#i feel so fucking alone but i'm too scared to reach out to anyone with my bullshit (doesn't seem like they'd have the time anyways)

[necrotic-nightshade]

Y'know I'd really appreciate it if the last week to my birthday would stop trying to turn into a fucking test of willpower

#atroppa says a thing #vent #delete later probably #idk everything feels like it's just falling apart #everyone in the house is super high strung which has led to me just holing up more bc i don't wanna set anyone off #(which i have at least 3 times now) #i've just been stuck hiding from the world and my depression seems to only be hitting harder #i feel so fucking alone but i'm too scared to reach out to anyone with my bullshit (doesn't seem like they'd have the time anyways) #grim as it may be i've never seen myself living to 18 and i'm trying to prove that i WILL dammit #so please. for the love of all there is. would the world stop trying to push me off the edge #i just want it all to stop

[fucktoyfelix]

Choking Safety

I've been seeing some kind of scare-mongering type posts going around about choking during sex, so I wanted to address how to approach choking in a safe way. Choking is not a 0 risk activity, but it is also not so dangerous that you will just randomly die either. Anyone who does martial arts will confirm that thousands of teenagers are being successfully trained to choke each other safely (for self defense) every day! There's no reason you can't learn to do it too.

First you should be familiar with some basic anatomy of the neck and throat:

The carotid veins on both sides of the neck and the trachea/windpipe in the center are the most important things to be aware of. If you want to enjoy the psychological element of having someone's hands around your neck with relatively little risk, you can do "choking" play that avoids putting any pressure on those arteries or the trachea. As with all choking play, safety is highest when both parties are fully sober. I'm not actually sure if there are people out there who are into having the windpipe or trachea blocked. This tends to hurt like fuck and cause an autonomic choking response. You'll know if you went too far center because generally the bottom will be like "WTH". I don't know if there is a way to do this play safely or not as I don't have experience with it. It probably carries some risk of the trachea collapsing which would be a hospital trip for sure. Most choking play is done with the intention of cutting off the blood supply to the brain by applying pressure to both the left and right carotid arteries. This type of choking is not really "breath play" because of the way it works (though many people refer to it that way.) This creates a pleasant light headed feeling, but is also where the higher risk comes in. It often doesn't take long for a person to lose consciousness once these arteries are blocked, often less than 10 seconds. Sometimes getting completely choked out is the goal, sometimes not. Either way, the top has to pay very very careful attention to every aspect of their bottom's body language. Once you realize that a person has lost consciousness, the choking must stop immediately. Because of this: the most dangerous way to do this kind of play is alone. (hence all the auto-erotic asphyxiation deaths you hear about) It goes without saying that intoxication also dramatically increases the risks. It's not recommended to lose consciousness this way on a regular basis. It's just not good for your brain to repeatedly go through, especially in rapid succession. Generally, the more time spaced out between this type of play: the better. Though some people may have medical conditions that make the risk higher, as long as you stop choking when you reach the desired headspace, this play is approachable. Anyone who's REALLY into the idea but feels unsure or scared, I highly recommend taking a few martial arts classes. MMA guys do this to each other all the time! For sports! The key is just stopping at the right time. There are two main ways to go about blocking the carotid arteries. The main one used in martial arts and self defense is the rear naked choke.

This type of choke is incredible effective at choking someone out quickly and easily. The forearm and the bicep are squeezing each artery until the desired effect is achieved. The risk here is how quickly it works in combination with not being able to have a visual on your bottom's facial response. When someone loses consciousness they will go limp and begin twitching somewhat. This is normal, and you should stop immediately if you notice those signs. The more common method of choking play during sex is what looks more like typical choking. Facing your partner, using both hands.

You want to find the arteries with both hands, and use the meat at the base of your thumbs to apply gradually increasing pressure upwards towards your partner's head. You can keep the thumbs tucked to avoid accidental pressure on the windpipe. (Though this is not required so long as you remember not to apply pressure to the windpipe.) This type of play has a few safety benefits. First, you can see your partner's face so it's more obvious when you can see they've hit a headspace that is desirable. Additionally, it's just a little more difficult to find the arteries and push up on them correctly. If your goal is to get a little light headed without losing consciousness, this is more easily accomplished with this type of choke. However, losing consciousness is still a risk and both partners being fully alert will ensure the lowest risk environment. I know choking play is incredibly popular, even 'vanilla' people participate in this type of play on a regular basis without really knowing the technical details. Most of them don't get seriously hurt...but knowing what you're actually doing with risky play is a base component of risk aware consensual kink. Anyway I hope people find this helpful! Happy choking!!

#choking #kink positive #sex positive

[yuri-is-online]

Sorry for making you explain all the yutus but can you do Jades? Bros gotta be so overprotective 😬

Jokes on you I am always down to talk about Jade Leech (my beloved)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. I think I typed up way more for this than anyone else up to this point, I'd apologize but it has been a second since I brain rotted about Jade, so excuse me for feeding myself (づ_ど)

Put yourself in Jade's shoes for a second.  He is a merfolk from the coral sea, only able to appear human through the use of a potion but still retaining his inhuman features.  He tries hard to appear human, he goes to a boot camp where so many things have to be explained that he is able to mimic but doesn't fully understand.  There's no reason for you to like him, he knows that better than anyone; he doesn't fully understand why he's attracted to you himself but he is.  And he longed after you for so long, he was drowning in his desire that had such a little chance of being reciprocated but by some miracle it was.  You stay in Twisted Wonderland, you let him take you under the sea and agree to be kept there.  You're going to give him a family, he's beyond excited and filled with feelings of love he didn't think he'd ever get to have.

And then it's gone.  There's no evidence as to why, no one to tell him where you went.  Azul starts off confident, excited at the prospect of revenge and encouraging Jade.  They'll find them, between him, Jade, and Floyd they'll find Yuu and someone will have a very bad day.  But there's nothing, they're being lied to and stonewalled at every turn and when finally (it's been 10 months 3 weeks and two days, he could count down to the hours and seconds but who would listen?) Riddle of all people contacts them with a lead, he's dead almost immediately.  Turned into a phantom, all of those friends of yours he was so jealous of too… no one is telling him but he knows.  You're not coming back, he's never going to meet your child, he failed at a moray's one job of protecting his cleaner shrimp.  When he's alone he talks to you both sometimes, nights when you can see the stars are becoming increasingly rare as the sky flares up with ink but he likes to think you found your way up to the sky.  

When he loses Floyd and Azul he sort of loses his will to live.  The only thing that keeps him going is the promise of one day being able to lay them both to rest eventually, but until then he bar tends at NRC and listens to all the little things people talk about when the world is ending. If he was in a better place he'd probably find it funny how lose people's lips are getting, Azul’s business would be doing so well if he were here now…

That's what he's doing one day in September when one of the mage students runs up to him out of breath, Sehrish he thinks her name is?  

“The headmage needs you in the hospital wing!”  She sounds scared, out of breath like she's run the whole way and Jade is just curious enough to go.  Something spurs him on to run himself, through the mirror and into the wing and-  

He doesn't even hesitate, his body acts before his brain does launching him towards you and grasping desperately at your hands.  They're cold, you're going cold and he doesn't have the warmth in his body to give you.  Something has mercy on him and let's your eyes open just the bit as you reach just as desperate to be close to him as he is to you and he feels your strength pass into him.  

“Don't apologize.”  He manages to whisper.  

“But I'm sorry.”  You cry.  “I love you so much and I couldn't forget even though they wanted me to.”  

“Who did this.  Who took you just name them and I promise you my pearl-”  he gets to kiss you one more time before your gone.  Jade doesn't move, he thinks Crewel is yelling for his attention but he can't move, he wants to stay here forever he has to protect you, why wasn't he able to protect you?!

“Oh holy fuck that tastes bad.”  There's a dazed voice Jade has never heard before, heavy with sorrow, and though he doesn't quite have it yet, Jade feels purpose begin to return to his heart.

Jade! Yutu is a menace.  I like the idea of him being some form of punk or goth, with piercings and a few tattoos that Yuu doesn't know anything about.  He grew up with a small group of close knit alt friends who would come over to Yuu's house and shoot the shit.  Yuu was really popular with Yutu's friends actually, he had mixed feelings about that. (No, his parent isn't accepting step-father applications, Joshua, keep running your mouth and see what happens)

Has a mixed ranged of emotions about his parent's amnesia. When he was younger not knowing who his dad was made him really sad, he'd listen to other kids talk about doing things with their fathers and he'd dream about doing them with his dad, but the picture was always blurry and felt just... wrong somehow. As he gets older and starts forming his world view he starts to think his dad might have left Yuu for any number of reasons. Did it happen before or after their amnesia, that's what he wants to know.

He has a pretty big problem with authority, residual trauma from the trip across worlds he thinks now… but back in your world he just didn't see the point of respecting someone just because they have more money and power than him.  Almost everyone does, that doesn't make them special!  But he's so sneaky about it, if it weren't for his clothes or his friends Yuu would hardly know what he gets up to in his spare time. It put a bit of strain on their relationship, Yutu sees his lies as something he does to protect his parent, while Yuu sees themselves as well.  A parent.  Who is the one who should be protecting their child not the other way around.  

When he tries to pull similar stunts with Original Timeline! Jade he gets a rude awakening. He tries sneaking out to meet up with some friends only to find his dad sitting with them, polite smile on his face clearly reveling in how awkward he is making this.  Oya, did Yutu think he was being slick?  He's hurt, no really this is the first time Jade has had to fake cry in years, he'd almost forgot how.  Didn't Yutu ever wonder where he got this from?  Because he had to know it wasn't Yuu.

Jade! Yutu also played in a band in middle school and also played bass, it just wasn't a jazz trio or an upright bass.  He would have liked continued to play in bands, but he shares his dad's issues with stage fright which makes it sort of difficult. He has tried his hand at writing his own music from time to time, but he's waaaaay too shy to ever play it for anyone other than the woods.

He really likes horror stories and cryptids, so he wasn't super afraid of the monsters when he first arrived in Twisted Wonderland.  One round with Phantom Riddle changed that nonchalant attitude quick, and while he still is very attached to the stuff he read about back in your world he hates blot monsters and Twisted Wonderland fiends in general.

Speaking of those monsters, Jade hates Yutu fighting them.  Father and son are an absolute nightmare for Crewel to deal with, one is threatening to drown him if Yutu is allowed to fight, the other is screaming curse words and saying it doesn't matter what Crewel does, he's going anyway.  He needs a drink (but not from Jade's bar he's going to get poisoned) 

I don't think Yutu actually told Jade he was planning on going back in time because he was angry and just assumed that he would try and stop him.  He's really proud of himself for the first few weeks he spends in the past thinking he got one over on his old man finally (he didn't, but he did hurt him quite a bit), but the more he interacts with the younger version of his parents the more he starts to regret that decision.

Past Jade is so… fun.  He thinks his dad is fun?!  His weird obsession with mushrooms was never something they talked about beyond a few compliments his dad gave to a mushroom patch he had on his jacket; watching his old man prattle on now he never would have guessed any of this.  Yutu never doubted that Jade loved you, but he didn't really think about what that looked like, or what you might have meant to Jade.  They just didn't talk about it, now that he's forced to think about it Jade was probably trying to focus on having him back and how lucky he was to even have that.  And instead of being honest about how angry he was to have lost you he lied and said he was fine.  With how good his dad was at knowing when he was lying Jade had to know that's how he felt, but respected his boundaries and didn't push. All those comments about being there when he's ready to talk, all the times Jade said he loved him, and those long nights he watched from afar as Jade sat with tea next to your grave, just talking to you as if you were still there are put into context. Yutu isn't able to sleep for a few nights after that.

Jade finds Yutu interesting.  He's a potential source of information about Yuu, a lot of his quirks remind him of himself and he finds the new kids blatant disrespect for authority to be hilarious! And hilariously good blackmail material, now now don't be afraid he really is just here to help...

"Nice try old man you won't pull shit out of me." Yutu sounds smug, but Jade knows when his spell has worked and when it hasn't; how delightful he doesn't seem to remember someone ever being so cocky about it before.

"That's a shame." He makes sure to make his face fall to keep the new kid off his guard as he continues his questioning. "It's just I am curious where did you come from? I thought Yuu's world doesn't have magic."

"I mean it doesn't, probably never would have been able to come back in time if I was still stuck there." Yutu blinks, clarity starting to come into view as Jade pushes through the surprise to ask a final question.

"Oya? And just why did you come back in time, were you worried about Yuu?"

"Of course I'm worried about my parent what sort of stupid question is-" Yutu returns to himself and treats Jade to a look of shock so rare and downright delightful he can't help but smile himself. "Hey just what did you do?"

Old man? What a disrespectful thing to call his father, no wonder his future self never told his son about his unique magic. Jade doesn't have time to doubt his affections for Yuu, once Yutu realizes he's fucked and can't get out of admitting that was the truth he tells Jade who he is and a bit about what the future is like. Jade can tell he's keeping a few details back, but he knows himself well enough to know that everything Yutu is describing would have changed him to a degree that he might not have been in the best mental space to help his son through the loss of Yuu.

Speaking of Yuu, Jade asks Yutu to keep his existence to himself for a bit. He wants to win over your affections without the help of the future looming in your thoughts, he only gets to have this part of his life with you once and he intends to savor it. But the confidence boost he gets from knowing you do end up as his mate does have him acting a bit goofy for a bit. Floyd and Azul are legitimately scared.

They are brought up to speed as Jade insists on introducing Yutu to them "properly" and he is every inch the proud father showing off their new baby to the relatives even though Yutu is practically his height and has a bunch of piercings. Floyd takes a liking to him immediately while Azul is a bit more awkward, not that he doesn't like Yutu he's just a lot different from anyone Azul has ever met before so he's unsure how to sell himself. Luckily he doesn't have to because Yutu appreciates his genuine self just like Floyd, Jade, and Yuu do.

Jade gladly invites Yutu to join the Mountain Lover's Club and is very excited when he says yes. Yutu finds a lot of enjoyment in helping his dad work mushrooms into Azul and Floyd's food by pretending to agree with their complaints. Floyd is so mad he calls Yuu and tells them to come get their kid.

The over protectiveness doesn't end exactly, but Yutu is more willing to understand and Jade is more able to explain himself. They're both extremely protective of Yuu and in sound agreement that nothing like Yutu's future can ever be allowed to come to pass. Jade wanted a family, so to learn that he got that and someone took it away from him? Future him was overwhelmed with grief but current him is overwhelmed with rage. Remember book four? He described what he would do to someone who betrayed him, and it wasn't pretty. His plans for whoever did this to his precious mate and child is going to get so much worse.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech x yuu

[pockettwinzz]

Maybe if things were different - Jay fic

Jay's b'day special

𝜗ৎSynopsis𝜗ৎ : Jay was the perfect guy, the guy everyone was jealous of, the guy who always came in first place, the guy you loved, and you, he loved you. But of course if love was perfect, why would anyone ever be sad.

𝜗ৎwarnings𝜗ৎ : angst, lots of crying, sadistic, sad ending {forgive me please}

𝜗ৎAuthor's note𝜗ৎ : Happy birthday to jay <3 he deserves the whole fucking world and i'm so so sorry for such a sadistic fic but i just couldn't think of anything else T^T! Also I wrote this on 18.04 so it's kinda rushed {sorry T.T}

𝜗ৎwc𝜗ৎ : 1.4k

𝜗ৎ dividers and moodboard are by @dollywons 𝜗ৎ

The first time I saw him, he was sitting in the back of the class, his head tilted down so that his dark brown hair fell over his face. His shoulders were hunched, as if he were trying to make himself smaller, but even then, there was something about the way he moved that made me think he was much larger than he appeared. His fingers were long and slender, and when he'd finally look up, his eyes would be so cold, they could freeze over the hottest summer day. Everyone was afraid of him, except for me.

I couldn't explain it then, and I still can't now, but there was something about him that drew me in, that made me want to know more. It was like there was this fire burning inside of him, just waiting to be set free, and even though everyone else was too scared to get close enough to see it, I felt like I could reach out and touch it.

One day, after class, I mustered up the courage to walk over to his desk and ask him a question about the homework. He looked up at me, those icy cat eyes narrowing, and I felt my heart start to race. "J-jay, do you mind helping me with my math homework?" But instead of the harsh retort I was expecting, he actually answered my question, his voice soft and gentle, "Sure". It was then that I realized that underneath that tough exterior, he was just as fragile as the rest of us.

As the weeks went by, we found ourselves talking more and more, sometimes even laughing together. I could see a glimpse of the real Jay, the one who wasn't so cold and distant, and it made me feel like I was the only one who truly understood him.

One day, after school, Jay asked if I wanted to go for a walk with him. I hesitated for a moment, but I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at the thought of spending time alone with him. We ended up walking by the lake, watching the ducks swim and the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was the most peaceful I had ever felt in his company.

As we walked, Jay told me about his childhood, about how he'd always felt like an outsider, even among his own family. I listened intently, my heart aching for him, and when he finally fell silent, I found myself reaching out to take his hand. He didn't pull away, and for a brief moment, our fingers intertwined. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me.

"Yn," he said, looking into my eyes, "I've never told anyone that before." I knew he was referring to the story of his past, and I felt honored that he had chosen to share it with me.

We continued walking, our fingers still entwined, and I could feel the tension beginning to ease from his shoulders. He seemed to be more at ease with me than he ever had with anyone else. I wondered what it was about me that made him feel this way, but I didn't want to ruin the moment by asking.

As we strolled along the water's edge, Jay asked me about my own life, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn't with anyone else. He listened intently, nodding along as I spoke, and when I finished, he gave me this small, understanding smile. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

We must have talked for hours, about everything under the sun, but somehow, the time just flew by. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of indigo and violet, and the air grew cooler, but neither of us wanted to stop talking. It felt like we could go on like that forever.

Eventually, though, we heard the distant sound of car horns and realized that it was getting late. Jay squeezed my hand gently, as if to say that he didn't want the evening to end either, but we knew we had to go back.

As we walked back home, our steps seemed to fall into an easy rhythm, like we'd been walking together for years instead of just a few hours. I could feel a newfound closeness between us, a connection that transcended our friendship.

It was as if we were two halves of the same whole, and together, we completed each other.

We didn't say much as we walked, content to enjoy the silence and the feeling of being together. When we finally reached the bustop, it was dark and noisy, the streets were as busy as they always were. Jay hesitated for a moment before turning to face me, his expression serious.

"Yn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I want you to know that tonight, being with you, it meant everything to me." His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but feel a lump form in my throat.

"Jay," I replied, my voice just as quiet, "I feel the same way." I knew what I was saying was a huge risk, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted him to know how much he meant to me, how much I cared about him.

He smiled then, a small, sad smile, and reached up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. It sent a wave of warmth through my entire body, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "You really are special, Yn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

His words made my heart ache with longing. I wanted nothing more than for him to understand how I felt, to know that I wasn't just his friend, but so much more. But I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. Instead, I leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against my lips.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the contact, before opening them again and looking into my eyes. There was a depth to his gaze that I had never seen before, as if he was trying to communicate something beyond words. I wanted nothing more than to be with him, to explore this newfound connection and see where it might lead.

Jay leaned forward, i could feel his warm breaths. "I wish things were different," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I wish I could show you how much you mean to me."

My heart ached at his words, knowing all too well that we were stuck in this impossible situation. "J-jay" I replied softly, unable to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?" My voice trailed off as I struggled to find the words to express what I was feeling. "Yn..... I-I'm sorry" He spoke as tears left his eyes as he turned away and began walking away.

I stood there, my body frozen, all alone in the crowd, tears bawling out of my eyes.

I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be with Jay openly, to share our love with the world. To see where our connection might lead us. But I knew that was not an option. Not after how he left me....

The days after that night were so bitter. Everytime i looked up to his eyes, they were always filled with a mix of longing and guilt with a hint of sadness.

As much as we wanted to be together, we couldn't deny the reality of our situation. His parents would never allow it, and they held all the power. They could take away everything that we had if they found out how we truly felt about each other. It was a risk we couldn't afford to.

Everytime I'd catch him staring at me, I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I understood why he was doing this, but the words caught in my throat. How could I possibly make him understand when I didn't even fully understand myself?

 I knew that he was trying to protect me, to spare me from the inevitable pain that would come if we continued to pursue this forbidden love. But every time he tried to distance himself from me, a tiny piece of my heart seemed to shatter. It was a constant, aching reminder of the impossible situation we found ourselves in.   

༘˚⋆𐙚｡Permanent Taglist ༘˚⋆𐙚｡ @cha-eui @alvojake @heeslut4life @wondipity @dollywons @wonlvkay

+ @ja3yun here you go~ this might not be what you expected T.T but I hope you like it <3

#pockettwinzz writes #jay enha #jay enhypen #jay x reader #jay x y/n #angst #sadistic #forbidden love #park jongseong #enhypen #enha x reader

[buckttommy]

quarter after one (i'm all alone and i need you now)

this post, now on ao3 for anyone who wants to bookmark it!

Summary:

“I thought I was going to die today.” Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Evan.” “No. I know. It’s just that—if I hadn’t somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that’s the job. You know? It's—it’s what we both signed up for.” He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend’s orbit. “But I’m just really—I’m really glad I get to come home to you again.” Tommy’s face softens. “Oh, sweetheart.” or; Buck gets hurt on a call. Tommy is a protective boyfriend about it. just. shameless fluff tbh.

“I’m okay.”

Evan doesn’t actually know if he’s okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He’s not entirely convinced he doesn’t have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that’s not currently attached to the hand that’s gripping Tommy’s wrist like he’s scared he’ll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he’s got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that’ll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he’s not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he’s not dying.

That’s all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he’s losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he’s not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it’s a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn’t know which one of them it’s hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. “When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt…”

“I know.” Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

He doesn’t mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can’t take it or doesn’t want to hear it, but because he doesn’t know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he’s honest, he’s still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he’s not complaining. He knows what it’s like to be the one waiting for information, to think you’re about to live the worst day of your life.

He’s glad he didn’t do that to Tommy.

This time.

read the rest on ao3

#jack.txt #my fic #bucktommy #i have one more bullet in the chamber and then i'm done #until next week. haha #tv: 911

[lanadelnegan]

My Past, My Future - Part 5 (Final part)

Negan x Reader x Daryl

part four here / part one here

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst

Note: I'm sorry this took so long for me to post. Been kinda out of it lately, but probably gonna start posting regularly again.

Red = Negan / Blue = Daryl / Pink - Reader

"Negan..." Your jaw lowers slightly in disbelief as you look up into his tired eyes. Before your brain has time to stop you, you lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling the familiar smell of him. "God I am so glad you're okay." A tear falls from your cheek as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck and holds you tight.

Pulling back slightly after a moment too long, you clear your throat awkwardly and drop your hands to your sides. You quickly wipe the tear slipping down your cheek as Negan tilts his head at you empathetically. "Baby.."

"No..." You shake your head, remembering how Negan left you - alone and worried to death. "Negan, I - I don't understand. Why? Why did you leave?" You ramble, letting the hurt and anger wash over you all over again. "I looked for you for three weeks straight. I didn't eat.. didn't sleep.. just cried until I couldn't anymore."

"I saw you two.. kissing.. I thought -"

"You thought wrong, Negan. I wanted it to be you. I told Daryl that after the kiss. I came back to Alexandria that night to tell you, and you - you were gone. How could you do that to me? Just leave and not even look back like I never meant anything to you?"

"C'mon, You know that's not true... Was I supposed to just stay there and fuckin' watch you be with him?!"

Before you can respond, the front door swings open behind you and Daryl quickly appears at your side, wrapping his arm protectively around your waist.

Negan scoffs, glancing down at Daryl's hand gripping you possessively. "Seriously? You two are a thing now, huh? And you expect me to believe you were gonna fuckin' choose me?"

"Believe what you want. It's the truth. Not that it matters anymore. You left. You made your decision."

"Yeah." Negan nods. "I guess you did too."

"You dunno what the hell you're talkin' about. Got no right to talk to her like that when you just up and left." Daryl's jaw clenches as he glares at Negan.

"Seems like it worked out for you. I dunno why you're fuckin' complainin'."

"Cuz I'm not selfish. I wanted her to by happy."

"And I'm selfish? For leaving behind the love of my fucking life just so I wouldn't get in the way of her and another man!? If anyone's selfish it's you! Throwing a fit because the girl you were too scared to admit your feelings to wanted me and not you."

You grab Daryl's wrist, pulling him back as he lunges forward at Negan. "Enough! This is too much. I can't - I can't deal with this right now." You cry as both men reach out to comfort you.

Negan lets out a long sigh. "Look, it's getting dark. And I know you're tired. Let's call it a night and sort this out tomorrow."

Daryl hesitantly nods, accepting Negan's offer when you look to him for an answer and you both follow Negan into the house. It's old and wooden and Negan's smell fills the air. Your heart aches at the thought of Negan here by himself all this time... he is here by himself right?

"Do you.. live here alone?" You ask, looking around for any signs of other company.

"Nah. Girlfriend should be back any minute."

You roll your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice, trying to hide your smile when he winks at you.

"Hungry?" He points behind himself to the kitchen.

"No.. thanks. Just tired."

"You two can take the bedroom.. I'll sleep out here on the couch. Just let me clean up and change first." Negan says before heading to his bedroom. "Make yourselves at home." He calls out before shutting his door.

Six months ago you were confessing your love for each other and having sex on your couch. Now he's offering up his bed to you and another man? Daryl rests his hand on your lower back and you turn around to hug him, laying your head on his chest.

"Daryl.. I want you to know you have nothing to worry about. We'll leave in the morning."

"Not worried." He reassures you by planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. He knows he is, but the last thing he wants is to put more stress and pressure on you right now.

Negan enters the room again, announcing his presence with an awkward clearing of his throat. "Room's ready. Changed the sheets."

Daryl leads the way, bumping past Negan rudely as he disappears into the master bathroom. You walk past Negan, brushing your hand against his before he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and looks down at you. "The idea of you in my bed with another man fucking infuriates me. Everything I do.. everything I did.. was for your happiness. Not mine... Just so you know." His hazel eyes fall to your lips for a moment before he slowly looks back up into your eyes. You restrain yourself from kissing him, remembering the way his soft lips felt against yours as his stubble pricked at your face. You can't deny you miss kissing him. Having long deep conversations with him.. Fucking him. All your memories together flow through your mind as you stare up at him.

"Are you happy with him, y/n?" Negan's eyes dart back and forth between yours.

"...Yes."

"Good..." He nods before walking away and you watch him sink to the couch as you enter his bedroom. You find Daryl already laying in bed and immediately climb in the bed behind him to comfort him. You know this must be difficult for him. You nuzzle your face into the back of his neck. "Baby.. I told you not to worry."

He doesn't say anything as you run your fingers comfortingly through his thick strands of hair. "I love you, Daryl."

"You love him too." He says matter-of-factly.

You don't respond, knowing you'd be lying if you tried to argue with him. So instead, you wrap your arm around him and settle into the sheets. The pillowcase smells like Negan as you shut your eyes and drift off quickly, dreaming of a world where you don't have to choose between the two men you'd die for.

As soon as Daryl hears your light snore, he slips out of bed, quietly finding his way into the living room where Negan is wide awake on the couch staring at the ceiling.

"We need to talk."

Negan's chest rises and falls as he lets out a long sigh. "Nothin' to say."

"Oh.. now you wanna stay quiet?"

"Now you wanna fuckin' talk?"

Daryl ignores Negan's comeback, sitting in a chair across from the couch. A long moment passes before Daryl finally speaks again.

"I know you love y/n. I know you've changed. But I'll never forget what you've done. When we came back to Alexandria and realized you were gone... I hoped you'd never come back."

Negan huffs, leaning back further into the couch before Daryl continues.

"Until I saw how much it broke her. She wouldn't eat. Wouldn't sleep. Unless I made her. Was so worried about her I couldn't let her outta my sight. You did that to her."

Negan gulps down, fighting back tears as he hears how much he hurt you.

"And for some stupid reason.. she still loves you."

Negan scoffs, shaking his head slightly before gazing back up at the ceiling. "...When Lucille passed, I knew I wouldn't be able to love anyone the way I loved her. Lucille was.. my everything. Hell, named a fuckin' baseball bat after her just so I wouldn't have to say goodbye... You know where that bat is now?"

Daryl grunts, waiting for Negan's answer. Negan's head nods towards the fireplace, as they watch the wood crack underneath the flames for awhile.

"I said goodbye to Lucille that day because I finally found someone I could be happy with again... When I made the decision to leave, that was for y/n. Not for me. I knew you'd be there to take my place, and I thought that's what she fuckin' wanted. But me? I didn't eat either. Didn't sleep. Worried about her every day. Still fuckin' do."

Daryl's head drops forward as his elbows rest on his knees, carefully taking in Negan's words.

"She misses you."

"Why are you tellin' me this?"

"Cause I want the same thing as you. Just want her to be happy."

"So what? You're.. giving her back to me?" Negan's head shakes sarcastically, mocking the idea.

"In your dreams.... What I'm sayin' is, we love her and she loves us. Why make her choose?"

Negan's nose scrunches as he looks to Daryl, sitting up now and leaning forward. "Wait, wait, wait. You're not serious. Are you seriously suggesting a... throuple?"

"Nah. I ain't gay." Daryl grunts. "It's not about me and you. Just her."

"Too bad. Thought you were finally comin' around." Negan raises his brows suggestively, making Daryl stand and roll his eyes annoyed. He stops at the bedroom door, looking back to Negan expectantly. "You comin'?"

They both quietly enter the bedroom and slide in bed on either side of you. Still asleep, you snuggle against the warm body in front of you, roaming your hand along his stomach before stopping suddenly, realizing it's not Daryl. Your eyes jolt open to meet Negan's gaze in the dim lit room as he smirks down at you.

"Wha-"

"It's okay, babe." Daryl whispers in your ear from behind.

"You still love me, baby?" Negan asks, tilting your chin up and hovering his lips over yours.

You answer him by pressing your lips to his, closing the small gap. You can't help the involuntary moan that escapes your mouth as you taste him again for the first time in so long.

Negan's hand cups the back of your neck, bringing you closer as he deepens the kiss and flicks his tongue against yours. His mouth opens slightly as a throaty groan escapes and you almost whimper at how turned on you are. Finally turning your attention to Daryl behind you, your arm reaches behind you to grip his hair and pull him in for a kiss. He kisses you back hungrily as his rough hand glides down the side of your body, tracing your curves before reaching your ass and firmly squeezing.

After a moment, you pull away from his mouth to adjust yourself, leaning up for a moment to remove your shirt and bra before laying flat on your back between the two of them.

You stare vacantly at the ceiling, blinking a few times as you attempt to wake yourself from the obvious dream you must be having. But to no avail, your men remain pressed against your body as they nip at your skin and tease you with their fingers.

Shifting lower in the bed, they both take a hardened nipple into their mouth, making your head push into the pillow below you as you bite your lip to suppress your moan.

Negan flicks his tongue lightly over the sensitive bud, while Daryl's lips suction around the other, sucking over and over. You can't hide your noises anymore as you let them hear what they are doing to you. "Ohh my god. Fuck... that feels good."

Negan grins, letting his teeth gently squeeze your nipple before lowering his hand. He easily pops open the button on your jeans before roughly pushing them down your legs. Daryl raises to his knees, helping you get your pants and underwear off your ankles until you're completely bare in front of them.

You've been with them both one on one on multiple occasions, but this feels.. much more intense with both of them at the same time.

As Daryl bends down, getting ready to position himself to eat your pussy, Negan stops him. "Look man, not tryna be selfish here. But I've been deprived of that pussy for way too long. So please, allow me." He pleads.

Daryl glares at Negan for a moment before finally moving out of his way and letting him devour your cunt. Negan's face is buried between your legs the second Daryl gives him the go ahead and your jaw lowers as you make an o-shape with your lips at how good his mouth feels. His stubble tickles your inner thighs while his tongue repeatedly flicks deep inside of you.

"Fuck!" He comes up for air, before pressing his nose to your hole and inhaling the smell of you. "Goddamn I missed this sweet pussy."

"Move." Daryl demands, taking Negan's place and tossing your legs over his shoulders. His fingers spread your pussy lips apart, allowing him better access to your clit and sucking it harshly, urging you to orgasm.

Your gaze is focused on Negan as he stands by the bed, quickly discarding his clothes.

"Daryl!" You moan his name as your orgasm rushes through you, letting your eyes stay locked on Negan's, hoping to bring out his possessive side. A smirk appears on Negan's face as he chuckles darkly, knowing you're trying to make him jealous.

Just as Daryl comes up for air, wiping your juices from his chin, the bed dips as Negan crawls over you, taking your lips in his.

"You tryin' to tease me, baby? Cause it's fuckin' working."

He kisses you rhythmically before pulling on your lower lip with teeth and grinning at you. While you're busy locking tongues with Negan, Daryl positions himself on his back beside you. "Come mere baby. Need you."

You roll over on top of Daryl, letting your knees rest on either side of him as you hover your wet opening over his hard length and slide down slowly and completely, filling your cunt to the brim as your head falls back in pleasure.

Negan settles in behind you, bumping his hard cock against your ass. His hand wraps around your long strands of hair as he pulls, bringing your head back further and exposing the front of your neck.

Chills run down your spine when Negan whispers throatily in your ear. "Think you can take us both sweetheart?"

You answer him with a frantic nod and he chuckles, biting at the sensitive spot behind your ear and making chills spread over your arms.

"Fuck. Bend over him. Now." Negan grunts, pushing your back until you're laying over Daryl with his cock still inside you.

Negan's hand spreads one of your ass cheeks as he leans back slightly, watching you slide up and down on Daryl's cock. "Goddamn. You are creaming all over his fuckin' dick, darlin'." Negan's thumb reaches out, gathering a line of your juices from Daryl's shaft and bringing it to his mouth. He groans at the taste, eyes rolling in the back of his head as he sucks his own thumb. "Fuck." He whispers, dropping his thumb to your tight asshole now and circling it slowly. "Where do you want me baby?" He asks, pushing this thumb through your tightness. You cry out at the unfamiliar feeling.

"In.. in my pussy." You whine.

"Yeah? Such a big girl, so confident that you can take two big cocks in your little cunt at the same time." Negan chuckles darkly, pulling his finger out of your ass and rubbing his tip through your folds from behind as Daryl's breathes loud and heavy while you ride him.

Negan's hand grips your waist tightly, holding you in place as he guides his cock to your already filled hole. He slides his tip along Daryl's length before ultimately pushing through and burying himself deep inside you. Daryl grunts, adjusting slightly at the feeling of Negan's dick against his own.

You cry out as your walls are stretched further than they've ever been, and the thought of your men rubbing their cocks together inside of you makes your stomach flutter.

"Oh my goddd." You cry, overwhelmed at the intensity of being so full. Not only are your walls stretched to their limit, but both of them are painfully deep. Pressure and heat build in your abdomen as you feel yourself embarrassingly close to coming already.

“Holy shit, feels so fuckin’ good.” Negan whimpers, dropping his head back heavily as he thrusts into you.

Daryl’s jaw clenches as he stares up at you through glazed over eyes. “Is it too much babe? Tell us to stop if you need-“

“No. Please. Please don’t stop.” You beg, crashing your lips against Daryl’s as you moan into his mouth. Negan brings his hand down roughly, smacking your ass cheek and making you yelp into Daryl’s mouth.

Negan grunts, grabbing the back of your hair possessively and pulling your back against his chest. Your head turns as he kisses your lips sloppily from the side, bringing his hand around to wrap firmly around your throat as his throaty whisper flows in your ear. “I might be willing to share, but kissing another man when I’m balls deep in this cunt? Not gonna fuckin’ happen, doll.”

From this angle, one of their tips press repeatedly into just the right spot, making your cheeks burn hot. And Negan’s filthy words are just what you need to send you over the edge.

"Daryl! ... Negan! Fuuuck." You scream out, feeling warm liquid rush out of you. Both men groan at the feeling of you soaking their cocks as Negan's moans become faster and louder and Daryl grows quieter - an indicator that he's close.

"Come in me..Please.” You breathe out.

"Who?" Both men say in unison.

"..Both."

"Can't hold it anymore. I'm comin' baby. I'm fuckin' coming. Ahhh, fuuuuck." He lets out a long groan, spilling deep inside of you.

Daryl groans at the intense feeling of yours and Negan’s warm liquids surrounding his cock. He bites his bottom lip as he shoots his load in you, following each pulse of his dick with a mix of raspy whimpers and moans.

Negan slides out of you as you lift yourself off Daryl, falling to the bed next to him. When Negan joins you on the other side, you lace your fingers in both of their hands as you lay there out of breath.

"What the hell just happened?" You chuckle, not able to hide the ridiculous smile on your face.

"We don't wanna make you choose. Just want you to be happy. If you want us both, you've got us."

"But.. that's.."

Negan leans in, kissing your cheek before settling into the sheets and closing his eyes. "There's no rules in the apocalypse, baby. Shoulda learned that a long time ago."

tagging my babies: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown@munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @dekuumademecumm @midnight-dixon @arthi-s

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdmfanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #negan twd #negan x reader #negan x you #negan smith x reader #the walking dead negan #negan x daryl #twd smut #daryl dixon smut #negan smut #negan smith smut #negan fanfic #negan fic

[justanamesstuff]

Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“ 

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind. 

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything. 

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually  comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

 Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head. 

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?” 

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question. 

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George. 

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question. 

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements. 

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied. 

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

“We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought. 

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.  

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation. 

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty. 

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought. 

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly. 

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference. 

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship. 

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

Taglist: @hollybrislen

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty the 1975 #matty x you #matty x y/n #matty fanfic #friends to lovers #matty healy #the 1975 #Seasons #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction

[blackoutspoetry]

Posted this in December on ao3 but thought I might share it here too...

REVERIE

Word count: 3.2k

Summary:

"You're beautiful, Simon. If anyone dares tell you otherwise, I'll put a bullet through their fucking skull." Simon scoffs, reaching for one of Johnny's hands and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You really know your way to a man's heart, Johnny." "Aye, so you admit, there is a heart in there somewhere?" – John and Simon try their best to navigate their relationship through Simon's past trauma, the progress is slow, but they're getting there.

Johnny found out about Simon's nightmares one night on a mission. They were left overnight with no evacuation possible until morning to huddle together in an old abandoned farmhouse until sunrise.

Being in a compromised position, Johnny suggested they take turns being on watch in case they managed to get any unwanted company during the night.

Simon offered to be on watch the entire night to let him get enough rest, but there was no way Johnny would agree to that. Not only to let Simon rest up, but also for the simple fact that not getting enough sleep could compromise him in the event they are faced with an unfriendly face at the window.

Simon took the first watch and dutifully woke Johnny for his turn two hours later before he found himself a corner to rest in.

Johnny could tell he was nervous about actually trying to sleep, so he decided he would give the man his space and keep the questions to himself.

He broke that agreement the moment he heard the other man crying, muffled pleading into the quiet night.

"Ghost?" He'd called out, a bit nervous.

His hand reached for the knife at his side, in case someone had gotten to him. But when he rounded the corner, he found the man alone, huddling in the corner with his head tucked between his knees.

"Ghost?"

No response. Then softer.

"Simon?"

That seemed to break through to him and he looked up, startled.

Johnny could almost swear he saw tears in the man's eyes.

"You alright, LT?"

"I'm fine."

Johnny knew that was a lie, but he didn't want to push anything, so he let it go, figured if Ghost wanted him to know, he would've told him.

Maybe Johnny did mean more to Ghost than he initially realised, because not long after, on one of their tired nights awake after everyone else had long gone to bed, Ghost told him about Roba. The nightmares, why he never shows his face.

That's when Johnny first saw Simon, under the mask, under his persona. He saw the man that underwent years of trauma to become a ghost of what he once was.

Johnny had been fond of the lieutenant for a while now, but seeing the real Simon Riley under the hard exterior made him fall harder than he expected.

He began to see parts of Simon in Ghost. In the way he took his tea, the joy in his voice when he told one of those awful jokes.

Johnny loved him, he realised one day Ghost had a scare about a bullet that had nearly hit him, how he fussed over making sure Johnny was alright.

It took far quicker for them to finally kiss than Johnny thought it would. Just one late night, a bottle of Bourbon and a whispered admission later, Simon kissed him hard and rough.

Touch starved.

They didn't make it another day before they had a second kiss, or a third, or a fourth, for that matter.

The dam wall had broken and there was no way to contain months of feelings, mutual feelings, banter that was overstepping the line of flirting.

There was one rule that they'd established early on. A very clear line in the sand that would never be crossed.

No sex. No unwarranted touching. And they were taking everything at Ghost's pace…

Simon's pace.

Johnny had no problem with that, more than willing to let Simon be comfortable around him and find love without being pressured. Johnny's also relieved that their agreement spares him the awkward conversation about Johnny wanting to save himself for marriage.

So it works. They keep it wholesome and they enjoy each other's company and affection at their own pace.

Johnny's favourite time of day was the evening, those rare occasions he could slip into Ghost's room without suspicion and they could lie together, talking for hours, holding hands under the blankets.

One night, as Johnny watches Simon switch his uniform for a nondescript white t-shirt, he gets an idea that makes his face flush in an instant.

He's already sitting in the bed when the other man walks over to it, leaning over to give Johnny a kiss to his forehead.

"I want to ask you something, you can say no, but I just want to try."

"What is it?"

"I want to see you," Johnny says simply, hand hesitating over Ghost's shirt. "If it's alright with you?"

The other man looks like he's genuinely weighing out the options.

"Fine, but our trousers stay on, MacTavish," Ghost warns and Johnny gives him a confident nod and a smile.

"Aye, I'm in no rush. You forget, LT. I try not to stray too far from my virtue."

And that was true. There may have been examples of better, more virtuous men, but Johnny took pride in trying to keep to his faith, despite everything. It grounds him when they're under fire, gives him something to hold on to when he genuinely fears he might lose his life out there. It gives him something to hope for in the terrible scenario that he finds his lover dead, that they'll be reunited after death.

He spends most nights praying that they'll have enough time together. On his more optimistic, yearning days, he prays for a marriage. He wants more than just Ghost. He wants Simon in his arms, next to him every morning, kissing his temple on those nights he's shaking with nightmares from a past life.

He really is in no rush with Simon. There's much more to loving him than what's in his pants. He really wants Simon to understand that. He hopes after all he's been through, Johnny will be able to show him he deserves to be loved without the necessity of sex.

Ghost lets Johnny tug the shirt over his head and discard it on the floor next to the bed.

He sits back against the headboard and Johnny moves closer to sit between his knees, making sure to let Ghost know he's in control.

What Johnny finds beneath the fabric is no surprise, but he sucks in a sharp breath anyway.

"May I touch you?" He says before he's actually thought about it. Ghost gives him a bit of a dramatic eye roll but nods anyway.

From his position, leaning over Ghost with a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips, he ran a tender hand over the man's exposed collarbones, tracing his thumb gently over the skin in a way that dripped with the softest of affections.

It was a new thing, really. This level of intimacy between them, the times they're allowed to be gentle and meticulous with each other. Outside of the cover of night, Johnny and Simon's relationship was a fleeting thing that burned like fire. Untamed needing that manifested in desperate kisses, when the gunfire was muted and they pulled themselves into a corner to hold each other. Just to remind the other that they're still here, still breathing.

In those moments, its borderline painful when Simon tugs him closer by his heavy gear to kiss him like his life depended on it, only to release him moments later to find the others and act as though they did not know each other much more intimately than they let on.

This was none of that.

Johnny steadied his hand over the beating of Simon's heart, feeling the man still beneath his touch, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop and something terrible to happen. But it doesn't.

Johnny would be lying if he said it didn't break his heart, though.

Simon's body knew no gentle touch. That much was evident with the amount of violence carved into him.

Jagged knife edges, bullet wounds, shrapnel.

Johnny grimly wondered if there was a pain left that he had not endured.

And here he is, with his body exposed to a man that could very nearly give him another to add to the ensemble on his chest.

Cautiously, as to not startle him, Johnny leaned forward and nosed against the soft dip of Ghost's neck, moving to trail soft kisses against the column of his throat.

He feels Simon's heart race under his palm, warm and steady in building hysteria. Soap smiles into his warm skin.

"Your skin is so soft."

He feels the heart rate rise again, heat flushing the man's neck against Johnny's mouth.

"I moisturise, fucking flawless isn't it?" Simon says simply, so deadpan that Johnny can't tell if he's trying to make light of the array of scars covering his body or genuinely happy with his skincare routine.

Either way, it makes Johnny smile.

"Aye. Not even a blemish."

Both men chuckle a little at that.

Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders, too afraid to put them elsewhere, and nuzzles his face into the side of his neck.

He takes in the sweet scent radiating from his skin and smiles a bit at the nostalgia it gives him.

He chuckles a little, shakes his head in half disbelief and just places an affectionate kiss to his neck.

"Simon Riley, stone cold killer, the Ghost himself, am I mistaken or do I detect a hint of baby oil?"

Johnny can barely keep the grin out of his voice as Simon's face goes a shade or two redder.

"I can't confirm anything, sergeant. M'fraid that's classified information."

Johnny hums into a kiss. Its slow and deliberate. He can almost feel the other man smiling against him.

This was so unusually soft for them, its new territory. But he likes it.

He takes his time now, in the silence, the absence of danger around them.

Johnny prefers this to an adrenaline high kiss after a gunfight any day, even if opportunities like this are rare.

He likes taking his time figuring out what Simon likes, being gentle with him.

This was progress, though. Simon's never been comfortable enough to take his shirt off.

Simon flinches slightly when Johnny drags a hand down his chest, stopping a considerable distance above the waistband of his trousers, but it still gets a reaction out of him.

Simon's hand shoots out to grab him by the wrist, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like fear.

Johnny retracted his hands in an instant, offering him a soft apology.

"It's just me, you're alright."

Simon's breathing eases and Johnny gives him a moment to compose himself. He's not Roba. He's not that son of a bitch who Simon was unfortunate enough to call a father, either.

Johnny knows what happened. There's no way the ominous line my father used to taunt me with snakes as a kid" didn't have a far more sinister meaning behind it. He knows Simon was a cheap commodity when he was with Roba, for anyone to use when they needed to blow off steam.

He's gathered as much from the muttered words in his sleep, the pamphlet on living with childhood sexual trauma Johnny'd accidently found, collecting dust in his desk drawer. He doesn't ask questions about why the man insists on showering twice a day and never feeling quite clean.

He wants to give back what those two stole from him.

Control.

"Too low?"

A grunt of acknowledgement. A yes.

"Okay, its your call, LT. We can stop or you can put my hands where you want them."

For a moment, Simon genuinely weighed out the options before slowly reaching for Johnny's hands and placing his open palms on his chest. Warm. Wanted.

Johnny's eyes never strayed from Simon's, the searing eye contact burning a warm glow in his stomach.

He needs to stop before he loses himself to the heat of the moment.

But oh–

Simon presses Johnny's hands onto his chest and Johnny squeezes his pectoral muscles lightly, cautious but gentle.

A small, stuttered sigh escaped Simon beneath him.

"Is this alright?"

A barely perceptible nod. Like a delicately balanced art, where he was on the edge of tipping over into uncertainty, but he trusted Johnny enough to let him do this.

He's almost afraid to touch him, to move his hands from that one position, but he traces the skin tentatively, mapping out every one of the man's acquired scars in safe reach.

Just to say, 'I see your imperfections, I love them, I love you'.

I love you…

It seems like the easiest thing in the world to say, but it gets caught in his throat.

He punctuates the unsaid affection with a kiss to the space between his eyebrows, feeling Simon furrow his brow in thought.

Johnny feels the scar tissue of a knife wound under his palm but it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

He's hyper aware of how stuttered Simon's breathing has become, as though Johnny's beginning to unwind the coil of tension keeping him rigid and silent.

It offers Johnny a boldness he doesn't expect.

Watching Simon's face intently, Johnny brushed a thumb carefully over the other man's nipple. His expression remained mostly the same, except for a swallowed whimper that gets caught in his throat.

It's a beautiful sight really, seeing him so vulnerable but trusting enough to let this happen. Johnny tries to memorize the image of him, bare skin under his hands, mouth tipped open ever so slightly, uneven breaths, racing heartbeat.

There's a stray lock of hair fallen out of place and covering his forehead that Johnny brushed back into position.

"Still alright?"

"Affirmative."

Johnny feels need creep closer at the sound, staining his senses red with a different kind of heat he doesn't want to indulge himself in.

Not now. Not with Simon still seeing his abusers burned into his eyelids. It wouldn't be right.

And he wants to marry the man first. He wants to do it right, treat him right. Love him the way he deserves.

Simon is a marvel, a beautifully dangerous man, scars and all.

He's startled when he feels warm hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt and he looks up to find urgent brown eyes.

"May I?"

Johnny nods, trying not to look too eager. He helps Simon in removing his shirt. Heat rushes to his cheeks as the man gives him a once over.

He'd lie if he said he wasn't more than a little intimidated by Simon's gaze. His eyes were just as intense without the mask as they were when he was wearing it.

It's Simon that makes the first move, pulling Johnny down to kiss him, pushing their chests together. Skin against skin, at long last.

"Hands where I can see them, Johnny," Ghost warns against his mouth and Johnny immediately moves his hands to steady himself against the headboard behind Simon instead.

Simon's calloused fingers brush up from his hip, counting his ribs with his thumbs, mapping him. Taking stock of each scar on his body, now seeming inconsequential in comparison to Simon's scars.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't feel vulnerable like this.

He's watched those very hands, now digging into his skin with gentle, pliant heat, kill men without mercy. He's seen the violence that could come from him just as much as he knows the affection.

He wonders who the last person was that Simon touched with so much tenderness. Selfishly, he sort of hopes he's the first.

Simon pulls him in for another kiss, a more heated, desperate one than the first.

Johnny's just glad he's feeling comfortable enough to initiate things.

It's a long way from where they started, where even the subtlest of affection would set him on edge.

Johnny savours the warmth of his hands against his waist, keeping him in place. He dutifully keeps his hands on the headrest until Simon clumsily reaches for them and rests them tentatively in the dips of his hips.

He's hesitant and his hands shake far too much for him to be completely sure of himself.

But Johnny knows how hard this is. This wasn't Ghost, this was Simon. The man he tried to bury over years of indifference, coldness.

Ghost has never trusted anyone else with Simon and Johnny feels honoured to know him behind that mask.

He's not an unfeeling killing machine. He's just a man.

His train of thought is broken when Simon speaks.

"You need someone better than me, Johnny. You deserve someone pretty."

Simon's gaze is fixated on Johnny's exposed skin, comparing it to the state of his own with more than a little pain in his eyes.

Just thinking about the self loathing in that statement makes his blood boil. Simon didn't lose his innocence to a man who couldn't control himself or get used as a means of pleasure against his will to call himself undesirable or unworthy.

Johnny cups a hand to Simon's jaw, stroking his thumb along three day old stubble.

"You're beautiful, Simon. If anyone dares tell you otherwise, I'll put a bullet through their fucking skull."

Simon scoffs, reaching for one of Johnny's hands and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You really know your way to a man's heart, Johnny."

"Aye, so you admit, there is a heart in there somewhere?"

"Fuck off."

But it's far too affectionate for him to mean it.

They decide to call it a night soon after that, before things get too serious.

Johnny meets urgent brown eyes and offers the man one last, chaste kiss before he turns to his side of the bed.

"Suppose we should be getting to bed, don't wanna push you too far in one night," Johnny says as he retrieves Simon's shirt from the floor. He slips back into his own.

Johnny says it in part for himself and the rapidly approaching arousal he wants to keep at an arm's distance. He needs to think of something else before he gets himself too worked up.

The last thing he wants to do is make Simon uncomfortable. Heaven forbid he has more need for that pamphlet in the desk drawer. He doesn't want to trigger anything from his past.

Johnny can't bear the thought of hurting Ghost. It makes him physically sick.

Wordlessly, they settle into bed and Johnny turns to face the other man.

They're tired. They both are.

When the silence has settled just enough to lay heavy, a thoughtful little smile finds Johnny's lips. He finds the strength to say the words.

"Love you, Si."

Simon says nothing but intertwines their fingers under the blanket and raises their clasped hands to his mouth for a kiss to Johnny's knuckle.

Johnny lies there a while, awake, in quiet reverie.

In rare moments like these, the banter dies away and unmasks what lies beneath it. The raw emotion, the history and the heartbreak. They say it, all the things they can't express during the day.

The honesty catches them sober and still overtakes them.

He savours the moment, because he knows all the walls they broke down tonight will be back in the morning and this will all feel like a fever dream.

While he still has this, has them, Johnny loops an arm around Simon's waist and pulls him against his chest, holding the man protectively against him.

"I promise as long as I'm here, LT, I'll never let anyone lay a hand on you again."

It's enough honesty for one night.

Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal.

#simon ghost riley #soapghost #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #fanfic #fanfiction #ghostsoap #ghoap #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #soap x ghost fanfiction #ghoap fanfic #my writing #ao3 link

[wolferals]

He is perfect

Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff

2:23am. Thats the time right now. And im standing awkwardly in front of his door, thinking about whether i should knock, ring the doorbell or grab the spare key he's got hidden between some rocks by the door.

He was probably sleeping, like any sane person at 2:30 in the morning. Unlike me- I'd been tossing and turning for hours in my own bed. All alone and cold.

So i decided to come here, Henry wouldn't mind having me stay over. Usually i called him or texted him if i couldn't sleep but i couldn't wait, so i drove straight to his house.

If i rang the doorbell tho, at 2:30, Kal would bark and wake him - possible give him a heart attack.

I check the time again, 2:25am. Fuck it, theres no turning back now.

I kneel down to look for the key and quietly open Henrys front door.

Everything is quiet, the house is dark.

No sign of anyone awake, Kal's probably sleeping in the office as usual and Henry will be laying on his stomach in his underwear, head buried in his pillow.

Quietly i close the door again and carefully peel my jacket off me to neatly place it on the stairs.

After taking my shoes off, i tippy toe upstairs.

Absolute silence still. Quietly i open the door to Henrys bedroom. Darkness. No noise coming from inside the room.

„Henry?" i whisper into the dark room.

Then i hear a rustling noise. „Hen?" i say a little louder, still softly.

I stand by the door, waiting for a response.

Then suddenly the bedside table lamp lights up and a very sleepy Henry looks up at me.

„Y/n?" He rubs his eyes and sits up.

„What are you doing here?" His voice is groggy and raspy. „Im sorry... i know i shouldve called but i can't sleep. The nightmares..." i still awkwardly stand by the door.

He only nods and rubs his eyes again.

„Come here."

I close the door, step towards the bed and look at him. He was in fact only wearing underwear.

He pulls away the covers to indicate me to slide underneath.

I follow his silent command and cuddle up under the covers.

He extends his arm and i thankfully scoot over to him, cuddling into his side.

„You scared me there darling." he nuzzles into my hair.

„I'm sorry..." i whisper back, holding onto him tightly.

He softly rubs my arm and i drape my leg over his thigh.

„I tried sleeping but i couldn't. My bed was cold and i felt lonely.... Anxiety."

He shushed me. „It's okay. You can always come here, but please call next time, you really freaked me out for a second.

I look up at him, the dim light of his bedside lamp illuminating a part of his face.

His beard was more prominent due to his spare time at home in which he probably didn't feel the need to shave every day. His curls were slightly messy but he still looked good.

„I understand it you know? About the cold bed. I hate sleeping alone. Been alone for a while too."

Henry takes a deep breath, still softly rubbing my side.

I don't say anything, i only look at him and think of a response.

But i can't think of a good one, so i nuzzle my face against his chest and embrace the warmth of his skin against mine.

His hair is slightly tickling my cheek but i don't mind it, i feel too comfortable laying on his firm chest.

He then reaches over to turn off the lamp and suddenly the room is dark again and all i can hear is the rustling of the bedsheets as Henry gets comfortable next to me.

He turns to his side to be facing me and pulls me close, wrapping both his arms around me.

I feel safe.

His even breathing against my forehead calms me and his facial hair slightly tickling against my skin reminds me that he is in fact there. That im not alone.

„Thank you." i then say.

-„For what?" he whispers back.

„For being there. For me." I say back, grabbing onto him tighter.

I can feel him smiling against my forehead.

„Anytime sweetheart."

I scoot even closer to him, wrapping my leg tighter around his waist. Henry is carefully rubbing circles on my back as he speaks up again:"You don't even know how much i needed this as well."

I smile. Then i move my hands from around his waist up to his head and start caressing the back of his neck.

I can feel him relax more and he lets out a satisfied hum. Making me smile again.

I softly play with his curls and rub circles on his skin.

The longer we lay there in silence, the more my eyes adjust to the darkness and i can finally see the outline of his face in front of me.

He was perfect.

Too fucking bad.

„Henry?" i whisper softly. He only hums in response. „Ur the best." I can see a smile form on his lips while his eyes are still closed.

„Never thought I'd find someone to make me feel as safe as you do." I continue.

He rubs my thigh comforting and i add:"I feel happier when im with you."

The next thing I know is the warm feeling of his lips on my forehead. His one hand on the back of my head, the other still resting on my thigh.

I smile and embrace the love before he carefully pulls away and places another kiss on my cheek.

„You make my happy too darling." he whispers.

Smiling, I cuddle up closer to him and close my eyes.

For the first time in months I feel genuinely happy, content with myself. Relaxed and most importantly safe. I feel loved again and all i can think about is how fucking perfect he is.

He is perfect.

Too fucking bad I can't tell him that.

#cute #preference #preferences #henryxreader #henrycavillxreader #henrybeingabear #henry cavill fanfic #imagines #fluff

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Chapter 5.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

I woke up in the car to Johnnie lightly shaking me.

"y/n/n, wake up, sleepy head!" Jake teased from the back seat.

I hadn't slept off the alcohol. I was in the front seat, for some reason. I looked towards johnnie. "wait, do you even have your license?"

his eyes widened. "uh, no. but, we're here safe." he awkwardly smiled.

I shrugged. "okay."

Jake casually got out of the car. it was clear he didn't drink as much as I did. Johnnie helped me out of the car. I tried to find my footing, but it was a little difficult. He wrapped his arm around my waist. my face got hot. I knew he meant it in a friendly way, but I had never really received affection like this from anyone, and my friends didn't make me feel like this. I watched Jake haphazardly unlock the door, laughing at him.

"what are you laughing at, bitch? I just wanna go to sleep." He glanced back before shoving open the door.

I followed Johnnie to his room after we said goodnight to Jake. "where can I sleep?"

"you can take my bed, I'll sleep on the floor." he offered.

"no, this is your room. I'll sleep on the floor."

"but you're the guest, just take the damn bed." he laughed.

"whatever, hoe." I rolled my eyes.

his hand flew over his heart. "wow, is that really what you think of me?" he asked sarcastically.

"of course not." I pinched his cheek before flopping onto the bed. he pulled off my shoes for me, which caught me off guard. "I'm a big girl, I could've done that myself."

"I wanted to help." he shot me a soft smile before pulling a spare blanket out of his closet and throwing it on the floor. he reached into his drawer and pulled out a misfits shirt. he tossed it onto the bed. "so you don't have to sleep in your dress. you have shorts or something on under it, right."

"of course, I'm not a slut." I rolled my eyes. "thank you."

he nodded before turning away so I could change. I did so and got myself situated under the blankets. "sleep tight." I heard him call from the floor.

"night, you too." I whispered.

I laid staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever. There was no way I could sleep. everytime I closed my eyes, all I saw was his smile. it felt like I could still feel his arm wrapped around my waist. I smiled slightly, thinking about his laugh. fuck it.

"Johnnie?" I whispered.

he cleared his throat. "yeah?"

"will you lay with me?"

he hesitated.

was he angry?

did he think that was weird?

"i- yeah of course." he stuttered in a sleepy voice.

I watched his shadowy figure stand up and climb under the covers next to me. he turned to face me.

"are you okay?"

"this is the first time in my life I haven't felt truly alone." I admitted.

"what?" he asked.

"I've never felt like someone actually cared. I guess you're the first one."

"so, why did you want me to sleep up here?"

"you're stupid." I mumbled.

he didn't answer.

"I don't know how else to explain it."

"that's fine."

"it just felt empty up here." I laughed.

"I get that."

"do you want me to stop talking? you sound annoyed." I asked cautiously. I didn't know I'd act like this around people while I was drunk.

"don't. I like your voice, I feel like I'm always the one talking." I could see in the dimly lit room he had a small smile on his face.

"okay," I paused, remembering our conversation earlier. "Whenever I was in 8th grade, I was searching for anything I could that would change something in my life, it was so.."

"repetitive?"

"yeah. my friend asked me to hold her vape. she was scared of getting searched since she made the smoke sensor in the bathroom go off." I sighed. "against my better judgment, I went in there and hit it for myself. it was like my life had flipped upside down. I still remember my first buzz. from there, it just got worse." he made a sound, letting me know he was listening. "I was constantly feining. but, of course, I got used to it. everything it made me feel went away. I never got high. I snorted opiates, and ended up getting addicted to those my sophomore year.  I was constantly high my whole freshman year. yet, no one ever noticed me. I had no one."

"why did you quit?"

"I overdosed one night. I woke up in a pool of vomit. no one knew about that either. you're the first person I've ever told. I knew I had to stop before I killed myself. I kept reminding myself that life would move on and nothing could change that."

he didn't answer, just wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. I nearly cried. I've felt countless hugs from family, but none felt genuine. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. he smelled faintly of cologne and cigarettes, which I assumed was from Jake. I eventually fell asleep, still wrapped in Johnnie's arms.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #tara yummy #jake webber

[nr1chaedickrider]

It's all in my head, who do I trust? - I thought that you loved me, what is happening to us?

anyway, don't be a stranger.

2 new messages,

[user: momo]

'Hey'

...

'Happy birthday,

I did not forget.'

...

'meet me at han river in 10?'

...

'okay.'

-

The cold night air hits Jihyo's face, giving her goosebumps.

It's completly empty except for some couples sitting on the grass.

It makes her wish that she would be one of them.

She puts her hands inside of the pockets of her jacket.

She reaches a familiar bench.

It makes her think, about the old times.

About her first kiss.

About the confession of love in the rain - like a romantic movie that would have the watchers sobbing in their seats.

It got her sobbing too, in the depth of the night.

When she feels lonely, and vunerable.

A side of her that she doesn't want anyone to see.

She sits down on the bench, staring at the water.

She tries to lean back, tries to relax.

How is she able to relax if exactly she was the first person to congratulate her on her birthday?

"Jihyo" says Momo in a soft voice.

How is she supposed to relax when she says her name like that?

She looks up, from the water, and looks Momo in the eyes before she joins her on the bench.

They both stare at the water, without saying anything.

Even though people would describe Jihyo as someone that always has something to say, as someone that can't stay silent for too long, she has no idea what to say in this moment.

But that is nothing new to Jihyo, or to Momo, moments like these, in silence, are nothing new to them.

Jihyo decides to break the silence though.

"I only allow myself to miss you at night, I miss you in the secret -

because thats how it should be." she says, it comes out as a whisper.

It's an impulsive thought.

Momo looks at her, nods a little, then looks back at the river.

"Do you still think of me sometimes?" Jihyo asks.

She wishes she didn't ask that question after thinking about it long enough.

She wishes she didn't answer Momo's stupid texts.

She knows what her answer is going to be, something like a "no, I dont, not really."

But she is actually surprised when Momo answers.

"I do.

A lot actually"

This time Jihyo looks at Momo, without saying anything.

It feels like they are having an pointless conversation, with no goal or no end.

"Sometimes I want to text you -

but then I remember" Momo says.

Jihyo thinks she even heard a little sob when Momo said it.

But she doesn't want to think about it too much.

It's silent again, both watching people slowly leave the river.

The couples leave together, hand in hand.

Jihyo gets emotional seeing it.

"Atleast we are under the same sky" Jihyo says.

She feels the tears coming, but tries to hold them back.

"Maybe in another universe" Momo says, or rather, whispers.

And Jihyo is definetly sure that she heard a sob.

"I'm starting to forget you, I'm starting to forget us -

and it scares me." Jihyo says.

It's pointless.

This conversation.

They are both pathetically crying, like little, spoiled children that got their candy taken away.

They try to focus on the han river infront of them, they try to ignore the fact that this,

somehow is a goodbye.

"Can we have one more meaningless conversation?" Jihyo asks, even thought she already knows the answer to her stupid question.

"It's too late" Momo answers.

And she is right, she is so fucking right.

But Jihyo doesn't want it to be true.

Jihyo just wishes they could go back to talking once in a while because one of them is feeling alone in the middle of the night.

It doesn't need to be constant texting.

Just every now and then.

"I don't want to forget your voice"

She is trying to drag this out, to stop Momo from leaving.

"Or anything about you." Jihyo says, looking down onto her lap.

She watches her tears dropping onto her black jeans.

"I will look at the stars every night -

and I will think of you" Momo answers.

"My birthday wish for you is to let go" Momo says as she stands up.

Jihyo doesn't stop her when she starts walking.

She knows she can't stop her.

She knows she couldn't.

So instead of running after her, or leaving to walk to her apartment, she just watches Momo leave.

Her figure disappears in the darkness of the night.

"Anyway,

don't be a stranger." she whispers.

#wlw #twice imagines #twice smut #twice x reader #girl group smut #twice ff #momo x jihyo #mohyo #mohyo angst #jihyo smut #jihyo angst #jihyo fluff #momo fluff #momo smut #momo x reader #momo angst #twice angst #spotify #chaeyoung x reader #michaeng #feeling silly #i love angst #angst #angst with a sad ending

[pacifymebby]

Abandonment Issues / Billy + Stu

Billy

🥧 Because you're so scared that people will leave you, you are also scared to get close to anyone

🔪 So despite Billy's best efforts to get close to you, you're shut off and you just won't let him in

🥧 Its fine when you're just friends, you're so close and you trust him, and he feels like you're all his... But then when feelings get involved... The moment you realise you maybe like him as more than just a friend...

🔪 Thats when your doubts and paranoid thoughts tend to kick in, thats when you shut down.

🥧 So over night you seem to change, you start pushing him away, making up excuses not to spend so much time with him...

🔪 If Billy wasn't so persistent that would have been the end of things, but Billy has his own issues... He's possesive, terrified of being left, of losing you... So he will not let that happen

🥧 He'd double down and root twice as hard for you, he'd make up more reasons to be around you, he'd keep saying things like "you know you can talk to me about anything yeah..."

🔪 And then when he finally snaps, he does it quiet and calm... Climbs in through your bedroom window one evening all, "forgive me for the intrusion y/n but I couldn't sleep... See i was lying there awake thinking about you..." "Smooth Billy..." he ignores your sarcasm and just carries on, "I was trying to work out whats wrong with you...cause somethings chanhed recently and i don't understand why... We went from being best friends you know... We were building to something real good, all the trailers were released and people you know, they couldn't wait to see the full feature but then... well... The movie never came out, all those trailers got pulled from the cinemas, the production company slashed the budget and well... It feels like you don't wanna know me anymore..."

🥧 You want to be cold with him, you try to be cold with him... "you never stop to think maybe i don't..." he'd get mad if it wasn't such a terrible lie, instead he just looks at you with those sad puppy eyes and reaches out to you.

🔪 "No, no it isn't that... Cause you might not wanna know me anymore doll but i still know you... Its something else..."

🥧 And you can't ignore those puppy eyes. You can't keep lying when you can see the hurt on his face so you bite the bullet and admit how you really feel...

🔪"I'm sorry Billy I'm just... Whenever i get too close to someone i ruin them... Everything gets all fucked up and they leave or it all just..."

🥧 He'd try to cut you off when you get upset, he hates seeing you cry and usually he'd be plotting to kill whoever was responsible for those tears, but today its just you and him

🔪 So he catches your chin between his thumb and finger and tilts your face up to look at his.. "hey, hey... Don't cry y/n..."

🥧 Thing is he knows exactly how you feel, he too is terrified of being left alone by those he cares about most in the world. Right then he wants nothing more than to hold you tight but he knows he needs to talk to you... Tell you how things are, how they are going to be

🔪 Because he isn't ever going to let you go, not now he knows you definitely feel the same... And lets face it, even if he hadn't been sure you did... He wouldn't have let you go.

🥧 "I understand y/n, i know you're scared, i get scared sometimes too yeah? But you don't need to be scared with me... This.." he'd point between you and him, "nothings gonna ruin this, and i will never leave you, i promise okay, youre safe with me..."

🔪 The relationship would be intense, you'd stick to one another like glue. You'd rarely be apart, he'd always have a hand on you and if you had a class separate to him or you did have to be away from eachother, he'd make sure you were wearing his sweater or shirt so that you wouldn't really be without him and other people would know you were his.

🥧 It would be a ride or die, you and him against the world kind of love and he'd remind you of that all the time. "Nobody understands me like you do, nobody understands you like i do, its just you and me babe, youre all that matters to me in this world..."

🔪 He would be very protective of you.. He'd want to know why you have these issues, what happened to you, who didn't love you enough? He'd be bitter about it when he found out, he'd never forgive those people who had made you feel like you're easy to abandon.

🥧He'd definitely kill someone to prove his dedication to you... If he had to... So don't make him prove it...

Stu

🍒 Isn't every going to give you the chance to doubt his feelings for you... He never leaves you alone because he's one clingy clingy motherfucker. He doesn't have abandonment issues of his own, more that he has possession issues... Once youre his youre his and he doesnt want to let go of you for even a second.

🔪 If you're hanging out with your friends outside school he's got his arms around you or youre sitting in his lap... If you're walking together he's picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder, spinning you around whatever... The boys just always physically present

🍒 He doesn't always think about what he says though and so often his lack of tact can cause you upset... When he makes flirtasious jokes about other girls, when he makes stupid comments about the cheer squad... Thats all they are to him, just jokes... And he makes them because the idea of him leaving you for anyone is so unbelievable and stupid to him that he doesn't think anyone could ever believe him for a second...

🔪 But the comments play on your mind and one day he makes the joke and you don't laugh, you shrug him off and cut class to go home early... He doesn't realise what he's done but Billy and Randy are just "Its called sensitivity man, try using your brain every once in awhile..." "yeah man girls don't really like it when you joke about cheating on them..." "Moron..." "what she knows I'm joking?" "yeah she seemed real entertained fuckrag..."

🍒 So he rolls his eyes, dramatically sighing before following after you, shouting for you to slow down, you know digging himself a hole in his endearing way.

🔪 When he gets to you he wraps his arms around you tight and rests his chin on your shoulder, hugging you from behind so that you can't escape...

🍒 At first he's still joking with you, layering it on thick, begging for your fogriveness but you can tell its still all a joke to him... But it isn't a joke to you

🔪 He realises he's gone too far when you start crying and his whole demeanour changes, he would immediately stop laughing, spin you round in his arms and hold your face in his hands looking at you with all the seriousness in the world (or as much as someone like stu can muster at any given moment)

🍒 "Hey baby don't cry i was just joking around with you baby girl i was just joking you know i love you..." he'd carry on talking like that, drying your eyes and kissing your face wherever he could until you stopped crying.

🔪 You sniffling "you shouldn't fuckin joke about that shit..." "well why not baby, you know I'd never give you up for anyone or anything you're mine forever..." when you just look at him he realises... You don't know that, you don't know just how much you mean to him... So he says it again.

🍒 "baby girl you are mine forever." he'd hold you tight against his chest cradling your head with his hand, pressing you to him and kissing your forehead. He'd just keep saying it until you understood.

🔪 And from then on he doesn't make as many of those dumb jokes. Instead he acts extra possesive over you, wanting to spend every moment with you reminding you that you're his. Forever.

🍒 It would be sinister if he wasn't such a goof...

🔪 He gives you his necklace to wear and tells you never to take it off, it will remind you that you're his and it'll show everyone else that too.

🍒 Stu is always joking that he'll kill anyone who tries to come between you... But they're just jokes. Right.

#billy loomis x reader #Stu macher x reader #scream imagine #billy loomis imagine #slasher headcanons #stu macher imagine

[dlrvuio]

stay for the night

genre - fluff?, angsty?, mafia!mark x reader

warnings - mentions of blood and cuts, arguing

Waking up, hearing noises coming from your kitchen. You quietly grabbed your phone checking the time as it was three in the morning. Thoughts of every situation ran through your head as you slowly walked to the kitchen, feeling your heart was going to jump out your chest.

As you hid behind the wall, you heard the cabinet door slam shut making you flinch badly but suddenly you stepped out from your side of the wall. Your eyes softened as Mark was rummaging through the cabinets, holding his side.

“you scared the life out of- what happened?” You shouted the last part as it wasn’t hard to see his blood stained shirt in dim kitchen light. He sighed as he watched you lift up his shirt seeing his wound.

“Again?” You asked worriedly looking into his wandering eyes. Mark was a mafia who often got into fights because of bets and money. Out of all his wounds, this might have been the worst you have ever seen making your heartache seeing him wince in the pain so often by the slightest touch.

You reached for the first aid kit that he was searching for, pulling it out. You grabbed his arm, pulling him in front of you as you sat on the kitchen counter. He stood between your legs as you began to clean the deep wound.

“Fuck..” he cursed out, squeezing your thigh as you got closer to the cut. After you bandaged up the cut, you tried to clean his face wounds but he pushed your hand away gently.

“Love, you still have cuts on your face,” You said, gripping on his shirt as he shook his head. “Did you go alone? Where were the boys?” You asked as his silence told his answer, you lightly hit his arm with a disappointed sigh as he hitched at the pressure.

“Why the hell would you go alone?” You scolded, making eye contact with him, waiting for his answer. “I had something to deal with, they don’t know i’m here.” He mumbled as he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

He hated seeing you so worked up and worried about him because it reminds him of his mother who hated that he joined the gang in the beginning. He didn’t want anything to make him weak so he left his mom but met you making him even weaker as he was so in love with you.

He hated that he couldn’t spend time with you often, afraid of you being involved with his enemies. “I have to go anyway..” he said, turning around, trying to clean up the mess he made earlier from looking for the first aid kit.

“You still have cuts, mark. You’re staying here tonight.” you said as he continued to clean, trying his hardest to ignore you. “Mark.” You called out a bit louder, jumping off the counter.

“Mark stop.” You called out again, getting impatient. “My god would you listen to me.” you said as you had it, you stood in front of him, pushing him back a bit as you looked up at him.

“You’re not leaving, not tonight. And that is final.” You said as you felt his arms snake around your waist. “I can’t, y/n. I don’t want anyone tracking me here.” He said as he lifted you up on the counter in front of him.

“You’re hurt. You’re not healing either.” You responded, crossing your arms hoping he would just give in. “I’m fine, please y/n. Just leave it alone, ok?” You deeply sighed as he began rubbing your thigh, hoping you would calm down.

“In case you forgot, I care about you. So just please, stay. I’m tired and you need to rest too.” You said trying to jump off the counter but he held you in place, holding your wrist tightly.

“Baby, I swear I'm okay. Stop worrying. I need to leave.” He said checking the time as you pushed his hand, his attention turning back to you. “Stop worrying? Are you listening to yourself? Continue doing these again, you’ll be dead.”

“Stop, calm down. I'm fine.” He replied as you finally had enough. “Fine. Leave. You do you.” You said, hearing your voice crack a bit as you were tired of arguing back and forth. You pushed him away, jumping off the counter as you walked towards your room.

“Y/n…love.” He called trying to block you from walking away. “Just leave. I’m not worried anymore.” You answered, opening your door, pushing him as you slammed the door on his face. there was nothing he hated more than you being pissed at him, almost to the point that you were nearly in tears.

Even though the door was closed, you heard the conversation he was having with a member of his. ‘I can’t come back, she’s upset. I can’t leave her.” He said over the phone. “Yeah I know, I don’t care, I'll take the shit from the rest.” He slightly yelled in irritation and hung up.

the guilt floats around as you felt bad for throwing a fit. You had no idea what the others said but you knew he was warning Mark. “Open the door, i’m not leaving” He knocked on the door.

You opened the door as he tried to come in but you blocked him. “Just go, mark. I don’t want to be the reason you get in trouble.” You said as he shook his head, making his way in.”

“I’m not leaving, love.” he shrugged, pecking your lips as you quietly smiled in victory. You sat on the bed, crossing your legs as you watched him look through your closet for his clothes.

He threw off his shirt as you gasped seeing scratch marks on his back. “What happened? Who did this?” You started again. You got up, touching the scratch marks.

“Baby, you did that.”

2023 | please do not copy, repost, or claim my work

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated

#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark lee nct #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee x reader #nct headcanons #nct dream headcanons #nct 127 headcanons #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream fluff #mark lee angst #mark imagines #mark headcanons

[youandi-indefiance]

imma need a part 2 to the "eddie munson x dustins grunge style older sister" if you dont mind writing it <3

Hell fucking yeah >:))

If it had been anyone else, you would have ran the other fucking direction. But it had to be your brother, again, standing tall in the face of danger.

"So are you like, sure sure that Eddie didn't kill that cheerleader, or-"

"Yes, Y/N. I'm very sure, in fact, I'm certain." He spits, obviously frustrated.

You sigh and continue walking toward the dimly lit shed. "I don't mean to defile your fearless leader's honor, or anything. Just wanna make sure that we aren't walking into the arms of a murderous super SUPER senior-" before you can get another word out, Dustin stomps to a halt in front of you, a look of pure anger on his face.

"You heard Max, Y/N. Chrissy was practically deformed in that trailer. She said the lights flickered, and most importantly, she heard Eddie screaming in terror. Now, I'm not one to jump to conclusions, but that just screams Upside Down-"

"Have you considered for even a second that I don't want it to be the fucking Upside Down? That it would be easier for me to accept that Eddie fucking Munson just killed someone, and that was the end of the story for once? Instead of some supernatural horror nightmare that never fucking ends!" You push your shaking lips together, trying to hold the rest of your words in.

Dustin doesn't need to hear this. He's gone through just as much as you have. Stop being a crybaby. Stop.

Dustin sighs. "I wish you'd talk about this with me when we're not in the middle of something."

Damn. You pull out the knife in your pocket, getting ready to enter the boat shed on the other side of the property. "You're right, Dusty. I'm sorry."

Steve opens the door, illuminated but a single bulb above it, with ease. You're surprised it's not locked. But your group of five pushes in and spreads throughout the unit. You stick close to Dustin, making sure nothing pops out and grabs him.

A crumpling sound brings your attention away from your brother, and you see Steve picking up an old wooden oar, swinging it around and poking at a tarp.

"Jesus Steve, a fucking oar?" You whisper yell.

"What! There could be someone under here!" He whisper yells back.

"Eddie? It's me buddy... it's Dustin, we just wanna talk," Your brother warns, slightly louder than calm waters just outside.

After a couple beats of silence, you all collectively sigh.

Steve pokes more at the tarp beside you, puckering his lips in defeat. "Well, this was a bust-"

As if called upon by your disappointment, Eddie is suddenly in your face. But more importantly, within seconds, he's grabbing your arm, pinning you against the metal wall behind you and pushing a knife dangerously close to your neck.

Luckily for you, however, you still have your pocket knife held tightly in your free hand, and you press the blade against his neck in retaliation.

You barely register the shouts of alarm and protest as you stare each other down, his big, dark eyes are filled with fear, confusion, something else. You can feel the knife against your neck shaking, trembling, only following the hand it's held by.

You lower your knife, "Eddie, we met two months ago, you remember that? I tried to knife you back then too." You snort at the memory, but any trace of humor is swallowed when his terror doesn't let up.

You fearfully bring a hand up to his cheek, the other reaching for his wrist to slowly ease the knife off of your neck.

"Eddie, we're just here to talk, alright? I know you're scared, but we wanna help." You breathe the words to him, almost like cooing to an injured animal.

That nearly brings him to his knees. Instead, his whole demeanor changes, he crumbles, and ends up shaking like a leaf in your arms.

You don't usually give free hugs, but he really doesn't give you a choice. You don't have to imagine the position he's in, because you've been in it yourself. You know how scared he is, and you know he can't be alone in that fear.

"We know you didn't kill Chrissy, right guys?" Dustin says quietly, and the group all mutters their assurances.

You rub Eddie's back as some of the tension in his shoulders eases. "Why don't you tell us what happened that night, could you do that?"

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #max mayfield #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[a-new-superhero]

Fall From The Stars (Straight Into Your Arms) (One-Shot)

Summary: Maybe it should have been obvious to Jimin, after so many years.

Maybe, after so many years, it sometimes was, if he let himself think about it, let himself believe.

Sometimes, Jungkook would look at him in such a way that Jimin would feel himself falling falling falling. In love, in lust, into the galaxies in his eyes.

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Warnings: Canon compliant, coming out, mentions of homophobia, mild self-loathing

Word Count: 4,322

Masterlist || AO3

Author’s Note: Well, hi there! It's been a while (note to self: when all of your author's notes start that way, you definitely spend more time procrastinating than writing...). I have been trying to work on the first proper chapter of Shattered for months now, but writer's block is actually real, I swear, and it's just not coming easy to me right now.

This, however, came out of nowhere. I wrote it in about two hours yesterday evening, and I'm not even sure if I like it or if it's any good, but I have had A Day and so, I figure, fuck it! Let's actually get some work posted. What's the harm?

So, have some unplanned slightly angsty, awkward Jikook circa 2015ish. Enjoy!

P.S. The title is from the song Stars by Simply Red. The song itself isn't at all relevant to this little one-shot really, but the title fit too well to not use it.

——————————

Maybe it should have been obvious to Jimin, after so many years.

Maybe, after so many years, it sometimes was, if he let himself think about it, let himself believe.

Sometimes, Jungkook would look at him in such a way that Jimin would feel himself falling falling falling.  In love, in lust, into the galaxies in his eyes.  And he'd sometimes think - sometimes wonder - whether Jungkook was perhaps falling too.  It made him feel a little better to believe, just for a moment, that he wasn't falling alone without a parachute, without a hand to hold or the promise of a safe landing, lost lost lost in those starry eyes.  Maybe he and Jungkook were freefalling together.  Maybe they were floating, weightless.  Maybe.

But then he'd watch the easy way that the younger would laugh with Jin, the way he'd wrap a nonchalant arm around Taehyung's shoulders or fall asleep curled up to Hobi on the couch, and he'd remember the hesitance that painted the maknae's face the last time he'd made physical contact with Jimin, just a tentative hand at the top of his arm, and he'd convince himself that it was all in his head, those looks, the notion of the two of them riding an air current, defying gravity, reaching reaching - always reaching, for each other or for a future they couldn't help but hope for.

“He's just a kid,” Yoongi would assure him, on the rare occasion when Jimin would whisper his confusion to him in the deep dark of night, two hushed voices frighteningly loud in the sleepy silence of the dorm.  “He's awkward.  He doesn't know what he's doing yet.  It's how it's supposed to be.”

“But he won't even…”  Jimin would tail off, searching his drowsy, overworked brain for the right way to explain.  “It's like I disgust him.  Like he knows what I am, how I am, what I feel, and he hates it.  Maybe he hates me.”

“How could anyone?” Yoongi would murmur, so nice, so kind when there was no one else awake to witness it.  “Jimin-ah, don't you remember what it was like?  How you'd fumble around your crushes when you were still trying to figure shit out?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But?”

“But I was never friends with them.  I didn't live with them, work with them, spend every second with them.  This is- It's different.”

“Yeah, it's different.”  Yoongi would fidget, all sharp angles and long limbs against Jimin's firm muscles and soft curves.  “He's having to do all of this with everyone watching, with a camera in his face the whole damn time.  Of course he's gonna be self-conscious, second guess himself.  It's not like this is the most accepting industry.”

“I know, but…”

“He's scared, Jimin-ah.  Give him time.”

And he knows.  That’s the thing.  Jimin knows Yoongi’s right.  Jungkook is scared.  They’re all scared: of failure; of success; of being seen; of their secrets being torn from their chests and held bare beneath the spotlight for inspection.  He and Yoongi most of all, he thinks.  They’re the ones with the most to hide, after all, the ones who know who they are and what they want, but couldn’t ever dare admit it for fear of losing it all, everything they’ve been running towards.

Fame is fickle, but the team is a family, and neither one of them could stand to let their family down. 

But Jungkook…

He’s brave, Jimin thinks.  So shy, so afraid with his bitten-red lips and bambi eyes, staring staring, always staring, as if he can’t quite believe he’s there, in the midst of the show, in the centre of the stage, on the covers of the magazines.  But he’s still there, standing in the middle of their line-up, glaring defiantly at the cameras even as his cheeks flush pink at the attention.  He’s still belting out his high notes and hitting every beat as they perform their hearts out, desperate, so desperate to be accepted, to be loved.

He’s brave because he fears but does it anyway, chases his dreams, and so, maybe, if he’s not chasing Jimin, it’s because Jimin isn’t one of them.  Maybe Jimin is just another brother to him.  Maybe everything else, anything else, only exists in Jimin’s imagination.

Maybe.

***

It’s late.  He should really be back at the dorm, Jimin knows, trying to get some rest before another day of schedules - interviews and pre-recordings and practice practice practice.  He should be tucked up in his bunk, catching up on the sleep that his body desperately needs, but his mind refuses to switch off, stuck in a loop of Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook and it’s enough to drive anybody mad.  But Jimin… Jimin is exhausted.  He’s drained physically, emotionally, mentally.  And he’s almost certain that his mind’s refusal to stray from the youngest of their team might actually send him spiralling into insanity if he gives himself over to it, and so he’d dragged himself up and out, and now he’s here: in the gym, skin glistening with sweat under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

He can see himself in the mirror as he runs, feet pounding against the treadmill, eating up the miles as he wrinkles his nose and tries not to hate the way the bright copper of his hair makes him look paler, the way his tiredness paints dark circles beneath his eyes and makes them droop, the way no amount of hard work and no strict a diet seems to lessen the roundness of his cheeks.  He never used to judge himself so harshly, he knows, but it’s different now.  Everything is different now, with so many eyes watching him, assessing him and finding him wanting, always wanting.  He’s not a boy anymore, not a man either.  He’s an idol and that means he has to be perfect.  There’s so much about himself that he can’t change, but his body, his hair, his features…  They’re fair game, so much that can be done with exercise and dyes and wax and make-up.  He can at least strive for physical perfection even if he so often falls short.

What’s beneath…  He understands by now that there’s no changing that.  God knows he’d wasted enough years trying.  There’s no make-up that can change how a body yearns, how a heart loves; no exercise that can train his gaze to submit to the teasing swish of a short skirt around full thighs rather than the taut flex of muscle under skin; no dyes that can colour him anything other than what he is.  He just has to trust that, if he can work a little harder, if he can get as close to perfect on the outside as possible, that it might be enough of a distraction that nobody will care to look any deeper.  Maybe.

The soft sweep of the automatic doors sliding open at the other end of the room tears Jimin from his cutting inspection of his own reflection, and he snaps his head to the left to see who has intruded on his late-night workout, only to find himself gulping nervously when Jungkook shuffles in.  He’d been sleeping when Jimin left, he was certain of it, but now he’s here in the gym, soft brunette locks pillow-tousled and broad shoulders looking smaller somehow in his oversized tracksuit, though, of course, he’s bigger than Jimin.  Has been for some time.  

“What are you doing up?” Jimin asks - hates that his curiosity sounds so accusatory when he didn’t mean anything by it, except perhaps, ‘Why aren’t you sleeping?’ or ‘Are you okay?’; hates that Jungkook’s mouth curves down into a frown.

“I woke up and you were gone,” is his only explanation, as if that’s enough of a reason to be leaning casually against the weights machine at 2am, watching as Jimin slows the treadmill he’s using to a brisk walking pace.

Jimin says nothing.  The silence between them feels stilted, awkward, and he hates that too; hates so much about himself and this and the whole situation that he’s scared he might scream it out into the void between them if he dares to open his mouth.  So he doesn’t, turning back to the mirror and continuing to march on the spot, letting the whirr of the machine and the steady thump of his pulse drown out the stifled sound of his loathing.  

“Why’d you leave, hyung?”  Jungkook is moving closer, seemingly unwilling to let himself be deterred by Jimin’s determination to ignore him, and Jimin wishes he wouldn’t because when he’s standing right in front of him he can see the creases in his cheek where it had been squashed against his pillow and those damn galaxies in his eyes, stars on stars on endless stars.  He feels winded all of a sudden, as if he can’t draw in a deep enough breath, and he slows the treadmill to a stop, leaning heavily on the handrails as he pants.

Jungkook watches him.  Waits.  He keeps waiting as Jimin leans down and grabs his water bottle, popping the cap and taking a sip, letting the cool liquid soothe the fire that’s burning in his veins.  Finally he shakes his head, raising one hand to wipe away the sweat that’s beading on his brow.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

“But you’re exhausted.  We all are.”

Jimin nods, waits for Jungkook to say something more, to ask him why or if he can help at all because he’s like that, would do anything for his hyungs, but instead it’s Jungkook’s turn to stay silent and he just watches watches watches as Jimin finds himself falling once more.  

“Spot me?” Jimin asks, but it’s not really a question.  It’s a demand or perhaps a plea for help, a way to drag himself out of the starry depths he’s losing himself in and ground him.  The padding of the bench gives a little beneath the press of his spine when he sits down and lays back, but it’s still firm enough, still solid, still real.  He’s not floating.  He’s not falling.  He’s here, and the cool metal of the barbell is bliss beneath his sweaty palms, the weights either end forcing him down down down towards the earth, exerting his muscles and it feels good.  It feels like something other than weightlessness, so he’ll take it, enjoy it while he can.

But perhaps he didn’t think it through all the way because, of course, Jungkook is spotting him, and that means he’s watching Jimin intently, gauging his abilities, his comfort, how much more he can take.  His bottom lip has disappeared between his teeth as he watches - he’s always watching, waiting - and Jimin has to close his eyes because he can’t breathe again and how can he work out when he can’t get enough air into his lungs?  He can’t.  He can’t and now his arms are shaking with the strain, his biceps aching, failing, and he’s sure he’s going to drop the bar, crush his ribs beneath its weight, until he blinks and it’s gone and he’s floating again with nothing to weigh him down.  Or perhaps he’s falling.  He’s not sure he can even tell anymore when Jungkook hovers over him, concern pinching his brow.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he asks, slightly panicked, his voice an octave higher than usual.  “What happened?”

“Must’ve overdone it.”  Jimin can hear the words leaving his mouth but he can’t quite remember forming them.  Jungkook’s hair is falling into his eyes, starlight shining through leaf-laden boughs and dappling Jimin’s skin, and all he can think is pretty pretty, he’s so damn pretty, and Jimin just… He wants to touch.  His arm lifts on its own before his mind catches up with his urges, and his fingertips are almost there, almost close enough to brush against Jungkook’s cheek, trace his scar - pretty, so pretty.  He can feel the warmth emanating from the other boy and he wants wants wants.  

If he thought falling was painful, lonely and endless, then crash landing, Jimin finds, is excruciating.  Jungkook flinches at the close proximity, and just like that he’s plummeting back down to earth and the impact hurts.  It’s jarring.  He yanks his hand back like he’s been burned and maybe he has because his eyes are burning too, his vision blurring and no… No, he can’t cry, won’t cry, not in front of Jungkook, not like this.  He won't cry and he pushes himself up from the bench to hide the telltale puffiness of his lids and reddened face, wiping away the threat of tears as if they were just more beads of perspiration.

There's silence behind him for several long moments, and then movement, footsteps, the brush of fabric and the creak of the bench under new weight.  

“Spot me now, hyung.”

It doesn't make sense.  That's Jimin's first reaction and his second and his third, because Jungkook just watched his arms almost give out, had to save Jimin from weeks of pain and bruising by plucking the barbell from his grasp just as his strength was about to fail him, so why on earth would he trust Jimin to spot him now?  But his fourth reaction is, of course, to do as the other boy asks, because when could he ever say no to Jungkook after all, and he turns and takes up his position at the maknae's head.

He watches, swallowing hard when Jungkook’s hands wrap around the metal where his own had just been, wonders if he can still feel traces of Jimin's body heat beneath his fingers.  Jungkook adjusts his position, shifting on the bench, and then he lifts and Jimin can see the tendons in his neck strain as he bears the weight.  

“Hyung, can I ask you something?”  He's barely done a rep when he starts talking, starry eyes fixed somewhere far above them.  

“Just focus on lifting, Kook-ah,” Jimin tells him, but the younger just grits his teeth, lowering the bar almost to his chest before heaving it towards the ceiling once again.  He used to be such a scrawny kid, Jimin thinks, cute but lanky, like a string bean.  Not anymore.  He's growing up, his body changing, broadening, and it suits him.  It suits him far too well.

“I wanted to ask…” A pause, another rep, and then, “Jin-hyung said I should just ask.  I was talking to him about it but,” - another rep - “well, he couldn't really help me.”

“Help you with what?”  

Jungkook looks more at ease now that he's into the rhythm of his lifts, or perhaps he's just too distracted by the conversation to notice the strain anymore.  Perhaps he's showing off, just a little, after Jimin's pathetic attempt.  “With…  Well, the thing is…”

“Spit it out, Jungkook-ah.”  Jimin forces back a wince at the bite to his tone, but he’s growing agitated, his mind filled once again with Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook when the whole point of coming here was to drive those thoughts away.

“Hyung…”  Jungkook sucks in a deep breath, and Jimin notices a tremble in his hands, so slight he may have missed it had he not been focusing so intently.  “Hyung, do you like boys?”

Jimin's first instinct is to laugh.  He's not entirely sure why - habit, perhaps, or hysteria.  He feels the corners of his mouth twitch, air escaping from his nose in a soft huff of amusement, but then Jungkook's gaze settles on him, seemingly studying him upside down, and Jimin is sure he can see right through him, right down to his heart and soul, so what's the point really?  And, more than that, what's the harm?  He can trust Jungkook, he's sure of it.

“Why'd you ask?” Jimin hedges, buying himself a little time to think - he just needs to think - and Jungkook is still watching him, his joints locked with his arms extended and the weights raised above him.  

“Jin-hyung… He said he thought you might; thought Yoongi-hyung might too.  But he wasn't sure.  And I just wanted to be sure.”

“But why?”  There's that tremor again in Jungkook's hands, and this time Jimin reaches out, takes the barbell from him and sets it back down, anything to distract himself from that look in Jungkook's eyes.  He doesn't know that look, can't read it, and it's setting him on edge.

Jungkook sighs, long and heavy, as if, now that Jimin's taken the weight from him, he's left with the weight of the world bearing down on him instead.  He looks small in that moment, shoulders hunched, and Jimin's reminded of the boy he used to be, so cute and so so lost.  “Because I do,” he says and he's almost whispering but it sounds loud, so loud, in the empty gym.  “I think I do and I just need to know I'm not alone.”

Jimin is silent.  He's not watching this time though, or waiting.  He's reeling.  Because he'd thought and he'd hoped, and he'd wondered if maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see, despite Yoongi thinking so too and agreeing and being absolutely certain.  And he trusted Yoongi’s judgement above all else, he really did, but he hadn't quite let himself trust his hyung this time because if he'd been wrong… If he'd been wrong…

But he wasn't wrong and now Jungkook is looking at Jimin, galaxies swirling with equal parts hope and terror and Jimin's mouth won't work and so all he can do is sink down beside the younger boy on the bench and hope that their arms pressing together provides some level of comfort.

The silence is suffocating.  Jimin wants to break it, wants to reassure Jungkook and confess to him and wrap his larger frame up in his arms and tell him that he's there for him and that it's all going to be okay, but he's worried - that it might be too much all at once and he's not sure he knows how to be anything but too much right now.  So, instead, he clears his throat and asks, “Why me?”

“M’sorry?” Jungkook mumbles, shooting Jimin a sideways glance full of confusion.

“Why are you talking to me?  Why not Yoongi-hyung?”

Jungkook thinks for a moment, then shrugs, shakes his head, sighs again.  “You didn't answer the question,” he points out, a slight challenge to his tone.  “Answer my question first, and then maybe I'll answer yours.”

The gym floor is linoleum, yellowing, with small cracks criss-crossing the expanse and faded patches beside each machine where hundreds of feet have worn it away over the years.  If Jimin squints, he's sure that he can make out words in some of the marks, just like he would make out shapes in the clouds on a summer's day.  His sneaker leaves a black scuff mark behind when he drags it over the aged surface with a high-pitched squeak.  

“Yes,” he says, when the moment has dragged on too long and he realises he has no choice but to be honest, because he wants to hear what Jungkook has to say, needs to hear it like he needs oxygen in his lungs.  “Yes, I like boys.”

“You never told any of us?”

“Didn't come up,” Jimin explains with a shrug, though he knows there have been ample opportunities should he have wanted to take them.  “Yoongi-hyung knows.  Only Yoongi-hyung.  I'm sure some of the others think… I mean, obviously Jin-hyung does.  But I've never actually…  I mean, it's hard, y’know?  You never know how people are gonna react.”

“Idols can't be gay,” Jungkook states, matter of fact despite the fact that Jimin's sure the conflict is tearing him in two.  It certainly had Jimin.  He isn't sure he'd have managed to put the pieces back together, make them somehow fit without Yoongi's wisdom.  Sometimes he forgets that his hyung is only 2 years older than him because he just deals, he copes and he doesn't falter, and Jimin has needed that more than anything else as he's come to terms with himself and tried to reconcile his heart and his dreams.  He hopes that Jin has managed to do that for Jungkook, at least a little, but he's not sure it's possible for anybody who hasn't been through the struggle to really understand.

He looks at Jungkook now, huddled in his too-big sweatshirt, wide eyes fixed on his fingers as he twists them together, and his heart bleeds and bleeds and bleeds.

“Your turn,” Jimin says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out a little thick, a little too full to the brim with raw emotion.  He hopes that Jungkook won't notice.

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.  Maybe he's too caught up in his own thoughts, his own insecurities, to register it.  His lips are chapped and red, moving wordlessly as if he's running lines inside his head, and Jimin wants to rub the pad of his thumb over the bottom one, soothe the sting that he knows all too well comes from gnawing on it endlessly.  He tucks his hands beneath his thighs in case his urges should take over again, doesn't want to make Jungkook uncomfortable - more uncomfortable.

Jungkook stays silent, his mouth stilling, eyes hazy and unfocused as he continues to gaze down at his hands, and Jimin's about to tell him it doesn't matter, that he doesn't need an answer, even though he does.  He needs needs needs so badly, but he also cares, and he doesn't want to pressure Jungkook when this has already been so hard for him, so intense.  And then the younger boy speaks, his voice so quiet that Jimin has to strain to hear him.

“I- I wanted to talk to you.  I thought about going to Yoongi-hyung, thought he'd be… I don't know… More practical about it.  Better at giving advice maybe?” He pauses, shrugs.  “But then I realised I don't… I don't really care if Yoongi-hyung’s gay.  It doesn't matter to me whether or not he likes boys, or whether he likes girls or both.  I don't… I don't think I need to know.”

A lump has formed in Jimin's throat and he can't swallow it down, can't shift it, can't speak.  He's not sure he wants to speak, feels like he should, but what if this isn't what he thinks it is, what he hopes it might be?  What if he's wrong and he says the wrong thing and it goes wrong wrong wrong?  He couldn't stand it, couldn't…

But Jungkook's still talking, still not looking at Jimin and Jimin just needs to see the stars.

“I wanted to talk to you, hyung.  I realised that… that it bugs me that I don't know who you like.  I don't know why but it does.  Jin-hyung said he thought you were, and it put the idea in my head, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.  I just… I just know that it matters to me if you're gay.  I needed to know.”

“And now you do,” Jimin rasps because he's found his voice, finally, but that lump in his throat is still there.  “Now you know.”

“Now I know.”  Jungkook nods slowly, taking it in, and then he turns to Jimin, meets his gaze and Jimin almost whimpers.  Because he can see the stars now, those galaxies that he finds it so easy to get lost in, and they're on fire, blazing bright, endless and beautiful and burning burning burning. Jimin’s cheeks are burning too, set aflame by the intensity in Jungkook's eyes, and he knows he's falling, a meteor hurtling through space, on course for collision and eruption and heat heat heat.  “I'm not…” Jungkook starts, stops, tries again.  “This is new.  I can't… I'm not ready to-”

“It's okay,” Jimin cuts him off, surprised by how steady he sounds, how sure.  “You don't have to be.  We've got time.”

Jungkook nods again and Jimin swallows hard, finally letting his urges take over again as he frees one of his hands and lets it cover Jungkook's, tangling their fingers together and staring in fascination at how the younger’s fingers seem to dwarf his own.

“I'm scared,” Jungkook whispers.

“You're brave,” Jimin whispers back, and Jungkook squeezes his hand, bringing their palms together.  Warm, Jimin thinks.  Warm warm warm.  Warm hands, warm smile, warm heart.  Everything about this boy is warm, but the fire in his eyes is blazing hot.

***

Maybe it should have been obvious to Jimin, after so many years.

Maybe, after so many years, it sometimes was, if he let himself think about it, let himself believe.

Sometimes, Jungkook would look at him in such a way that Jimin would feel himself falling falling falling.  In love, in lust, into the galaxies in his eyes.  And he'd sometimes think - sometimes wonder - whether Jungkook was perhaps falling too.

Now though, he knows.  Jimin is falling, hard and fast and endless, hurtling through space.  But he isn't afraid.  He is in awe.  Because he’s amongst the stars, so high above the ground and surrounded by so much beauty, raw and timeless and hot hot hot.  And maybe, just maybe, the stars are falling too - into him, around him, for him, constellations collapsing and being born again, starting anew but always beautiful, always brilliant, shooting across a vast black sky and painting pictures against the mundanity.  Jimin thinks, if he squints, he can make out a vision of the future in the patterns they paint, just like he would make out shapes in the clouds on a summer's day.  Two figures shifting and dancing and together together, always together.  Collapsing and being born again, starting anew but always beautiful, always brilliant.

And he thinks, maybe, that's exactly what the future has in store for him, for Jungkook too, the both of them, together.  

It's too early to say, but maybe.

Just maybe.

——————————

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[quinloki]

Sooo imagine reader/ y/n escapes, they get to an island for a couple months evade capture but then marinford happens and the wb pirates are disbanded/scatters or doin there own thing but one of them end up on the same island as y/n with the obsession still intact and finding them again has rekindled it even more.

How would they react on when they're alone without the other's input?would they contact each other and group up? what would be going through their heads?

(yan au where everyone survives except wb)

💧-anon

(feel free to completely ignore my ramblings but i have so many things i think ab and need to tell/ask ❤️)

I feel how someone would react would depend on the crew member. I'm not going to hit up everyone, just my usual suspects, so bear with me.

CW: Yandere, dub con / non con vibes, nothing explicit a lot of what ifs and summaries.

Marco would not contact anyone else. I love this man, but Yandere Marco is POSSESSIVE. He shares you with his brothers only because they are his brothers. If no one else ended up on this island with you and him then that's a them problem, and not HIS problem.

Depending on the manner of your escape would depend how Marco was, but regardless of if he thinks you left or were stolen away, he'll be delighted to have you back. You'll never leave his sight again, and if you do have to be away from him for any reason he'll make sure he knows where you are.

You will drown in him, whether its his love or his anger, but he will mark you, fill you up, and leave you exhausted and delirious more than not.

Ace would contact the others. He'd be so relieved to see you safe, and whether anyone else thought you left, he'd be convinced it had to be against your will. He'll be seeking reassurance to that end, and if you're smart you're going to give it to him. Shore up your story if you need it with Ace's help, because the other will be far harder to convince, even if what you're telling is the truth.

Whatever happens, and however things play out though, you'll always run into Ace. He'll pop out of the ground like a fucking daisy sometimes, scaring the hell out of you even though that wasn't his intent. But playful or endearing, don't think for a second it's accidental.

If you don't reassure him, if you do tell him you left because you wanted to, his reaction will be worse. He'll claim you as his and you'll probably have burn scars by the time the others arrive. It'll take Marco weeks to get you back into some sort of semblance of who you were - assuming he can even soothe the scars.

Thatch will let you set the narrative, and hell he'll even let you decide if he reaches out to anyone else or not. If you want to elope with just him, he'd be more than happy to oblige. He doesn't mind sharing with his brothers, but he won't deny such a heart felt confession and plea from you either.

He's likely to do to you what Marco would, making love to you until you're a pile of mush, exhausted and almost out of your mind. His stamina far exceeds your own, and he has months of catching up to do, he's missed you so much. And don't worry, he'll feed you and make sure you're hydrated, even clean your home, and earn money, you'll be too tired to worry about any of that anyway.

With Izou in the mix the rope burns on your joints are apt to become permanent. It doesn't matter if you say you didn't want to leave, you'll never be able to be taken away so easily ever again. He'll let the others know about you, and your fate will probably be decided by committee.

You will be under the influence of something when you're questioned, so unless you're really good at lying that's not going to be an option here. You're likely to survive your punishment, for better or worse, but whatever island you end up on with everyone (whoever constitutes everyone), the islanders are going to understand your position in the crew. Or misunderstand it.

but the only friends you'll have will be the brothers that take care of you. You'll want for nothing, save maybe freedom.

#quin answers #anon asks #yandere #cw yandere #reader insert #x reader #marco the phoenix #izou one piece #thatch one piece #portgas d ace