#and I decided to try and see if I could do enough damage normally so I didn’t fail the fight

[sunwoniie]

REVENGE

Pairing: idol!virgin!soft dom!Jay x idol!virgin!brat!Isabella (latina character from the ovulation series)

Synopsis: lately, Isabella has been ignoring jay, who's being used to her teasing and pranking him until he's fuming from anger. However, when he finally knows why she's been ignoring him, he uses that to his advantage to get revenge.

Warnings: virgin jay and isa, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (pulling out before coming), bathroom sex

(isabella is the new haera for those who might get confused)

English is not my first language

Masterlist of the ovulation series

I started to be familiar with cold showers lately. Cold showers are known to be good for the health but I'm not doing it for these reasons. cold showers are also used to calm people who are horny and can’t satisfy themselves. Like me right now. 

I'm ovulating and I'm getting crazy; I'm horny as fuck that I might call an escort just to finally fuck.  

My ovulation periods were always that wild and it got wilder when I started to practically live with hot boys. But I have a fixation on jay, and I don’t even know when it started. 

He and I always have this bickering relationship, I don’t hate him I just love to annoy him and see that anger look on his face. Pranks and teasing are my specialty for him, it’s just so funny to see him getting red from anger after a prank as he spots me on the corner of his eyes laughing so hard that my belly hurt before he yells my names and starts to chase after me. But running while laughing is so hard so it’s always easy for him to catch me and pin me down on whatever is at his disposal, floor or wall, to tickle me until I can breathe anymore. 

It's fun and all but that’s another story when I'm ovulating. When he pins me and hold my hands above my head with one hand and tickles me with the other; I can’t stop but imagine him doing this to me for other reasons, non-Catholic reasons. 

From the day my ovulation started, I started to ignore him or just talk to him very shortly. I stopped teasing and pranking him because I knew what it was going to lead to, and I didn't have enough resistance for the consequences. 

It's very late at night and the boys are having a sleepover at our appartement. I couldn’t sleep because of my unholy thoughts so I've decided to take a cold shower to calm my needs. I get out of the shower tube and put on my bathrobe before I open the door. 

A loud gasp leaves my mouth before my hand claps on my mouth as if the damage has not already been done. Jay is standing in front of me with his hair all messed up and his hands buried in his jogging that I hate, because he looks so hot in it and I would never admit it to him, and love, because it allows me to fantasize about something that I've never seen. 

“y—you scared me” I stutter as I shift my gaze from his eyes to the floor because of his piercing gaze that intimidated me. The normal me could slap me for feeling intimidated by him. Seeing that he didn’t allow me to get out of the bathroom, I slid myself to the side to let him enter but he didn’t move a bit as I kept glancing at the floor where all I could see was his feet.  

I look up to find him in the same position with the same expression. I tilt my head, “jay, are you okay?” I whisper because of the members sleeping in the living room “shouldn’t I be the one asking that question?” jay says finally speaking. 

“W—what do you mean?” “don’t play dumb. I know you’re avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” Now it’s his turn to tilt his head. 

“Jay, can we talk about this later, the others are sleeping” I say trying to talk as quietly as possible. He’s finally moving but not the way I want, he gets closer to me, but I start to move backwards with lost expression on my face. When he’s finally in the bathroom, he quickly turns around to close the door before facing me again. 

“Jay, w—what are you doing?” I stutter as my heartbeat rises of the thought of being alone with him in closed room while I'm half naked. “you’re not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong.” he says as he crosses his arms on his chest. “You did nothing wrong.” I say playing with my fingers while I'm looking at the floor. “Then tell why you’ve been ignoring me”. It feels like a cat got my tongue, nothing comes out of my mouth or even thinking of something. 

“I-I-I" I desperately try to say something, but nothing comes, jay heads dangerously towards me “stop there, don’t come near...please” I stop him before he goes too far because I'm already losing my mind. “Why?” he asks after I interrupt him. 

I sigh heavily, it’s too awkward to tell him that I fantasize about him and that’s why I've been ignoring him.  

“I've been feeling weird lately...especially around you” I confess lowering my head, not brave enough to face him. “What do you mean?” I rise my head as I look at him straight in his eyes, “I'm ovulating.” I let out before quickly as I shut my eyes hating the fact that I'm being this vulnerable around him.  

Silence fill up the bathroom, i open my eyes only to see the corner of his mouth is lifted as he looks at me with a smug grin and teasing expression, “are you masturbating at the thought of me?” he asks, not especially waiting for a response as he walks towards me, closing little by little the distance between each other. “Jay...” all my blood starts to run down to my crotch, getting needy again. Jay doesn’t stop from heading towards me, “are you having nasty thoughts of me?” I'm walking backwards until I hit the sink and can’t go further anymore. 

“Jay,” I let out with a shaky voice, “d—don’t come near” I lift my hands up to prevent him from going any further. I can feel my body heating up and my cheeks getting hot, it’s like air is being take out from my lungs. “Why?” he asks with the same smug grin, “I can help you, but I need you to clarify what you want me to do” “jay.” “Yes, Isabella” I unconsciously stopped breathing at way my name was being pronounce. Not mentioning the fact, he said it in a seductive way; he had never called me by my full name. He always calls me isa like the rest of the group or some call Bella.  

I feel wetness dripping out of my pussy as I rub my thighs together. Without realizing, jay has finally closed the bit of distance that was left. He brings his hands to my cheek forcing me to look up at him, “aw, look how red you are, it must be really hard” he smirks, satisfied with the way he makes me feel. Now, it’s his turn to tease me and watch me get red. 

I slap his hand away, “s—stop playing with me” I say looking away, “who said I was playing with you?” he asks rhetorically while grabbing my chin and makes me look at him again. 

“Tell me how can I help you” he says a few inches from my lips. He knows exactly what I want, he just wants to hear me beg for it. 

“i—i need you” I lean to finally kiss him, but he leans backwards because he just loves to see me struggle. “What do you need me to do, Bella?” I let out a sigh of defeat, “I need you to fuck me...please” I accept this defeat because I'm desperate. 

“You took your time to say it” he says before finally smashing his lips against mine. The kiss is pretty messy, it certainly is our first kiss, but I couldn’t care less. I feel his hand sliding to my back to kept me close to him while we eagerly devour each other mouth. My hands stay on the sink to support my body from falling because my knees ain’t doing their job.  

I'm already addicted to the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his tongue on mine. He breaks up the kiss, allowing us to catch our breath. He starts attacking my neck allowing my mouth to let out some unholy sounds that I at once cover with my hand. Jay stops what he is doing before straightening up his position as he grabs my hand and pull it off my mouth, “don’t cover these pretty nasty noises of yours.” 

As his eyes don’t leave mine, he begins to undo the knot of my bathrobe before slid it down my body until it hits the floor. His gaze finally leaves my eyes to glance at my body, and I can clearly see his pupils dilate. His eyes are full of lust. He looks like a child who’s being offered an ice cream. 

He analyzes every part of my body, starting from my round shaped breasts with hard nipples to my wide hips and thick thighs. He devours each part of my body. 

My breathing rhythm rises up as he puts his fingers on my belly before he slowly slides them up my body and grabs one of my breasts. I groan at the sensation of his hands on my breasts. I watch him admiring my breasts like they’re the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He rubs his thumb on my nipple, playing with it as he notices my chest heavily going up and down. He was taking his sweet time touching, admiring and teasing me but all I want right now is, him deep into me. 

“W—why are you acting like that? have you ever seen a-ahh woman body?” He grabs my other breast and inflicts it the same treatment as I desperately rub my thighs together to get some friction. “No, I haven't." he answers while his gaze is still on my chest. 

“yeah, i-i ahh I've guessed it” “what?” he finally look up at me, “you’re are a-always irritated and i-i always thought it’s just because your virgin and you just needed it to get fucked” he chuckles at my state of his situation which I know wasn’t false. “ngh” it escapes from my mouth as he pinches my nipples, “I found it funny how your still being a brat when I'm here to help you” he says before he leans down to reach one of my nipples with his mouth and suck on it like the good old days. 

He nibbles both my nipples as I can stop myself from moaning, I'm becoming addicted to what he’s doing, and it makes me greedy for more. I want him inside of me, goddamn it. 

“You can play with my body another time. Can you just hurry up and get this done already before a member wakes up” he stops sucking on my nipples and look up at me, not straightening up his back, “you're planning on doing this another time?” he asks with a smirks.  

Feeling ashamed of what I'm imply, I look away from him, “shut up and hurry up” I hear his chuckles before I don’t feel his hands on my breasts anymore. I turn my face towards him and watch him slowly getting on his knees while his eyes don’t leave mine.  

When he finally gets on his knees, he grabs one of legs and puts it on his shoulders as he directly faces my wet, needy pussy. “Y-you don’t need to do that. Just go straight to—ah" I've been interrupts by the feeling of his tongue against my clit as I feel him vibrating groan against my pussy which make me moan. His kitty lick became a literal make out session with my pussy. I grip the sink hard as I become moaning mess from the feeling between my thighs while his tongue is constantly abusing my clit.  

“jay~ah ! Jay~ah! Ngh! Please!" I can’t control what is getting out of my mouth as my head is tilted backward, “it—it feels so good! Ngh! Don—don't stop, keep going!” I ran my fingers through his hair. I’m trying as hard as I can to be silence, so I won’t wake up anyone, but jay doesn’t seem to care, he brings is tongue down to my cunt as he slid his it in and begins to trust his tongue into me. He brings his free hands to my clit and plays with it while his tongue is still trusting me. He really doesn’t give a fuck if we get caught. 

A motion of desire rush to my body, I'm feeling so good and that’s something I've never felt before, masturbating never made me feel like that. “Fuck, it’s so good!” he retires his tongue from my hole and continue sucking and licking my clit before I feel him inserting two fingers inside of me, “aah” I let out, taken by surprise because of the sudden sharp pain. He didn’t let me time to adjust as he trusts his digits into my pussy. I'm feeling overwhelmed that I almost forgot how to breathe. 

His fingers rub against the gums of my vagina as it clenches around his fingers. I weird feeling start to build up in my lower stomach, “fuck, fuck, fuck” i keep repeating mindlessly as i lost control of my hips. I grip jay’s hair hardly while all my body start flicker, “ngh~~ ah! I'm about to cum~~ngh” i come undone on jay’s fingers.  

However, he didn’t stop his action, instead he still fingers and suck me through my orgasm, “ja—jay stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore! jay~~ah” i whine at the overstimulation as i try to push his head off my crotch. 

Eventually, i stop feeling any movement of friction inside of my cunt or the feeling of his tongue on my clit. He retracts his fingers before i hear mouth-licking sounds, my head is tilted backwards, while I'm trying to regain sense, so i can’t see what he was doing but i assume he licked his fingers which in my head would sounds hot.  

He slowly stands up while taking his time to admire my body again. I lift my head only to find him directly looking at my eyes. “Where did you learn to do that?” i ask finding it hard to believe that he’s a virgin after what he just did, “YouTube tutorial” he says like it was obvious while taking his jogging off. I watch him do, spotting his boner peeking through his boxer.  

“Yeah, right” i rolled my eyes while chuckling at his broken humor, “I'm just naturally good at this” he says fixing me with his dark eyes while sliding his boxer down revealing his huge, veiny cock. I wonder how this thing is going to fit in me. 

“Wait, we don’t have condoms” i say as he approaches me after taking his t-shirt off allowing me to see his fit body then he takes one of my legs, “I'll pull out before i cum” he says while positioning himself between my legs.  He looks up at me and he watches my chest going up and down as he’s eyes shift towards my eyes. I think he notices that I'm scared but I'm actually more excited than scared. I'm just scared because I'm experiencing something that I'm not used to. 

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks me as he watches me gulp down, “yes, keep going” i say try sound confident cause i really want to keep going. He doesn’t seems to believe me so lean up to kiss him languorously for some seconds before pulling out, “keep going” i assure him. 

“Alright, but this time try not be loud” “hey, you’re—” he didn’t let me time to finish as he starts to inserts himself in me dripping cunt. “ah” i feel his tip slowly penetrating my entrée making me clenches around it.  

Obviously, it was painful like of girl’s first time but i was so needy for his cock that it doesn’t matter. “doesn’t it hurt?” jay groans as he tries not to cum already from just being in me, “just a little but I'm fine. Keep going” he goes deeper and deeper as I feel my gums clench hard the more, he enters in me. He left out a moan, a low pitched moan, “can you—ah...can you try not to clench that hard, please?” he asks while he eyes remain closed trying very hard not to cum. “s—sorry, i—i can’t control it but I'll try” he continues to penetrate me while I'm trying my best not to clench but that’s an impossible task, he’s just so big. 

Eventually, his dick is completely into me. I can feel it slightly twitches make me clenches even more around him. I can hear jay having hard to manage his breath as he slides his free arm behind and pull me closer to him, forcing me to wrap my arms, which were on the sink, around him while his other arm is still holding my leg. 

We stay like this for some time as he let me time to adjust or just to let him concentrate so he doesn’t cum already. I feel his shaky breath against my ear, “jay, y—you can start to move” i unconsciously rock my hips to get some friction but i stop when i feel him moving from the crock of my neck to standing straight. One of his arms stays on my back as he slowly trusts, “ngh” a loud moan left my mouth before i quickly put my hands on it. I keep on try to moan with a low tone but it’s fucking impossible and it’s so good, so good, so good. That’s what i needed all this time. i needed a cock like his. I needed him. 

“Fuck, you’re clenching so much” he stats what’s true, “mmh, fuck, fuck, fuck” he keeps repeating just like i did before. At least we are twinning on something. 

“So—big” i shamelessly say before i bit my lower lip to prevent me from moaning loudly, “so tight” he says as if it needed to be said while gradually trusting faster and harder. 

“ngh!ngh!ngh!” i let out against my closed lips. Jay suddenly lifts my other leg, making me cut contact with the floor, as he thrusts even deeper, faster, and harder hitting continually the spot that makes it hard for me to moan quietly. 

“Jay! Jay!” i whine silently as I feel, in my stomach, the same sensation as before but more intense. “Yes, Bella” he says groaning not stopping his trusts as i feel his dick twitches more and more. 

“don’t stop, I'm going to cum~” the clenching of my vagina intensifies, “fuck—i-i’m not planning on stopping Bella” he trusts a few more time before i came violently on his dick. However, he doesn’t stop trusting in me as he tries to reach his own climax. “Jay—too m-much" my body flickers from the overstimulation, “i-i’m know, I'm sorry. I'm about to cu—ah–ah” he retires himself from me before giving a few stroke to his hard member and at last, he came on my belly. He groans while his load keeps on coming on my belly.  

When everything came out, he drops his head on my shoulder as we both catch our breath, “do you still think my dick is small?” he asks reminding me of a previous conversation we both had, “yes, very much” i say not wanting to feed his ego. 

He lifts his head from my shoulder while chuckling, “ngh, so big,” he says trying to imitate me “isn’t that what you said?” He tilts his head to the side with a playful smirk on his face. “Shut up” i slap his arm which make him chuckle more at my stubbornness. 

Suddenly, he lifts me up by my ass, “what are you doing?” “We are going to shower” he says heading us inside of the shower tube before he allows me to put my feet on the floor.  

He turns on the water and pass it on us before he takes a washing cloth, put some body wash on it and begins to scrub my body with it, getting rid of all the sweetness and the cum on my stomach. 

Taglist: @y9jungone @peonywon @moon368 @enhaverse713586 @wifeofmarco

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#enhypen #enhypen jay #enha jay #jay enhypen #jay smut #jay

[dark-elf-writes]

Izuku as a child of Apollo just having a million big brothers/sisters and most are heroes is hilarious. None of fhem are letting their baby brother be bullied. Nope.

Oh god, Snipe, Hawks and Hizashi would be the most protective siblings and if you went ‘bad Inko’ i can juat imagine that custody battle. Hizashi ‘married to high school sweetheart’, Hawks ‘commission agent’ and Snipe ‘has a gun and no issue threatning people’. It would be hilarious.

The children of Apollo normally got along.

Okay well that wasn’t exactly true, but very rarely did they try to shoot at each other or scream the other’s eardrums out which put them head and shoulders over some demigod half-siblings. They weren’t Ares kids after all, they could keep it together.

Or they could, until their newest sibling came along.

Izuku Midoriya was an anomaly, a rare inheritor of their father’s knowledge aspect though just hearing them talk Hizashi swore up and down there was some music talent in there somewhere, and the kid always seemed to know exactly where villain or monster attacks would happen like they could see them coming… even if they took that knowledge and used it to run towards the fights rather than away. They didn’t have the usual look of an Apollo kid (Hizashi was the only one of them that had drawn that card) but it was nearly impossible to miss if someone knew what to look for, and the three heroes definitely knew what to look for.

But Izuku different from a typical Apollo kid or not wasn’t the problem. No the problem was that none of them could agree on what to do with them.

“I’m married!” Hizashi hissed, careful to keep their voice at a normal volume. The last time they had let their quirk slip against one of their brothers they had been dodging feathers for a week and they had no desire to repeat the experience. “And I’m a teacher! I have the best claim to a stable home life as any of us.”

Keigo narrowed his eyes, a feather twisting around his fingers as his annoyance grew. “I’m the Number Three Hero! If any one of us could take care of a kid it’s me!”

Snipe (why their brother had decided he preferred his hero name even in the off hours Hizashi would never understand, but they would honor his wishes) toyed with his gun. The fact that the barrel was pointed away from Hizashi at the moment did nothing to comfort them. It didn’t really matter where he pointed the damn things when dear old dad gave him the ability to curve his bullets.

(Hizashi would be more jealous that both of them got some sort of telekinesis while Hizashi could only be considered slightly above average when it came to anything involving projectiles but really they thought Voice was the coolest.)

“I am the only sane one between us.” Debatable, but again Hizashi wasn’t very interested in catching a bullet even if their brother had swapped them out for nonlethal rounds. They had seen the damage he could do with nerf bullets and the rounds he had were a far cry from those. “And I’m also a teacher. So don’t give me that look Zashi.”

They smoothed their face, cursing themself for letting their annoyance show. Normally they were better than this but their brothers knew just how to get under their skin.

“Um,” All three of them jolted having forgotten their sibling was still there watching them with those wide green eyes so full of wonder. “You don’t have to fight over me. I’m fine. Really.”

They weren’t. The kid’s sleeves weren’t nearly long enough to hide the bruises and fresh burns on their arms and Hizashi was pretty sure they had seen the kid limping before they had finished the fight. As much as they wanted to be picking a fight with their brothers right now… healing first.

And Hizashi was the best healer.

(Ha!)

“You’re not fine, listener,” Their voice went gentle, low, the soothing rumble under it already encouraging healing raven as they knelt beside Izuku. “Our brothers are just being stupid. It’s pretty common experience.”

“Hey!”

“Zashi!”

They smiled, bright. Blinding to anyone who didn’t also have sunlight in their blood. “C’mon. We can head back to my place and get you patched up. Any other… arrangements can be made after you’re healed.”

“I’m coming too!”

“And me!”

Shouta was going to kill them… but at least Hizashi could shove their brothers at him first for canon fodder.

Izuku looked like they might argue but…

“Ours,” they said. “You said they are our brothers.”

Hizashi ran careful fingers over the kid’s cheek. “Ours. We Apollo kids have to stick together after all… even if some of us are annoying.”

“Coming from Queen annoying that says a lot,” Hawks mumbled. Hizashi made a mental note to curse him into speaking in lyrics later. They were pretty sure he had a meeting coming up where that would be particularly annoying.

Izuku looked between the three of them, eyes burning like the noonday sun as they hunted for something in their expressions. But eventually they smiled. “I’ve always wanted big siblings.”

Shit, Hizashi thought. They were going to end up with the most complicated three way custody agreement they just knew it.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #pjo #meanwhile Apollo is cooing over how cute his kids all are

[caffeinatedopossum]

I feel like I have an unacceptably low level of control over my body. Like obviously there are some things that no one can control but I have like actual big problems because of it. I'm not really sure how to describe it but it's not just me being really clumsy (although that is an effect of it) or even the tics I have.

It's like I can feel my body moving wrong constantly but I can't correct it and it hurts and it sucks and I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting myself, making mistakes, breaking things, acting like it's fine when in reality I'm constantly afraid of how much any movement I make next could hurt me. I need to move to stay sane, I want to workout and get stronger and go on walks with my friends. I wanna get better. I can't even roll over in bed without pain and I'm just so tired.

#opossums chronic illness rants #seriously though this sucks so much and idk if theres anything i can do about it but i wanna try #its probably a combination of a lot of different things #like muscle weakness and instability from ehlers danlos syndrome both making each other worse #along with the poor proprioception from autism the dizzyness and weakness from the dysautonomia #the fact that i cant really see and even possibly inner ear damage (thats a new one that ive been suspecting more and more recently) #im not sure if the ear damage would be just from built up ear wax or maybe or something else #but im really not having a good time because it brings back bad memories #when i was a kid (8 i think) my mom was convinced i had compacted ear wax but given that she refused to ever #take me to doctors she decided she had to fix it herself #which led to a lot of excruciating trials where she stuck wires and que tips stripped of their cotton into my ears #and tried to scrape out whatever she could. even though i wanted her to stop because it hurt so bad i would start crying everytime #im also mildly suspicious that might be what damaged my ears in the first place... but i really have no way to know that at the moment #all i know is i dont want anyone looking in or putting things in my ears ever again #it doesnt even matter how much i trust them because now anything put in my ears hurt #like even when im just regularly cleaning them with que tips it hurts and im reminded that might not be normal #idk if you read these tags let me know if cleaning your ears is supposed to hurt i guess? #im honestly not sure. like i just always assumed i wasnt being gentle enough or something but it doesnt matter what i do #its not super painful either just a little bit so i ignored it because i assumed it was normal #since a lot of 'normal' things hurt for me. which i now know to my surprise isnt normal at all but i didnt figure that out #until i actually got people to believe that these things were hurting me #apparently its very hard to find anyom #who believes that opening bag clips or trying to lift a jug of milk are actually quite painful for me #they usually just say im way overreacting and when i was a kid i just believed them i guess

[il-miele-che-scrive]

lando norris x reader

based on this request (because I take requests and I have to make it everyone's business): Hi not sure if you take requests but in case you do could you write reader x lando where y/n is a celebrity or an influencer and she drops subtle hints at who is her new bf maybe some fun facts about him like "oh he hates fish and I'm making a lot of fish for christmas" and eventually the fans are like "guys it's totally lando"

words count: 2.5k + fans' tweets at the end

author's note: my first request and it was so fun to write 🥹 also added a hospital scene from the time of Vegas GP so we could experience a bit of protective Y/n and painkillers-high Lando (I forgot about a fish scene)

edit: I've just realized I've messed up the dates so let's pretend the award thingie was in '23 instead of '22

A secret boyfriend

It was a normal Tuesday of 2023 when Y/n Y/l/n and Lando Norris met. Well, not so normal since it was the day Y/n won the first award in her musical career, and Lando had his first debut as an award presenter.

"And the winner is..." He opened the envelope and flipped it, as he held it upside down. "Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n couldn't believe it at first. She looked at her best friend with tears in her eyes. They hugged before Y/n stood up and got on her way to the scene, still questioning if she actually heard her name or was it her mind playing tricks on her.

"Thank you," Y/n sent Lando a smile as he handed her the award, "are you sure it's for me?" She joked, trying to mask the anxiety she felt from the fact that now she had to give a speech while everyone watched.

"Absolutely, it's all yours. Well deserved." Lando said feeling a bit starstruck from being so close to one of his favorite singers.

Just this one simple interaction was enough for both Y/n's and Lando's fanbases to raise suspicions. However, what was unavailable to the fans' eyes were Y/n and Lando's interaction at the after party. Later the same evening, he approached her.

"Hey, congratulations again." He said with a grin on his face. "Your music is amazing, I couldn't imagine you not winning this award."

"Stop with the compliments, I'm gonna blush." Y/n laughed. "Nice to meet you. Lando Norris, isn't it?"

"Yeah, do you watch Formula One?"

"I'm going to be honest from the beginning and admit I did not, but I did my research and I just might start being a fan."

"If you're ever down for hearing firsthand gossip straight from the track, I'm at your service."

"I'd love to hear all the gossip over a coffe sometime."

"Let me give you my number then and I'll arrange something."

And so a few days later they had a coffee date. The date marked the beginning of a carefully hidden romance. They wanted to keep it a secret from the public eye, not wanting people prying on them, trying to estimate how long they'll last.

Keeping the relationship secret somehow came easy to them. They were seen on the coffee date indeed, however they made sure to have the next dates in private. The fans on both sides were literally clueless to the whole ongoing romance. Y/n had her tour, Lando had his races and it wasn't even a little bit suspicious how a lot concerts aligned with race weekends.

Unfortunately, one day Y/n went live on Instagram with her best friend. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n gave away the big secret.

"You know, guys, we're gonna use lives as a way to spend time together," she joked, "I've been feeling a bit abandoned since Y/n has been spending so much time with her boyfriend. Even on tour and with his busy schedule, can you believe this?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "Y/f/n!" She scolded her friend.

"What? It's a joke, no worries, I can see you're finally happy and I'm happy for you!"

"Y/f/n! You weren't supposed to say that!"

But the damage was already done. There was nothing Y/n could say to save the situation. So instead she decided to start dropping subtle hints for the fans to guess. Maybe it was the right time to make the relationship public after five months. They couldn't hide it forever.

Y/n started the hint game when she was on Jimmy Fallon's show.

"Y/n Y/l/n, everybody!" Jimmy announced when the girl walked in and sat down on the armchair. "I haven't seen you in a year and so much happened during this time!"

"I know, I know," Y/n said with a smile. "I'm so glad I could make a quick pit stop here on my way to Montreal."

"I'm happy to have you here. You won an award, you got a boyfriend. How- how did that happen?"

Y/n chuckled at Jimmy's question, realizing it was the perfect opportunity to play the hint game. "Oh, life takes unexpected turns and sometimes you find yourself on a fast track to happiness."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "Anything you'd like to share about this mystery man?"

"You know, Jimmy, I've finally found someone who knows how to navigate the twists and turns in life."

The audience laughed and the speculations among fans skyrocketed as they tried to connect the dots from Y/n's playful hints.

The other time, Y/n was on a popular radio show. The host couldn't help but ask about the latest reveal of a big secret.

"You were left hurting really badly after your previous relationship," he spoke, "it's really good to see you finally happy."

"It was a big thing for me. Still is." The girl admitted. "My previous relationship made it hard to open up to a man like that again."

"What made you do it eventually then?"

"I decided life is too short for keeping things in the slow lane," Y/n chuckled, "and when you meet someone that can belt out a Taylor Swift song with the same passion as you, it's hard not to fall for them."

"So your mystery man is a Swiftie too? Any chance we might know him?"

"Oh, I bet many people who are listening right now would know him."

"Now you got us all intrigued, your fans wouldn't forgive me if I didn't ask for more."

Y/n grinned, "Well, he's practically flawless, except for one little detail. He's a scorpio. And let me tell you, when we're playing our silly little racing video games, his competitive scorpio side really comes out. It's all fun and games until his racing pride is at stake."

The host laughed. "I'm sure fans are already trying to guess who this mystery gamer is. And you, are you competitive?"

"Yes, totally. He's more experienced than I am, but it doesn't mean I won't try my hardest to beat him."

"Is there any trait you don't share?"

The girl nodded, "Yes, one thing I'm secretly jealous of. He's quite known for being able to fall asleep in the most uncomfortable conditions. I wish I could do that. I'm all about pillows and comfy blankets, but he can just doze off anywhere, anytime."

A few days later, in the warmth of Lando's bedroom, surrounded by the hum of city life outside the windows, Y/n brought up the topic with a playful glint in her eyes.

"You know, Lando, fans have been buzzing lately. It's quite entertaining."

"Well, you have started this yourself," Lando laughed, laying his head in his girlfriend's lap.

"Not me, it was Y/f/n. I just went with it and turned it into something fun for myself." Y/n defended herself. Her fingers started gently playing with Lando's hair.

"You do seem to be having a great time, leading your fans on and all that," he joked. "Are there chances they'll solve your mystery anytime soon?"

"I've seen a few tweets accusing you of being my secret boyfriend, but most people don't really believe that."

"What?" He sit up dramatically. He continued in a fake-offended voice. "Do they think I'm not good enough?"

Y/n giggled.

Lando's mock offense turned into a playful pout. "I can't believe they're doubting my boyfriend potential. I mean, come on, look at me!" He gestured theatrically at himself.

Y/n burst into laughter, "Maybe we should give them a little more to work with, stir the pot a bit."

Lando leaned in, placing a quick kiss on Y/n's cheek. "You're a master of turning chaos into entertainment, you know that?"

"It's quite a compliment, coming from a Formula One driver."

Lando flashed a grin. "Well, we both have our talents, don't we? Maybe we should drop some subtle hints during a race?"

And so they waited months for the Grand Prix in Vegas, because that was where they could start rumours about getting married. Sure, they could get married spontaneously anywhere, but there was no better place than Las Vegas.

Thankfully they managed to keep the relationship secret all these months, breadcrumbing Y/n's fans. After the Vegas GP, Y/n and Lando where supposed to go for an afterparty, get 'drunk' and then 'married'.

Unfortunately, they plans changed the direction a bit with Lando's crash. Y/n's heart sank as she watched the unfolding drama on the big screens. The thrill of the race was replaced with concern for Lando's well-being. Plans for the afterparty and the playful hints about a fake marriage suddenly didn't matter anymore.

Emergency crews rushed onto the track, the anxious seconds felt like an eternity as they worked to help Lando get out of his racing car. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, the world around her blurring. The fact that he managed to walk away from the car was a small comfort.

Y/n's phone buzzed moment after Lando disappeared from her sight.

from: Lando

I'm okay, they're taking me to st vincent's hospital. Will update you soon. Love you xx

to: Lando

Be there in a second, see you soon

A shaky exhale escaped Y/n, she felt slightly relief and ran towards the exit. She was sure Lando wasn't okay, not after that crash, but at least he was conscious and walking on his own (although it could be the adrenaline). A moment later, when Y/n got into her own car, her phone buzzed again.

from: Lando

Yknow you could post a pic from the hospital, that would stir the pot

Y/n smiled at the massage. If he could think of that, he might had been better than she thought.

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred as she drove through the city streets, trying to get to the hospital as quick as possible. Despite the speed, the journey seemed to stretch in time.

Arriving at St. Vincent's hospital, Y/n rushed through the entrance, her heart pounding. The reception area looked like a maze in her anxious state, but she managed to find a nurse.

"I'm here for Lando Norris," the girl said.

The nurse looked her up and down. "Are you his family?"

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Then, unfortunately, I cannot let you see him."

"His family is in Europe, I'm the closest to family you can get here in Vegas."

"The closest, but not family. I'll ask you nicely to wait here for further information."

Y/n nodded with an angry expression on her face. She sat down in the waiting room, pulling out her phone and dialing the number of her manager.

"Hey, Mia," the singer said. "I need you to do something." Urgency and frustration were visible in her voice.

"What's going on, Y/n? Are you okay?" Mia's concerned voice came through the line.

"It's Lando. He's been in a crash during the race in Vegas, and they've taken him to St. Vincent's Hospital. I'm here, but they won't let me in because I'm not 'family.' That's so stupid."

"I'm sorry, Y/n, but I still don't see what you want me to do."

"I want you to make a donation for the hospital from my account. Send them like $100,000. I think it'll be enough to let me in."

"Okay, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Mia. I appreciate it more than you know."

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Anxiety lingered in the air. But there was no way they wouldn't let her in after that.

Y/n didn't know how much time had passed. She felt as if all she did was staring at a wall in front of her, ocassionally moving her eyes to the floor or the ceiling. She was fidgeting with her fingers as the same nurse approached her.

"Miss Y/l/n, you're allowed to see Mr Norris in the room 305."

Without a word, Y/n rushed to the room. She found Lando lying in the hospital bed, his gaze turning towards the door as she walked in.

"Lando." Y/n breathed his name, rushing to his side and taking his hand in hers. "I was so worried. And they didn't want to let me in at first."

He managed a dazed smile, his eyes slightly glazed. "Hey, you're real, right? This isn't happening in my head?"

Y/n chuckled. "Yes, I'm real. It's me."

He squinted at her. "You sure? You look like a beautiful hallucination."

"Well, if I'm a hallucination, at least a beautiful one."

"I feel like I'm floating on marshmallow clouds, but you're the most beautiful marshmallow I've ever seen."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "I think you might be on some strong painkillers, love."

"Ah, that explains the marshmallows. They're having a party in my head," Lando said with a dreamy expression.

Y/n burst into laughter, the tension of the earlier moments disappearing in the room.

"Did you know," Lando continued, "that racing is like trying to catch a rainbow? And if you're lucky, you might find a pot of gold at the end."

"Is there an Irish leprechaun as well?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe that's who's been guiding me all this time."

"You gotta ask him to make the rainbow less slippery next time then."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll have a serious talk with him. No more slippery rainbows, only smooth, marshmallow clouds."

As they joked around, Y/n couldn't ignore the quiet concern for Lando's well-being. She gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You scared me, you know? Seeing you crash like that."

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise I'll be more careful next time. But you have to promise me something too.""

"What is it?"

"You'll visit me in the marshmallow cloud world sometimes. It gets lonely up there."

Y/n laughed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll visit anytime you want."

"You know, even in the middle of all this craziness, having you here feels like finding that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

As the night carried on, the hospital room became a cocoon shielding them from everything that layed outside its walls. Y/n found herself falling asleep on an armchai next to Lando's bed.

In the quiet ambiance of the night, Lando's mind wandered through the whimsical landscapes of his medication-induced thoughts. He couldn't help but marvel at the coincidence that brought Y/n into his life.

It all started with handing her an award. It seemed like it happened a whole lifetime ago and now, there they were, in the middle of marshmallow clouds.

Y/n, nestled in the armchair, breathed softly in her sleep, completely unaware of Lando's reflections. Soon enough, Lando allowed himself to succumb to the gentle pull of sleep as well.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #f1 x y/n #lando norris x y/n

[galacticnova3]

Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.

I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.

Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.

The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.

You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.

When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.

@onenicebugperday

#rambling #bugs #insects #moths #polyphemus moth #I will miss you potato fairy extra large

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 1

Masterlist - Part 2

A light zap of electricity made your cheek tingle, urging you awake. Sleepily, you opened your eyes and were greeted with a rundown room with no furniture. The strange sight woke you up immediately and you sat up.

What the hell? This isn't your home, fuck, this doesn't even look like somewhere in your city!

As you surveyed the surroundings with more urgency, thoughts of the day before came to mind.

----------------------------------------

You were only supposed to drop off the money from the scams to your boss. Your forte wasn't fighting yet when you entered the rundown building, there was tension in the air.

Your boss glowered at the woman across the room. Before you could even ask one of your coworkers what's happening, guns were drawn. In less than 5 seconds the building became a mess of fighting, gun shots, and noise.

Trained instincts of running kicked in and you were already slipping past brawls trying to get to the nearest exit. The money was already dropped off, your boss couldn't hold shit against you.

Just as you got close to the window, a lanky man shoved you. You only stumbled back and raised your fists. You didn't like to fight but after years of living less than legal, you've learned how to fight long enough to escape.

In 10 minutes you were already walking down the sidewalk with bloody knuckles and a bruised foot. The other guy must be worse since you threw him into the window before escaping.

It's just your luck that a police car pulls up beside you. Stopping, you flash a smile to the officer as he rolls down the window.

"Sorry to bother you so late but I noticed that you're a little hurt. Do you need me to bring you to a hospital?"

What he's really asking is what got you hurt, but you keep your cool and answer with cheeriness.

"It's really nothing. I was just at the bar down the street with a friend when some people started getting rowdy. They got kicked out before anyone could really get hurt but I still got a little banged up."

You point to the bar that you passed by that's in full swing. The officer eyes you for a moment before asking a follow-up question.

"And what about your friend? Where are they, are they okay?"

Your tone drops a little as you reply. "Their wonderful partner picked them up so I left. I mean it's not like I have any lover to pick me up. What can a poor single person like me do?"

The officer instantly becomes bored and says a quick goodbye before driving off. You roll your eyes at the predictable action and continue walking home. Lying has become a natural habit for you and you've become damn good at it.

You finally get home to your shitty studio apartment in the seedy part of the city. Locking the door, you trudge to your computer as you ignore the screams from other apartments. You boot it up and start eating the cheap fast food you picked up.

First you check on the scam ads you posted to see which poor sucker fell for it. You forward the card information to another coworker and consider yourself done with work for the day.

Were you a bad person for being a scam artist? Yeah. Did you wish that you could have a normal job that doesn't involve hurting people? Hell yeah. Have you ever been able to? Nope.

You click the little Paimon app to run Genshin to distract yourself from those meaningless thoughts. You've been stuck in those loops long enough to know it's useless to dwell on them.

The mindless commissions are just what you need to relax. You smile at the sight of Bennett's idle before farming for the most annoying materials; Handguards.

You finish combing through most of the Inazuma islands before teleporting to Seirai Island. The statue of the seven heals your party from any damage that occurred.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretched your arms, sighing as the tension is released from your body. Deciding to turn in for the night, you exit out of Genshin.

Well, you tried at least.

No matter how many times you clicked, it just wouldn't exit. Brushing it off as a bug, you just shut down the device.

Instead of shutting down, the screen showed the doors to Celestia. With no prompt, the doors opened and the white flash shined into your eyes.

Cringing at the harsh light you waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

It got brighter and brighter before it completely enveloped you.

--------------------------

Feeling more awake after remembering, you look around the house. Other than the creaky bed you were on, nothing else was in the house. You stand up and nearly trip over a bag at your feet.

Opening it, you find nothing but you decide to take it just in case. That's when you notice that your knuckles are completely healed. No blood, bandages or pain.

You check your body and see that although scars have remained, all your minor cuts and bruises have healed without a trace. Feeling creeped out you try to leave the house. The nearly broken door takes a good amount of strength to push open but you do and stumble out.

The sight of purple thundering skies, floating rocks, and a statue of the seven shocks you. You stumble on the squeaky plants and hard cobblestone as you get closer to the edge.

White trees with purple leaves, blue grass and Naku Weed surround the ground. It's the same area where you tried to log off. There was no way you were in Genshin Impact; Shit like this only happens in fiction.

Hallucination, death, dream, or pulled into a fictional world. Your mind whirls those four possibilities. You stomp on what should have been your bruised foot. It's painful, but not as much as a bruised foot.

With death and dream off the list you walk to the small tree with purple leaves. An Otogi tree, your mind helpfully supplies. You press a hand against the bark and feel the leaves carefully. The sensation is too real and you're too steady to be hallucinating.

You must really be in Tevyat. You were never attached to Earth but being suddenly thrust here is still a bit jarring. You look at the statue of the seven and contemplate your next decision.

From what you remember, anyone who isn't from Teyvat should be allowed to take elemental power from the statue. Biting your lip you approach the statue and place a hand on the gold accessories.

You marvel at how the statue glows at your presence but when you look at your hands, you feel no difference. It seems you wouldn't be a main character in this world either.

Shrugging it off, the excitement of actually being in Teyvat started to well up inside you. You walk down the desecrated dirt and cobblestone path as you admire Seirai Island.

While walking you freeze at the sight of two Fatui soldiers at a camp. You could fight people and escape, but Fatui soldiers? Fuck no. You didn't plan to die this fast.

You sneak along the houses to your left all while trying to remember Seirai's layout. If you wanted to survive in this world, you would need to get to civilization. You needed a boat cause there was no way in hell you were swimming in water that could be struck with lightning at any moment.

You follow the left path that seems to lead to the shore. Fuck, a mirror maiden is walking the same path right towards your direction. With some fast thinking and only a small dose of panic, you scale the rocks on your right.

They were thankfully small enough that your minor skills could be utilized well enough. Breathing heavily, you lay down on the soft blue grass. You close your eyes and open them swiftly at something tingly but smooth on your nose.

It's an electro Crystalfly. Purple and beautiful. You lay there mesmerized before it flies off gently. You stand up in a daze and struggle not to blindly follow it.

You walk along the cliff's edge while being careful not to fall. You can't risk going onto the grass in fear of a spector chasing you. Yet another thing that can end your new life.

Once far away enough from the mirror maiden, you slowly climb down and feel relieved at not breaking a bone. The path splits into two and you contemplate which one would lead to the Waverider.

Logically you know the chance of the waverider working for you was small, but the chance of you finding an intact boat was even smaller. Your train of thought is broken by the sounds of machines whirring from the right path.

You curse yourself and start sprinting down the left path to get away. Forgetting the existence of Ruin Sentinels almost cost you your life, but due to your panic, you almost sprinted straight into a different Ruin Sentinel.

Skidding to a stop, you hastily walk around it while sweating bullets. Thankfully it didn't notice you and you praise your good luck. You walk more alert to the waverider but stop at the teleport waypoint.

Out of simple curiosity, you touch the teleport structure. It glows similar to how it did in the game. But instead of red turning blue, the blue turned gold.

A smile forms on your face as your mind races with the possibilities that this could mean. Excitedly, you run to the waverider and touch it. Its blue turns gold and a boat is summoned onto the water.

It's not the same boat as the travelers, in fact you would even say it's better. Climbing into your boat you marvel at how much space it has. There is a small screen in the middle with a handprint.

There is no steering wheel or any other controls. You put your hand on it and say the first island that comes to mind. "Take me to Kannazuka Island."

The boat begins to move and you sit down on the couch. The whole boat feels luxurious to the point where you feel out of place; as if you're the sole piece of dirt on it.

But you don't have to be trash anymore. This world is kinder to people that couldn't finish school or can't stay in one spot. You wanted to try a normal job, maybe set up a stall or shop. Work as a normal, legal worker, or even become an adventurer. If reckless Pallas could do it, surely you could.

No more lying, no more crime.

The boat stops and you get off as you try to remember which part of the island you stopped at. There's a waverider and a teleport waypoint close together. That's on the right side of the Tatarasuna also known as the place where Kunikuzushi died and became Scaramouche.

After tapping both the waverider and teleport waypoint, you walk closer to the main part of the island. You remember farming this place for the handguards which explains why there is no Nobushi.

After passing the broken down ship part, you spot a tree with lavender melon. Excitedly and with hunger you get close and pick the lowest hanging fruit.

It's juicy and unlike any fruit you've eaten before. Which isn't a lot since fruit is expansive. You stroll down the shore as you finish the fruit.

You recognize the area on the left as a place where a quest had a fight. Walking on it you smile at seeing it in person. It's really amazing how you're actually here. And holy shit is that Ei?

The archway made of rock that leads into Tatarasune has Ei standing right there. You freeze and your breathing slows down as you try not to be noticed.

Ei was a complex character meaning that she will cause a lot of trouble for the peaceful and lawful existence you planned to live here.

As you try to walk away casually you hear her mutter something interesting.

"I could have sworn I felt their presence somewhere here."

Ei locks eyes with you making you freeze. You should greet her with her long ass title but there was no way you remembered that. Instead you give a small bow and speak politely.

"Please forgive my intrusion. I hope I haven't-"

"How dare you."

"I'm sorry wha-"

"Who are you? Which nation are you from? How dare you show such disrespect toward Their Holiness?!"

Her glare is firm and her voice grows louder. Gaping at the sudden hostility, you take a step back when she starts to pull out her Musou-no-something.

Ei's words are barely registered in your brain as you scramble for a way to escape.

"Someone with the same face as the creator is an anomaly. No one has ever been born with their face yet you, a mere human mortal, has it. I shall sacrifice you to them for impersonating the creator's image."

It's like her one track mind as a soldier has taken over Ei again. You yell the first thing that comes to mind that can help you escape while pointing behind her.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT MAKOTO YOUR TWIN SISTER?!"

Ei freezes and immediately whips her head to look behind her. You don't hesitate to book it back to the boat.

'Just keep running, just keep running.' You sing frantically to yourself as you hear Ei chase after you. You yelp in pain when lightning starts striking your heels with every step.

She's toying with you, you realize. She wants to know how you could possibly know about her sister. She won't kill you yet but you know she won't hesitate to harm you severely.

The boat comes into view and you jump into it. The water that you splashed in, in your hurry makes your feet hurt more.

"Do you think that boat can protect you from me?"

You sit on the floor and try to think up a solution but the pain coursing through your body is hindering you. But you already know that you can't drive the boat or else she'll destroy it.

"Tell me how you know her name. How do you know her connection to me? How much more do you know about us?"

None of your regular tactics can work on her, not without risking death. You look at your lap for some kind of solution and notice your hands glowing. A small plan begins to form and instead you answer her with a distraction.

"Do you truly believe that I'm the only person alive that knows about her?"

Ei goes silent and you take advantage of the time to try to figure out what's happening with your hands. As much as you hope you gained elemental powers, you doubt that it can actually help you when an archon is trying to harm you.

You feel like spiderman as you make various hand gestures with your hands trying to figure out what the deal is with the glowing. It's the simple gesture of putting your hands together and pulling them apart that makes the glowing leave your hands and form a small screen.

"Did Celestia send you down here? Did you have a mission from them to use the Creator's form to dig up information?"

As the screen glows white and shows the Genshin Impact logo, your breath hitches. Your only hope is to let Ei draw her own conclusions from your answers as you hope your new power can help you.

"Celestia, huh? If Celestia themself took on the form of the Creator for their plans, do you think they would succeed?"

Thunder strikes louder after you say that. The logo leaves and shows the traveler on the beach in Mondstadt. You don't think about the weirdness of that before teleporting Lumine to where you are at.

"What are you implying-"

Ei's words are cut off as the sound of teleporting rings through your ears unlike the game audio has ever done before. On the screen the traveler stands next to a gold teleport waypoint with Ei nowhere to be seen. You smile at the implication.

You look out the boat and don't see Lumine there. You look back at the screen only to find it gone. You make the gesture and the screen reappears. It's only when you look away from the teleport waypoint that the screen finally loads.

Lumine is still standing next to the gold teleport waypoint. After teleporting her back to the beach you close the screen. With the Ei threat somewhat subdued, you feel safe enough to collapse on the couch.

Lazily you tell the ship to sail to Narukami Island, Ei would still come after you. Anywhere is better than your present location. An idea forms in your mind and you clarify. "Bring me to Amakane Island."

Your mind processes the information of a Creator, your resemblance, the screen, and new threats. The first step is clear as day. The little shop on Amakane Island that sells masks is your first stop.

Hello anybody that reads this. I have started another fic series. Again. There is a large chance that I'll get burnt out and not finish it. But I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter should have what I really wanted to talk about which is Oracle!Reader.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl [Edit: This chapter has been updated by my dear editor on 8/19/23]

#yandere genshin impact #whisp's amateur work #yandere genshin x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #sagau cult au #sagau impostor au #sagau isekai #sagau ei #oracle au #yes I made that up

[redbullgirly]

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly. 

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat.  You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)

#f1 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #couple #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #reading #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fa14 #fa14 x reader #alpine f1 #aston martin #aston martin f1 #x reader #writing #oneshot #f1 fic #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 angst

[lunemai]

•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right. 

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh. 

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement. 

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes. 

he squeezes my hip his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?” 

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box. 

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's. 

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know. 

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #luke castellan imagine

[not-magdi]

Massage

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N the wonderful person she is cares for her sore boyfriend.

Warnings: None, just a little spice at the end;)

Words: 1.1k

Pablo's training was longer than usual today since they had a new fitness trainer who wanted to make himself a picture of all the players and what they need to improve their physical strength.

Over the course of the day, Y/N received multiple texts from Pablo complaining about how awful and exhausting training is and if Y/N could fake an emergency so he could leave. To quote him, 'It doesn't matter what, tell them you need help to give your goldfish a bath'. 

Laughing at his text Y/N decides to surprise him at his house, cooking dinner for him and setting the couch up for a movie night. 

Standing in the kitchen and stirring some vegetables in a pan she hears keys jiggling, announcing that Pablo is home. 

Opening the door Pablo limps into the hallway, confused why the light was turned on. Stepping deeper into the house the smell of food confuses him even more. Making a B-line to the kitchen the sight before him makes a smile grow on his face. 

Having her back facing him Pablo limps over to her wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his chin on her shoulder. 

Shreaking Y/N nearly punches Pablo in the face while turning around barely missing his face. Catching her hand Pablo kisses her nose. 

"Slow there Rocky ... I'm already damaged enough," he tells her laughing.

"Jesus Pablo ... don't scare me like that again or I'll punch you with joy, the next time" Y/N exclaims while wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"I'd like to see you try," Pablo tells her with a teasing tone nuzzling his nose into her neck. 

"Yeah yeah I'll do it when you least expect it" Loosening her arms around him again Y/N turns around to grab the two plates with their dinner giving them to Pablo. 

"Could you please take them to the table I'll grab us our drinks and follow you in a moment", Pablo nods making his way to the dining room and setting the plates down. 

A few seconds later Y/N comes out of the kitchen with two full glasses of water.  Sitting down with him she sees Pablo's face twist in pain as he sits down slowly. 

"Are you alright cariño?" she decides to ask him, concern lacing her voice.

"Yeah ... I'm alright. My joints are just hurting again today" Pablo tries to assure Y/N by grabbing her hand. 

Y/N knows that because of his bow legs, his joints tend to get sore quite easily. So after trainings sessions like today, he normally has a physio session afterward to massage the pain out so he can walk normally and without any pain. 

But his physio is currently on vacation and he doesn't trust his substitute so he just accepts the pain and tries to ignore it as much as possible. 

Y/n couldn't let go of her worry for Pablo, especially after hearing him hiss while he tried to stand up to carry their plates back to the kitchen. 

After Pablo insisted to do the dishes he limped back to the living room, pain decorating his expression. 

"Do you want me to massage your legs a bit?" Y/N decides to ask him, not being able to see her boy in pain any longer.  

"Amor you don't have to," Pablo tells her, not wanting to be a burden for her. 

"I know that I don't have to ... I want to" She assures him with a soft tone.

"O-ok then ...  yes please,"  Pablo says shyly, not used to someone caring so much for him. 

"Perfect, lay down on your back amor ... I'll go grab some oil" 

Standing up Y/N goes to grab some oil as Pablo makes himself comfortable on the couch.

Returning Y/N sees him laying flat on the couch like a starfish, smiling to herself she goes around the couch to stand before him. 

"Uhm ... Pablito you will need to loose your pants otherwise it's not going to work", she tells him, smirking down at him. 

"Oh ... uh yeah ... give me a second", blushing Pablo undresses himself clumsily and lays down again, looking everywhere but Y/N's eyes.

"You don't have to go shy on me now ... nothing I haven't seen yet Pablito." She teases him, laughing as his face got even more red. 

"Would you stop teasing your poor and damaged boyfriend ... I'm already suffering enough," Pablo exclaims pouting. 

"Awww my poor baby" Y/N coos kissing his nose before applying some oil to her hands. 

Warming the oil up in her hands she starts to gently massage his joints gradually adding pressure as she hears Pablo sigh in pleasure. 

Coming to a very sore spot Pablo hisses in pain as she massages over it, starting to add pressure he groans in pain. 

"I know cariño ... a few seconds and I'm done here." Y/N coos seeing his face twist in pain as she presses her thumb on a certain spot. 

Slowly feeling the pressure and pain release he sighs in relief, relaxing his tense muscles again. 

Y/N continuous to massage his legs for the next two hours,  carefully massaging every bit that was hurting, devoting extra time to his joints. Trying to ease the tension in his legs as much as she can. 

"So ... amor I'm done how are you feeling?" standing up to wash her hands Y/N asks Pablo who is laying looking up at her with the most relaxed expression she has ever seen. 

"Bebé please be my personal physio after you finish school ... whatever you did with me it worked. I feel nothing anymore, nothing!"  Pablo wiggles his legs around, happy about being pain-free again.  

Laughing Y/N sits beside him cuddling herself into him after he dragged her down to him again. 

"I'm happy I could help ... couldn't stand seeing you in so much pain," Y/N tells him hiding her face in his neck as she pulls her on top of him. 

"Thank you Amor... you have no idea how much I appreciate that. Can I do anything in return?" Pablo asks wanting to do something for her too. 

Smirking Y/N looks up from his neck, already having something in her mind. 

"Yeah, I have an idea ... luckily you won't need your pants for that" Rolling on top of him she kisses him passionately. 

"Mhm ... I like your idea," Pablo tells her breathlessly, flipping them around so he's on top. 

Placing his hands under her sweatshirt he continues to make out with her, removing their clothes and throwing them all around the living room, making a mess no one cares about right now. 

#pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi oneshot #gavi x reader smut #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x you #gavi imagine

[bogglecatboxx]

platonic!sagau seeing you cry behind the screen (freminet, yaoyao, ningguang, neuvillette, lisa)

notes: inspired by me having a rough day and crying while i farmed mats LOL (also neuvillette’s is mostly my own hc for him, sorry if it’s ooc)

freminet:

panic

probably keeps putting his helmet on. it’s not that he doesn’t want to help, it’s just that he doesn’t know how…

tries extra hard in any fights to try to make things a little easier. this, at least, is one way he can help, even if only a little. his damage output is higher, his cds are shorter, he’s powering through any hits he takes - not enough for you to notice anything odd, but enough to speed up any annoying commissions.

(lyney and lynette might be a little upset at him later for pushing himself too hard - though they understand more when he explains. they would do the same for you, after all.)

if he knows you like pers and who doesn’t, he’ll do his idle animation holding the mechanical penguin more often (hopefully you’re not paying too much attention, though, because you might find it odd that he’s wearing his helmet during the pers idle animation…)

yaoyao:

D:

surprisingly, she’s actually not too worried - even if she doesn’t like seeing you sad, she knows you’re strong enough to pull through whatever it is that’s upsetting you.

but just because you can handle it doesn’t mean she can’t help!

any of her voicelines that you think are cute, you’ll suddenly be hearing much more. (although it is a bit odd to hear her talking about the “silly frogs” when it’s not even raining.)

any cooking you do seems to go much better than usual - not only are you getting specialties first try, but you get high quality dishes without even trying.

(you might also find a few extra qingce household dishes in your inventory.)

ningguang:

she already wishes she could whisk you off to liyue. this is not helping.

whenever she sees you sad, she thinks about how well she could take care of you if you were in teyvat; thinks of the gifts she already has prepared, the spare room she keeps unoccupied just so she’s ready for whenever you decide it’s time to descend. seeing you cry just heightens those feelings.

her voice might sound a bit harsher than normal, but it’s not directed to you - rather, to whatever it is that has upset you.

whenever her idle animations play, she tries to summon brighter, sparklier gems than normal, hoping that the sight will lift your spirits, or at least take your mind off your problems.

if you stop at any shops in liyue, the prices might be mysteriously lower than normal. not by enough for you to notice, but enough to save you at least some trouble - the loss of a few thousand mora is nothing to ningguang, if it can help you even a little.

neuvillette:

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry!

for some reason, when you’re sad, fontaine is always raining…

neuvillette hates seeing you upset. as someone who has spent much time crying himself, he knows what it’s like to suffer in silence - something he would never want for you. he hopes that being with him, even with a barrier inbetween, makes you feel less alone.

he longs to wipe your tears away, but that’s not an option behind the screen, so he’ll settle for smaller ways to cheer you up.

if you go underwater, you might notice more sea creatures than usual; not attacking you or even interacting with you, but just… hovering around, sharing neuvillette’s desire to brighten your spirits.

neuvillette’s voicelines will also sound quieter; not quite a whisper, but definitely softer than normal. it’s not an extreme difference, but he hopes you find his voice comforting.

lisa:

seeing her cutie sad just breaks her heart!

speaking of cutie, you might notice her tacking the nickname onto the end of voicelines that don’t normally have it.

lisa wishes she could rest your head in her lap and read to you - never has she hated the barrier between you so much!

similar to freminet, lisa puts her all into any fights you bring her to. it doesn’t matter if it’s a slime or the fatui, she’s hitting them with enough lightning to completely fry them, trying to wrap up any fights you need to complete as fast as possible so you can relax.

although she wants to spend as much time with you as she can, she knows that she shouldn’t be selfish, and that often sleep is the best medicine for heartache. for once, she’s not just upset when you leave - she’s also hopeful you’ll come back smiling.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #sagau #neuvillette #freminet #yaoyao #ningguang #lisa #boggle writings

[orbitalmirror]

Grand Days and Small Gestures

Pairing: Hunter x Reader

Word Count: 9152

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence.

Prompt: “Why can’t you just be normal?”

Summary: You didn’t expect to end up in Separatist prison cell. You definitely didn’t expect to be accidentally rescued by a squad of clones.

A/N: This fic is a gift for @ladyanidala, who gave me SUCH a fun prompt!! I’m gonna be honest with you, this got rather out of hand…I’m not used to writing romance, and then this pesky little thing called plot got involved. It’s not the most traditional reader-insert fic, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was my first foray into a second-person POV, and it was so fun that it inspired me to start dreaming up a (possibly fluffier?) sequel. Thank you so much to @cloneficgiftexchange for creating this event!

Today isn’t the worst day of your life.

Granted, the bar is pretty low; the worst day of your life was probably that time you were undercover in a sect of fascist insurrectionists on Brentaal IV, and you discovered that your encrypted comm was irreparably fried. You were stuck in that hellhole for nine weeks before somebody back in the Corellian intelligence HQ thought, “You know, maybe she didn’t suddenly go dark on purpose.” By the time they came to rescue your ass, you had finally decided to quit this job and go become a baker or something. Then you got back to Corellia and…didn’t quit. Didn’t even draft your resignation letter. Nothing in the galaxy makes you feel quite as alive as espionage does—what else could you do?

So now you sit on the concrete floor of a detention cell, your tailbone aching and your fingers stiff from the chill, and you remind yourself, today isn’t the worst day of your life. The idea spins itself into a sort of mantra: It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse.

Your stomach growls in dissent.

Hours have passed since the battle droids caught you, and you don’t know why it’s taking so long for a real Separatist officer to arrive for an interrogation. Clearly there are no living beings in the compound, which means clearly your intel was wrong. The datapad you’re after is too valuable to leave in the clumsy, three-fingered hands of droids. The B2s guarding your cell left about twenty minutes ago, and you’ve spent the past ten minutes trying to pry open a panel on the wall with your little transparisteel knife, the only weapon of yours that wasn’t found by the droids and their metal detector.

The panel finally pops off, and you almost groan in dismay. The only things visible in the wall are a thick bundle of electrical wires and some pipes. The pipes look too sturdy to be damaged by you and your little knife, and anyway, flooding your cell probably wouldn’t do anything except electrocute you. Cutting the wires might cut off electricity to your cell door, but that’s just as likely to leave the door locked as it is to open it, and it also might electrocute you. You’re no technician. It isn’t worth the risk.

It could be worse.

The passing of time is almost visceral now, like the ticking of an analog clock in your ribcage. You shove the panel back on the wall. Time for the ceiling. The cell’s metal bench—you can’t even call it a cot—is just tall enough that you can reach up to pry around the edges of the ceiling tiles. You start on the one in the corner, hoping that there’s a ventilation shaft above it. The left edge is just starting to come loose when—

Click.

Darkness.

That definitely wasn’t your doing.

Half a second passes, and then a loud pneumatic hiss heralds the miraculous opening of your cell door, and the adrenaline really kicks in. Has someone finally come to collect you? But why…

You listen. No footsteps.

You hop down from the bench to peek out the cell door. Nothing to see, either.

Another hiss startles you, and you dart into the hall just as the door suddenly closes again, deafening in the eerie silence. The overhead lights are still off, and only the weak blue emergency lights lining the corridor offer you any sense of direction.

You’re free, and nobody is around.

Well, this just got interesting.

~~~

As you make your way through the base, you quickly realize that something very strange is going on. That something strange is probably best exemplified by the droids lying in scrap heaps all over the place, most of them burned through with blasters, but some of them dismantled in a way that you can’t even identify. Whoever or whatever is in this base with you, you do not want to meet them.

So, of course, you meet them less than ten minutes after escaping your cell.

You’ve picked up a blaster from a fallen B1, and are carefully scouting out the control rooms, looking for anything that can help you find your confiscated ship. Unfortunately for you, the walls and blast doors of the compound are so thick that they’re effectively sound-proofed, making it difficult to tell what lies behind each door before you open it. Despite the fact that you haven’t yet run into any functional droid or living being, you feel a spike of adrenaline every time you enter a new room or hallway.

The next one, you think, opens into the hallway where the main control center is housed. If you were paying enough attention while the droids frog-marched you through the base.

When it opens, you don’t find droids.

You find clones.

There are four. Their armor looks different from the clones you’re used to seeing on the major core planets: all of it is painted a dark grey, their helmets heavily customized. Two of them immediately turn to look at you. One is holding a pistol. The other is holding the scariest sniper rifle you’ve ever had pointed at your face. (And you’ve had quite a few sniper rifles pointed at your face.)

Nope, you think. Not happening.

Immediately, you dart around the corner and slam the button to close the door. Shouts ring through the hallway. You shoot the access panel for good measure. Corellia may be a member of the Republic, but that doesn’t mean you want anybody working for the Senate to know what you’re doing here, least of all soldiers.

Time has suddenly become far more pressing.

You abandon some of your previous caution and take off at full speed through the compound. A few active battle droids wander the halls, their tiny electronic brains seeming utterly flabbergasted by whatever turn of events lead to a group of at least four clones carving through an entire Separatist base. You pick them off with ease. They’re not the enemy you’re worried about.

Where are the rest of the clones?

There’s no way in hell a squad of four men could do this much damage…right?

But there are more pressing matters. There’s no signage in the base, which means you’re relying on memory and educated guesses to make your way to the airfield where you know a wide array of starships are parked. You’ve finally made your way up to the ground level of the base, only minutes away from where you think the airfield is.

Unfortunately, the stars are not on your side today.

Footsteps—organic ones, by the sound of it—are coming towards you down the hall.

You duck into an alcove in the wall and press yourself as deep into it as you can, hoping desperately that you’re hidden from view. A few moments pass, and then a clone in that strange grey armor sprints past you. Then a second, and a third, and a fourth.

A few seconds pop by, and you’re about to peek out of your alcove when a grey helmet pops back into view, startling you so badly that you bang your elbow against the steel wall.

“Who are you?” the clone yells.

“Who are you?” you retort, for a lack of any better things to say.

“Sergeant CT-9901. Call me Hunter.”

You blink at him. He tilts his head at you.

You say nothing.

“Hunter! We need to go!” a voice shouts.

“Are you a Separatist?” the clone called Hunter asks you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then come on!” he exclaims, motioning you to follow him.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re escaping.”

“You’re going the wrong way!” you exclaim. “The airfield is in the direction you came from.”

“Yeah, and we just rigged the airfield to blow. Now come on!”

Well, shit. What other choice do you have?

Hunter takes off running, and you follow as closely as you can. The tall clone with the sniper rifle is waiting for you at the end of the hall, and he says something to Hunter that you can’t quite make out. They’re probably talking through their helmet comms, you realize. The three of you make your way away from the airfield, through a part of the base that you don’t recognize. Here and there, you catch glimpses of the other two clones up aheads, but they don’t seem to be slowing down at all. Metal carcasses of battle droids are strewn around you.

Finally, you break out of the compound and into the sunlight. It seems to be early afternoon, if you’ve been tracking both the passing of time and the cardinal corrections correctly. The base is located in a valley between rolling mountains, surrounded on every side by thick forest and strange rock formations. You follow the two clones to a large boulder, where the other two clones you saw earlier are standing. One is tall, with goggles in his helmet. The other one is even taller, so tall that you could reasonably call him a giant.

“Who is this?” asks the one with goggles.

“Not a Separatist,” says Hunter. “Which is good enough. Wrecker, are we good to go?”

The giant—Wrecker, apparently—gives Hunter a thumbs up, and hits a button on his vambrace.

The airfield behind you blows up. Somehow, it’s one of the most normal things that’s happened all day.

“That should keep them distracted for at least thirty minutes, which is long enough for us to escape the range of their scanners,” says goggles.

“I don’t want to take any risks. Let’s get moving,” says Hunter. He turns to you. “Alright, Miss ‘Absolutely Not a Separatist’. You coming with us?”

“Is that an option?” you ask.

“As long as you don’t shoot us.”

“Didn’t even occur to me,” you say, honestly. “But where are the other clones?”

“What other clones?”

…you’re joking.

“You did all of that yourself?” you ask, utterly incredulous.

“Sure did!” Wrecker exclaims. “It was fun, too.”

“We specialize in smaller operations,” says Hunter. “Wrecker’s our munitions guy. Tech is pretty self-explanatory. Crosshair’s our sniper. We’re Clone Force Ninety-Nine.”

There’s so much information to be taken in right now, you don’t even know where to begin.

“Alright,” you say, because really, you’re completely out of options here. “I guess I’m in.”

~~~

Cool air burns in your lungs. Everything hurts. Everything hurts. Keeping up with the clones’ long strides has forced you to jog in places, and even then, you’ve fallen to the back of the group. Twenty minutes have passed since the airfield was blown to bits, and in that time, you’ve finally made sense of the incredible influx of information you’ve been given. You’ve also developed a veritable laundry list of questions. Chief among them:

“Where are we going?”

Crosshair turns around, and though his helmet covers his face, he’s definitely glaring at you. “To our cache. Keep up.”

“How much farther?” you ask, trying—and mostly failing—to keep the despair out of your voice.

Crosshair says nothing.

Such a conversationalist.

“What’s going on?” calls a low voice—Hunter’s. All four clones are looking at you now, peering through their unreadable masks.

“I asked where we’re going.”

Hunter pauses, tilts his head. Then he starts making his way back down towards you, his posture tense even as his steps are light and fluid. You eye him closely; despite Crosshair’s rifle, and Wrecker’s size, and Tech’s explosives, you’re getting the feeling that Hunter is the dangerous one here. You just haven’t figured out why, yet.

You straighten as he approaches, expecting him to size you up. Instead, he walks right past you, and sits on a fallen tree.

“When was the last time you drank something?” he asks.

…what?

The question sounds downright concerned. You say nothing. The duration of your imprisonment is not information you’ll give out willingly.

Hunter is unclipping something from his belt, now. It’s a small bottle with a colorless, slightly cloudy liquid inside. He holds it out to you, and says, “Drink.”

“What’s in it?” you ask.

“Water, a mild stimulant, electrolytes, and sugar,” Tech rattles off.

Helpful.

Hunter shoves it towards you a little further, and you push it back. Poisoning is not on today’s agenda…not that literally any of this was on today’s agenda.

“You, first.”

Hunter nods, and pulls his helmet off of his head. His face is…not what you expected. His skin is a light brown, dotted with a few faint freckles on the left side, and dominated by a dark tattoo of a skull on the right. His nose is aquiline, his jaw is strong and rounded, his cheeks ever so slightly hollowed. Dark curly hair falls in a tangled mess to his shoulders, held back only by a red bandana tied across his temple. A few flyaways have escaped its hold, as if yearning for freedom. 

You’re a professional. You do not ogle the handsome soldier. Instead, you watch closely as he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a small sip. Swallows. Your eyes follow the motion of his throat.

Satisfied, you nod, and take the offered gift. The liquid is sweet and a little salty, but otherwise bland. A faint bitterness lingers on your tongue when you’ve finished taking a few gulps.

When you hold the bottle out for Hunter, he waves you off. “All of it.”

It takes you a minute, but you finish the bottle, and thank him as you hand it back to him. He nods silently in response. What a repartee you’ve established.

“You feel better?” Wrecker asks.

“Sure do. Thanks.”

“We stowed the rest of our gear at a spot fifteen klicks away,” Hunter says. “Can you make it that far?”

Now that’s the real question. The fluids and the short rest have certainly helped, but your legs still ache, and the mountain in front of you is only getting steeper as you climb. Fifteen klicks is just a very long walk over normal terrain. Fifteen klicks now…

“Definitely,” you say, with confidence. “Shall we?”

Hunter motions the group forward, and you fall in behind him.

What a day.

~~~

Time starts to blur, after that. Your world reduces itself to the diffused ache of exhaustion in your legs and the tree roots under your feet…and Hunter. More precisely, the mud-splattered heels of Hunter’s armored boots, as you follow close behind. The clones’ pace is almost punishing; you start to worry how long you’ll be able to keep up, as the soldiers plod along without complaint. Well…almost without complaint.

“I’m hungry,” Wrecker groans, only for the fourth time in the past ten minutes.

“With only three ration packs left, protocol dictates that we reserve our food supply until we restock, or until nutrition becomes an immediate concern,” says Tech.

“This is immediate,” Wrecker insists.

“Your appetite has been an ‘immediate concern’ since we were three years old,” says Crosshair.

Your own stomach growls in affirmation, as if feeling left out of the conversation. When was the last time you ate? Hours have lost their shape. At this point, you feel like time is being measured by the number of feet you’ve climbed.

Abruptly, Hunter halts. Without saying a word, he swings his rucksack to his front, pulls out a foil ration pack, and tosses it over his shoulder. It sails through the air in an elegant arc, right into Wrecker’s waiting hand. You try not to be too impressed.

(You fail, because it was impressive. Actually, you’re not even sure how it was possible.)

There’s a pause as Hunter’s hand hovers over his rucksack.

Then: “Catch.”

The warning seems only an afterthought, delivered as the ration pack is already airborne. You manage to catch it anyway, and you turn it over in your hands. It’s cold-start, the kind that’s mixed with water to form a vaguely edible mush. Hunter is already moving forward again.

“Do you have any more water?” you ask.

This time, he doesn’t even bother with a warning as the metal canteen comes hurtling at your head. It stings your hand as you catch it. You tuck the ration pack into your belt so you have a hand free to open the—

To open—

To—

What the hell?

“Is this sealed?” you call out, even though the canteen is clearly half-empty, and you remember him drinking out of it just minutes ago.

Hunter turns and starts to make his way back down to you. Not for the first time on this bizarre trek, you wish that you could see his facial expressions. His body language betrays little, his movements as elegant and efficient as a supersoldier’s should be. When he reaches you, he holds out his hand. You drop the canteen into his palm with a little more force than is really necessary, but he doesn’t react, simply twists open the lid without any visible effort.

“The ration,” he says, holding out his hand again.

“I know how to mix a ration pack,” you grumble.

But you’re tired, and your hands are stiff from the cold, and you’re starting to wonder whether this is an elite super-soldier’s equivalent of kindness. You won’t bite the hand that feeds you. With a nod, you hand over the ration pack. Hunter mixes it with the sort of automaticity that betrays a thousand repetitions of the motion. Your fingers brush when he hands it back.

One swig of the stuff makes you wonder if it’s not too late to go back to the Seppie prison.

“Urghh,” you groan.

Hunter makes a sound that’s almost…oh stars, he’s laughing at you. You’re dying of hunger and thirst and trying to drink what tastes like cardboard in puréed form, and he’s laughing at you.

“Never had GAR rations before?” he asks. “They’re not like what you civilians get for your backpacking trips.”

“That was…rude, I’m sorry,” you say, kicking yourself for reacting that way when he just offered you help.

“That’s the usual reaction,” he says. He swings his rucksack over his shoulder and turns back up the mountain. “Come on, we’ve got a long way ahead of us. Drink it while we walk. You’ll get used to the taste.”

“Stars, I hope not,” you mumble.

Hunter’s rumbling laugh floats back to again, and you smile despite yourself. For a moment, you wonder if you’ll get along after all.

~~~

It turns out rations for six foot tall super-soldiers are really energy-dense. With a stomach full of food—if you can call it food—the day starts to feel a lot less like a catastrophic mission failure and a lot more like a strange little side quest. Wrecker seems to feel the same, a bright levity emerging in his booming voice.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Hunter took on three regs at one time because they were picking on Crosshair?”

“When would you ever have had time to tell her that story?” Crosshair asks.

“There were only two,” Hunter corrects, “and they were almost a year younger than us.”

“What are regs?” you ask.

It’s a can of worms that you’re glad you’ve opened.

Wrecker seems to delight in having an audience, and the other three can’t help but contribute to the conversation. Their stories are all out of chronology, and the discussion is frequently derailed by your complete lack of knowledge about the Grand Army of the Republic. The Senate wants it that way, you know. Honestly, it’s incredible how much intel you’re getting right now…not that you feel like you could use it for anything productive. It paints an ugly picture that the clones don’t seem to realize is ugly, a tale of forced conformity and a brutal life.

The landscape goes by. You learn that most clones like them are considered defective and relegated to maintenance duty. You learn that, although the clones as a whole view themselves as brothers, there’s nasty people in any group. You learn who “regs” are, and about the ones who picked on the 99s—Crosshair especially, who grew up tall but unusually thin, unable to develop the impressive muscle mass that most of the clones possessed. You learn that Hunter, the only one not visibly defective in some way, learned to bridge the gap between his squad and their other brothers.

(You learn that, when his diplomacy failed, he was always willing to throw punches in their defense.)

A story unfolds, of four boys who turned into four men, all so different in temperament that it seems impossible for them to be held together by anything except circumstances. Wrecker starts fights because he thinks they’re fun, but cares far more about what other people think of him than he’s willing to let on. Tech simultaneously lives in his own head and is inextricably steeped in the world around him, every phenomenon looking more colorful through his goggles, every system of nature a machine that can be disassembled. Crosshair is a cynic, through and through, but his loyalty to his brothers runs so deep that you wonder if it might be affection, rather than a sense of duty, that drives him. Hunter…

In all of their stories, none of the other clones truly describe Hunter to you. There are no off-handed compliments that he’s brave, or that he’s kind, or that he’s level-headed. Wrecker tells you, “Crosshair is the best lookout in the entire galaxy.” Hunter tells you, “Wrecker has this habit of offering to help people at very inconvenient times,”—an amusingly brotherly way to say that Wrecker is a generous soul. Crosshair tells you, “Tech saved our mission because he read a book about karking butterflies.”

But still, in between the tales of rescues and hijinks, you weave together the threads, and you find yourself looking at a very different person than you thought you had met when your day began. Hunter’s facade of gruffness is hastily constructed and easily chipped away, and beneath it he is not a complicated man. Above all else, he is singularly devoted to protecting others, and everything else about him seems inconsequential in comparison.

Evening falls, and you make it to the place where the clones have stored their gear. Their ship, Hunter explains, is another twelve klicks away, near a small outpost that they initially investigated, and then decided not to infiltrate.

After you’ve finished your dinner—which includes some real food this time, even if it is canned—you find yourself sitting by a tiny brook, too small for anything to swim in it. A day’s worth of stories tumble around in your mind.

You only hear Hunter coming when he’s a few feet behind you.

“I won’t ask you what you were doing in a Seppie detention cell.”

Smart man, you think.

“But,” he continues, “whatever it was you did, they’re going to be after you as much as they’re after us. You need to be able to protect yourself.”

You resist the urge to respond with a dry, “Yeah, no shit, Sergeant.” Instead, you offer a non-committal hum.

“I’ve got a spare DC-17 pistol. You should learn how to use it.”

You turn to look at him. He’s standing with one hand on his hip and the other holding his blaster, empty of a power cell. He looks very serious.

You try to resist the urge not to laugh. You’ve had a blaster in your hand since you were twelve years old.

Instead, you say, “Sounds like a good idea. Now?”

“No better time,” he says.

He makes his way over and sits down next to you, and you find yourself leaning in to watch as he turns the blaster over in his hands.

“So we’ll start with assembling it…”

You’re only half paying attention to the actual words tumbling from his lips. Like a sweater catching on a bush, your mind catches on the low, rumbling timbre of his voice. The sound buzzes in your ears. The sun is going down, but you could swear it’s getting warmer. Was he always that—

“Were you paying attention?” he asks, breaking your reverie.

“Yes,” you lie. Well, half-lie, because you were paying attention…to other things.

“Repeat back what I just told you.”

Well, that definitely isn’t happening. In lieu of an answer, you pluck the blaster and its power cell from his hands. Your conscious mind is barely engaged as you assemble it with steady hands, as quick as you reasonably can without jamming it. A DC-17 isn’t your preferred style of pistol, but the principle is the same.

And if you’re not mistaken, the subtle arch of Hunter’s brow means that he’s impressed.

“Good. Now, this blaster handles a little differently than the ones you’ve probably used…”

Maybe it’s the smooth confidence in his voice, or maybe you’re just desperate to learn more about the man, but you find yourself going along with it. You nod as he explains the kickback of the weapon, its effective range, its possible styles of blaster bolts.

Finally, he stands behind your left shoulder, and quietly instructs you to aim the weapon. It’s as easy as breathing. His hands come up to adjust your grip; his fingers are warm and rough, heavily calloused by his own use of weaponry. The heat lingers even as he pulls away, apparently satisfied with the positioning of your hands.

You immediately slide your grip back to where it was.

“My hands are smaller,” you explain, even though you don’t owe him an explanation, because you’ve been doing this at least as long as he has. You almost tell him that, too, but it would reveal more about you than you actually want him to know.

“Mmm,” he hums, his face now tantalizing close to your ear. “See if you can hit that hollow tree.”

The tree is maybe thirty feet away. Half of you is wildly offended by the suggestion that you couldn’t hit such an easy target. The other half of you is ruled by the pounding of your own tyrannical heart, Hunter’s mere proximity throwing you out of your disciplined calm.

You breathe in. Breathe out. Aim. Squeeze.

There’s now a burning hole in the center of the dead tree.

“Good!” Hunter says, and good heavens, could he not stand so close? “Now—”

Fweeoo.

Maybe you should feel bad about cutting him off. You don’t, at all.

Fweeoo.

Fweeoo.

Fweeoo.

Hunter is silent, now, just standing there watching you draw a neat little line of smoking holes in the tree. The petty part of you is winning your internal war, so you line up a sixth shot, turn your head to meet his gaze, and pull the trigger. His dark brown eyes flicker away, then back to yours.

“You’ve made your point,” he murmurs.

You glance at the tree, where a wisp a smoke rises from a knot in the bark. It’s not a perfect bullseye, but a victory nevertheless.

“I’ve made better points,” you retort, smiling. Four precious seconds pass before Hunter finally steps away.

“So, no target practice for you, then. I set up your bedroll. You should get some rest.”

“Which watch should I take?”

Hunter frowns slightly. “None of them. I’m going to scout out the area for a bit longer, then I’ll take first watch. Crosshair and Tech take second and third.”

“Do you want a second pair of eyes?”

“Don’t need them.”

You nod, and suddenly realize what an awkward thing that was to say. “Well then, I’ll head back up to camp.”

“Goodnight,” says Hunter, softly.

You don’t manage to summon a response.

(Your heart still pounds against your ribs.)

~~~

Despite the food, rest, and water, the morning’s trek is harder than yesterday’s. The terrain turns rocky and the foliage becomes sparse, leaving you exposed to the cold wind. The group’s pace slows as you make your way down the mountain, carefully stepping around loose stones that could send you tumbling. Your eyes are once again trained on Hunter’s heels. You trust him more than you trust yourself to pick out a safe path on the treacherous slope.

Still, the difficulty of the endeavor doesn’t seem to dampen the squad’s mood. Hunter’s helmet is off, strapped to the top of his pack, and he often tilts his face towards the sun. The wind blows his curly hair in every direction, until the bandana is only keeping half of it out of his face. Tech is delivering a detailed lecture about geology. You have no idea what he’s talking about. Wrecker seems as confused as you are about the subject, but while you simply let the words wash over you, Wrecker eagerly interjects with questions and commentary. Their dialogue is far from socratic, but it starts to intrigue you, and you can’t help but smile at the exchange. Every once in a while, the conversation is punctuated by a comment from Crosshair, dripping with sarcasm and yet received with good-hearted laughter. Hunter’s contributions, frequent at first, begin to taper off. The other three don’t seem to notice, but then again, it’s not their job to study people. It’s yours.

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he answers your question preemptively.

“Someone’s in the ship,” he says, turning around to face the group.

“Clankers?” Wrecker asks.

“No. I would have felt them if they were droids. I’ve been sensing something else: comms, or another type of small electronics. But just now, they turned on power in the ship.”

The cogs in your head are turning. Did you hear him correctly?

“How do you know?” you ask. “What do you mean, you felt…”

You trail off as Hunter holds up a finger to silence you. His brow is drawn into a tight scowl and he closes his eyes, tilting his head as if listening for something.

Tech makes his way over to you. Quietly, he explains, “Hunter can feel electromagnetic frequencies. He can sense droids, or the electronics that people carry on them if they’re quite close. When the electrical power on the ship is turned on, those frequencies change, so he can feel those, too.”

“How could somebody turn your ship on without a key fob?” you whisper.

“The ship has no key fob. It would be dangerous to rely on a small object, which could easily be lost or damaged during a mission, to access our only means of escape. One can enter the ship and activate some systems with no restrictions, and the engine can be started with a key code.”

“And somebody just got on your ship?”

“Apparently, yes.”

You glance up at Hunter. His right thumb is rubbing absently at the scuffed paint on his vambrace.

After a long moment, he says, “There are definitely no droids. I think there are locals here, and we didn’t realize it. We need to move. The ship is only a fifteen minute run from here.”

“Should we leave the packs?” you ask.

“Leave everything except weapons and combat gear. We’ll put the explosives and grappling hooks in Wrecker’s pack.”

“Aww, yeah!” Wrecker cheers, albeit quietly. The rest of the group is in motion immediately, rearranging their burdens and leaving all by the necessities tucked under a rocky outcrop. You have no rucksack, so you help Wrecker in carefully repacking the explosives into his. You’re almost finished when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“You’ll want these,” Hunter says. He hands you two spare power cells for your blaster.

“Two? But you only have three spares.”

“I’m hoping we can reason with the locals,” he says, “or scare them away. But if things got really bad, I’ve got this.”

There’s a metallic hiss as he slides a vibroknife out of the sheath on his forearm. He twirls it in his fingers a few times, a display of skill so casual that it feels almost unreal.

Wait.

Wait.

“Back in the base, did you stab those droids?” you exclaim.

Hunter grins, a full smile that seems so out of place in your current situation. And yet, you find yourself mirroring it right back at him.

“Let’s go get our ship back.”

~~~

Jagged rock digs into your skin as you lie on your stomach on a ridge, peering out at the clones’ ship. Hunter was right; you can vaguely make out the shapes of at least three humanoids milling around it. From where you are, though, you can’t see any more details than that. The group’s only pair of binoculars is currently in Crosshair’s hands.

“Three outside the ship,” he says. “Armored, helmeted, and carrying blasters. These might be more than just locals.”

“Anything else?” Hunter asks.

“They’re waving their hands at each other.”

Hunter holds out his hand for the binoculars, and Crosshair hands them over.

“Sign language,” says Hunter. “Either they don’t want to be heard, or they can’t hear. I can’t feel how many there are. The ship is interfering too much.”

“Are they doing anything to the ship?” you ask.

“Not from the outside. Who knows what they’re doing inside of it.”

“I have encrypted all information present on board our ship,” says Tech from next to Crosshair. “It would be nearly impossible for them to elicit any intelligence from its databanks.”

“I’m more worried about them gutting it,” says Hunter darkly.

To your surprise, he does not hand the binoculars to Tech next—he hands them to you. Nodding in thanks, you take them, and try not to think about the way his shoulder presses against yours. You fine-tune the focusing knob until you have a clear view of the people standing in front of the ship.

Then you almost drop the binoculars.

Hunter notices the jerk of your hand immediately. “What’s going on?” he asks, alarmed.

What’s going on? What’s going on?

What’s going on is that you are never getting that ship back, and you’re all in deep shit, and you’re starting to wonder if you really will quit your job this time.

Kark. This.

“Those are Third Hand,” you say.

“Third Hand?”

“Mercenaries. They’re…” you trail off as you watch one of the distant figures make a wide sweeping motion with his right arm. You wrack your brain trying to remember what it means, but it’s been years since you’ve encountered one of the Third Hand. Usually, the correct response to encountering one is to run very fast in the other direction and pray to anybody who will listen that they don’t follow you…and not to ask them for sign language lessons. The only reason you even recognize them is because their appearance is so distinctive: Ubese filter helmets and cortosis-weave plate armor, painted in swirling multicolored hues with jagged black symbols on top, studded with spikes. The effect is like a monstrous creature emerging from a beautiful supernova. These ones have relatively few spikes each—a good sign, but not a great one.

“What?” Hunter asks.

You refocus yourself. “They’re Ubese mercenaries. Very good ones. Usually contract with the Spice Cartel.”

“So what are they doing out here?”

“Nothing good. If there are six here, there are probably at least twelve in the area.”

“How do you know there are six? Can you see them?”

You’ve mentally catalogued everything you’ll be able to learn from looking, so you hand the binoculars back to Hunter.

“Third Hand always travel in groups of threes. There are three outside, so there will probably be three inside.”

“Six is manageable,” he says.

…manageable? He’s joking. He has to be joking. The man who used to start fist-fights to defend his brothers would not turn them into target practice for the Third Hand.

But his voice is deadly serious.

“Six against four?” you ask, incredulous.

“Six against five.”

“I’m not wearing armor. I’m not a soldier. I don’t count.”

“I’ll still take those odds. We need to complete the mission, which means we need to scout the other large bases on this moon. And for that, we need our ship.”

“They’re armed to the teeth and don’t shy away from killing people like you do.”

“We’ve had worse. We need to complete the mission,” he repeats.

“Hunter, what is wrong with you?” you whisper-scream, utterly furious but fully aware of how exposed your position is. “Do you actually think it’s a good idea to take on six extraordinarily well-trained mercenaries just for a ship? Any sane officer would turn his men around right now and send for evac!”

“We don’t need an evac!”

“Stars help us, Hunter, stop trying to be a hero! Why can’t you just be normal?”

Hunter goes deathly still.

Silence falls upon you; the air seems to turn brittle. You glance between the men. Crosshair is staring at you coldly. Wrecker is fidgeting, his eyebrows raised in alarm. Tech is glancing between you, Hunter, and the display on his Hud, his fingers still tapping against his wrist comm.

Hunter isn’t looking at you.

“We have never been normal,” he mutters.

The word seems laced with poison, and your chest clenches. Of course you had to go and put your foot in your mouth. Of course you picked the one adjective that would feel so personal to him. His expression is angry, but somehow you get the feeling that it runs deeper than that.

“Hunter,” you say, softer this time. “This is a suicide mission.”

“Then don’t come.”

Stubborn man! “Has it not occurred to you that I don’t want you to die? Any of you?”

Hunter does look at you now, his face a mix of so many emotions that it’s become unreadable. You meet his dark eyes and hold his gaze, willing him to understand. Willing him to trust you.

“We’ll be going home with one less ship and no information,” he says. Damn him. “We don’t even know where the datapad is, now.

Something about that sentence catches in your mind. You don’t even know where the datapad is. You don’t…

…no, you do.

It all clicks together.

“Yes, we do.”

“What?” the men chorus, sounding more alike than they ever have.

“You told me that there’s a small outpost near here, right?”

“That outpost was far too small and poorly-manned to contain the datapad we’re looking for,” says Tech. “The Separatists would never leave something so valuable so vulnerable.”

“But what if it is well-guarded? Just not by droids.”

Hunter shifts, turns to look at you for real now. The anger hasn’t entirely faded from his face, but there’s something else there now, a new glint. “Are you saying that the outpost is guarded by these mercenaries, and the datapad is actually being kept there?”

“It’s the best explanation. How much do you know about the outpost?”

All four men glance at each other. Wrecker grins.

“Well,” says Tech, “when I sliced into the Separatist servers…”

~~~

The plan is insane.

The plan is so utterly insane that you wonder if it wouldn’t be better just to take on six mercenaries in a firefight to get the ship back.

The outpost is less than an hour’s hike from the ship; the clones were able to land close to it because it lacks the long-range ship detection system that the large base had. The mercenaries have only been at the ship for twenty minutes or so, and based on what you know of the Third Hand, they will pick it apart piece by piece before they’re satisfied. That takes six men out of the running, but the second the alarm sounds at the base, your countdown will begin.

Hunter and his bizarre superhuman abilities prove invaluable. From this range, he can tell you that there are somewhere around forty droids, and that they’re remotely controlled. Tech has been able to override certain models of remote-control battle droids in the past, and he’s confident in his ability to do so here. 

Crosshair will set up on the hill overlooking the outpost and cover Wrecker, who will launch an artillery attack against the east end. You, Tech, and Hunter will sneak in through the north entrance, where Tech will slice into a terminal and take control of the droids to attack the mercenaries. You and Hunter will look for the datapad, and once you have it, you’ll steal a ship and escape.

So, just normal Taungsday things.

“If anything goes wrong,” you say, “we scrap the mission. If their scanners are strong enough to detect us, we quit. If the droids are the wrong model, we quit. If there are more than fifteen men, we quit.”

Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair agree.

Hunter just glares at you.

The trek to the base is made in silence. Your trigger finger is itchy, and you startle at things that shouldn’t bother you: small animals darting between the rocks, your foot sinking to deep into mud, Crosshair clearing his throat. The group walks in single file: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, you, and Crosshair. You can’t see Hunter from here. It’s better that way.

At one point, Wrecker falls back a little to walk side by side with you. He leans down a little, as if to whisper conspiratorily. The effect is comical—he really just ends up hovering far above your head.

“We, uhh…we failed our last two missions. It was bad. The Admiral said that Hunter made a bad call, and if we couldn’t do the next one, we’d be sent back to Kamino. Said if we couldn’t function like a normal squad, we shouldn’t be here.”

“So if you fail…”

“Tech and me go to maintenance. Hunter and Crosshair have to teach the cadets. Hunter doesn’t mind it”—you remember his careful instruction with the blaster, and a smile flickers across your face—”but he’d rather be out here.”

“Well, then,” you say, shoulders straightening. “We better not fail.”

~~~

The first ten minutes are a dramatic, spectacular victory.

There’s more firepower packed into Wrecker’s rucksack than you could possibly have imagined. The ground shakes when he begins his assault, and a small part of you worries that he might do his job too well, and send the outpost crashing into a pile of rubble. But, though Wrecker might not always come across this way, you spent much of yesterday listening to stories about him: the man is brilliant with explosives. What you wouldn’t give to be watching the display through Crosshair’s scope right now.

Tech, Hunter, and you manage to sneak into the base with little issue. All of the alarms in the base are already going off, so your illicit entry adds nothing new to the cacophany. Quick as a flash, Tech slices into the outpost’s computer system, and then the real fun begins.

The droids are only B1s, but the great strength of B1s is their numbers and their complete disregard for their own safety. Through the outpost surveillance system, you watch the Third Hand mercenaries scramble to deal with the chaos wrought by explosions on one side and traitorous battle droids on the other. There seem to be nine of them here, and before you and Hunter even set out to look for the datapad, four are already dead or seriously wounded.

(Although you know that they’ve all killed more people than you could count, you still wince at the carnage.)

When all of them seem sufficiently occupied, you and Hunter set out, blasters locked and loaded. After three turns—right, left, right—Hunter motions down a narrow corridor.

“You go that way, look on the west side. There’s nobody there, and there’s a communications room about fifty feet down. I’m going south, this way.”

You resist the urge to argue with him, as much as you want to. He took a chance, trusting you, and now you need to do the same for him.

“Comm me if you find anything,” you say.

“I will.”

You’re sprinting down the hallway when you hear him call out, “Be careful!”

One by one, you sweep the rooms off of the hallway. Most of them are small storage rooms or engine rooms, with one small dormitory. At last, you reach the communications room. Knowing that this is the room most likely to have people in it, your heart pounds as you open the door as fast as you can, blaster raised. It’s empty.

Adrenaline keeps coursing through you as you search the entire room, looking for the datapad. There’s nothing. On your way out, you notice a box of empty data sticks. It’s not what you’re here for, but you shove one of them in the nearest console and wait for it to download the basic schematics of the computer. There’s no time to go searching through the computers for information—there’s probably nothing useful on them, anyway—but you’re hoping that knowing what kind of tech the Separatists are using might help somebody back at HQ.

Bzzz. Your comm goes off.

“Hunter?”

“I found the datapad. It’s at the end of the south corridor I went down, at the very end on the left.”

“On my way,” you say.

In the privacy of the empty room, you allow yourself a sigh of relief. This is not your standard sort of operation. Explosions are still shaking the compound, though they’re beginning to slow down, and you eject the datastick even though it’s not quite finished. You’re here for one thing, and Hunter has found it. Only a few more minutes. Then you can all get off of this planet.

Luckily, you encounter no mercenaries during your sprint to where Hunter is. When you arrive, you find him leaned over a datapad that’s been detached from the main console, a strange-looking datastick plugged into its main port. Hunter glances back and nods a greeting at you.

“Almost done,” he says.

You fiddle with one of the datasticks that you swiped from the communications room, ready to switch yours with his the moment that his download is finished. The next twenty seconds feel like eternity.

Then: green light.

Hunter yanks his datastick out of the console. Then, wiith a flash of movement so fast you can barely processed what just happened, he sinks his vibroblade into the datapad and tears it down the center, splitting the machine into two sparking hunks of ruined metal.

~~~

Here’s the thing:

You’re a spy. Spies have rules. Perhaps chief among those rules is, “Don’t trust anyone.” Especially, “Don’t trust foreign special operatives who you just met yesterday.”

Here’s the thing:

That intel was kept on an encrypted datapad that could not be accessed remotely. It was not backed up. And Hunter just destroyed it beyond any hope of recovery. While his mission is safe and secure in his pocket, yours is a complete loss. And he did that on purpose.

Here’s the thing:

Until five seconds ago, you actually liked him.

It takes a moment before your brain truly catches up, and by then he’s moving towards the exit.

“Let’s go!” he calls.

You hate your traitorous legs for the way they heed his order without question, pounding against the concrete floor as the two of you sprint through the halls of the compound. You hate your traitorous hands for firmly gripping your blaster, not once reaching out to grab him by the shoulder and stop him. You hate your traitorous voice for not crying out in protest, for not calling him a liar and a cheat and a terrible excuse for a human being.

You hate yourself for doing as he says, even as his betrayal lies in a smoking heap behind you.

Your body moves automatically, dodging behind a corner when you see a mercenary. Hunter strafes in the opposite direction and takes a few shots at the man. By the thump you hear, you presume that one of them landed.

“Bet you’re glad you don’t have a ‘normal’ soldier with you right now,” Hunter quips.

Anger rises in your throat. Is that really what he’s hung up on? Your single comment, that’s what made him destroy that datapad, ruining your mission? Maybe you’d understand better if he’d done it for the sake of the Republic, but this just feels like a low blow.

As you round the next corner, Hunter pulls off his helmet and tilts his head, apparently listening for something. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, and he gives you a cocky half-smile.

Asshole, you think. It’s a petty word and a petty thought, but your anger is pulsing through your body with every beat of your heart, every memory you’ve formed in the past day suddenly tainted. Quieter, but just as poignant, is a deep feeling of shame. Were you really fooled by a handsome face and a few acts of kindness? Is this the man he’s been all along?

You shake your head to clear the thoughts away. Right now, you need to focus. This is the final leg of the plan: you and Hunter have to get to the far north-east side of the compound, where three ships are kept in a tiny hangar: two fighters, and one shuttle.

Hunter is yelling at Tech through comms: “Tech! Open the door into the hangar and get over here!”

You can see the door slowly open up ahead.

So close.

You’re nearly to the door, making a beeline for the nearest fighter, when you hear Hunter shout.

Then something slams you into the wall. Heat envelopes you, carried on a strong gust of wind. You struggle to take a breath.

One second passes.

The sound of blaster fire rings in your ears.

Two seconds pass.

You finally realize what’s happening. Hunter is pressed against you, his arms held up to protect your head. It wasn’t a something that threw you against the wall just now; it was him, pushing you out of the way of what seems to have been a grenade.

“Got ‘im!” Wrecker yells over comms. The sound rings in your ears, tender from the sound of the explosion.

“If my counting was correct, that was the last of the Third Hand,” says Tech.

“Not the last,” says Crosshair. “I see the other six. They’re on their way here. Four minutes.”

Hunter shifts away now, and you try to take a full breath through the smoke.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You nod. Your voice feels too raw to work right now.

“Come on, we don’t have much time.”

Emotions are bouncing around your head like a damned pinball machine, and you push them all away, focusing on the task at hand: you need to get to a ship. You need to escape. So you follow Hunter through the door and into the hangar. The wind has changed, blowing the smoke of Wrecker’s explosions away from you, and you breathe deeply as you run.

To your surprise, Hunter doesn’t make for the shuttle. He makes for the nearest fighter, instead. Across the hangar, you can see Wrecker wave.

“Wrecker!” Hunter yells. “Start the shuttle!”

“On it!” Wrecker calls back.

“I thought you were all going together,” you say.

“We are. I need to give you this, first.”

Hunter takes your hand and presses something small and hard into it. The tips of his fingers are warm and calloused, and though you could count on his hand the number of times you’ve touched, he feels as familiar as a home.

“Here,” he says. The warmth is gone as quickly as it came as he pulls away, ducking around the fighter to look around the hangar, scanning for enemies.

All you can think to say is: “What?”

“You can access it with the code 223-228-24!”

“What is it?”

“The datastick. Don’t access it until you’re in a secure position.”

“I don’t understand. You destroyed the datapad.”

Hunter turns to look at you and cocks his head. “I got a copy first.”

“Just one, though.”

“I downloaded it to my wrist comm. This is the original.”

Oh.

Oh!

You want to sigh-laugh-sob with relief. Hunter was never leaving you out to dry. His comment about being a normal soldier…that was teasing. You were running for your lives, being shot at, and he was teasing you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, because your voice can’t be trusted in full.

Hunter only shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. We’d have been dead men without you.”

“Not…not the datastick. I just…”

Words stick in your throat. There’s an ocean between you and Hunter that you can’t seem to cross, the crash of its waves inaudible over the pounding of your heart. There’s an ocean between you, and it’s only an arm span across. Words stick in your throat, but your feet…

Your feet are as light as ever, and you find yourself standing in front of him, looking up into dark eyes that finally seem readable. Hope and fear flicker across them in equal measure.

You move slowly, telegraphing your movement to give him a chance to pull away, but he doesn’t. The world stills, and you brush the gentlest kiss on his left cheek, where ink meets blank skin.

(If it were quieter, you would hear his delicate inhale as your lips touched him.)

“Thank you,” you murmur.

You start to step away, hoping—praying, maybe, to all the stars that will listen—that your message was received and decoded. Then a warm hand, calloused from war and gentled from compassion, takes yours. This time, there is nothing for him to give you; there is only an affection that feels so out of place and so, so right. His other hand tilts your chin up.

When he kisses you, all you can think is, finally.

It’s everything that the past two days haven’t been: slow, unsure, and tender. You feel yourself smiling despite yourself. You feel him smile back, and the kiss is broken in the best way possible: with soft laughter.

Time is slipping like water between your fingers.

You kiss him again. And a third time. You’re starting to wonder whether you’ll ever tire of it when the rumble of a ship tugs you from your bliss. It’s Hunter who pulls away first.

“You’ll be okay?” he asks.

The ghost of a smile still lingers on his face, but his brow is knit together with concern.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Really. I’m a professional.”

Hunter snorts. “We found you in prison.”

“Occupational hazard!”

Hunter’s laugh is brighter than you’ve ever heard it, and sadder all the same. You brush a finger along his jaw, as if you can catch that laugh in your hand and tuck it in your pocket.

“I’ll see you around, Sergeant,” you say.

Hunter nods. “I’ll see you around.”

The way he turns is abrupt, as if forcing himself to move before he changes his mind. You waste precious seconds watching him sprint across the tarmac and up the ramp of the ship, 

Hunter doesn’t look back, but as you watch the ship’s engines ignite, you can almost feel his gaze still lingering on your face.

Time to go.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

#clone fic gift exchange #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #hunter x you #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #TBBE24

[kikyo-bnha-imagines]

Reader with a memory loss condition, any character, hella angst 🙏

BAKUGOU KATSUKI | MEMORY LOSS

Katsuki thought he’d lost you for good. The sight of you covered in blood, eyes squeezed shut, and barely even breathing... it was almost too much to bear. If he couldn’t even protect the person he loved most, then how the fuck could he call himself a hero?  

But against all odds, you survived. The universe decided to have mercy this time, even though he’d failed to protect you. He’d fucked up, and the guilt would follow him forever, but at least he was being granted a second chance.  

Unfortunately, your life had come at no small price.  

“I have to warn you, Bakugou,” the doctor frowns. “She’s... different now. All of the healing and surgery have taken care of her life-threatening injuries, but she suffered severe head trauma, and it’s put her in a state of disorientation.”  

Katsuki clenches his jaw. “What are you trying to say? I know it’s gonna take her a while to recover. It’s not like I expect her to be up and running right away. As long as she’s safe—”  

“I’m referring to her brain. Well, more specifically, her memories. We did an initial screening, and it’s quite clear that she’s suffering from amnesia.” The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. “I just wanted you to know, so that you can prepare yourself.”  

“...oh.”  

Katsuki doesn’t know what else to say. Really, what can he say? You’re alive. That simple fact alone is worthy of celebration. He's just grateful that you’re still here, living and breathing. He doesn’t have to say goodbye to you. He’ll never, ever be ready to say goodbye to you.

“This is still a very early diagnosis,” the doctor reassures. “Following a traumatic event, some patients suffer memory loss for a few days, weeks, or in rarer cases, months, but it’s not guaranteed to be permanent. In fact, temporary amnesia is far more common. It just takes a while for the brain to repair itself.”  

“I get it,” Katsuki nods. Right. It’s all going to be fine. You’ve just come out of a life-threatening battle, so it’s no wonder if your mind is in disarray.  

There’s no need to panic. Katsuki loves you, and you love him.  

As long as you’re together, whatever it is, you’ll get through it.  

“If you’re ready, then you’re welcome to go see her now,” the doctor encourages.  

Katsuki doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps into the hospital room without sparing a breath, and sure enough, there you are. Sweet, lovely [Name]. The love of his life, all covered in bandages, but looking just as beautiful as always.  

Katsuki swallows his tears. He already cried his heart out when he first thought you were a goner, and he cried even more while you were in intensive care. There’s no point in crying anymore, not when you’re alive and well. Seeing him with a weak, broken expression won’t do you any good.  

For your sake, he needs to be strong.  

“[Name],” Katsuki mumbles. He walks over to your bedside and pulls out a chair so he can sit close. He isn’t normally much of a smiler, but being next to you like this—something he thought he’d never be able to do again—makes his lips curl up at the sides and tremble in relief.

You’re alive. Your injuries have been healed, for the most part, and there won’t be any lasting damage. There’s no reason why you won’t be able to keep enjoying life, just as you've done up until now.  

Overwhelmed with emotion and the desire to feel the warmth of your skin against his, Katsuki reaches out to grab your hand.  

You recoil immediately, and in that moment, Katsuki’s heart shatters.

“Sorry,” you swallow. “Um. I don’t... I don’t know who you are.”

He feels like he’s about to throw up. The doctor mentioned amnesia. He did mention amnesia. But... isn’t this way too extreme? This is like the kind of stuff that happens in movies, or when elderly patients are in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s.  

You blink, searching his expression for a clue. “I’m sorry,” you frown. “I feel like I should know you. It sounds like you know me. But it’s just hard. It feels like my head is all foggy. I’m really, really sorry...”  

And then you start crying. You cry and cry, even though you can’t possibly be to blame, and all the while, Katsuki is helpless to do anything but watch.  

“It’s not—” He swallows hard, wiping his eyes so that he doesn’t start crying too. “I-It’s okay,” he chokes out. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. I’m Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki. Does that name sound familiar at all? It’ll come back to you. I promise it will.”  

“I don’t know,” you sob. “I don’t know. I just don’t know...”  

He’s never wanted to hug you more in his entire life, but how can he? From your perspective, he’s nothing more than a stranger. You wouldn’t even let him hold your hand. All of those years spent together, all of those incredible memories you’d shared... they’re gone. Just like that.  

“It’s not your fault,” Katsuki mumbles brokenly.  

He says it again and again, but he’s not even sure you hear him over the sound of your own cries.  

The past few months have been the hardest of Katsuki’s entire life, and regretfully, the days ahead aren’t going to get any easier.  

Your amnesia is permanent. Or, at the very least, the odds of you making a recovery at this point are so small they may as well be zero.

Katsuki isn’t the only person you’ve forgotten. You forgot a good chunk of the classmates you went to U.A with, major life events, and even certain encounters with villains—including the very incident that nearly claimed your life. The doctor said it’s very common for traumatic events to be forgotten, and while Katsuki is glad that you don’t have to remember something so horrible, why did you have to forget all the good stuff too?  

It’s just not fair. Katsuki knows he should be grateful. He still gets to see your pretty, smiling face, he still gets to talk to you and hear you laugh from time to time. None of that would have been possible if the doctors hadn’t fought tooth and nail to save your life. At least you’re still young, your body is in healthy, functional shape, and the personality he fell for is still largely unchanged.  

Katsuki doesn’t want to complain. He doesn’t want to take what he still has for granted.  

But it just really fucking hurts.  

He hasn’t been able to hold you in months. He hasn’t been able to kiss you either. Even though he’s told you that the two of you used to date, you’ve forgotten all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. It’s taken time for you to let your guard down, especially since everything’s so difficult to make sense of.  

You’re friends. At the very least, Katsuki is still a part of your life. But every time he cracks an inside joke or accidentally makes a reference to something that happened in the past, and he sees the confused look in your eyes, a part of him breaks.  

Still, he refuses to stop trying. He’ll never stop trying. The doctors said that certain memories can trigger other ones, and in rare cases, even patients with severe memory loss were able to make a miraculous recovery.  

Katsuki never used to be the type of person to hold out hope for a miracle, but nowadays, it’s all he ever wishes for.  

“It’s pretty here,” you say, sighing happily. Your gaze flickers towards the beach’s shoreline, and you admire the gentle, rippling waves as the sun descends through the sky.  

Katsuki just stares at you. “You’re prettier,” he replies.  

“Oh, pfft,” you brush off. “Quit hitting on me.”  

He wants to do more than just hit on you. He wants you wrap his arms around you and slam his lips against yours, meeting you in the most desperate, passionate kiss he can muster. If it was up to him, the two of you would already be rolling around in the sand right now, bodies pressed together so close that you could feel each other’s heartbeat.  

But he can’t. You’re not ready yet. You’re not ready, and... you’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten the happiest moments of his life.  

So, he’ll wait. There’s nothing else he can do but wait. Starting over from the beginning is painful and gut-wrenching. It’s an endless cycle of despair. You might never remember. There’s a chance you might not even fall in love with him again.  

But at least you’re alive. At least you’re here with him right now.  

Katsuki will never stop trying, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much he cries. He’ll form new memories with you, and even if those disappear one day too... 

He’ll just start all over again. 

#bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #romance #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #angst #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha oneshots #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou

[a-sterling-rose]

Danny Phantom Writing Prompt: The Lack of a Hero Complex

Once Danny publicly shames Vlad into returning the status quo of Amity Park, Danny also stops ghost fighting.

The Human Trio and Vlad confront Danny about his lack of action. The Human Trio finally gets a taste of the sleep deprivation Danny experienced when he didn't want to burden them from their schedules while the property damage continued to tarnish Vlad's public reputation. Danny just laughs.

Sam, completely livid at the lack of reaction: Who’s going to protect the town, Danny?

Danny gets up from the couch and looks directly into Vlad's eyes: Yeah, Vlad, how do you plan on protecting your town?

Danny lightly chuckles while he goes down to the lab where the Fenton Parents were working. He was just gonna play on the family computer while his Dad would boast about their latest idea.

The human trio:

Vlad:

When the ghosts who come to directly harass Danny, he decides he just needs to be completely honest with each of them.

Danny: Listen, I'll admit I kinda had fun with the bantering, but I want to focus on better things now. I was never really interested in any of you.

The Ghosts:

The results?

Vlad has to set up legit ghost detectors all over the city and properly hire the Fentons for protection. Vlad hoped that the hiring would gain him favor from Maddie, but he finally got to see how she really was compared to his idealized version. Their constant public damages made Vlad's reputation even more tarnished, and their lack of change despite him personally talking to them about it makes him grow equal resentment towards both of them. It gets to the point where Vlad just sets up the same ecto repellent he uses to keep ghosts from escaping his portal back in Winsconsin. The extra paperwork he has to do now governing is not worth the mess he caused. Political power wasn't as worth it as he thought it would be.

The Human Trio gave Danny the cold shoulder for a while, but that just gave him some well needed alone time to raise his grades. He even finally got to join the astronomy club like he planned before the portal accident. They were a very chill group and welcomed him to sit with them at lunch, so he was never alone. Dash tried to start their usual routine, but that was immediately hauled by the club leader.

Dash wasn't clever enough to figure out how to respond to being called 'Pussy Lips' by a girl, so he just kinda sulked away.

Dash will say the occasional snarky comment, but he never bring himself to get too close to Danny after a club member told Danny to tell Dash and the other football players they could take turns sucking him off after their club meeting. Dash just wasn't clever enough to get things back to normal.

Though the club members weren't A-listers, they weren't at the bottom, so Danny social life became better.

The Human Trio tried to continue on like before, but they were soon caught ghost hunting by the Fentons. There was no punishment, just overactive excitement, seeing they were finally interested in Ghost Hunting. Now, having to join the Fentons whenever there was a ghost detected, the fun of it is zapped away for them, making the tiredness not worth it anymore. The three eventually apologized to Danny, which he accepts, and the group finally accepts the new changes.

There are many things that can upset a ghost, but the universal act that can anger any core is being ignored. Even with the ecto repellent, the stronger ghosts manage to get through and try to get Danny's attention. The boy always just texts Vlad about how he sucks at his job and to take care of the disruption. The ghost eventually pick up that their violent outburst aren't working, so it gets to the point that they try to get his attention another way.

They tried to coax him with things they believed he liked. It is comparable to how Hyper Cat-lovers try to get a shy cat to love them.

Lunch Lady offers him a freshly made meal when he's low on money one day. He thanks her but says he had a big breakfast.

Ember tries to act like their best friends in front of the A-listers, so Danny will become more popular at school. He greets her but continues on his stroll like she was a typical citizen.

Technus offers to give Danny the answer key to all the tests for his classes, but he denies this offer instantly. He'll never cheat on a test ever again.

It got to the point that Skulker said he would drop the promise of getting Danny's pelt if he just let him see his ghostly form. Creeped out, Danny just backed away. He was thankful Valerie was close by.

Box Ghost actually got somewhere when he offered a three-dimensional solar system model. It was in a box he had, so Box Ghost offered it to Danny. He accepted it as the one in the club was showing its age.

This seemed to make these random ghost visits even more frequent. Danny guessed Box Ghost bragged about his 'accomplishment'.

Basically, the ghosts' obsession to defeat Danny changes to them wanting his attention. Vlad’s obsession becomes solely focused on Danny as he just finds Maddie and Jack so annoying now. Like, Vlad just wants to get custody of Danny and get the hell out of Amity Park. He doesn't even want to kill the Fentons now out of fear that they will become ghosts.

After the Ember incident, the A-listers kept trying to buddy up to him. However, Danny learned how they really were, so he just treated them the way he treated ghosts. Now, it seemed they were just as desperate.

Danny will turn into Phantom only when it's necessary, that or he's in the mood to fly. The downside to this change is that whenever he does transform, he always has an entourage of attention-starved ghosts following behind him. He can't even imagine how things would be if he went to the Ghost Zone.

Additions:

For those who want to know the members of the astronomy club-

For those who want to see the club room-

#danny phantom #danny phantom prompt #ghost obsessions #Vlad just wants to go back to Winsconsin #danny is a status symbol #unintentional ghost allies #casper high astronomy club #indifference #danny phantom fanfiction #box ghost #lunch lady #dp technus #technus #ember mclain #dp dash #dash baxter

[digital-domain]

Change

Mahito x Reader // word count 2k

In which Mahito offers to make your insecurities disappear. Quite literally.

Tags/warnings: dark content, yandere, implied noncon, body horror, kidnapped reader, biting, blood, non-consensual kissing, discussion of death, gender neutral reader, reader has body image issues and is implied to have dealt with them in unhealthy ways 

A/N: Not as painstakingly edited as usual because I'm trying to get out of the write-something-and-then-pick-at-it-until-I-hate-it time loop

You are sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, facing the wall of the sewer. It is not the first time you have sat like this, nor the first time you have spent so long in this position. In the early days, Mahito would tell you to turn around and watch him experiment, and you’d feel your stomach writhe in time with the contorted things on the floor. But he lets you look away now. You’re not sure why, but you don’t bother wondering. It’s easier not to look, to pretend that you are alone, to tell yourself that the almost-human sounds echoing in the tunnel are merely figments of your imagination. That his laughter is only a memory from your nightmares, and not a constant reminder of what your life has become.

There isn’t much laughing this time. It’s mostly noises of surprise and keen interest, the kind a normal person might make upon viewing something mundane under a microscope, and seeing its hidden world beneath. You do not know what worlds Mahito is discovering, and you hope he doesn’t force you to find out. 

The worst part, of course, comes after his mouth finally closes. When you hear nothing but his footsteps upon the ground. Coming closer. You don’t run from it, or lash out, like you used to. Your stomach churns, and your pulse quickens, but you still let him spread his legs on either side of you, press his chest to your back, and wrap his arms around your waist. His hands cross beneath your ribcage, and you try not to think about what they were touching before. What you might see if you turn around. What he might be feeling, now that he has you so close.

“You would’ve liked it this time,” he says, as if he actually believes it. “It was interesting. And less…hm. Less dramatic than usual, I guess. For a while.” A high-pitched little spurt of laughter ruptures in your ear. “I got really carried away at the end. But I did try.”

“Why does that matter?” Even hearing him talk about it makes you nauseous, but not so much that you can’t speak. Not anymore. “It ends the same no matter how it starts.”

“Maybe! But you’ve got a saying about that. It’s…ah. What is it…?” He presses his face into the side of your neck and inhales deeply. Kisses your skin with cold lips before breaking away with a sudden start. “Oh! I remember. ‘The journey’s more important than the destination.’ It’s a very nice saying. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You don’t like the way his mind drifts when he touches you. He makes you go rigid, takes away your ability to blink and breathe, but you seem to do the opposite to him. He kisses you again, in the same place, and then bares his grin, scrapes at you with his teeth and tongue, pulls and sucks and bites at your skin -

It is a long time before he says anything again. Long enough for you to be grateful that you have no way to see your reflection, to assess the damage he’s left behind, the growing collection of reminders on your body.

“I could take you on a journey, too.” He tightens his arms around you, presses in until you can barely tell where he ends and you begin. “I could change you, like I changed them…well.” He giggles. “Not quite like that. You’d still be alive at the end.” 

You go stiff. Breath catches in your throat. “No.” Your voice creaks out, so quiet that he might not even notice how terrified you are. “No.” Louder. There’s more, there, if only you could find the strength to say it. Don’t touch me, let go of me, stay far, far away, let me go -

“Don’t worry. I’d let you decide what you wanted me to do. Although I’m pretty sure I already know.” You squirm desperately against his hold, and he sighs, and presses his lips to your ear. “I’m not trying to scare you, you know. I don’t want to change anything about you. You’re so so cute already. But…”

There is a trickle of blood dripping down your neck. Slow, already drying. How long has it been there? How long have you tuned it out? 

“I know there are parts of your body that you don’t like.” His voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and you search it for any hint of amusement. “You really don’t like them. I was watching you for a while before I brought you here, so I saw the things you did to hide them. To change them. It’s not so different from what I do.” He lifts his hand from your waist, wiggles his fingers in the air. “I’m just way, way better at it.”

“No.” You don’t even know what you look like anymore. Even if you did -

Maybe you’d still hate it. But it doesn’t matter here.

“I know I could do it.” He lets go of you for a moment, repositions his hands, and spins you around, the force of the sudden movement knocking your own hands from the places where they dug into your shins. You splay them flat against the floor, and keep your eyes down. “Here.” He crouches in front of you, and points. “And here. And here. I could make all of it look just how you want it to.” 

You close your eyes, scared to get a glimpse of what lies behind him. (That’s not the only reason, is it?) It’s better not to look at him, either. (And…)

“It’s really a very tiny difference between what you have and what you want, so it won’t be easy to do perfectly,” he admits. “But it also means that you probably wouldn’t die. And if I mess up, I can always just try again!”

He’s so close to you. Breathing on your face, even though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have to breathe at all. If you open your eyes, you won’t be able to see what’s behind him - his stare will take up your entire field of view.

“I don’t want to mess up, though. You wouldn’t be very happy if I did that. And I want you to be happy.” He touches the side of your jaw, and then tugs carefully at the corner of your mouth, like he thinks it might rip open if he pulls too hard. “You smiled a lot before I brought you here. It was cute.”

Your eyes are still closed. His hand is just as cold as his lips. You could even feel it through your clothes, moments before. Here, and here, and here…you wish he didn’t understand the way you think about yourself. He’d be so much easier to tune out if he was wrong.

“I want you to smile because of me.” His hand crawls up the side of your face, and pulls at your eyelids, his touch a bit less gentle than it was a moment before. “If that means making you look a tiny bit different, I don’t mind. As long as I don’t have to change your mouth”-

You look at him, because you truly believe your eyelids might rip off if you don’t.

“Oh. Or those eyes. Not those, either.” He’s leaning so far forward that his nose brushes yours. So that you can see him, and only him - and you. Just a bit of you, in his eyes, the tiniest glimpse of your own reflection that you wish you could erase. “I’ve been practicing a lot,” he says, “but I never change those.”

Practicing. 

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure if you actually say it, or if it’s only in your head. Either way, he doesn’t answer you with words. Instead it’s with a kiss, which is worse, because his tongue is in your mouth now, and his hands are on all the places that he just pointed out on your body, and they don’t change. You’re exactly who you are, far too grounded inside yourself as this thing makes you wish you had no body to touch at all.

And yet, you don’t want it to end. Because when it ends -

He sits down at your side.

And with that, there is nothing between you and the rest of the mess he’s created.

And you cannot tear your eyes away.

“I told you it was interesting.” He folds his hand over yours. “You really should have watched. I almost got it right this time.”

There is the usual mess. Fleshy and fluid things, undulating slightly, with holes that open up as if to scream but make no sound. The vague suggestions of limbs, on some, nothing but huddled slimy masses remaining of others. Eye sockets, empty, migrated into strange places. Colors and textures stolen from the insides and outsides of human bodies, so that you can’t for a moment forget what you’re looking at. That’s usually all that there is. And it’s enough to send your guts crawling up the walls of your throat, all on its own. 

But the one there -

It is not moving at all. And it has eyes. Glazed. And it has limbs, twisted off at the ends, but clearly four, clearly only half-heartedly destroyed. And it has lips. And teeth. And they are stretched out in a grimace, pasted-on even after its heart stopped pumping blood to the muscles of its face, even after its chest caved in and its lungs burst out from under the wreckage and the rest of its head fell away -

“I’m getting very good at making copies.” He leans his head against your shoulder. “Your body is easy…it’s just your face that’s hard. But that one had a face kind of like yours to begin with, so I did okay.” His grip on your hand tightens. “Not perfect, though. So I had to get rid of it.”

The mouth does not look familiar. Not anymore. But the eyes, lifeless as they are -

“I’ll show you once I get it right,” he sighs. “Once I make one look exactly like you. And then you can tell me how you want me to fix it, and once we’ve got it all figured out”-

You retch. But everything stays inside. You wrap your free arm around your waist for a moment, and then snatch it away, repulsed for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t take too many more.” Mahito lifts his hand from yours and turns towards you. “I wouldn’t mind if it did, though.” You look at him, if only to avoid looking at the other things in the room, and watch as he smiles back at you. His head is tilted, eyes shining, mouth closed. He stares at you for far too long, and slowly, slowly, his lips curl back, revealing the bleach-white grin underneath. “For you…I wouldn’t mind doing anything.”

You don’t see him move, not through the spots of black in your eyes and the haze of blood that’s rushed to your head. But you feel yourself falling, feel your back hit the ground, and feel him flattening himself on top of you. You feel every inch of your body where it presses back against his. And you feel radiating, all-consuming disgust at every place where you connect.

“If you want to stay like this,” he murmurs, “forever, that’s okay too. I’ll change you, or I’ll keep you the same…you’ll be my favorite human no matter what.”

You do not want to stay like this, trapped in your skin as he worms his way over and beneath it. But that isn’t the question, and the answer - that it doesn’t matter what body you panic inside of, or what, exactly, he touches, that nothing will make it better -

Even if you tried to say it, he’d swallow it up before a single word made it off your tongue.

#mahito x reader #yandere mahito #tw noncon #tw body horror #tw body image #tw dark content

[czrpenters]

all the things she said | sam carpenter x reader

summary: sam could be impulsive sometimes and you hated it.

warnings: slight scream vi spoilers, but nothing too big. angst with smut at the end. top!sam & bottom!reader. english is not my first language.

pairings: sam carpenter x fem!reader.

word count: 2.3k words.

masterlist | request rules.

It felt way too good to be true, to be completely honest.

You were a survivor, a fighter. When the Woodsboro attacks happened again, you were there. You survived. You got stabbed in your back 4 times and it damaged your nerve. You would never walk normally again. But you still survived. Liv and Wes couldn't say the same. And you were so grateful that life, god, fate, whatever you wanna call it, gave you a second chance.

So, like any sane person would, you and your friends decided to leave Woodsboro behind. All of the trauma and the pain should stay right there, where it belonged. You all needed a fresh start. Chad and Tara enrolled into college, Sam finally started therapy and Mindy got a girlfriend, just like you did. You started to work in NYC as a photographer and, surprisingly enough, started dating Sam. Like I've said; way too good to be true.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You said while getting up from the couch. A ghostface attack, on an alley. A college professor died brutaly. She was young, so freaking young to just die in the hands of an asshole with a mask on. "Guys, I think y'all need to see this..."

You said, grabbing the attention of the Core Four (horrible name, by the way), making them leave the kitchen and watch the news with you. The room once filled with laughter got quiet all of a sudden. Tara was in the verge of tears, Mindy was shaking. Chad couldn't even speak. But Sam was the only one who took action and said something. "Pack your shit, we're leaving."

Your girlfriend fled the room, going to the kitchen to grab her knife and to start packing up her stuff, but you followed her. "Yeah, no? We can't do that, Sam. We can't just, leave!"

"Like hell we can't." She finally grabbed her knife and went to her bedroom.

"You think we're gonna be safe if we leave? He followed us, Sam! What makes you think he's not going to again?" She didn't even listened to you, just started packing her stuff like you weren't even there. You put both of your hands on the top of the suitcase, preventing her from continuing. "Stop this and listen to me, babe."

"Don't call me that in front of them, (Y/N)." You rolled your eyes.

"Fuck that, no one is fucking here. I already know you're ashamed of me, you don't need to remind me." Sam looked at you, with a tired look on her face. Here we go again, she thought.

"You know that I'm not ashamed of you, (Y/N). It's complicated and you know it." You huffed, closing the door so you both could have some privacy. "Complicated my ass, Samantha. You don't wanna be seen with me and that's fucking fine, I can handle it. What I can't handle is the fact that you don't take my opinion into consideration!" You ran you hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "We cannot just fucking leave here, Sam! Tara has her life here, she wants to be freaking normal and that's not gonna happen if you move us around the country like we're fucking nomads." She tried to speak but of course, you didn't let her. "Plus, we need to know what we're dealing with! Who we're dealing with! They may wanna come after you again, and if they do, they're not gonna just give up. They're gonna follow us if we don't stop them, Sam. You know I'm fucking right."

"I am trying to do what is best for my family, (Y/N). We're going to fucking die if we go through this shit again!" She raised her voice at you. So she wants to fight, huh?

"And I'm not, Sam?! Is that what you fucking mean? That I wanna stay here because I want all of us to die?"

"Tara doesn't fucking need this anymore! Not again! We're leaving New York and that's final!" She started packing her bags again, making you angrier by the minute.

"I'm sorry to say that but that's not how life fucking works! We are a family, Sam! We get to make all of our decisions together!"

"No, (Y/N)! We are not a fucking family! Tara and I are family, you're not. So just stop trying to decide what is best for us and leave us the hell alone!" She screamed loudly, looking at you with rage in her eyes. Hearing all of that shit from her broke your heart into million pieces. She was right, you were not her family. You felt your eyes start to water and it made you laugh, ironically. Sam realised what she just said, and the expression on her face just softened. "(Y/N), I..."

"You're so fucking right, Sam. I'm not your family. You don't even have the guts to tell people we're dating, so I guess you're right." You said, smiling through the pain. "You know what? If you really want to, I'll leave you alone."

You opened the door, grabbing your jacket and keys, getting ready to leave the apartment. Sam didn't even tried to stop you; she just stood there, speechless. All of them heard you fight, but they also didn't said anything, until you were just about to leave. "(Y/N), don't go out. Ghostface is out there, you know it's not safe. He might..." Chad started but you interrupted him.

"Kill me? Yeah, I'm aware. But I just learned today that it wouldn't make a fucking difference if he did." And then you left, going to god knows where.

--

It has been a couple of hours since you fought with Sam. She's been trying to contact you and left, literally, more than 100 messages on your phone, but you didn't replied to any of them. You were too hurt to reply to any of them. You just found a bar downtown and drank the whole night. Thank goodness you didn't got drunk that easily, otherwise you wouldn't even be standing still right now.

"It was hard to find you." You heard someone say behind you, making you turn around. It was Sam. Her eyes looked puffy, like she's been crying for hours, a heartbreaking scene to be honest, but you didn't said anything and took a gulp of your whisky. "I had to track down your phone, like, a million times..."

"Sam, I-" You tried, but she interrupted you immediately. "I just wanna talk, okay?" You huffed and look straight ahead, letting her sit right next to you. "I hate it when you drink."

"Well, I guess we're both disappointed right now." You laughed ironically which made Sam take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for what I've said. Truly. I was upset, and scared. We all are. Just come back home so we can talk about all of this." She pleaded, holding your hand over the bar table. "And you're absolutely right. I don't need to hide anymore. You make me happy, (Y/N). Happier than I've ever been in so fucking long. I don't need for this, for us, to be a secret. And I'm so sorry for making you feel like I was ashamed of you."

"I know that, don't worry. It's fine." You held her hand and kissed the back of it. "You know that we can't go, Sam. We need to stay here and figure out who is behind all of this." She nodded.

"I know... It just scares the shit out of me. I don't want to go through this again, I don't want Tara to go through this again. I don't want you go through this because of me."

"Stop it, okay? This is not your fault, baby. They're just some psychopaths with a mask on who have nothing better to do." You kissed her hand again. "We're gonna get through this, like we always did. And plus, I wouldn't mind killing another ghostface." You joked, making her smile a little. The most beautiful smile in the world, you dared to say. "Come on, let's go home."

--

"I fucking KNEW IT!" Mindy yelled, pointing at you while laughing a little. "I've always felt some sapphic vibes from you both, damn. The gaydar never fails."

"And why you waited until now to tell us? Especially now, actually, with the whole ghostface shit going on." Tara asked, making Sam look at you then her.

"I don't know. It's just, ever since Richie, it felt weird and stupid to date again. I thought I'd never trust anyone ever again. It felt safe having this little secret, for some reason. And I'm sorry from keeping this from you, really." She said, while holding your hand. It felt good to finally reveal the secret. You guys could, actually, hold hands in public. And kiss, and call each other pet names. It felt really freaking good.

You guys stayed up all night talking and drinking, the six of you. Anika got really close with you guys so she felt like family at that moment. It made you guys forget for a few hours about anything that was going on, especially ghostface.

After a while, Chad, Anika and Mindy decided to leave. It was getting pretty late and they didn't wanted to walk around the city late at night out of fear. Tara decided to study a little bit, and your roommate Quinn was at some hookup's house being sex positive, or whatever that means.

"Did you do it for me?" You asked, while looking at Sam. She was changing into some more comfortable clothes while you were laying down in your bed. It felt nice to finally share a room with her instead of Tara, to be honest. "Did what, babe?"

"Told them. If you really wanted to be a secret, still, I could handle it..." She smiled at you and walked towards you, laying down on top of your body.

"I wanted to tell them, babe. Seriously. It feels nice to finally be out there, too. I didn't wanted you to think that I did it because of our fight, or ghostface, or anything. I did it because I love you, (Y/N). You're my girl. I want everybody to know that." She whispered the last part, getting closer and closer to your face while she talked. You could feel her hot breath against your skin, and her mouth looked incredibly kissable at that moment.

"Don't do that." You mumbled, looking at her eyes. "Do what?"

"This. It makes me... feel things." You always felt so shy in front of Sam. She had this whole protective aura around her, that it made you actually want to be protected by her. It turned you on, even. "Feel what, babe?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Sam..." You diverged you look to the wall, but she held you chin between her index and thumb, making you forcibly look at her. Her eyes were darker now, filled with something that you knew exactly what it was.

"It turns you on, huh? When I call you mine?" She got closer, if that was possible, making your lips rub against each other. Her free hand made its way to your stomach, then your thighs, and your legs. Without ceremony, her hand got into your pants, fitting like it really belonged there. You were already embarrassingly wet by now, which made Sam smile a little. "Oh, you're already like this, babe? I didn't do anything, yet."

"You know you don't need to do nothing, Sam..." You swallowed, closing your eyes. You were completely at her mercy and she knew it, and knowing her, she would take advantage of that pretty soon.

Sam started to make circular movements on you clit, over your soaked panties. It made you shiver and tremble under her body, which made her laugh slightly. The way you were moaning softly to not starle Tara in the other room was heavenly, she loved being the one making you moan like this. "Sam..."

"Hm?" She replied, innocently. "M-More..."

She promptly obeyed, entering your panties and sliding one digit into you, making you gasp and arch you back. You were holding back your moans like crazy but let one slip. "Shhh... Tara is right in the other room; we don't want her to hear that, hm?"

You shook your head no, looking at her. Her eyes were filled with lust and desire; you could almost feel how much she wanted you right now. She started to pump her finger inside of you, starting slowly; then increasing the pace gradually. "Fuck, Sam..."

"You feel so good around my fingers, baby. So fucking tight... " She said while kissing your neck, leaving some love bites all over your skin. "You're fucking made for me, and only me."

"Only you..." You admited, without even thinking straight. She made you feel at cloud nine, all of the pleasure was something that only she made you feel. She added another finger, thrusting them inside of you deeper by the minute. You were spending all of your energy in holding back your moans, and you would hate if Tara walked in on both of you. Sam felt your pussy tighten around her fingers, making her smile slyly. "Come on, baby... Cum for me."

That was everything you needed to hear to finally release on her fingers, with a loud moan that you couldn't supress this time. Sam rode your orgasm perfectly, putting her own fingers into her mouth when you were done. "Delicious."

"You're unbelievable, Sam." You tried to say, out of breath. She held your chin and kissed you slowly, lovingly. "And you love it."

Before you could say anything, you heard some knocks on the wall next to you. "There are people trying to study here! Go be all porn-huby somewhere else!" Tara yelled, making you widen your eyes and blush. "I'll never leave this room again, Sam."

⠀

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #scream #scream vi #scream vi imagines #scream imagines #scream smut #scream vi smut

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyy I would like to make a Minho x fem reader request but it contains slight SA and if you aren't comfortable writing that, it's okay :). So one night the reader isn't able to sleep so she decides to take a walk around the Glade but a boy decided to attack her and threaten her with a kn¡fe to do stuff with him but she manages to break out of his hold and hit him so he can faint (Minho's fighting lessons came handy here ;) ). But she is in shock of what happened and got cut on the hand at the progress so she just goes to Minho's hut to help her (Kind of "I didn't know where else to go" trope) and he takes care of her but also makes sure to banish the piece of shit that tried something on her. Thank you sm <3333333

Damn I'm actually getting requests this is kinda mad lol. I'm so happy that y'all are like my work :))

Also, sorry, this one isn't as long because normally I write multiple scenes in one, but this is really just one long scene.

SAFE PLACE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above, but I am going to try to not describe the assault very much so there is nothing explicitly violent. This takes place after the direct aftermath of the attempt. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Themes of sexual assault and references to blood. Nothing explicit. Inappropriate language.

It was meant to be a simple night. You'd always been restless and sleep never came easy to you. It was kind of common knowledge that you're an insomniac, so when you decided to go on a late-night walk earlier, you never expected to end up on Minho's doorstep, blood dripping from your palm, physically shaken.

Another Glader, a Builder called Darren, had come onto you a couple of times, so when he'd tried tonight, you thought nothing of it. That was until there was a knife pressed to your throat.

It's almost a blur. You got away- there's no way you weren't going to put up a fight. A swift knee to the groin, grabbing the knife and headbutting him square in the nose was more than enough damage to sprint away.

Though, in your desperation, you'd grabbed the blade of the knife, causing a deep gnash to spread across the delicate skin of your hands.

You knock again. You know Minho has to be up early in the morning- he has to be up early every morning. Being the Keeper of the Runners is a demanding and hard job to do, and under normal circumstances, you respect this.

But not tonight. Minho is your best friend. He was the one of only boys that treated you like a normal person when you first arrived. Sure, he still made some flirty passes, but whilst the other boys stared and stuttered around you, Minho was smooth and joking. And with Newt and Alby always being caught up in something, you spend most of your evenings with the Runner.

And you trust him.

And you're desperate.

You knock again. "Minho!" A pit forms in your stomach. Darren could easily still be around here, recovering in time to attack again.

"Jesus, you wanna see me that bad?" Minho's playful tone reaches you through the poorly constructed door, but his face pales once he sees you.

Tears threaten to roll down your face as you tremble in front of him, cupping your injured hand in an attempt to nurse it and ease the sharp sting.

"Shuck, what happened?" Minho steps forward and reaches out to you, but you immediately flinch away from his touch.

"Hey, it's me," he pulls his himself back, "you're safe with me, yanno that."

"I didn't know where else to go," you confess, and he visibly softens, his tough guy facade crumbling under your teary eyes. "Can- can I just come in? Please?" You sniff, trying to stay reasonably stable.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he steps aside, and you brush past, hearing the click of the door behind him.

You've never actually been in his hut before. It's surprisingly nice- homely even. It's simple and clean, only a couple of maps scattered around the room to show that Minho actually lives here.

"Sit down," he gestures towards the bed and you obey, sitting on the edge whilst blood starts to pool in your hand. He rumages through a drawer, pulling out what looks like a make-shift first-aid kit. "I'm no Med-jack, but you can't be bleedin' everywhere."

You attempt to laugh at his poor joke. Concern is written on his face. He's never seen you like this. You're always capable and competitive, always bringing fire to your work and getting shit done.

He sits next you, not close but not too far as he holds his hand out, wanting you to show your injury to him. After a second, you do so.

You hiss slightly as the antibacterial wipes contact the wound, earning a string of mumbled sorrys from your friend. The cut is deep and angry, making you cringe as you look at the state of your own hand.

Minho is incredibly delicate. Something bad has happened, and he can tell- hurting you further is definitely something he doesn't want to do.

He cautiously puts glue strips against your palm. Like he said, Minho is no medical expert, but he's used to getting scraps and scratches out in the Maze, so he is well prepared. Though he's unsure if this will actually stay in place. It looks like it'll need stitches, but you look in no state to be asking Med-jacks for help.

As he cautiously starts to wrap a bandage around your hand, he finally speaks.

"What happened?" His eyes flicker up to meet yours. You'd calmed down a bit now; the feelings of panic having faded into a numbness. Silence settles for a second and he knows better than to push you.

You take a shakey but deep breath. "I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk- a-and this Builder, Darren, he came up to me," you pause, processing everything like you're starting to understand it yourself, "and he started hitting on me. It was nothing new and I told him I wasn't interested, and I don't really remember what happened next, but..."

"But, what (Y/N)?" It's rare that Minho uses your name. He's nervous himself and rage he's never experienced before has started to bubble in his stomach.

"I don't even know what happened next, I just remember being pinned to a tree with a knife pressed against my throat. He was saying all this shit and told me to be quiet and tried to undo my belt and-"

Minho's knuckles go white as they fall to his sides, fury seeping through his veins. He's in the right mind to go and find this guy right now- but he knows he'll be the one that gets banished for what he'll do to him.

"-and I kneed him in the balls and ran off, I cut my hand escaping." Minho stares at the ground, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot.

After a few seconds pass, you grow concerned, "Minho?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Minho isn't exactly known for being the most level-headed shank around. He's picked a lot of fights in his time and is no stranger to a night in the Slammer. But this? This is different. He looks like he might actually stand by his words.

"You can't do that, man-"

He's on his feet, walking towards the door before you can stop him. "Minho!" You scramble up too, blocking him as he gets to the door. "The shuck are you doing?"

"I've gotta tell Ably, slintheads can't be getting away with this klunk!"

"Alby will be asleep."

"I don't care," he goes to move past you, but you grab his wrist.

"Please, can't this just wait 'till the morning?" You sigh, "I don't wanna think about it right now. Please."

It's his turn to sigh. He doesn't want to make things any worse tonight than they already are. "Okay. Fine. But I'm getting his ass banished- he hurt another Glader. He hurt you- he tried to do worse. I'm not letting that slide."

Minho is murderous. He's protective and angry; something you expected but not to this extent. He's literally going to get Darren killed. Not just get him killed- but make sure of it.

He's right, though. That's the penalty for hurting another Glader. And if everyone else can respect Alby's rules, why can't this Builder?

"I have to tell Alby." He's more definite this time, and you give him a soft nod.

"I know," you fall into another round of quiet and he's heart-broken seeing you like this.

"Can I, uh, can I hug you?" He doesn't want to cause you anymore discomfort, so asking for permission is key. You nod.

He's quick to wrap his muscular arm around you, something you accept easily, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

His comfort and the emotions catching up to you finally cause you to break. A sob shakes you and Minho's grip tightens as you cling to his shirt.

"Hey," he rubs circles on your back, "hey, it's okay."

You can't speak, and you both stand there for a while. His warmth is swallowing, and you've never felt safer. Minho isn't going to let anything bad happen to you.

You're safe with him.

You look you, sniffing, feeling slightly guilty when you see his tear-stained shirt. "Can I stay here? With you? For the night?"

He blinks at you. He was too blinded by his own anger to consider what he was going to do with you. Obviously, you're not going to feel safe going back out there.

"Yeah, yeah, 'course." He steps away, looking around his room, trying to work out the best way to go about this. "I'll uh, I can sleep on the floor and you can take my bed."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Dude," he sends you a sympathetic look, "you've been through a shuckin' lot tonight. I'll take the floor."

You give him a sad smile, choosing to nod in agreement instead of using your words.

Minho stole a pillow and a blanket and you both settled into your sleeping arrangements, but it's clear neither of you are getting any sleep.

Minho's bed smells like him. It's strangely comforting, and it's helping relax you. But that doesn't stop you from tossing and turning. After what must have been an hour, you give up.

"Minho, you awake?"

"Yeah," his voice is groggy and rough, tiredness taking its spot in his mind.

You turn to face him, opening the blankets. "Get in."

He sits up on his hands, using them to level him up. "What? I don't want to-"

"Just get in. Please."

Minho hesitates, but does as you say. Standing up, he slips under the covers with you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed or anxious to even dare to be so bold, but you need comfort.

Once he's lay down, he opens his mouth to speak but you shuffle closer to him, once again hiding your face in his chest and flopping your arm over him. Minho stills for a second, deciding to keep up the wordless interaction and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"It's gonna be okay, (Y/N)," he mumbles as he soothingly strokes you hair, "I'm gonna look after ya- you're safe here."

Here is another request for Minho. I love writing for this man and it's a nice change to write something softer, even if it is under some horrendous circumstances. I didn't want to write anything explicit because I think that's unnecessary, but I hope that works here.

Anyway, as always, let me know what you think. Some more light-hearted stuff is on the way soon.

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #minho tmr x reader #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner