about it, Azriel was happily married. While Az attended every family dinner, Y/n only showed up once or twice a year. It was always unannounced, and she never ate the food.

 It was one time, they had all gotten together for dinner and waited for Azriel to arrive. He was a little late which was unusual.

“I need help,” Azriel said as he walked into the River House. “From all of you.”

It only took them seconds to stand up and be ready. It was Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cass, Mor and Amren.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asked.

“I don’t have time to explain, we have to go now,” he answered.

They became worried and Azriel showed the place they were going to Feyre and Rhys.

Azriel shadowwalked Cassian, while Feyre and Rhys winnowed Nesta, Mor and Amren.

They landed in a clearing in the Dawn Court filled with flowers of all kinds. However, he saw no tulips. It had gotten dark, but it was decorated with both lights and fireflies. However, that didn’t matter, because most of the light came from the wings of about 150 faeries that stood speaking.

“What’s going on?” Feyre asked Azriel. But he didn’t answer her.

“I need you two in the front,” he told Rhys and Cass.

 In the front was a beautiful house. A house that yelled “I’m the coziest place in Prythian.”

A house Rhys had seen in Y/n’s memories.

It was Azriel’s and Y/n’s home. It was the house that Y/n’s father, son and previous partner had built. However, Y/n and Azriel had made it into a home. Rhys could see details from both of them just from the exterior.

He could imagine Y/n in the garden and Azriel working on the house.

It felt correct for the two of them. If Rhys was going to imagine where they lived, it would be exactly like the house.

Az, Cass and he walked and stopped in front of all the people. The rest of their family stopped in the front as well, but a few meters away from them.

Opposite of them stood three females. Rhys recognized one of them as Sarah, Y/n’s daughter.

The second they stood still in the front, all the people stopped talking, and inn walked Y/n. She was walking arm in arm with a male. Rhys didn’t know who he was, but he looked familiar.

She carried a bouquet of white and orange roses.

Roses, not tulips.

“Are you getting married again?” he asked his brother, but Azriel could see nobody else than Y/n.

Y/n and the male stopped a couple steps in front of them. She wore an ordinary and cute dress, and her hair was filled with flowers.

“You could have told me your husband looks like a god,” the male loudly whispered to Y/n.

“I think I have, multiple times,” she told him back. “Now go to your own husband Sky, this one is mine.”

Rhys could almost see Azriel getting weak at the knees.

Sky was Y/n’s previous partner and the father to all her children. He smiled at all of them before he went to stand next to Kyle.

Then, Y/n took Azriel’s hand, and a priestess walked up behind them.

“We are here today to witness the vow renewal of Y/n and Azriel. Or, a second wedding, as the couple likes to call it.”

A small gasp went through the people and Rhys realized no one there knew what was going on. Had they told anyone at all?

“Love comes in many different forms. It comes in daring to leave one’s home to be with someone else. Love is protecting, but love is also daring to live through the danger. Love is knowing and relearning year after year after year.

“Y/n and Azriel met in the first war. The adventurous Sarah had started to fly and went exploring. Azriel had found her and made sure she found her way back to her mom unharmed. It then took 150 years for them to meet again. 150 years where Azriel’s shadows, without his knowing, always looked out for the female with the determined look and fantastic wings. When they first did meet again, it took them no less than 255 years to get married.”

A happy laughter went through the crowd.

Azriel and Y/n laughed too, but they were still only looking at each other.

“Y/n describes loving Azriel as not knowing if he’s coming home covered in his own or someone else’s blood. She also describes it as a safety net. She knows he will always be there for her and for that she is grateful. Her favourite thing is when he cooks, and she knows that he loves it even though he pretends not to.”

Rhys had never ever seen Azriel cook.

“Azriel describes loving Y/n as a new adventure every day. He describes it as not knowing if she is crying because someone died or because one of her children turned a year older. He also describes her as his stability. He knows that it doesn’t matter where and when, he can always come home to a home filled with flowers and a fresh, vegetarian meal on the stove. His favourite thing is when she sings when she thinks nobody is listening, but his shadows always dance a little extra when they hear her songs.”

Rhys saw multiple people crying. He saw what must be either Y/n’s mother or sister hugging Sky.

“It’s now time for your vows.”

Azriel picked up a note from his pocket.

“Y/n, you are the most stubborn and annoying female I have ever met,” he got interrupted by Y/n’s laugh. His shadows were swirling around both and them and he softened a little at the sound. “However, it has never been hard to love you. We have gone from strangers to friends to lovers to husband and wife and then back to strangers. The last couple of years getting to know us again has been the most amazing in my life and I can’t wait to keep going. You gave me another chance, both at life by healing me, but also at love. I’m in love will all of you and even though a know you know it, I will never stop saying that I’m the proudest to be your husband.”

Y/n didn’t have a note.

“Azriel, I have brought most of my closest family here today, both because I wanted them here, but also for them to be there to keep me in check. I previously vowed to keep you safe. It’s been a vow I’ve given to so many people in my life, I didn’t realize how different it would be giving it to you. I can’t keep you safe, Az, and I have learned that now. However, I can give you all the love and it’s my favourite thing. I love seeing your cute dimples and your shadows special dance. I know I will get scared again, I know I will mess up, and therefore I have my family here, so that they can kick me out of our territory when they need to. I love the life we have made, and I can’t wait for it to continue and continue and continue. I’m lucky in many ways, but I’m the luckiest when I get to be your wife.”

A tear fell from her eye, and it wasn’t only Rhys that got surprised that Y/n was crying about someone other than her children.

“You may now kiss your wife,” the priestess spoke, and Y/n closed the distance between her and Azriel.

The second their lips touched multiple people yelled “Ew!”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/n spoke and then she leaned back in to kiss Azriel again. It must have been Y/n’s children, Rhys realized.

The ceremony ended and everybody wanted to talk to the two of them. Azriel was bombarded with questions and even though Rhys expected Az to get overwhelmed, he did quite well.

“Come here,” a loud voice sounded, and Y/n got engulfed in a hug. “Good job, I never expected you to actually manage this.”

“It’s good to know you have such high expectations for me, mother,” she spoke back.

Her mother then let her go and quickly gave Azriel the same tight hug.

It kept going. Rhys got to meet Y/n’s children, friends, siblings, grandparents and grandchildren. He lost track after a while. He had counted 11 children though. Three had died earlier on, but there was three more that weren’t there. He hoped it was different reasons for them not to be there and that they hadn’t died.

“How many of them are there?” Feyre asked him after a while.

“Too many,” was his only answer.

All of them asked about Azriel. While Y/n had been to Velaris a couple of times, Azriel had never been inside their territory. Most of Y/n’s family hadn’t been outside their territory either, so most of them hadn’t met him.

While most of them stayed, some of Y/n’s family went back home. It seemed like it wasn’t for everyone to stay outside the safety barrier for such a long time.

“High lady, high lord,” a voice sounded beside them, and there stood Kyle.

“No need for the titles, we’re just Rhys and Feyre,” Feyre told him. He nodded in agreement.

“You’re Y/n’s oldest,” Rhys spoke next. “She told me about you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to thank you for keeping my mom safe. I know she thanked you, but I really wanted to thank you too. I don’t know what we would have done without her.”

“We saved each other. I wouldn’t have made it either if she wasn’t there.”

Their conversation stopped, when Y/n and Azriel stopped beside them.

“Thank you for coming,” Y/n told all three of them, but hugged only Kyle.

“You could’ve told us you were doing this! We don’t have a gift or anything,” Feyre told them.

“Pretending it was an hurt animal that needed help was smart though, you got everybody out quickly,” Kyle told Y/n. “But I would have liked to dress up a little more for my mother’s wedding.”

“Knowing takes the fun out of it,” Y/n answered. “We didn’t even know we were doing this until this morning. It was a surprise for all of us.”

They continued speaking, but Azriel didn’t really partake in the conversation. He only looked peacefully at his wife.

Rhys realized how long Azriel must have been longing for this. To be able to watch his wife, hold and hand and tell people about it.

Azriel looked the happiest he had ever seen him. His posture was soft and so was his gaze. He smiled and laughed throughout the entire evening.

They had prepared food. A lot of vegetarian dishes, but at the opposite side of the table, stood one lonely dish with meat. All of it tasted amazingly.

Y/n and Azriel kept to themselves for most of the evening. They danced and laughed and ate. Y/n danced once with Sky and once with Kyle, but other than that she stayed with by Azriel’s side.

Then the celebrations eventually stopped, and they went to say goodbye, Rhys noticed the flower in Azriel’s hair.

It was a rose given to him from Y/n.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Azriel kept that single rose forever.

Thank you so much for reading!

Taglist: @tele86 @mariahoedt @miadialila @fuckingsimp4azriel @bookandtealover @saltedcoffeescotch @brekkershadowsinger @scatteredstardustt @pablopascal @bravo-delta-eccho @meritxellao @grey-clowd @adventure-awaits13 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @chicken-fifi @helo1281917 @coeurdeveea @i-am-infinite @lindsayjoy444

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[dxrk-red]

✦︎ Toji x Reader Nobody else matters, right?

"I gave you a new start." "I didn't want anything to end in the first place."

Toji with a younger reader, Toji with a naive thing like you, yeah, sure. But what about Toji with an older reader? Young Toji, finally out of the Zenin clan, trying to fight for his life, struggling to make ends meet, and ending up sleeping on an empty stomach, giving baby Megumi the little hard-earned food he had. Life was hell after the passing of Toji's wife, literally. He himself was surprised as to how he was still alive with an adorable 3 year old toddler, who needed more nutrition to survive the hot summer nights. If things kept going like this, he was sure that the baby his wife left wouldn't make it, and neither would he. The world wasn't as kind as Toji taught Megumi to be. Sitting in the shelter of a convenience store, with no home to go to, no bed to rest in, Toji kept an eye on Megumi in his lap, who was about to doze off. Guilt brewed in Toji's chest as he thought of how well Megumi could do if it weren't for a deadbeat father like him. Maybe he should return the kid to the Zenin clan, or put him up for adoption. Exhaling deeply, Toji's green eyes lifted slightly to see a customer about to enter the convenience store. He looked down as a reflex, ashamed of his countenance, afraid that this stranger would show him either eyes of pity or suspicion. He should be used to it by now. Toji tugged Megumi closer, as if shielding him in his arms, just in case. "S'cuse me." A voice called, causing a dark shadow to be cast over the green-eyed man. At first, Toji ignored it, thinking it was for the shopkeeper inside the store. But the voice still pestered, with a hint of authority to it. "It's late. I believe you and that kid should head somewhere safer." How dare this person bother him, telling him about what he should do? Can't this idiot see and take a wild guess by Toji's state, that he had nowhere to go? Brows furrowed with annoyance, Toji snapped his neck up at- You. You, who stood in front of Toji, looking down at him with a neutral expression, but not in any way unkind. It was almost like concern. Your eyes held wisdom, your face laced with maturity, like you held a burden within you. You didn't look at him as if he were an outcast, a kidnapper, because most people asked him if Megumi was even his kid, or if he was being held hostage. "Do you have something to fill your stomach, boy?" You asked again, and this time your eyes flitted over to the little bundle with black hair in Toji's arms, too. Who were you even asking? Toji was not a boy; maybe it was for Megumi. But how could a sleeping child answer? It definitely was for Toji, and that made him bristle. Clearing his throat, Toji spoke up in a gruff voice, your gaze making him speak up. "No." That simple word made you nod and head into the convenience store. The hell? Stupid. Toji thought, clicking his tongue. What's the point of asking anyway if you were going to rub it in his face? People were truly cruel, absolutely relentless and insane. The audacity- "Here." "Oh." A dumbfounded Toji looked at your extended hand before he could go off at you. His eyes ran over the bags skeptically, as if the contents inside were poisoned by you.

Zenin's sure leave an impression. A bag of fruits. Bananas, apples, grapes, and carrots. And another one with packaged snacks, including milk, which won't spoil for long, with some cash. Was this for him? "Feed him well. You both need it. There's a hotel down the street, pretty cheap. You can stay there if you'd like." What the actual hell was going on? Unable to think clearly, Toji extended his arm without a thought as you kept the bags in his hand. Your lips turned upwards slightly, casting one last look towards Toji. "Stay safe out here." That's all. You left. And Toji was left to grab hold of a semblance, watching you disappear into the night. Someone left Toji food in the middle of the night. Someone was kind enough to include baby food in that bag, something nutritious instead of a packet of junk. Someone gave him directions for a place to stay. Someone cared for him.

The next time Toji saw you was a month later. He'd been doing better. The hotel you had suggested was hiring staff, and he just happened to be skilled enough to be a janitor. He slept with food in his stomach, on a comfortable mattress, comparatively more comfortable than that cardboard box he and Gumi lived in. Everyday without fail, he'd slip out and stand around the convenience store, waiting aimlessly for you. He didn't even know you, didn't know if you lived here, didn't know your name. He just wanted to see the person who pulled him out of his misery, even if he didn't have the funds to return the favour. His stubble was shaved, hair wasn't a mess, and baby gumi looked chubbier, hell, possibly even more adorable. Toji recognized you. You were back at the convenience store, buying yourself something, god knows what. But one thing that Toji knew was that he had to speak to you again. He had to know why you were so kind to him. And so with little Gumi in his arms, babbling about something, Toji stalked forward, throat tightening up. What was he going to say? 'Hello, thanks for donating to the homeless. You're my hero, and now my son is doing as well as the kids on daycare advertisement posters.' He truly felt like a little boy then. He stood behind you in the store's freezer aisle, trying to muster up the courage to say something, but you beat him to it. Your brows shot up as you looked at Toji, recognizing him. "It's you." You perked up, slightly surprised, but you maintained a controlled composure. Like you knew you were in charge. "Uh..." Toji tried to speak, coming off as rather rude than grateful. Megumi blankly stared up at you, tiny fingers grabbing onto Toji's shirt clumsily. Toji wasn't any better. He was too perplexed with what to say, looking bonkers. Though in a split second, he found his words. "Thanks for...that day." He spoke lowly, not used to this foreign compassion from a stranger. The look you gave like spoke volumes though. Something in Toji hoped you were proud of him, how far he's come. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're doing better."

You answered with a curt nod, waving at little baby Megumi as he looked up at you with big eyes while gnawing on his thumb. Oh, and that was it. You continued the conversation flawlessly, gentle voice bringing a sense of stability. Toji held onto that, letting you guide him. Which further led to you meeting up often, just so you could check up on Megumi with such tender fondness. Maybe even take the little boy to restaurants and parks, which Toji couldn't imagine affording. You three became closer over the year. It felt good to be spoiled, to sleep with a full stomach, to have someone take care of Megumi, to have a pillar of support, to know someone cared for him. Someone older. But did Toji care back for his new friend? He wasn't letting you take care of Megumi just so you could spend on them, right? Or was Toji Fushiguro trying to fill the void his wife left and leech onto someone who could provide, only to pull back once it had been fixed?

I'll work on PART 2 if it is requested, so do let me know. Constructive criticism is welcome with open arms, and so are requests or prompts. Hope you have a great day ahead. Thanks for reading.

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Collateral Hearts

Pairing: Captain John Price x oc

Summary: When a brutal attack targets a hospital, ex-military sniper Leah Price is forced out of hiding—and back into the world of covert warfare she left behind. Calling in the only contact she trusts, she crosses paths with her estranged husband, Captain John Price. As bullets fly and buried wounds resurface, Leah must decide if she’s ready to fight not just for survival—but for the man who once let her go.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/girl-of-many-fandoms/637872521571713024/girl-of-many-fandoms-masterlist-update-281223

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Leah Price hadn’t fired a weapon in five years.

Not since she and John split. Not since the endless nights filled with waiting, worrying, and watching him choose war over her. She’d buried that part of herself—alongside a gold ring, an old rifle case, and the name she no longer wore on her dog tags.

Now, she went by Leah Carter. Trauma nurse. Quiet. Efficient. Detached. A ghost with a stethoscope.

That was, until tonight.

The hospital had gone eerily silent. Not the sterile, tension-filled quiet she was used to—this was deathly. The power cut out first. Then came the static over the radios. And then—gunfire.

Controlled. Surgical. Too damn precise for a robbery or random violence.

Leah moved fast, ducking beneath the nurse’s station as shadows filled the hallway. Her mind recalibrated in seconds, training kicking in like a reflex. She reached for the supply closet and cracked it open, retrieving the trauma shears, a needle, and her old locker in the basement—an item she’d never thought she’d need again.

Her sniper knife.

A flash of memory burned through her as she wrapped her fingers around it. John’s voice, low and hoarse from a mission: “You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen, Leah. Deadlier than me. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She tucked the blade into her boot, heart steadying.

Someone was hunting her. Not the hospital. Her.

There’s only one person she could turn to for help.

And only one person might know where he was.

She yanked the emergency satellite phone she kept locked away for absolute emergencies. Dialed the one number no one else had.

“Laswell,” came the terse, alert voice.

“It’s Leah,” she said. “I need an exfil.”

There was a pause. Static. Then: “Holy hell. Leah—how the fu—Never mind. I’ve got you. I’ll ping a nearby team. Hold tight. Are you armed?”

Leah glanced at the knife, then at the unconscious security guard’s pistol she’d picked up.

“I am now.”

—————————————————

Somewhere in Eastern Europe, the 141 was midway through a debrief when Laswell’s voice broke through the comms.

“I’ve got a priority exfil request. Hospital in London’s under siege. You’re the closest. Civilian target—code classified. Captain, it’s related to you.”

Price’s head jerked up.

“What did you just say?” he growled.

“I said, this is connected to you, John.”

Gaz frowned. “Since when does Price have civvies callin’ for rescue?”

Soap chuckled. “What’d you do, Cap? Piss off an ex?”

Price’s silence said more than words.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Price ran a hand through his beard. “She wasn’t supposed to be in this world anymore.”

“Who?” Gaz pressed.

Price clenched his jaw. “My wife.”

“You’re married?!” Soap nearly choked.

“Estranged,” Price muttered. “And if she’s calling Laswell, it’s worse than we think.”

—————————————————-

Back at the hospital, Leah moved like a ghost through the halls—clearing rooms, tending to survivors when she could, but keeping her focus on survival. Her white scrubs were stained with blood—none of it hers. Yet.

She shot clean, crisp—three men down with stolen sidearms. Tactical gear, insignias stripped. Mercs, or worse.

She hacked into the hospital’s surveillance room, scanning for their breach points, mentally logging escape routes and supply caches. Her breath stayed calm. Her eyes, colder than ice.

She was no longer Nurse Carter.

She was Sergeant Leah Price again—callsign White Rabbit. The one that vanished in the snow before the shot even rang out.

———————————————

141 breached the perimeter 23 minutes after Laswell’s call. The hospital was a warzone. Bodies littered the halls. And at the center of it—

“There,” Ghost said, pointing to a figure crouched near the third floor stairwell, pistol raised.

“Civvie’s armed,” Gaz noted.

“No,” Price muttered, heart thundering. “That’s no civvie.”

He stepped forward, and Leah turned at the sound.

Her gun was up in a second. Then her breath caught.

“John?”

The world seemed to freeze. Fire alarms blared in the background. Glass shattered somewhere far away. But all Price could see was her—bloodied, bruised, still beautiful and alive.

“I thought you were done with this life,” he said hoarsely.

She holstered her weapon slowly. “I was. But they didn’t get the memo.”

“You look good,” he murmured.

She scoffed. “I look like hell.”

Soap, peeking in, whispered to Gaz, “Bloody hell. She’s got balls.”

Ghost snorted. “And she’s better with a sidearm.”

Leah eyed the men warily. “Your new crew?”

“They don’t know about you.”

“Clearly,” she said with a smirk. “Nice to meet you, boys. Thanks for the assist.”

“You had all the fun to yourself, we just got the ones you missed.” Gaz said, wiping the sweat that coated his forehead.

“No surprise there,” Price said dryly, stepping toward her. “We’re getting you out. You’re coming with us.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not until I know who sent them, they came for me.”

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Note: thanks for reading everyone. This is my first ever work for COD MW, let me know your thoughts as well as if you’d like to be tagged in future posts to follow Leah and John’s story.

[princessofghosts-posts]

Was thinking about how in ToA we got a bit more of a domestic feeling with CHB,something that I personally never felt much after the first ever book,before the plot kickstarted and,no matter how traumatizing it is,having the older campers teaching the new ones classes would be something else.

Apollo commented in the Hidden Oracle how some demigods were new and got brought at camp after the war (6 months is a lot of time after all–),while also pointing out that most of the old characters we know are away,trying to live their life,but come back periodically.

Now,image Clarisse teaching some fighting class in the arena to new demigods,and they are all a bit wary of her because they don't know her but some of her siblings do and they talked about her. And while the tension is high Clarisse isn't aware of it and start to shout,frustrated by their incapability of striking her down.

"Have you all gone soft?! At your ages I was battling a drakon with the blood of my enemies on my hands while trying to win a war! You need to do fucking better if you want to survive!" and everyone is just confused because they know a bit of the wars,but their acknowledge of them is only a surface type of level,so they have no idea of what the hell she is talking about and they are getting scared.

Some of them ask questions about them to the Stolls,only to find themselves more lost than never. "Ah,the war. Which one you talking about? The one where we tried to raid Manhattan's candy stores or the one where we put the mines on the wrong hill?" Wdym you guys tried to steal candies in the middle of a war to save the world? "Well,with all due respect,Percy was handle it quite well before the pig started flying".

Sometimes,when Will is in a good mood,he start talking about the one with the giants himself–usually Nico is always nearby and either nod at his words or clarifies some things. "You guys weren't there for that but basically the whole conflict was based on racism. You see,there was this anemic roman soldier guy that–" and while you are immersed in his story,you sometimes hear a quite voice that "I literally had to chase you to save you from people that were chasing you" and "Will,pretty sure I killed the guy,you don't need to act as if he is still alive" or "It was crazy–I never knew that the coach was actually a good flighter,especially after Albania".

When Drew complains about something during breakfast she tries to guilt-trip Chiron with "Remember when you left us to defend ourselves alone,before coming back at the last moment and helped us with your 'my little pony family'? Yeah,not so over that yet. This is way having the pavilion built in pink would be a better option than–" and you just stare in the fucking air because what the fuck???

When Rachel visit,and isn't locked in her cave trying to understand what's going on with her Oracle's powers,she muttered things about the wars that seems disconnected to everyone–expect people that were there at time. "Should have said to Annabeth to crash that stupid helicopter into my father's building" ; "Fuck being an Oracle,let me go back to my Ariadne roots in the Labyrinth" ; "I should have hit Kronos harder" ; "Should have hit Octavian when I still could if I knew this would have happened". Most of the time it's just frustration building up but every time she whisper something they collectively ignore it.

Nyssa will look at you dead in the eyes and– "My brother blew up" without fucking elaborating and walking away. And you are there horrified about it.

Percy and Annabeth don't really talk about the wars but they will gave you the details about the stupidest things ever. Wdym you jumped into the rivers,only to purify them from pollution,in the middle of a war? Wdym you spent half a day trying to active statues in all New York?? You went in Tartarus??

And it's just so funny because the new demigods will know some informations about the conflicts,but they weren't there to witness it all. The drop lore is insane here. I just know that Drew,Nico and Clarisse always talk about it,exaggerating it even,only to fuck with the new campers more.

[zeke-fanfucs]

Can you do Karmor slightly becoming like Albus (like having some of traits similar to Albus) but then Albus is like "no, you don't wanna be like me, whelp, trust me"?

Well.. sorry I half heartedly made this. I need a nap 💤

The Same Kind of Broken

The house was quiet, save for the hum of old power lines and the wind whispering through cracked windows. Everyone was asleep. Everyone but two.

Karmor sat on the back steps, eyes fixed on the red moons overhead. His hoodie was pulled over his head, sleeves bloody. Not his blood. Not this time.

His hands shook.

Not from fear.

From adrenaline.

From exhilaration.

It scared him.

Behind him, a door creaked. Heavy boots followed. A familiar weight dropped beside him, smelling like alcohol, sweat, and the kind of regret you can’t wash out.

Albus didn’t speak at first. He lit a smoke, the fire briefly illuminating his hollow eyes, then passed it to Karmor without looking.

Karmor took it.

Albus noticed. “You don’t smoke.”

Karmor shrugged.

A quiet passed between them. The kind you only share with someone who’s seen the same kind of hell and doesn’t ask for details.

“You hurt someone tonight,” Albus said, not a question.

Karmor nodded.

“Enjoy it?”

Silence.

Karmor’s jaw tightened. He hated how much he had. The way his pulse still buzzed from the fight, the way he hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t held back, the way he’d smiled when the other guy hit the ground and didn’t get up.

Albus sighed like it hurt. “Yeah. I know that look.”

Karmor turned slightly, eyes narrow. He scribbled on the notepad he kept in his coat.

You do it all the time.

Albus laughed. Bitter. Dry. “Yeah, kid. I do.”

He took the smoke back and stared into the dirt.

“You know what’s funny?” Albus murmured. “You grow up with people beatin’ the worth outta you, convincing you you’re a tool, a weapon, a waste. Eventually, you stop cryin’ when they hurt you. Then one day, you realize you stopped cryin’ when you hurt them.”

Karmor looked away.

“Felt powerful at first. Like I finally had somethin’ over ‘em. Like if I couldn’t be loved, I could at least be feared.” Albus chuckled darkly. “Turns out that don’t fix nothin’. You just end up scarin’ the people who might’ve loved you anyway.”

Karmor’s hands clenched.

Maybe it’s easier this way.

Albus glanced at the pad, then snatched it out of Karmor’s grip and ripped it in half.

Karmor flinched, eyes wide.

“No. Don’t do that, whelp.” Albus’s voice cracked. “Don’t you dare start thinkin’ like me.”

Karmor looked at him, lips trembling, throat burning from words that wouldn’t come.

“I ruined every damn good thing in my life,” Albus growled, eyes wet and distant. “Faith. Dev. Hipswitch. They put up with me outta pity or debt or stubbornness. Not ‘cause I earned it. I don’t want that for you.”

Karmor finally wrote again. Hands shaking.

But you protect people. You survive

Albus exhaled. It sounded like he was choking on glass.

“I survive, yeah. But I ain’t alive, kid. Not where it counts.” He tapped his chest. “In here? It’s all ashes. You still got embers. Still got somethin’ warm left. Don’t snuff it out tryin’ to be like me.”

Karmor looked down, a single tear trailing across his cheekbone.

L

Albus, for the first time in years, reached out.

He pulled the mute boy into his chest with a one-armed hug—rough and awkward and so damn needed.

Karmor shook against him, finally breaking. The sobs were silent, but they hit like earthquakes. His nails dug into Albus’s jacket, clinging to something solid, something flawed but real.

“I got you, whelp,” Albus whispered, voice hoarse. “Even if you hate yourself tomorrow, I still got you. Don’t lose the parts that make you kind just ‘cause the world don’t deserve ‘em.”

They sat there until the moons dipped behind the hills, and the sky started to soften.

Two broken things, sharing warmth in the ruins.

[ad-astra-per-aspera-1389]

Alright, I'm debating whether to even put this on ao3, since its only around 600 words, however I am going to post it here. Bucky and Yelena friendship, and yeah some of it is similar to Yelena and Alexei's conversation in the movie, but it's not exact bc my memory isn't that great. It is by no means the best thing ever written, but I was possessed to write this at 11am on a monday, and I just started typing. edited as I went, set during those 14 months we don't see.

So Many

No warnings apply.

Bucky Barnes & Yelena Belova

Summary:

Bucky and Yelena have a conversation about the past, regrets, and how to cope.

Bucky banged on the bathroom door.

“What do you want?” shouted Yelena. “There are four other bathrooms on this floor. Use one of those!” Even through her angry shouting she sounded a little choked up.

“Already did,” Bucky shouted back. “It’s been two hours and that bathroom doesn’t have a shower. We’re worried about you, so let me in or I’m picking the lock.”

“Ugh.” Yelena said nothing else, but Bucky heard the click of the door unlocking, followed by a thump that indicated Yelena sat right back down.

He opened the door. Yelena sat against the sink on the floor. A bottle of vodka sat unopened against a wall where Yelena couldn’t reach it. She didn’t try to remove the evidence of tears, instead just scowling up at Bucky when he entered.

Bucky didn’t know what to say, really. He’d never been great at all the emotional stuff, fighting therapy until he couldn’t anymore. So, he just sat on the floor next to Yelena, leaving enough space in between them to avoid crowding her.

“At least close the door.”

“I’m not locking it this time.”

No response. Bucky stood up and closed the door. He sat back down.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Yelena heaved a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know. Old routines are difficult to break. I fight, I think about all of the horrible things I’ve done, and I drink. And then I think some more.”

“We’ve all done horrible things—”

“I have so many though.”

“So do I. Neither of us had a choice, Yelena.”

She looked over at him. “I remember all of them. I killed so many people…”

“Me, too. I did all of those things. It wasn’t someone else controlling me. They scrambled my memory until I thought I was doing the right thing. For fifty years. But who I am—who I’ve always been—was such a permanent part of me that just seeing Steve’s face got me to remember. It never went away, just like who you are never went away.”

Yelena was silent for a moment. “They used chemicals to keep our minds under their control. They killed anyone who didn’t comply.”

Bucky nodded. “Disobeying only meant more pain. You did what you had to to survive. So did I. It was horrible, I know, but I know that neither of us would have done those things if we had the choice not to.”

“I know. It never goes away, does it?”

“Not completely. I went to therapy for a while.”

“Did that help?”

“Oh, no. My therapist sucked.”

Yelena, laughed a little.

“What really helped was having people around me that made me want to stay alive. Once you make enough new, better memories, the old ones get easier to handle. They don’t go away, but you learn to live with them.”

“You had Sam.”

“I do, yeah.”

“Who do I have, Bucky? My dad?”

“You have all of us. Your dad, the others, and me. You’re not alone. None of us are.”

The tears were back. Yelena leaned her head back against the cabinet. Bucky sighed and stood up, holding out his hand.

“Come on. I’m too old to sit like that for much longer.”

Yelena laughed through her tears. Bucky’s age was a common topic of ridicule in the tower. She took Bucky’s hand, and he helped her up. She stuffed her hands in her pockets once she was steady. The two walked over to the common area, where the rest of the team (with the exception of John, who was hiding it) were relieved to see Yelena was back.

[twentyonefirstmates]

Anyway oldies station is the most beautiful song ever written sorry I don't make the rules

[otp-more-like-killmeplease]

[midnightwind]

I love Dragon Age companion quests, but sometimes I wish we had more that didn't culminate in fighting a Big Personal Bad, you know

[shadafaml]

🚨 Help Save Shada’s Family and Baby Adam! 🚨

My name is Shada Kassab, and I am a 24-year-old mother living in Gaza. Every day is a fight for survival for me, my husband Hussein, and our baby boy Adam, who is just five months old.

Our lives have been turned upside down by war. My home has been reduced to rubble, and my husband lost his water truck, which was our only source of income. We’ve been forced to evacuate twice—from Deir el Balah to the Nuseirat camp—and now, we live in constant fear of what the future holds.

To make matters worse, Adam was born with clubfoot and urgently needs surgery. The cost for his treatment and specialized medical boots is at least $3000, but this surgery isn’t even possible in Gaza.

I recently graduated as a nurse, and I dream of building a better life for my family. But to do that, we must leave Gaza and start over in safety.

💔 I need your help to save my family and give Adam a future. Even a small donation 5$ can bring us closer to safety, and if you can’t donate, sharing our story means the world to us.

I dream of living in safety, of seeing Adam grow up healthy, and of building a better life for us all. Please don’t give up on us. Your kindness can make all the difference.

❤️ Thank you for taking the time to read this. Your support and compassion give us strength to keep going.

[virtuousvigil]

having Many Feelings

i feel really overwhelmed by life right now. things are good but it's hard to fight the part of me that's just fucked up and traumatized and believes that "everything that's too good it too good to be true and will be ruined". and of course i know happiness is fleeting and fickle and it won't ever be permanent, and of course i know realistically i'm not even completely happy right now and nothing is "too good to be true" it's just "good" and i'm just unfamiliar with that, and of course i know thinking that rhetoric only makes it a self-fulfilling prophecy and it isn't true. but still, i feel restless, and confused, and a whole lot of longing for the path i want to be on versus the path i'm finding myself on.

i know there is no one set path or way to be, or create, or to find success and a career. but watching my professional life unfold again in the way it is after having to step away for so long, and dealing with so much utter bullshit in the last 10 years, and finally seeing my worth being realized and reflected not just from myself but from those around me ESPECIALLY in a professional setting is just. throwing me for such a big loop right now. i want to cry in a good way but also in a "fuck, fuck fuck fuck what if i fuck this up" way. but it's opening up an entire different world to me: one where i am truly able to step into stability and structure. where i can afford to live, at least better than i do now. one where i'm confident, where i'm careful with what i say and where i spend my time but still able to be compassionate and charitable. where i can take a fucking breath finally and feel like i'm actually contributing to those who have helped take care of me/those in need around me in a materialistic way and not just through action and words. hope of stepping back into the person i was that i did love, into the power i had that i lost, in my voice, into the hope and joy i once felt about life and love and myself. stepping back into creation, into source, into self.

it's weird. and it's complex holding space for feelings that are this conflicting. i am fucking terrified of what's going on, of pursuing this, of the depth of my feelings, of what it all does or doesn't mean and what may or may not change and how that change will affect me. but at the same time: i'm so thankful, so excited, so ready to see what's on the other side of all this. so glad i've stayed in this life, that i got the chances i did, so glad of what left me and what i left behind, so glad i chose again and again even at my weakest and lowest to stay, to draw strength from something, somehow, and to admit my shortcomings vulnerabilities. to allow myself to be held and supported and loved and seen through it. to believe that i am worthy of it even in spite of all those screaming at me that i am not, through word or action, through abuse and neglect and hate.

my brain is also just... loud, the last few months. this year feels like everything and anything is possible and yet at the same time? i feel like i'm being so held back, so confined. what i want is on the edge of my fingertips but i can't grasp it yet. every new experience and new realization feels disorienting, disarming, and i'm trying to remind myself that it's okay to give something an earnest effort and still not like where that effort leads you. it's okay to be scared and vulnerability doesn't have to be dangerous anymore. it's time for me to use it as the power that i know it is for me. that vulnerability, that openness, that honesty and willingness to sit down and reflect and analyze and reassess is what's kept me alive, what makes me strong, resillient.

i know what i'm doing. i know what i'm capable of. and i know what i want. it's okay if not everyone likes or understands it but it doesn't mean i have to change or ignore what i know, what i want, what is right for me. it's just... hard to maintain that balance internally right now, hard to not get sucked into the pitfalls of thought and fear and what if's and but's and and's. hard to pull away from what i was taught to be, told to be, what i think i have to be. complex trauma is just so fucking weird. and i hate how it shows up so loudly when things are going so well, when big changes happen, when i just want to focus on what needs to be done and what's in front of me. i'm trying to remind myself that the point now isn't for things to slow down, but for things to charge up, and that doesn't always mean a disaster or catastrophe, sometimes that's just because a lot of manifestations and positive changes are coming in at once.

overwhelmed doesn't inherently equate to danger anymore. but it's hard to recognize that in my body still, i guess.