#aNYWAY sorry. i swear this not meant to be like an attack. but it Did feel like you totally missed my point

[etchingsandepitaphs]

Down Time

MORE ARCANE FANFICTION I'M NOT SORRY it's CaitVi Hurt/Comfort this time tehehe enjoy

Word Count: 2703

Summary: Vi has a couple of hours to herself, and spirals when she realizes she has nothing to do. Caitlyn comforts her, and shows her something in the Kiramman mansion that brings up an old love.

CWs: Described panic attack, discussions of war-related PTSD, mentions of death, mentions of class imbalance, swearing

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No matter how long she spent there, Vi was certain that she would never get used to the overwhelming size of the Kiramman mansion. Even if Caitlyn had said it was more modest compared to some of the other councillor’s families, she in no way believed her. The place felt sprawling, endless hallways of rooms that had taken her weeks not to get lost in. Even now, despite living there, she still found herself getting turned around.

She’d found herself with a couple hours to spare while Caitlyn was busy, and immediately she was overcome with a deep-rooted anxiety.

“You sure there’s nothing I can help you with, cupcake?” She asked, hovering in the doorway to her girlfriend’s office. Caitlyn was staring at a machine that Vi knew held all of her mother’s decades of research, and she shook her head, clearly already in intense focus.

“Just give me a few hours, and I’ll be all yours. I just have a problem that I’m trying to work out.” She was chewing on her bottom lip, and sounded slightly dismissive in a way that made Vi know that the conversation was over. It wasn’t a personal attack, it was just the way she always got when she was trying to focus. 

“Right. Okay. Cool. No worries. I’ll see you in a few hours then.” She peeled herself away from the doorway slowly, allowing the office door to swing shut behind her and trying to keep herself from being stressed out.

It wasn’t like she was trying to be clingy. Caitlyn was allowed to do things without her; hell, it was healthy for them to do things without each other. But she still felt her breath quicken as she made her way down the hall, walking aimlessly in the opposite direction of the office.

She’d been in situations that would have been the stuff of nightmares for her teenage self. She’d fought monsters, and fought people worse than monsters. She truly had very little left to be afraid of.

So why did the idea of having free time scare the shit out of her?

She had genuinely nothing that she needed to do. And while her normal recourses would be to drink or to train, she’d sworn off alcohol after her weeks in the pit, and she’d just done a pretty intense full-body workout that morning. Not having to be a walking weapon anymore meant she had to learn how to pace herself. How to think a week ahead, not just a day.

She was struggling to grasp the concept.

Having downtime wasn’t something she had been used to, in recent years. Definitely not since Vander died, but probably a bit before that. She’d been itching to fight from the moment she was old enough to comprehend the hand that the undercity had been dealt.

So she made sure that she could. She honed her skills in every spare moment she had. She got in street fights to practice, she went running to improve her stamina in case they needed to escape. She was watching her family, or she was training. Those were her only goals. For years.

And then she got thrown into Stillwater, and all of the sudden she was in survival mode.

She was almost certain that she’d never left.

Her breath was coming quicker now, and she mentally berated herself for being so ridiculous. She was perfectly safe. She had nothing to be afraid of here.

Yet her body was reading signs of panic anyway, on the edges of her mind and threatening to overwhelm her system. Her hands had begun to shake, and she couldn’t help but sink to the ground in the hallway, back pressed to the wall. She felt dysfunctional and childish; she shouldn’t have to rely on her girlfriend to give her tasks. What happened to having hobbies? She was certain that she’d had hobbies once, hadn’t she? Things that she wanted to accomplish with her time, before it had all been overcome with war?

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She didn’t even know what she was freaking out about, truly. Was she honestly that upset about not having anything to do? She could go take a nap, for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t that big of a deal.

But her brain wouldn’t listen to any of that, not once the panic attack had started. All she could do was sit on the floor and unravel while she waited for her mind to get its bearings. She only hoped that nobody would —

“Vi? What’s wrong?”

Fuck.

She moved her hands away from her eyes and saw a very concerned looking Caitlyn Kiramman at the end of the hall. Caitlyn rushed over to her side instantly, clearly scanning her body for physical injury as Vi was overcome with an undue feeling of embarrassment.

Of course she’d find her like this. Of course.

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” She seemed to have concluded that there were no external signs of damage, and Vi just shook her head slightly as she attempted to breath well enough to speak.

She held up a finger signaling for Caitlyn to wait a second, and she gave her the space she needed, watching in concern as Vi forced air in and out of her lungs. After a moment, Caitlyn joined her, sitting up against the wall next to her girlfriend and taking in calming breaths.

Vi had no idea how long they sat there like that. How long it took for the fog in her mind to clear and for her thoughts to unscramble themselves. Only that when they did, she was overcome with the urge to cry.

Caitlyn seemed to notice that she’d calmed down, because she turned to her again, lightly placing a hand on her leg to get her attention. Vi flinched a bit, refusing to look at her for a second before Caitlyn spoke.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked, and Vi’s heart broke at the concern in her voice. She turned to her instantly, shaking her head.

“No, no, it wasn’t anything you did. I just… got overwhelmed. For a minute.” It was a bullshit explanation, and they both knew it. But Caitlyn just gently wrapped an arm around her girlfriend, allowing Vi to fall into her embrace.

She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it. Her body relaxed instantly, tears running down her cheeks as she let her head rest on Caitlyn’s shoulder.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I know how to be a person anymore,” She said, struggling to get the words out, voice choked with emotion. She had a hard time crying around other people, but that had long since gone out the window with Caitlyn. At this point, they’d both seen each other cry enough that they were well aware of what the other one needed.

And Vi just needed to get it out of her system. She pulled herself back together pretty quickly as Caitlyn gently ran her fingers through her cropped hair, but she still didn’t move from her girlfriend’s arms even after the tears had stopped. She just sniffled, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know how to be a person’?” Caitlyn asked once her crying had slowed. Vi just sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Caitlyn said, tilting Vi’s chin up so she was looking her in the eye. “If it’s impacting you, it’s not ridiculous.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t had free time since before Vander died. Before… all of this. I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Oh, darling…” She was clearly thinking hard for a second, nodding to both herself and Vi. “I had a similar experience after my mom died. Everything in my mind was war, and anything that wasn’t didn’t feel like it had any place at all.”

“Exactly. And now that it doesn’t all have to be war… it’s like I don’t know how to be a regular functioning adult anymore.”

She felt Caitlyn’s arms tighten around her, and both women sat there in silence for a second, thoughts racing. Finally, Caitlyn spoke again.

“Well, what did you like to do? Before, I mean.”

Vi laughed a bit. “Hell, Cait, I was like ten. I don’t even know if I remember.”

Caitlyn laughed as well, before shaking her head. “Okay, then what did you wish you could do when you were a kid? Like, when you had free time, what did you want to do?”

“I mean, I’ve always genuinely loved boxing…”

“But aside from that. I know you love boxing and that’s great, but that’s also a survival tactic. What sounded like it would be fun to do, if you were able?”

She thought about it for a minute before her mind was drawn back to the job they’d done that started all of this. When she broke into Jayce’s lab, and the first thing she’d run to was the bookshelves lining the wall.

“I’ve always wanted to get more into reading. We didn’t have a ton of access to paper books in the undercity, but I remember when I was little devouring whatever my parents could get their hands on.”

She looked over at Caitlyn to see her grinning, a slightly mischievous smile that made Vi’s stomach flip. “Well in that case, I have something you’re going to be very excited to see.” She unwrapped her arms from around Vi’s frame, before asking, “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I’m all good now.”

She rose to her feet, holding her hand out to help her girlfriend up and remembering the first time they were in this position. On the streets of Zaun, right after Vi had been stabbed. The first of many times that she had called her “cupcake.”

That felt like a thousand years ago now.

Still, she shook off her reverie as she felt Vi’s hand firmly in her’s, pulling her to her feet and quickly taking off in a brisk walk down the hall. Vi jogged a little to catch up, watching Caitlyn with a wary enthusiasm.

“Cait, where are we going?” She asked. Caitlyn just grinned again.

“You’ll see!”

They turned the corner to a hallway that Vi had never seen before, and were soon standing in front of a pair of double doors. Caitlyn was practically bouncing on her feet now, and she looked over at Vi excitedly.

“Are you ready?” She asked. Vi just raised an eyebrow at her, trying to act concerned even as a small involuntary smile flickered over her face.

“I think so?” She replied, the answer taking the form of another question. If Caitlyn noticed though, she didn’t care, just throwing open the doors in front of them to reveal the most beautiful room Vi had ever set eyes on in her life.

Just when she thought that Kiramman mansion couldn’t get any nicer, all the air left her lungs as she walked through the doorway and into an ornate library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books lined the walls, and she wondered to herself how anybody could possibly read all of these in their lifetime.

And her second thought was of how badly she wanted to try.

She didn’t say any of this to Caitlyn though, of course. Instead, she just smacked her arm and said, “You fucking people have way too much money.”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I didn’t build the house.” She put her hands up in defense, even though it was clear that Vi’s tone was lighthearted. She still wasn’t really sure if she was truly upset or not when she marveled at Piltover’s wealth. There was a strange sense of guilt that ate at Caitlyn every time she mentioned it, despite the fact that these were simply positions they were both born into.

“How…” She was snapped out of her thoughts by Vi’s breathless exhalation, the two of them having now moved into the middle of the room so that her gaze could trace every single shelf. “How many are there?”

“Oh god, I have no idea. A lot. Some of them are my parents’, but a lot of them belonged to my grandfather as well. He was quite the collector.”

“But they all belong to your family?” Vi asked, hardly able to believe it. Caitlyn just nodded. She had never viewed the library as mundane, but she was relishing in seeing it through new eyes. Recognizing just how beautiful it truly was.

“And you can read every single one of them, if you want to,” Caitlyn said, and Vi’s gaze snapped to hers. She was grinning like an idiot now, and it made Caitlyn’s heart melt.

“I cannot believe I’ve been here for two weeks now and you haven’t shown me this yet,” She remarked, her tone carrying a joking accusation. Caitlyn just laughed.

“I didn’t know you were passionate about reading! And also, in my defense, we were both a little bit preoccupied.” The cleanup and restoration efforts after the fight with Viktor and The Arcane had been immense, and were nowhere near done yet. This was just the first time that either of them had had even an hour of downtime.

Vi just laughed, though her expression turned a bit more solemn with the reminder of everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Still, the shine in them wasn’t dimmed as she looked at the room around her. “So… you’re sure you don’t need help with anything?”

Caitlyn laughed too, and she shook her head. “Nope. Nothing. I’ve got it all taken care of, and you’re welcome to spend as much time in here as you want.”

Vi grinned, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss. When they broke away, both of them were smiling. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I’m just glad that I could help.”

“You always help,” Vi said, a sincerity in her voice that made Caitlyn’s eyes water.

“I love you,” She said, pulling her in for another kiss before Vi could get a word out. She laughed when they broke apart again.

“I love you too, cupcake.”

Caitlyn took her leave from the library after that, leaving Vi to stand there marveling at her family’s collection. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure where to start. The shelves didn’t appear to be labeled in any particular organization system, and none of the titles sounded very familiar.

Until her eyes caught on a book that dragged up a memory she had completely forgotten that she even had.

“Holy shit,” She exclaimed under her breath, pulling it out and assessing the cover. It was in significantly better condition than the copy that she’d had as a kid, but the memory was vivid all the same. She opened it up, thumbing through the pages as scenes came rushing back to her.

Her ninth birthday, when her parents had given her a small package. It was her favorite gift she had ever been given. She read the entire thing that night, and then the next day she read it again, and again, sitting curled up in a corner booth at The Last Drop as she devoured the pages until they were practically falling apart. She’d lost it at some point in the move from her parents’ house to Vander’s after they were killed, and the loss devastated her.

And now she had it in her hands again.

It was a children’s book. It wasn’t like it was the peak of literature. With all the books in this library, she could surely find a better one. But at that moment, there was nothing she wanted to read more.

 She held it tightly in her hands like it would slip away again, moving over to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. Surrounded by books, nestled into a safe spot in the Kiramman mansion, she allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time in years. She opened the cover.

And she felt the warmth of home.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 6 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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Getting the doctors to release me was a hell of a lot harder than I imagined. They tried to convince me to stay since I lost a lot of blood and underwent a serious surgery less than twenty four hours ago, but I was persistent and they finally handed me some discharge papers.

Now, discharge papers signed and my bag slung over my shoulder, I’m limping down the hall to Tara’s room where Sam and Richie are helping Tara get ready to leave as well.

The hospital offered me a wheelchair or some crutches, but I refused both. Tara’s going to be in a wheelchair and two of them would be just too much. Crouches would also only get in the way, and they wouldn’t be very useful anyway since I can’t use them properly because of the sling my left arm is in.

They did give me a brace for my knee though to stabilize it and make sure I don’t move too much while it heals.

“Y/N!” Tara’s eyes light up when I enter her room and Sam has to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting out of her wheelchair to greet me.

I smile weakly and cross the room to take her hand when she reaches for me. “Hey, Sprout,” I say quietly, bending down slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“High,” she replies with a loopy smile before turning serious as her eyes roam over me. “You? You look like shit.”

I scoff playfully and grimace when it makes my side sting. “Been better, but I’ll be fine.”

She looks unconvinced, but squeezes my hand. “Okay.”

I squeeze back and press a kiss to the top of her head before letting go and straightening back up with a not so hidden wince. Sam is watching us with a wistful look and when our eyes meet she smiles a tiny bit.

She goes to say something, but just like so many times before, Richie interrupts her. It’s unknowingly because he has his back turned to us while he zips up Tara’s bag, but it’s an interruption nonetheless.

“Alright, that was everything. Let’s get out of here.” He turns and slings the bag over his shoulder, kindly offering to take my bag too.

“No, that’s okay,” I say, “Thank you.” I don’t like him and even after everything that’s happened, I don’t trust him. Apparently so much so, that I’d rather be in pain carrying my bag than give it to him.

“Okay then, let’s go,” Sam says. She makes sure Tara is comfortable and warm enough in her pink fur jacket before wheeling her out of the room while Tara holds onto the crutches the doctors gave her.

Richie follows them and I follow after him, glancing back once more to make sure nothing important was left behind.

When we get to the lobby, I’m not surprised to see Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott sitting in one of the hospital’s waiting areas. Every time a new Ghostface shows up, the two of them show up as well.

They get up as soon as they see us and while Sidney steps up to Sam, Gale rushes over to me, pulling me into a hug.

The two of us were never as close as I was with Dewey, but before my parents died and she and Dewey separated, she was a fairly important person in my life.

“Thank God you’re okay,” she whispers shakily, clutching at my shirt.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” I say, hugging her back as best as I can with one arm. “About Dewey. . . I tried to go back, but—“

“I know.” She pulls back and briefly cups my face with her hands. “There’s nothing you could have done to save him.” Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t cry.

I swallow thickly. “He saved us.”

She nods and smiles sadly. “That’s what he did— always saving people. . .”

I exhale shakily and nod as well. It’s true, Dewey always saved people whether it was from something, someone, or themselves. It’s a shame that, in the end, he couldn’t save himself.

“You’re Billy’s daughter.”

I tense and take a step away from Gale to stare at Sidney. She and Sam were just having their own little conversation and I wasn’t listening because I was focusing on Gale, but now I’m definitely listening.

Sam’s chest heaves and she blankly stares at Sidney for a moment before Richie speaks up.

“Uh. We’ll bring the car around,” he says, looking uncomfortable as his eyes dart back and forth between Sam and Sidney. Then he looks at me and Tara, expectantly, but I’m definitely not going to just leave Sam alone.

I also don’t want Tara to be alone with Richie, so I shake my head and grab the back of her wheelchair. “No, we’re not, but we’ll give you some space,” I say. I tilt my head to the side and motion for Richie to follow me when I push Tara towards one of the couches nearby.

It takes a lot of effort to move her because I only have one function arm and an injured leg, but I manage without asking for help.

He follows without complaining, but when his eyes meet mine after he stops watching Sam and Sidney, his face hardens.

“What was that?” he asks impatiently, throwing his hands up.

I lean against the arm of the couch while keeping my hand on the back of Tara’s wheelchair. “What was what?” I shoot back.

“Why did you humiliate me like that in front of Sam?” he hisses which makes me scoff.

“Humiliate you?” I shift to take some more weight off my injured leg. “I didn’t humiliate you. I just didn’t want Sam to be alone with those two.” I gesture at Sidney and Gale. “Besides, we’re not taking her car. We’re taking mine and I’m not letting you drive.”

Sam and I agreed it would be better if we took my car earlier when we talked about leaving. It’s an old Bronco that my mom and I restored when I was younger and it’s way bigger than Sam’s Prius which makes it easier for Tara and me to sit comfortably with our injured legs.

“Why not? I can drive,” he defends and I’m quick to shake my head again.

“I’m sure you can, but I don’t want you to. No one gets to drive my car except me.”

Richie crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, looking me up and down with a snarl. “Oh yeah, and how are you planning on doing that.”

Shit. I didn’t think that far ahead. He’s right, I can’t drive in the state I’m in. I need both legs and hands for the clutch and the gear shift.

Before I can think of a retort though, Tara pipes up, her voice even as her eyes cautiously dart back and forth between Richie and me. “Maybe Sam could drive?”

I feel myself soften and look at her. She’s got a point.

“I mean, you did teach her how to drive when you were younger, right?” she asks and I nod.

As soon as my mom and I finished restoring the car, I forced Sam to learn how to drive it. We were both sixteen at the time and she complained at first since she thought it was unnecessary because she never planned on owning a manual car, but once she got the hang of it she actually enjoyed it and we’d sometimes just drive around the city at night, listening to music.

“Yeah.” I sigh. I really don’t have a different choice here. Either Sam drives, or Richie, and between the two of them, Sam’s the obvious choice.

“Good. It’s settled then,” Tara decides.

Richie glares daggers at me and I glare right back, but neither of us objects and a moment later, Sam comes over with tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows.

“We’re leaving,” she states, oblivious to the tension between Richie and me. “Come on.”

She moves to grab the handles of Tara’s wheelchair, but I stop her, pushing myself off the couch to tug on the sleeve of her green jacket.

“Wait.”

She stops and looks at me expectantly. “What?”

Tara and Richie watch us curiously and when I catch the way the muscle in Richie’s jaw twitches, I pull her aside and bend down so only she can hear me.

“I think we should leave without Richie,” I say lowly, ignoring the way Sam’s breathing hitches when my nose brushes against her temple.

“What? Why?” She pulls back abruptly but keeps her voice low so the others don’t hear us.

“I don’t know, I just have a weird feeling about him,” I say honestly.

Sam stares at me, bewildered, and hisses, “What are you talking about? He’s been nothing but helpful and may I remind you that he almost got killed saving you and Tara?”

Impatience washed over me, but I do my best not to let it show. “Yeah, but that’s just it,” I say urgently. “Ghostface had the chance to kill him twice, but he didn’t!”

The first time was right after I punched Richie when he came into the room Tara and I were hiding in. Ghostface could have done so much more than just cut his arm, but for some reason he didn’t. And then the second time when Ghostface attacked Dewey. . . Richie was on the ground, helpless, but for some reason, all Ghostface did was go after Dewey.

Sam’s bewilderment turns into anger and she takes a step back to put more distance between us. “Are you kidding me? That’s your reasoning? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?“

“I do! But something seems off and—“

“No.” Sam lifts her hand, effectively cutting me off.“We’re not arguing about this. Richie’s coming with us and that’s final.”

“No, it’s not, and no, he isn’t!” I argue, no longer caring about keeping my voice down. “I promised Tara I’d keep her safe, and I don’t trust him, so he’s not coming.”

I can tell Sam is about ready to explode, but instead of snapping, she takes a steadying breath and calmly says, “Tara is my sister, Y/N, not yours, so what I say goes. Richie is coming with us and if you have a problem with that, you can just stay here.”

I actually flinch at that and recoil as though she just slapped me. She might as well have with how much her words hurt. “I. . . Wow. That’s— That was a low blow.”

Tara’s been the only person I think of as family ever since my parents died and the implication that I’m nothing to her makes me physically weak.

Sam falters slightly, and a hint of regret flickers across her face, but she’s quick to square her shoulders and stand her ground. “Well, it’s true, so it’s up to you. Come with us, or stay. Either way, we’re leaving now.”

I debate it for a moment, hating how she’s backed me into a corner, but then I feel Tara’s eyes on me, and sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

I promised her I’d stay and make sure she’s safe until all of this is over, so I guess I’ll just have to deal with Richie for a little while longer.

I take my car keys and shove them into Sam’s hands before limping past her.

“Is everything okay?” Tara asks, tugging on my shirt as soon as I’m within reach and I nod, trying my best to ignore the smug smile on Richie’s face.

“Everything’s fine. Let’s just go.” I pat her head playfully and readjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. Then, I turn on the spot and lead the way outside to my car in the parking lot.

We’ve been on the road for only ten minutes at this point, but I’m already fed up with the whole situation. Not only because of Richie’s presence and the lingering tension between Sam and me, but also because I don’t like that we’re going to Modesto. Ghostface is just going to keep on coming after us, but we literally have nowhere else to go.

“You good back there?” Sam asks after a while when Tara pushes off my shoulder and starts rummaging through her bag.

Tara shakes her head, now searching frantically for whatever it is she’s looking for. “Fuck, where is it?”

I frown and put a hand on her arm. “Where’s what?”

Sam watches us through the rear view mirror and Richie turns in the passenger seat.

“My inhaler,” Tara gasps, her breathing shallow. “You brought it to the hospital and I— I had it just before we left. I must have forgotten it.”

My frown deepens. I double checked her room before we left, and I didn’t see her inhaler, so she can’t have forgotten it.

“Should we go back?” Sam asks but before Tara can answer, Richie beats her to it.

“Woah, okay. I vote for not going back to the murder hospital.”

Okay that’s it. I can’t take it anymore. Even though I agree with him, I’ve had enough of his attitude.

“Nobody asked you!” I snap which makes Sam’s eyes snap to me in the mirror.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” I fire back.

Richie scowls and I just know things are about to get ugly again, but then Tara gasps for air and I immediately redirect my attention, asking, “Do you want to stop at a pharmacy?”

This isn’t the time to argue, Y/N!

Tara shakes her head and continues going through her bag. “I need a prescription, but I left an extra one at Amber’s. Her house is on the way.”

I nod and rub my hand up and down her back. “Okay then. We’ll stop and—“

“No, no. No, no, no!” Richie protests and I have half a mind to strangle him from behind with the strap of my bag.

Honestly, how can Sam like this guy?!

“I’d be in and out,” Tara pleads, her chest heaving as she takes labored breaths.

Sam glances at us through the rearview mirror, worry written all over her face as she asks, “You think you could hold out ‘til Modesto?”

Tara grabs my hand and squeezes it to calm herself down. “I don’t think so.”

Sam looks back at the road, and for a moment the sound of the engine is the only thing breaking the silence that settles over us. “Okay. . .” She nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay, what’s the address?”

“123 No-Fucking-Way-Lane,” Richie says before Tara can answer and even though I just reminded myself this isn’t the time to argue, I can’t help but snap at him again.

“Oh my fucking God. Tara needs her inhaler and we’re going to get it, so will you just shut it for once?!”

Richie’s eyes widen and he looks at Sam, probably waiting for her to scold me agin, but this time, she actually agrees with me which makes him protest weakly.

It does nothing to change her mind though and before long we’re pulling up outside Amber’s house where a party is in full swing.

“Oh perfect.” Richie groans. “She’s having a party. Who has a party in the middle of a killing spree?”

I grit my teeth, getting irritated by just the sound of his voice even though I agree with him.

“Look,” he continues. “We should leave. It’s too risky.”

Tara looks at me, worried, but Sam is quick to shut him down before I even get the chance to open my mouth. “No, no, we’re already here. I’ll go in quickly and get it. I’ll be back in five.”

She takes the keys out of the ignition and gets out of the car, only to stop a second later when Tara unbuckles her seatbelt and shouts, “Wait, I’m coming too.”

Wherever she goes, I go, so even though I’m in no mood to walk into that party, I unbuckle myself too and say, “Me too, hold on. I’ll help you out of the car.”

Richie mumbles something about not staying out here alone as he gets out of the car as well, but I don’t pay him much attention as I help Tara with her crutches.

Sam is quick to help as well and before long we all make our way inside the house.

The smell of alcohol is almost overwhelming and the noise level is through the roof, but I know we won’t be here for long, so I’ll just deal with it.

“Tara!” A bunch of people cheer when they spot us which makes Tara shrink in on herself. She looks so small and scared, clinging to her crutches, so I place a reassuring hand on her back and smile comfortingly when she glances up at me.

I’m here, I mouth, and when I look up I’m not surprised to find Sam once again watching us with a wistful look.

I kind of feel bad for her because even though she’s back, Tara turns to me for comfort, but I guess it just goes to show that she is like my sister too even though we’re not actually related.

“Hey! What are you doing out of the hospital?” I turn my head at Amber’s familiar voice and step back so she can hug Tara. She looks her up and down with furrow eyebrows and asks what we’re doing here, so Tara tells her about needing her spare inhaler.

That makes her furrow her eyebrows even more and she asks why she needs it and when Tara tells her we’re leaving town, she asks where we’re going.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say before Tara can tell her. The less people the better.

Amber looks at me with an unreadable expression for a split second before giving in with a sympathetic smile. “Okay. No, it’s fine. Don’t tell me. I get it.” She turns back to Tara and brushes a strand of hair off her forehead. “Just be safe, okay?”

Tara melts under the touch and I’m pretty sure I see her cheeks turn pink for a second, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

When all this is over I’m going to tease the shit out of her though.

Who knew? Tara and Amber. . .

“I think it’s in my room,” Amber says softly before turning and addressing the crowd over the loud music. “Alright everyone, thanks for coming, but the party’s over!

A chorus of complaints erupts and Amber shouts, “Time to go!” But the crows still doesn’t listen.

Sam’s eyes meet mine and I just shrug, so she turns to Richie and mouths something.

He lifts an eyebrow for a second, clearly not understanding what she wants, but then it clicks and he springs into action. He turns on all the lights and asks for the music to be turned off before awkwardly addressing the crowd, telling them to leave.

Like Amber’s though, his efforts to clear out the house aren’t well received and I can’t help but smirk when one guy throws a solo cup at his head, saying “Fuck you.”

“Okay, I’ve tried to be nice.” He’s mad now and I can see a vein pulsing in his forehead when he sees the amusement on my face. “Get the fuck out!”

Reluctantly, people start filing out, throwing dirty looks Richie’s way until, eventually, everyone’s gone.

It’s a relief and I feel like I can breathe properly again, moving further into the house and taking in the decorations and pictures on the walls while Tara and Amber wander off to get Tara’s inhaler.

Sam stays with me, typing something on her phone while Richie goes to the living room, making sure everyone did in fact leave.

Minutes go by and the longer we stay, the more antsy I get. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. We should be on the road again. Every second we stay here gives Ghostface a chance to catch up with us if he isn’t already here, that is.

I glance at Sam and she seems to think the same thing because she keeps checking the time on her phone while chewing on her bottom lip.

It’s something she’s always done and I have the urge to reach over and tug her lip free, but I don’t, mentally cursing myself for even thinking about it.

She’s not mine. I have no right. She’s with Richie and we haven’t seen each other in five years.

Back when we were younger, I wouldn’t even have hesitated, but things have changed, we have changed, and I can’t just do stuff like that anymore.

Feeling my eyes on her, Sam looks up and I’m quick to look away, clearing my throat softly.

How does she still have this hold over me?

“What could possibly be taking so long?” I ask in an attempt to distract from being caught staring.

“I don’t know,” she whispers and when I dare to meet her eyes again, I’m surprised to find her already looking at me with an unreadable expression. “But I don’t like it.”

We stare at each other for a moment, so many unspoken words and feelings between us until she looks away, scratching her neck. She checks the time on her phone again and sighs.

“We should go,” she says and I agree, following her back into the foyer where she shouts up the stairs. “Tara, we’re leaving!”

There’s no reply and I feel worry creeping into the pit of my stomach, but before either of us gets to call out again, Sam’s phone rings.

I watch her look at the screen with pursed lips and move a little closer to see that it says Maybe: Sidney Prescott under Unknown Caller.

We share a worried look and I gesture for her to answer it which, after a moment of hesitation, she does. “Hello?”

I can’t make out what the other person is saying, so I step even closer.

“How do you know where I am?” Sam asks when the person on the other end of the line, a woman, probably Sidney, tells us to get out of the house.

Her question though never gets answered because Sidney just tells her to get out of the house again because as it turns out, we’re in Stu Macher’s old house.

I don’t know much about the Stab movies, but I’m familiar with the original story and I know Stu Macher was one of the original Ghostface killers.

My stomach drops and I suddenly feel sick, my eyes meeting Sam’s who is just as horrified as I am.

This is a trap. . .

Not even a second later there’s a sharp thud and a scream and when I realize it’s Mindy, my blood runs cold.

I don’t think when I spring into action. I just run toward the living room where the scream came from as fast as I can.

A burning pain shoots up and down the back of my leg, but I push through it, panting and limping.

Mindy. Just get to Mindy! Ghostface is here.

Sam is hot on my heels and when we reach the living room, the sight that greets us makes my heart drop.

Ghostface is standing over Mindy, trying to stab her, but Mindy’s got her hands on his wrists, keeping the knife away from her.

She’s covered in blood and trembling, having been stabbed in the shoulder where I was stabbed too, and with every passing second, her strength seems to be dwindling.

We have to do something!

My eyes get caught on the lamp on the dresser right next to us, and I nudge Sam before pushing it toward her.

I can’t pick it up and throw it with just one hand, and there isn’t enough time for me to get the sling off, so she’ll have to do it.

She instantly knows what I’m want and picks it up, hurling it at Ghostface’s back without second thought.

The ceramic bottom part of the lamp explodes upon impact with Ghostface’s back and I just know getting hit by it hurts.

Good. He deserves everything that’s coming for him.

Ghostface almost topples over, but he catches himself just in time before spinning around with his knife still in hand.

Fuck. He’s going to come for us now.

I didn’t think this far ahead when I thought of throwing the lamp.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and when Ghostface takes a step in our direction, I’m quick to grab anything within reach that could be used as a weapon which turns out to be a metal candlestick.

Sam tries to take it from me, probably thinking she’s better suited to fight than me, but I tighten my grip on it and shrug her off, stepping in front of her.

If Ghostface wants to get to her, he’ll have to go through me first.

I grit my teeth, feeling my hands shake, ready to strike, but not even a second later, Ghostface just bails, running out of the room into an adjacent hallway.

What the—?

I share a bewildered look with Sam, but then Mindy gasps and Sam rushes to her side.

I follow her, but keep my eyes on the hallway Ghostface vanished into in case he comes back.

“Mindy? No, Mindy, stay with me,” Sam pleads, pushing her hands down on Mindy’s shoulder where she was stabbed.

There’s a lot of blood and the smell of it makes me queasy. I never liked the sight or smell of blood, but my discomfort with it never went so far that I passed out because of it.

Sam desperately looks at me for help, but then Amber’s scream cuts through the air and we both whip our heads around to find her standing in the doorway with Tara.

“What did you do to her?” she screams and rushes over.

“God, Mindy.” Tara follows with shock written all over her face and when it registeres what Amber just said I can’t help but defend Sam

“It wasn’t her!”

“The killer— He—“ Sam stutters, but she’s cut off by the sound of a glass bottle shattering on the floor.

I spin around with the candlestick raised in hand, instinctively moving in front of both Tara and Sam, only to lower it a second later when I realize it’s just Richie.

“What the fuck?” he mutters in shock, his eyes glued to Mindy.

“Richie, where the fuck were you?” Sam exclaims, her blood covered hands shaking.

“I just went into the basement to get some beer,” he rambles and I stare at him in disbelief while my instincts scream at me not to trust a single word he’s saying.

I don’t voice my doubt though because Amber beats me to it. She’s got a hand on Tara’s shoulder and looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “You went to the basement alone?”

Richie raises his shoulders and gestures at Mindy, stammering, “I asked her to come with me! She said no!”

For a moment, a tense silence settles over us, but then a door nearby slams open, startling everyone.

Yet again, I raise the candlestick, ready to fight, but it turns out to be just Liv, Chad’s girlfriend. She stumbles into the room, pale and wide eyed.

Amber immediately raises her hands to keep her at bay and says, “Stay the fuck back.”

But Liv is so out of it, she doesn’t even react to it. She just cries and whimpers, “Jesus Christ. . .”

“I was with Tara, but the rest of you were wandering around,” Amber says, breathing heavily and pointing a finger at all of us while Tara just stands next to her, wide-eyed. “One of you is the fucking killer!”

Liv continues crying, her voice breaking when she says, “Fuck you, Amber. Fuck you!”

“Why is there blood on your hands?” Sam asks which makes everyone look at Liv’s hands.

Her hands are covered in blood, but Liv seems not to have known until Sam just pointed it out because she stares at her hands as well, letting out a sob when she sees the blood.

“I found Chad— I found Chad and he’s outside—“ she stammers, her voice faltering.

I have to admit, I don’t know her all that well, but my gut is telling me she’s telling the truth. No matter how psychotic you are, you can’t fake this kind of distress.

“Chad?” I cut her off, confused and worried, but before I can ask anything else Amber says, “You’re fucking lying.”

“No.” Liv whimpers, but Richie doubles down on Amber’s statement.

“You’re the killer.”

No she’s not.

“No, I’m not,” Liv cries, getting into a screaming match with Amber who keeps telling her to just stop lying.

“Fuck you, Amber! I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv says through gritted teeth and I have to admit that Amber’s insistence is setting off alarm bells in my head.

When she actually agrees with Liv a moment later though, pulling out a gun and shooting her in the head in cold blood, I’m as shocked as everyone else.

I drop the candlestick and let out a strangled cry as Liv sags to the floor with blood streaming down her face.

A hand grabs mine from behind, but I have no time to turn around and see who it is when Amber suddenly turns and points the gun at Richie who’s standing right next to me.

“Welcome to act three,” she says with a sinister smile and Richie shouts, “Run!” just as she fires the gun, missing him by a couple of inches because Tara pushes her arm up from behind.

The gun gets fired again and the hand holding mine lets go, and when I look over my shoulder I realize that it was Sam’s. Despite her protests, she gets pulled out of the room by Richie and I quickly turn back around, tackling Amber to the ground just as she aims the gun at Tara.

“No!”

Not Tara. Not after everything.

We struggle on the ground and even though I normally would have had an advantage over her because I’m taller and stronger, Amber quickly gains the upper hand by punching me in the side right where I was stabbed.

If it wasn’t clear before that she’s Ghostface, it definitely is now because how else would she know about that weak spot.

I yelp and fall off her, and the last thing I see before she slams the butt of the gun into my face is Tara’s tear-streaked face.

I groan when I regain consciousness, and I immediately look around frantically, not knowing how much time has passed since I was knocked out.

Why am I not dead?

My entire face hurts and I’m pretty sure my nose is broken, but other than that, I’m fine. Well, I am still injured from the previous attacks, but I don’t have any new injuries besides the broken nose.

I’m still in the living room and when I look down I see that my sling has been removed and that both my hands and feet have been tied up with duct tape.

Shit.

Where’s Tara? Where’s Sam?

Adrenaline surges through me and I feel panic growing in my chest, but then my dad’s voice in the back of my mind reminds me to stay calm.

Panicking won’t do anyone any good. I need a plan. . .

First, I have to free myself. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, thinking.

It’s eerily quiet and it’s hard to focus, but then my eyes fly open and I spot the shards of the lamp Sam threw at Ghostface.

I drag myself across the floor, wincing in pain until I get to them. I pick one up and quickly saw at the duct tape around my ankles until they’re free.

Then I use my feet to hold the shard in place before getting to work on my hands.

It’s a little more difficult to free them because the shard keeps slipping out from between my feet, but I manage to free myself eventually just as a gunshot rings out somewhere in the house.

It’s followed by unintelligible shouting and I pull myself to my feet.

I have to help. Sam. . . Tara . . .

I don’t even consider the possibility that something could have happened to either of them while I was out because they just can’t be hurt, or worse, dead. They just can’t be!

I limp to the foyer where the shouting is coming from and press a hand against my stinging side. “Fuck you, Amber,” I growl underneath my breath, freezing a moment later at the sight that greets me when I get to the front door.

Ghostface, who I now know is Amber, and Sidney Prescott are lying on the floor, winded and clambering to get to a gun on the floor while Richie is limping down the stairs.

“Richie!” Sidney groans. “Gun. Get the gun!”

“Yeah, kind of hard since you shot me in the leg,” he bickers, one hand gripping the banister while the other is clutching at his thigh.

Tara and Sam are nowhere to be seen and I’m about to make a run for the gun, but then Richie stumbles slightly and my eyes get drawn to something that slips out of his pocket.

It’s small, and orange, and clatters on the wooden stairs.

Tara’s inhaler.

No. . . I knew she didn’t leave it behind. . .

Richie took it!

He’s in on everything.

He planned this.

He wanted us to come here.

He and Amber are working together!

There are two Ghostfaces. . .

I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.

The Ghostface that attacked Mindy was taller than the one in the hospital and at the Carpenter’s because of course, Richie is taller than Amber and they’ve been taking turns wearing the mask to divert suspicion.

But why?!

A blur of brown hair makes my head snap to the side and when my eyes land on Sam at the bottom of the stairs, picking up the gun, my heart skips a beat.

“Yes! Yes!” Richie shouts, pretending to be glad she got the gun before Ghostface.

Sam has no idea. He’s almost down the stairs. He’s going to get to her.

“Shoot him!” Sidney groans but Sam hesitates. She reaches out for Richie to pull him behind her when he finally makes it to the bottom of the stairs.

“No, Sam! Look out!” I yell, rushing forward, but I’m too late.

Richie stabs her in the side while she’s focused on me and when I stumble forward to help her, Richie just kicks against the side of my injured leg, making me cry out in pain and fall against the wall while he drives the knife further into Sam’s stomach and takes the gun from her.

Wide-eyed, Sam looks at Richie and the betrayal and heartbreak on her face makes me physically sick. I try to push off the wall to help her, but my leg gives out underneath me and I slam back against it.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Richie says, a disgustingly smug smile pulling at his lips, “Because I really wanted to be the one to kill you.”

I push off the wall again, rage cursing through me at the pained whimper that leaves Sam, and this time, I manage to stay on my feet. I don’t get far though because Richie points the gun at both me and Sidney who’s just starting to get off the floor. “Sit the fuck down, Prescott! And you”— his manic eyes land on me—“stay back, or I’ll shoot you right now! You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since I met you. It’s a shame Amber hasn’t managed to kill you yet, but don’t worry, you’re time will come.”

I clench my jaw and shake with fury when all I can do is watch helplessly as he twists the knife in Sam’s stomach, making her scream in pain.

“Stop! You sick fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you!” I shout.

Sam sinks to her knees, and Richie goes down with her, completely ignoring me as he hands the gun over to Amber who just took off the Ghostface mask.

The pained grimace on Sam’s face makes me want to do something, anything to help her, but I can’t. If I move, Amber will shoot me and I’m of no help when I’m dead.

“I can’t believe this worked,” Richie says reaching for something in his pocket, probably the inhaler. He frowns when he realizes it’s not there but Sam’s already spotted it on the stairs, knowing exactly what he’s trying to get at.

She’s shaking in pain and disbelief and Richie just tilts his head and smiles, feigning sympathy. “I know. It’s a bummer it’s me”—he reaches for his pocket again and pulls out a little gray device, a voice changer, I realize as he holds it up to his mouth —“But it really was the best choice for the movie.”

A movie?! What the fuck? This is why they’re doing this?

He chuckles gleefully, the voice changer distorting his voice eerily.

No. . . All this pain, all this fear and suffering. . . For a lousy movie?

I didn’t like him before, maybe because I was jealous, maybe because my gut was telling me something was off about him, or maybe both, who knows, but now I straight up hate him.

How could he do this? How could they do this?

Sam trusted Richie as much as Tara trusted Amber, and they just went behind their backs like it was nothing.

“This isn’t a fucking movie!” Sam exclaims angrily, getting over the initial shock of the betrayal and voicing my exact thoughts.

Richie just smiles that stupid smile of his again and shakes his head. “No. . . But it will be. That’s the point, right, Amber?”

I scowl and my nose scrunches when Amber says, “Right, hon!”

Ew. They’re fucking? And I though this couldn’t get any worse.

“Third act bloodbath, check. Killer’s revealed, check. Time for the big finale!” Amber shouts, grabbing Sidney by the hair and shaking her head.

She’s currently not focused on me, so I try to step into the shadows to call the police, but she notices before I get the chance and points the gun at me. “Stop. You’re not going anywhere. One more step and I’ll blow your brains out.”

I freeze and lift my shaking hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. . .”

My entire body hurts and I can barely stand on my injured leg since Richie kicked against it. My nose has stopped bleeding, but my lips and chin are sticky with half dried blood, and my side and shoulder ache dully.

If we get out of this alive, I just know the recovery from all these injuries is going to be long and painful.

Sam looks at me for a moment, her eyes full of fear and guilt and regret, but then Richie puts a hand on her cheek and turns her head back so she’s once again looking at him.

He chuckles softly and when she desperately whispers, “Richie. . .” he just shakes his head and shushes her before pulling the knife back out of her stomach.

Sam groans, doubling over in pain and Richie cradles her head against his shoulder.

No! That’s going to kill her. Everyone knows that your best chances of survival after getting stabbed are to leave the knife in because it stops the bleeding.

Now all I can hope for is that he didn’t hit anything vital, or she’ll be dead in a matter of minutes.

“Let’s get ‘em into the kitchen. Let’s go, bitch!” Amber says, pulling Sidney to her feet by her hair. “And you”— she points the gun at me again and gestures for me to walk in front of her—“get a move on!”

I nod and swallow thickly, biting down on the inside of my cheek to suppress a whimper when I put weight on my injured leg.

That bitch. I hate her. I absolutely hate her, and I don’t even want to think about what she did to Tara.

She’s still nowhere to be seen, neither is Mindy, or Chad, and chances are they’re all already dead.

I promised I’d protect her. . .

Tears prick my eyes at the thought of her, but I quickly blink them away since the last thing I want is for Amber and Richie to mock me about it.

I limp into the kitchen, closely followed by Amber, Sidney, Sam and Richie.

“Someone has to save the franchise,” Richie laments as Amber pushes Sidney against the counter next to me. “You see, no one has made a great Stab movie since the first one. Not really.”

He snarls and shoves Sam, making her stumble and cry out in pain. Before she can crash into the counted though, my arm shoots out and I catch her, pulling her against me.

She shudders and winces, but sags back against me. Her hand moves to the stab wound on her stomach and I curl my arm around her from behind to place my own hand over hers, applying pressure.

She’s sweating and her skin is cold to the touch, all signs of blood loss, and I pull her closer, fearing that this will be the last time I’ll ever get to hold her like this.

“Hey, baby, you want to go get the very ex-Mrs. Riley?” Richie asks Amber, raising the knife to keep Sam and me in check.

Ah, so Gale is here as well. Great. I try not to think about it and focus on keeping pressure on Sam’s stomach.

“Yeah, I do,” Amber says gleefully. She hands Richie the gun and leaves the kitchen.

Sidney uses the momentary distraction to lunge for the knife block, but Richie is quick to react.

“Hey, hey! Whoa.” He raises the knife at her and forces her back with a wicked chuckle. “Sidney Prescott. . . You know, I’m a really big fan.”

I scowl at that and tighten my grip on Sam. What a fucking psycho.

“Go fuck yourself.” Sidney seethes and when she and Richie get into a fight about the Stab franchise, Sam leans her head back agains my shoulder and whispers, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. You were right about him. I should have trusted you.”

I shake my head and lean down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t say that now. Save it for later.”

Sam trembles and grabs onto my forearm with her free hand. “No, I need you to know. I’m sorry. For everything.” She gasps when I accidentally apply too much pressure on her stomach. “You’ve always been there for me a-and after I left, you were there for Tara and I don’t— I don’t know how to ever thank you for that. For any of it. . .”

I can feel tears pricking at my eyes but this time I don’t force them away. The reality of the situation we’re in is starting to sink in and I know now that we’re probably going to die here tonight.

I thought we’d have more time to patch things up and make things right, but it turns out, we don’t.

Sam’s made mistakes. A lot of them, and huge ones at that, but here she is now, in what seems to be one of our final moments, apologizing for everything she’s done wrong instead of pleading for her life.

I thought I needed time and space to forgive her for what she did, but not right now. We’re about to die, and I can’t just let it happen with her thinking I’m still mad at her.

I would be if I knew there was a way we’d be getting out of this, but being on the brink of death has changed my perspective.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whisper, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead against her temple. “It’s okay. . . We’re okay.”

She whimpers quietly and her grip on my forearm tightens. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” I say again and just then, Amber returns with Gale.

She forces her onto a chair and when Gale moves her hand on her stomach I see she’s been shot.

When the fuck did that happen?!

Richie hands Amber the knife and walks over to Sam and me with the gun in his hand, a satisfied smile on his face.

Sam lifts her head off my shoulder and stands up a little straighter to glare at him without letting go of my forearm.

“You did all this just to make me the hero of your fucked-up movie?” she asks, venom lacing her voice.

Richie shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “Sweetie, you’re not the hero.” He steps even closed and uses the barrel of the gun to lift her chin a little higher. “You’re the villain.“

I want to yank that gun out of his hand and bash his head against the counter, but I’m hurt, standing behind Sam, and I can’t risk him shooting her, so I stay still.

How dare he talk to her like that? How dare he call her sweetie? Sick fuck.

His face turns serious and he continues, tilting his head ever so slightly. “You’re the daughter of Billy Loomis who sees fucked-up visions of her dead dad. Sidney Prescott killed your father. You did all this just to get her back to Woodsboro.”

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. We’re going to die anyway.

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl which makes him raise his eyebrows in mild amusement. Sam’s fingers dig into my forearm, trying to get me to stay quiet and stay where I am, but I pull my arm back and slowly step in front of her.

Richie entertains my boldness by taking a step back to grant me some room. The gun is now pointing at my chest and I can feel Sam’s fingers curl around the back of my shirt.

“You know,” Richie says, kissing his teeth, “I saw this coming from a mile away.”

“What?” I ask lowly, aware of all the eyes on us.

“This!” He waves the gun at me and Sam who’s peeking out from behind me. “I mean, the way you look at her. . . ” He laughs mirthlessly and I feel my cheeks heat up.

There’s obviously nothing going on between me and Sam but he’s managed to see right through me.

“Shut. Up.” I hiss through gritted teeth, but it just makes him laugh for real this time.

“There it is again. That’s what I’m talking about.” He jabs me in the chest with the barrel of the gun. “So pathetic. . . I mean, just— Why? She’s a psycho! Her dad’s a literal serial killer. Is that, like, something you’re into, or—“

He doesn’t finish because I spit in his face, baring my teeth while Sam sucks in a breath behind my.

For a moment, everything is still. Nobody moves or says anything, but then Richie slowly raises his free hand and uses his sleeve to wipe the spit off his cheek.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy gutting you, that’s for sure,” he says, sounding dangerously calm. “And I’m going to make Sam watch.”

Before I can retort anything, he grabs the back of my neck and knees me in the stomach, making me double over, coughing.

“Y/N.” Sam snakes her arm around me from behind and pulls me back so I’m standing next to her against the counter. Her brown eyes are filled with worry even though she’s in pain herself and I’m quick to nod my head weakly, silently telling her I’m okay.

I have no idea how she feels about what Richie just revealed, but now’s not the time to address it.

“Enough chit chat!” Amber cuts in and I look back up, once again pressing my hand against Sam’s stomach.

“You know what the biggest problem with the Stab movie is?” Amber asks, tapping her knife against Sidney’s chest. “There’s no Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees. No bad guy to keep coming back. But the illegitimate daughter of the original mastermind?” She scoffs with a smile on her face. “Now that’s a fucking villain.”

I can’t believe this. They’re trying to make Sam the bad guy.

Sam exhales shakily and looks at Richie with confusion and betrayal written all over her face. “How did you know?” she asks weakly, but it’s Amber who answers her, not Richie.

“Oh, about your father?” she asks sarcastically. “ I mean, it’s a small town, and your mom’s a drunk!”

I curl my free hand into a fist, but still don’t move or say anything.

“I met Richie on the Stab subreddit,” Amber goes on while Richie alternates between pointing the gun at me and Sam. “I’ve been obsessed ever since my parents bought this house. . . We realized pretty quickly we had similar ideas.”

Richie nods and tilts his head mockingly at Sam. “It wasn’t that hard for me for find you in Modesto,” he says, glancing at me for a second before adding, “It wasn’t that hard for me to fuck you, either, but I guess a sexually available woman is supposed to be empowering these days.”

Oh, how I want to cut off that motherfucker’s dick. . . I’m shaking with restraint because I can’t do anything unless I want to get kneed in the gut again, or worse, get shot.

“Fuck you!” Sam fires back, jutting her chin out and the anger with which she says it fills me with a tiny sense of pride.

Richie doesn’t seem to be bothered by it though. He simply chuckles and says, “Well, now you’re just quoting the original.”

Amber chuckles, too, and once again goes on to ramble about bringing back legacy characters and what would or wouldn’t work for their movie.

I’m honestly tired of listening. All I’m thinking about is Tara, Mindy, and Chad, and how Sam needs to go to the hospital.

It seems like we’ve managed to slow her bleeding by applying pressure to the wound, but she will go into shock eventually if she loses any more blood. Her breathing is already shallowing and I can feel her ever increasing heartbeat under my palm.

I’m so focused on that, that when Sidney lunges for a knife on the kitchen island, I flinch in surprise.

“No!” Sam yelps when Amber stabs her and Gale tumbles off her chair in her attempt to get to her friend.

Richie just sighs and crouches down next to Sidney who’s fallen to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Sid. We can’t let you live either. I mean surviving this many times. . . that would just be ridiculous. This time the fans are gonna be the ones who win.”

Sidney groans and Sam slumps against me, resigned.

“Does that cover it?” Richie asks and Amber, ever the loyal girlfriend, nods with a love sick smile on her face.

“Nailed it, baby.”

Urgh. There it is again. Disgusting.

Both of them get back to their feet and I don’t really think much of it, knowing we’re about to die any moment now, but then Richie says something that makes my head snap up.

“Get Tara out of the closet. We’ve got to start staging the bodies!”

Tara. She’s alive.

For a split second, I’m relieved, but then reality sinks in once again. She’s alive, yes, but she won’t be for much longer, just like the rest of us.

“Stay with me, Sid,” Gale whispers weakly from her position on the floor. “Stay with me.”

Sidney exhales shakily and leans against the kitchen island, pressing her hand against her stomach.

All the while, Richie gleefully goes on and on about how Sam should have listened to Dewey because he apparently told her to look at him, the love interest, and how he almost even managed to convinced her Tara was one of the killers, but then Amber’s voice from somewhere in the house makes him stop and frown.

“She’s not here,” Amber shouts and my heartbeat instantly speeds up.

She’s not here. . . Tara’s not in the closet. She must have gotten away somehow.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘she’s not here’?” Richie shouts back, blinking in confusion.

“She’s not here!” Amber shouts again and when Sam starts smirking ever so slightly next to me, my eyes widen.

“I untied her,” she says casually, staring Richie down. “Guess you’re not as persuasive as you thought.”

Damn. That’s my girl. Wait—no. She’s not—

Richie flinches when the land line next to him suddenly starts ringing and when Sam tells him it’s for him, he pales visibly, his grip on the gun faltering.

“Amber!” he shouts. “Fan out. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“I can’t find her,” Amber shouts back, but then a second later, we all hear a struggle break out and the sound of Tara’s rage induced scream fills me with relief and scares me at the same time.

She’s already hurt. Amber’s going to get the upper hand.

“Amber!” Richie shouts, momentarily distracted.

This is my chance.

I grab Sam’s hand and squeeze it once, very briefly, before letting go again and rushing forward, yanking at Richie’s arm in an attempt to disarm him.

His grip on the gun is almost iron clad though and I can’t get it off of him. He even fires it once, but misses and we go down in a tangle of limbs.

“Run!” I shout at Sam who’s frozen to the spot and watching us with wide eyes. “Sam, run! H-Help Tara!”

She snaps out of it at the mention of Tara’s name and stumbles out of the kitchen.

“Piece of shit!” Richie grits out and for a moment I have the upper hand, but just like Amber did before, he punches me where I’ve been stabbed which makes me recoil. He shoves me off him and gets back to his feet, stomping on my injured leg to make sure I stay down before also dashing out of the kitchen.

“Sam! Where are you going, huh? Your big scene’s coming up!” he shouts and I drag myself across the floor, going after him.

Back in the kitchen a different struggle breaks out, this time between Gale, Sidney and apparently Amber, but I can’t turn back around and focus on them now.

Sam and Tara are my priority and because I don’t know where Tara is, I’m going after Sam for now.

I’m slower than a slug, I know, but I can’t stand. I think it would honestly hurt less if Richie’d just chopped my leg off, but it is what it is now and I’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sam? SAM!” Richie’s furious shout coming from the staircase around the corner a moment later makes me move faster.

A sickening thud echoes through the house and when I finally, finally get to the foyer I see that he and Sam took a tumble down the stairs.

“Sam.” I gasp and she coughs, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before I shout, “Look out!”

Richie’s managed to get back on his feet in record time with his gun in hand, but it’s not she whom he aims at when he fires it. It’s me.

“Y/N!”

I scramble to get back behind the corner and groan when I feel blood trickling down my already injured shoulder. The bullet grazed me. If it had been a couple more inches to the left, he’d have shot me in the head.

Fuck. These close calls are getting a little too much.

Seemingly satisfied with the way he scared me into hiding, Richie turns his attention back to Sam.

He taunts her as she tries to move away from him, and I desperately want to look around the corner and see what’s happening, but I know if he spots me, he’ll just shoot at me again.

“You’re the villain.” He’s seething and I can feel my heartbeat rising in my throat as he goes on. “And the villain dies at the end. Those are the rules.”

For a split second it’s quiet, but then Sam speaks up and I hold my breath.

“I’m introducing a new rule.”

“And what would that be? Huh?” He cackles which sends a shiver down my spine.

Sam’s voice however is even and calm a moment later when she says, “Never fuck with the daughter of a serial killer.”

What?

Richie groans and screams in surprise and pain, and I can no longer just hide around a corner. I have to see what’s going on.

I pull myself up to my feet and move along the wall until I can finally peek around the corner.

Sam somehow managed to get a hold of a knife and is now relentlessly bringing it down on Richie, which is a sight that momentarily makes my brain short circuit.

He’s writhing underneath her, screaming and trying to block the onslaught of stabs, but she’s got him trapped.

She just keeps on going, stabbing with all the strength she’s got until Richie makes a gurgling sound and pleads for her to wait.

Surprisingly she does, her chest heaving and her entire face and front covered in blood as she glares at him.

“What about my ending?” he whimpers pathetically with blood trickling out of the side of his mouth and when Sam leans down and presses the knife against his neck, saying, “Here it comes,” I quickly look away.

He squeals and a no falls from his lips before all that can be heard is his gurgling and choking on his own blood.

There’s some shuffling and when I dare to look back, I see Sam stumbling to her feet with the knife still in hand. She’s breathing heavily and staring at what she’s done with a hint of disbelief on her face.

“Sam?” I prompt carefully, moving out from behind the corner. She doesn’t react, so I say it again, approaching her cautiously.

Again, she doesn’t react, but then a floorboard creaks beneath me which is what makes her eyes snap up.

“Y/N,” she whispers and almost instantly her shoulders sag and she drops the knife.

I close the remaining distance between us without any more second thoughts and pull her into a hug, not caring that she’s getting blood all over my clothes.

My shirt is already stained with my own blood from my nose and shoulder, and if the last twenty four hours have taught me anything it’s that it’s probably a good idea to invest in some hydrogen peroxide to get rid of any future bloodstains.

“Are you okay?” she asks, desperately clutching at my shoulders.

“No. You?”

She shakes her head and I hold her close for just a moment longer until Gale and Sidney emerge from the hallway that leads to kitchen.

Judging by their calmness, I’m assuming Amber’s been dealt with which makes me lower my guard a bit.

When their eyes land on Richie’s body they seem to be impressed with how well Sam’s managed to handle herself, but then Sidney says, “Careful, they always come back,” which makes Sam pull back from our embrace and take the gun Gale’s holding.

She fires it at Richie’s lifeless body twice before aiming at the head and shooting one last time.

“Okay then,” Gale says, shrugging awkwardly only to flinch a moment later when a scream erupts from behind us.

I spin around and pull Sam behind me, my eyes widening when they land on Amber who’s coming at us with a knife in hand and half her face melted off.

God, can the dead please just stay dead for once?

Amber doesn’t get very far because another gunshot rings out and she drops to the floor a split second later with a bullet hole in the side of her head.

Holy shit.

I slowly turn my head to the left where the shot came from and when my eyes land on a trembling Tara who’s pointing a gun at where Amber just stood a moment ago, I let out a breath of relief.

“I still prefer The Babadook,” she says and even though I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, I limp toward her and pull her into a bone crushing hug.

Almost instantly, she starts crying and when I see Sam sobbing over Tara’s head, I lift one arm, wordlessly inviting her to join us.

She rushes over and throws her arms around both of us, and for the first time tonight, I drop my defenses entirely and allow myself to cry as well.

They’re okay. They’re both okay. We’re going to be okay.

_______________________________________________

Holy hell, that was a long one, but I did promise it, so I can’t complain.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

[bl00dh0rs3]

My friend i Hear You but also you have missed an integral part of what i was trying to say. Humans Are Not Bad. That is Not the moral of the story. Capitalism and unrestrained "innovation" that profits off of the distruction of communities and environments is the problem.

The RDA is the problem. The Military's involvement in resource gatherment is the problem. The individual humans in the Avatar universe are Normal. People. Just Like You, and Me, and our primary vector Into this story, Jake Sully. They are people caught in predatory employment contracts (iirc. The RDA canonically used a form of indentured servitude?? Among other things, like the Recombinants -- bc i think its hilarious people Actually think blue!Quaritch still has... human rights. Like they actually think the big bad RDA is that nice to their lab grown super soldiers. LOL), people who are constantly being manipulated by their superiors into believing that Nature Is Always Only Dangerous (THE RDA NPC CHATTER IN AFOP IS... GOD. some of these people had Never seen a tree before. Thats how BAD of shape earth is in), people who are coming to Pandora from their dying home planet to try to carve out a space for what the RDA is Deliberately leading them to think of as "the Preservation of Humanity".

Some people fall for those manipulations, and some don't. Some people profit off of these manipulations and perpetrate them for immediate personal gain, and some with go "fuck this noise" and take ative steps towards Escaping that purposefully confining environment so that they can try to take it down from the outside, for the good of everyone, because its what they believe is right.

Believing that humanity is inherently bad can only ever lower morale. We all see good deeds every day, as many (if not More than) we see the bad ones. Those are what we need to focus on, to praise and to uphold and stand behind the notion of kindness towards all our extended family on this earth. Hope is integral to our survival. We have to hope and work hard to improve this world in every way we can -- especially when those of us who are too apathetic for that begin to intentionally wreak destruction on the lives of others, en masse.

James Cameron may not have intended his story to be this complicated -- but the thing about all of these tropes and ideas is that they are all intrinsically related to eachother. To look at a story that is based on chronicling the oppression, resistance of inhalation, and likely eventual liberation of a fictional allegory for Indigenous People of all kinds... and only come away with "humans Are bad" is completely missing the mark, man 😭

That said, i do believe the Third movie will do a lot to help get this point im trying to explain across Better to a wider audience, given that a major talking point for it in onterviews so far has been the fact that we are going to be meeting a wider cast of characters, including both a new antagonist clan of Na'vi (to showcase that, just like Us, no na'vi are a monolith -- they are capable of the same levels of violence and malice that we are), as well as a slew of new Human characters, and a quote saying that they deliberately Want to show the better side of humanity in the coming sequels.

Its really easy to forget that Avatar is an ongoing saga on par with the rise of Star Wars back in its heyday (with historical parallels in the treatment both creators were given by their hatefans in response to its "unprecedented" popularity lol) -- but its important to bc like... we just don't have the full story yet. The soup hasnt even been brough to a Boil man we gotta just let JamCam COOK before we make sweeping judgments on the "simplicity" of the narrative, ykwim?

Watching someone play afop and im so. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. It's literally just a fucking showcase of all the Exact type of shit that has been happening to indigenous people and people of color have been dealing with for Centuries at the hands of white supremacy and imperialism. Like its literally just Showing all that Shit from the perspective of a Na'vi in universe. So it "demonizes" the RDA accordingly. And uet so many fucking reviewers are joshing on it and calling it Boring and Slow and Uninspired and that it makes human's 'cartoonishly evil' LIKE YOU PEOPLE HAVENT LOOKED AT A SINGLE FUCKING CURRENT EVENT IN YOUR LIVES. Oh my god im so mad at all these fucking reviewers now. The fucking AUDACITY to look at something this fucking Honest about the cruelty humans are capable of, while living during the fucking day and age with all this Knowledge we have at our fingertips -- the fucking audacity to look at this game and what the character goes through and not being able to muster up ANY other fucking emotion besides "ubisoft never was great at story anyway so idc lol" fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. Like actually. You can't even fucking ATTEMPT to connect to this story emotionally? Not even a fucking Smidge? Jesus fucking christ people need everything to be spoon fed to them these days. God forbid a piece of media actually ask you to meet it in the middle for once.

[writinginatree]

Breakfast Gone Wrong

Relationship(s): The lost boys & reader

Summary: You get hurt by what was supposed to be your victim, and your overprotective vampire brothers get overprotective.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, injury, blood drinking, swearing, vampire!reader, written from David's point of view.

Requested by @mizgames way back in February. I'm so so sorry for taking so extremely long to get this done. It's also a little different from your exact request because I remembered it wrong and didn't read the request again before I started writing, but I hope you still like it anyway!

David knew it was a bad idea to let you hunt on your own. He fucking knew it. That's all he can think of as he rushes to your side, following your pained screams. He should have never let you out of his sight, but you were just so goddamn stubborn he hadn't been able to change your mind. In a fit of what he can only classify as teenage rebellion, and for absolutely no reason other than being a brat, you had suddenly decided that you're a big, grown-up vampire perfectly capable of hunting alone. And David, wrapped around your little finger as he is, had given in and agreed, despite knowing he shouldn't.

He told you not to go too far away from him and the others, to pick an easy victim, to call him if you needed help.

And now here you are, writhing in the sand with a wooden stake through your stomach. He left you unsupervised for five, ten minutes at most. This will definitely have been the last time he ever let you out of his sight. He'll be damned if he takes the risk of something like this ever happening again. Nope, you're grounded — for the rest of all eternity.

The asshole who did this is currently being torn apart by Paul and Marko, while Dwayne is already kneeling by your side, assessing the graveness of your injury. David joins him, since the feral blondes clearly don't need his help. He wordlessly holds you down as Dwayne pulls the wood from your body.

You cry out in pain, try to sit up and get away, but David is stronger and keeps you in place.

He's looking anywhere but at your face. If there's one thing he can't stand it's seeing you suffer. If he looks at your tearstained face for too long he might just start crying too.

Finally Dwayne has pulled the stake — which on closer inspection is just a branch that was probably meant to feed a bonfire — free, and your wails die down into soft sobs. He lifts your head onto his lap, stroking your hair, as David holds your hands and murmurs soothing words.

Paul and Marko drag what's left of your attacker over to you, letting his blood trickle directly into your mouth. You instinctively gulp it down, though David is pretty certain you don't even consciously notice anything going on around you through the pain clouding your mind.

You'll need a lot more blood than what's left in this guy to regain your strength. In their ripping him to shreds, Marko and Paul wasted a lot of the precious liquid, which now uselessly stains the sand a few feet beside your weak form. David decides it's only fair if they're the ones to have to go and find another victim to feed you with, while he and Dwayne watch over you.

For a moment he considers immediately taking you back to the cave, but dismisses the idea as quickly as it came. With how weak you are, David doesn't want to risk moving you just yet. Not until they've gotten some more blood into you.

The other two have only been gone a few minutes, but David can't take watching you like this any longer. He pushes back his sleeve and pierces his skin with his fangs, holding the wound to your lips. You instantly start sucking his blood, and he can almost watch as some semblance of life slowly returns to your face.

"Don't give them too much," Dwayne cautions. "You weakening yourself too is the last thing we need right now."

"I know."

"They'll be fine."

"I know," David repeats, and it's halfway true. The logically thinking part of him does know that. But there's also that other part, the part that can't watch you cry, the part that would go insane if he lost you. It's the same part of him that upon meeting you all those years ago instantly declared himself your older brother, a feeling that has only been amplified after being turned into vampires. He doesn't doubt the others feel the same. As the youngest of their group you have them all extremely protective over you, though David is aware he's the most protective of you by far. Maybe even a bit too much so, though he would never admit that. It's only natural, he thinks, after all he was the first to become your brother.

But Dwayne is right, he shouldn't let his feelings get the best of him. You're going to be okay. Paul and Marko should be back with a human blood donor for you soon, anyway. He just wanted to make sure you could hold out until then.

Now you almost look strong enough to drain a victim yourself if they hold it down for you, and after you feed you'll definitely be strong enough to sit on David's bike and let him take you back to the safety of the cave. He almost thinks you'll even be strong enough to be a brat and protest, but David will not let you change his mind about grounding you. Your safety comes first, your happiness second.

He pries his arm from your mouth and wipes a few stray drops of blood from your chin with his gloved hand.

You blink up at him, seemingly a lot more aware of your surroundings than just a couple minutes ago.

"How are you feeling, kitten?"

"Ouchie."

David chuckles despite himself. "Yeah, you could say that. What were you thinking?!"

"He looked like an easy victim..." Your voice is weak, hoarse with tears, but David is relieved you're already wearing your typical bratty pout again. "How was I supposed to know he'd try and gut me?!"

"People tend not to like it when you're trying to kill them."

"That's not a reason to stab someone!"

David thinks of all the times you came close to biting his or one of the other boys' fingers off for minor offences like wanting a bite of your food or wiping dirt from your face. Just last week you threatened to stab David with your ice cream cone because he said you couldn't stay at the boardwalk any longer if you wanted to be home at the cave before the sun came up.

"Uh-huh."

He shares a look with Dwayne, and knows he's thinking the same thing.

Just then Paul and Marko come back, a woman's limp body hanging between them. They dump her beside you. "Here, baby, we knocked her out for you."

For a moment you just stare, like you're not sure what you're supposed to do with her, or too exhausted to lean over and bite her. But then you move, sinking your teeth deep into her throat and David smells the blood when your teeth break the skin.

The boys sit around you in a protective circle and watch as you drink. They're hungry too, after all they barely had time to find victims of their own, let alone suck them dry, before your cry for help drew them away. But they hold back. They can wait.

Silently communicating they agree to bring you home, and then go out to feed in pairs, so there's always two of them with you. It's an unnecessary precaution, of course, but that doesn't bother them. It will bother you — or at least you'll say it does. You always pretend to be annoyed by their protectiveness, by being babied by them so much, as you like to phrase it. But the way you always hide under David's coat, make Paul give you piggyback rides and Dwayne read to you, and insist on Marko doing your hair for you says different. You might be pissed at David for grounding you, but he doesn't doubt you'll secretly love being the center of attention like that — even more so than usual.

Paul has curled up by your side now, arms wrapped around you and nuzzling his head against your shoulder. You briefly interrupt your feeding to hiss at him. David is glad to see it — the fact you're defending your food is a sure sign you're feeling better.

When you're done there's blood smeared all over your face. Dwayne wipes it away with his flag, making you whine and try to push away his hands. "I'm not a baby, Dwayne!"

Oh yes, you're definitely feeling better.

Still, you allow David to pick you up and carry you back to where the bikes are parked, snuggling against his chest and refusing to be put back down when you've reached the bikes. David sighs and climbs on his bike with you, sitting you in front of him and telling you to hold on tight to him, despite you already doing that.

Back at the cave you still refuse to let go, so David carries you inside and settles in your favorite spot — a sort of nest you've built in a small alcove going off the main cave, consisting of a mattress covered in a pile of countless fluffy blankets and pillows, with all the stuffed animals the boys have won for you at the boardwalk over the years strewn all over the place — with you on his lap.

Paul runs after him, and throws himself down beside the both you, cuddling close. Once he's done squirming around to get comfortable he's halfway laying on top of David, too, his face pressed so deep into your side he would probably suffocate if he were human.

It reminds David that he wasn't the only one worried about you, as he watches the tension seep from Paul's body now that you're in safety and he can hold you close. Since it's obvious Paul won't be letting go of you for a while, Marko and Dwayne head out to feed first, each pressing a kiss to your forehead before they go.

You're close to falling asleep, despite how early in the night it still is. No wonder after what you just went through.

David brushes his hand over your face, gently traces the bridge of your nose up to your forehead and back down in a soothing motion, watches your eyelids flutter as you fight to stay awake.

David well remembers a night much like this one, many years ago when you had all still been human, kids living on the streets. You'd been attacked then, too, by a man who'd caught you trying to steal from him. You still have the scar on your chin, where his knife grazed you before you got away. Then, like now, you'd clung to David for the rest of the night, hiding in the questionable safety of his arms.

He traces over the scar on your chin, wondering if today's injury will leave one, too. He supposes not. Vampires don't get scars as far as he's aware, but then again there's still so much he doesn't know about all this, even after decades of undead life.

"Sleep, kitten. You've got to rest."

An agreeing hum comes from Paul's direction, but you continue forcing your eyes to stay open.

"I'm not even tired."

He ignores the wornout lie and says, "You're hurt. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll feel better."

You seem to consider this for a moment, absentmindedly playing with Paul's hair and snuggling even closer to David, if that's even possible.

Finally you nod. "Fine. But you have to stay with me the whole time. I'll get nightmares if you make me sleep alone."

David hadn't expected anything else, and agrees. He doesn't mind going hungry in favor of watching over you, even if he knows you've never had a nightmare in your life.

He keeps stroking your face, slowly lulling you to sleep.

Paul, never one to keep still for long, starts fidgeting, and David throws him a glare. "Stay still or go do something else. You're keeping Y/N up."

"Sing us a lullaby then."

Before David can even think to tell Paul to fuck off, your eyes shoot wide open again, and you nod. "Yes, David, sing us a lullaby!"

With a heavy sigh David resigns to his fate. He really needs to learn how to say no to you, but of course that's never going to happen. And, seeing the content little smile on your face, he can't really bring himself to mind.

[urrockstar-xe]

you are everything - j.m x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:15pm

anon asked: Hey, could u write this prompt: “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly” for jj Maybank and Y/n fem reader. Maybe make it like an emotional scene like they are best friends and they got into a fight about her doing something dangerous idk, but it makes her realize jj loves her and then she asks the prompt like later that night.

sososo sorry for the wait love, i hope u enjoy.

use of Y/n, John B plays cupid/the mediator, swearing, not proofread.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.4k

Things had always been rocky in terms of the ”what are we?” factor for you and JJ, it was fun in the beginning and as the hunt for the gold took over the Pogues’ lives it turned into something with more substance behind it. 

Your heart nearly left your chest every time JJ pulled one of his stunts, every time he would sit there and flirt with Kie, and every single time that he decided to sleep over at yours, claiming he was too tired to go all the way home or just to the chateau. 

Of course, you let him stay every time, why wouldn’t you? 

This last time things were different. You were in the hot seat, you had to prove just how much that stupid phrase meant to you.

Pogues 4 Life and Ride or Dies had grown to mean the same things.

The cards were laid out on the table and they spelled your name.

JJ insisted on you not going he had fought John B over it.

“If she goes in there alone she’s screwed, man!” JJ was angry, John B knew how much you mattered to him and agreed to it anyway “What if it was Sarah, huh?” 

“Don’t bring her into this, man” John B gave JJ a warning look as JJ scoffed and shook his head, his gaze shifted to the floor, almost ashamed of the words he was about to say aloud. 

“Anything, I mean anything happens to her, John B, and I will never speak to you again.” 

Yet he still spoke them, and with how much the two boys had conquered together they both knew every word as the truth, John B knew how risky it was to send you in to steal that artifact, although small you could be killed if found with it.

But John B needed it, and you offered.

“If I had told her no, she would’ve fought me, you know that.” John B said, a softer tone in his voice as he watched his best friend nod in response to his words. “I know she would have” 

Despite the protests from Pope, who had just been against the idea altogether, and JJ you still went in, walking through the dark museum while getting flashbacks to when JB and JJ convinced you to come investigate the abandoned house by the chateau in 8th grade.

You were all chased out by a scary man with a gun, it wasn’t loaded but 14-year-old you didn’t know that,  JJ and John B were cheering and hollering with all of their adrenaline on your way back while you focused on not having a panic attack.

You had felt all those feelings from when you were 14 all rushing back now,

But you did it, and when you made it out to the Twinkie and you were met with happy smiles and excited cheers you weren’t fighting off a panic attack, and you weren’t 14, and JJ was pissed.

~

JJ was fuming, 

You were confused because what does it matter?

It was barely a week ago that JJ had nearly killed himself while wrecking his motorbike but when you decide to sacrifice something it's bad?

“I have just as much on the line as you do JJ! What the hell is the difference?” Your tone had come off more tired than angry, a slight contrast to JJ’s 

“No, you don’t! See when I do shit like that it's okay because I’m not important but you! You are everything, Y/n, why would you even risk something so stupid like that?” JJ’s voice sounded exasperated.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you thought about JJ’s words, you opened your mouth to respond but before you could he shook his head and left, left his backpack on the couch, and walked to the door. shook his head, and left. 

JJ just left the chateau, leaving you standing there alone to really think over whatever the hell just happened between you two.

“You okay?” the sound of John B’s voice snapped you out of the trance JJ left you in, turning to look at him as he stood at the entrance of the backdoor. 

“Yea- Yeah, I’m fine, yeah.” shrugging shoulders and repetitive words didn’t quite convince either of you as you sighed. “He’s being so weird about this, John B,” you said, giving up on the everything is fine, facade as you put your face in your hands. 

“He’s just protective over you, should’ve seen how bitchy he got with me when I let you go in there.” John B, sat on the old couch, watching you with sympathetic eyes.

John B knew why JJ was being like this because of course he does, he just wasn’t planning to share with the class. 

“JJ is never like this with the rest of the pogues, not even you! Why does he single me out?” Your gaze fell on JB as he looked up at you with a small smile and a shrug. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what it is but, I’ve only ever gone that hard for Sarah” His words sunk in as he stood up and went down the hall to his bedroom, leaving you with the aftermath of uncovering more questions.

You sat where John B had previously, repeating his words in your head, what’s that even supposed to mean? Is he trying to play the sneaky and ominous- Oh my god, he’s trying to play Cupid.

But it’s not like JJ’s in love with you or something, he just couldn’t be.

But

If he had been in love with you that may explain many things, especially his behavior, and oh my god, again.

“JB, I’m leaving!” You called out, standing up and grabbing both your own and JJ’s backpacks as you rushed out the door not wasting time on waiting for John B to say bye. 

JJ had taken off on his motorbike which made you seriously regret having your dad help him fix it right about now as you had to go on foot but at least you knew where he’d be. 

~

It had been a thirty-minute walk but finally, that old bike came into view just before the familiar blond did, he fixed his hat, picking it up and shaking his hair for a second before putting it back on. He didn’t notice until you sat beside him, JJ turned to look at you before looking back at the water. 

A few moments passed like this, silence settling between you as you both stared at the water, arms touching and breathing becoming synced up. “You’re just not super replaceable” JJ broke the silence first, nudging your arm ever so softly. “Yeah, but neither are you” you nudged him back, looking at him only to be met with him already looking at you. 

You sighed, eyes flickering over his face as his gaze fell to what you could swear were your lips. “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly” Your voice was soft and quiet as you spoke, watching as JJ merely nodded in response. 

“Are you in love with me?” JJ’s whole body tensed at the question, he panicked, looking out to the water while thinking of an answer that wouldn’t take away every last bit of dignity he had left-

“Because I love you, JJ” You knew he was looking for an out and your genuine confession gave him one. He looked back at you as soon as the words settled in, “I just, I can’t-” JJ sighed, words stopping in his throat, eyes pleading with you to just understand, and of course you did.

Why would it suddenly be so easy for him to say out loud when he never hears it? 

“I know, J, just yes or-” “Yes, I am” he nodded so eagerly you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good,” you nodded.

You leaned into his hand when it found your cheek, gently guiding your face to his own before finally kissing you. Soft and slow and full of unsaid words, you felt it still even when he pulled back and sucked in a harsh breath. “I love you” JJ whispered, as if he was scared of it because he was.

But as you pulled him back for another kiss, he couldn’t help but think maybe he wouldn’t be anymore.

But that wouldn’t stop your JJ from fighting anyone who allowed you to get in harm's way, including you.

[choppersconfirmedkills]

Just Flowers

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (Ft. Best Friend Tess)

Word Count: 1.75k

Genre: Angst, with a bit of fluff

Warnings: Arguments, Joel being Joel, slight reference to an age gap, but it’s got fluff, not proofread

A/N: Happy Valentines Day! Here’s my first Joel Fic, I’m not all that content with it, the idea I had in my head didn’t really its way onto the page but I felt I should post it anyways.

Summary: It’s Valentines Day and you just wanted to do something nice for Joel.

It’s raining… in February. You could swear that ever since the outbreak occurred mother nature decided to switch everything up, weather included. But the rain didn’t bother you all that much especially when you had what you were looking for and you were finally home.

Or at least whatever this hobble was that you and Joel shared could be considered. The wallpaper was ugly and tattered, springs were sticking out of the couch, and you were pretty sure it was rat-infested, but it was what you had. 

You tried to be as quiet as possible when entering the confines of the apartment knowing Tess would probably be over and sleeping and Joel trying to get some semblance of it. You didn’t wish to do that to them today because the truth is the two of them deserved just a little bit of peace. And luckily for you, they might have found it because the coast was clear. 

Taking off your soaked outerwear, you took a sigh of relief. Everything had gone according to your hopes, which meant that tomorrow was going to go swimmingly. You wanted to surprise them with a few things. You had grown to care for both of these people, it was supposed to be just strictly business but eventually, they became the closest thing you had to family. With Joel, it was a bit different though. You knew he was closed off and pushed everyone in existence away, but you couldn’t help but fall for the old grump. And you thought he deserved to feel a little bit of that care you had for him.

Click.

“Shit,” you turned around to see that the lamp was turned on and Joel and Tess were on the couch, staring at you. As if your parents caught you sneaking in after curfew. Which you technically did.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Tess was the first to speak, adjusting in her seat slightly.

“Uhhhh, dark?”

“You’re damn skippy it is, where the hell were you at this time of night?” She stood up.

“Oh, nowhere and everywhere,” you responded, knowing you were being difficult, but there was no way you were spilling this secret right now. It wasn’t even Valentine's Day yet.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” Tess replied moving to grab your face and scanning you for injuries and bite marks. Tess would never admit it but she had a soft spot for you, you were like her younger annoying sibling that she could never get rid of. She was taking mental notes of your figure when she caught sight of your bandaged hand. You winced, preparing for the barrage that was about to come your way. “Where were you?” she asked again.

“Outside,” you huffed. It was a vague answer but they both knew what it meant.

“WHAT?” Joel was screaming, enough to make you physically flinch. “You went outside the walls? Alone? What the hell were you thinking?” 

“Joel, would you chill out? You’re scaring her” Tess glared at him. “Sweetie, come with me. Let’s talk where grumpy can’t bother us.” Taking your hand Tess brought you out into the hallway. 

“No, but seriously, what the hell were you thinking?” She smacked the back of your head, eliciting an obnoxious yelp from you. “Outside the walls?”

“Tess, I can handle myself just fine. Plus I didn’t go far,” you countered.

“It’s not you that I’m worried about. Joel about damn near had a heart attack. I’ve never seen him like that. And your hand? He’s going to lose it!”

“It’s not a bite,” you answered looking down at the bandage.

“I know it’s not, you wouldn’t have come in the apartment if it was. You scared us both, Y/N. Just don’t do it again.” Tess sighed.

“I’m sorry. I won’t. But I do hope this makes up for it a little bit?” You smiled reaching into your pocket and pulling out-

“Chocolate?” She gasped pulling the bar out of your hand.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you smiled at her.

“How’d you even get your hands on it?”

“A lot of shifts shoveling shit, and putting up with one handsy smuggler,” you laughed, earning a scowl from her. “It’s dark chocolate so I hope it hasn’t gone bad, but I know it was your favorite from before all of this.” 

“Alright, you’re forgiven, and thank you.” She pulled you into a hug which was not something she did very often. “Now go back in there and talk to Joel. Hopefully, you’ve got some incredible sweet talk up your sleeves for this because he is pissed.” She smiled at you and walked off towards her place, leaving you to deal with the fallout of a very angry Joel.

You took one last deep breath before opening the door to your inevitable doom. 

“Are you stupid, dumb, or both?” So that’s how he was going to start this.

“Joel, I can take care of myself just fine. I did it long before you or Tess came along,” you sighed moving to look at him. When your eyes finally focused in the dark you realized, he was wet. His clothes and his hair. “Joel, did you go out there and look for me?”

“Of course I did! What else did you expect me to do? Sit here in our place and wait for you to possibly come back home?” He yelled. “What in the hell possessed you to do something so damn reckless?”

“I didn’t go far. Not even a mile outside the walls! I was out there maybe an hour tops,” you yelled back. 

“An hour is plenty enough time for you to end up dead or worse.” Bit. “Knowing you that ain’t too far off an option!”

“Are you saying that I’m stupid enough to not watch my own fucking back? I know how to survive out there! You’re not the only person in the world who can do it!” You couldn’t understand why he was so angry at you. He had no reason to be, no ulterior motive. He didn’t have to take care of you. You just worked together and were roommates essentially. And like he told you all those years ago, he won’t get attached. 

“Yes, I am. Considering you went outside the QZ, at night, past curfew, in the rain, and alone! If that ain’t stupid I don’t know what is.” He huffed.

“And would you look at that, I came out unharmed!”

“Then what the hell is this?” He grabbed your bandaged hand and held it up like it was the final clue in a murder mystery movie.

“It’s fine,” you started unwrapping it, “the bleeding stopped a while ago so I should probably take this thing off.” There it was, just a bunch of superficial cuts littered across your palm. Some as faint as a paper cut others deep enough to leave a faint scar.

“How did you possibly do that?” Joel sighed inspecting your injury. He had calmed down considerably seeing how unharmed you really were. 

“What time is it?” You asked gently pulling your arm back to you.

“2 am. Don’t avoid the question,” he nearly growled. You just ignored it, walking towards the backpack you had long since discarded on the table. Reaching in you pulled out what you had caused this argument over.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” you said facing away from him.

“Are you fucking shitting me right now? Answer my damn question, Y/N,” he grumbled, starting to get himself angry again.

“Just do it Joel, Jesus Christ.” You took his disgruntled sigh as a sign that he gave in to your ridiculous request. Being as subtle as possible you put the gift in his hands, delighting in the confused look that graced his features. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You smiled a little watching him inspect what you gave him, but then you watched as he frowned and your heart broke a little. “Flowers? You did all that just for some fucking flowers?”

“Well, I’m sorry you don’t like them,” you scowled. 

“It’s ridiculous! All that danger for a couple of fucking wildflowers. It’s not important!”

“It is to me, Joel!” You snapped.

“They’re just flowers, for fuck sake.” 

“I know I was young when this all started, but every year on Valentine’s Day, my mother and I would go out into the yard and pick flowers to bring to my father as his gift,” you paused gathering your breath in hopes to prevent your voice from breaking, and you wore you could’ve heard him mutter ‘shit’ under his breath. “My mom used to tell me that giving someone flowers was a way to show you care and that Valentine’s Day was the perfect day to do so. So I wanted to do it for you. I don’t expect anything out of you, I never have, and I know you don’t let anyone in. I just wanted to show you my appreciation for you. Give you something beautiful in this shithole of a world.”

Joel was frozen gazing over the flowers, stuck in whatever thought process he was in. It was agony for you, floating in limbo while Joel fought a war with his thoughts. You don’t know how long it was until you heard him release the breath you didn’t even notice he was holding in. “God, don’t you ever do that again, you understand me?” He relented, pulling you into a hug, a hand placed on the back of your neck and the other on your lower back. “I thought you were gone.” 

“I don’t ever plan on leaving you, Joel,” you nuzzled into his chest, content to just live within his warmth like this.

“Now, seriously, how did you hurt your hand?” he sighed.

“Oh, I guess I forgot that a lot of these things have thorns in them. It was worth it though,” You smiled looking up at him. 

“That’s because you got me weeds,” the lightest chuckle escaped him, which made your heart burst at the seams. 

“You asshole,” you lightly shoved him through your giggles, breaking away from the hug. “They are beautiful flowers!”

“You risked your life to get me weeds because that’s what these are.” You just huffed at his commentary and tried to stomp away from him. That didn’t fly with him because he pulled you back into his embrace, holding you even tighter this time. “But thank you,” he whispered into the crown of your head, leaving a ghost of a kiss there.

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-one

(gif created by me, the fallen nightmare. feel free to use, simply give credit)

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Authors Note: Here we go! Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags:

"Mom, do you need anything before I leave?" I asked my mom, who was sitting on the couch in our living room.

Her eyes were cold and vacant as she watched the television, well tried to anyway. It didn't matter if she paid attention to whatever was on, she would forget in a while. When she didn't respond, I sighed and brushed the graying hair out of her face which caused her to look up at me, finally.

No hint of recognition in those vacant eyes.

"Who are you?"

Her words chipped away at the stone wall I had around my heart as I blew out a shaky breath.

"Y/N. I'm your daughter," I said while kneeling in front of her.

Even with my name spoken, my mother didn't recognize me.

It's been like this for the last six months since she first received her Alzheimer's diagnosis. It was farther than we would have liked and the doctor said that her health would decline fast. She forgot who I was one month after her diagnosis and the bad days were more so than the good days. From the second I woke up till the very moment I lay in bed for the night I spent the day taking care of her until recently. My job was going to pick up again which meant I would leave her for about five weeks.

I was terrified to leave her alone especially for that long. There was this great company that I can have a live in nurse take care of her while I'm gone but when I looked into pricing, I nearly had a heart attack. We did okay money wise. After my dad passed away a few years ago, he left us a decent cushion. The house was paid off a very long time ago which helped on the bills; except the medical bills.

Every drug, every trial, and every visit burned deeper into my pockets and now the overdue bill's kept pilling up on our kitchen table. My job paid good enough where I could fill our fridge with groceries and take care of the smaller things but even that couldn't help with the bigger things. I thought about asking for a small raise but the fear of having to tell one of my boss' why was daunting so I never did.

Which is where I was headed now. I had to help get everything ready before we hit the road for the tour. My heart fluttered knowing I would see him tonight.

"Y/N," my mom raised a brow. "I'm sorry, I don't know a Y/N."

I swallowed the lump in my throat then gave her knee a squeeze. "I should only be gone for a few hours. My phone number is writing on the piece of paper next to the house phone."

I pointed to the table next to her where said phone and paper was. My mom tracked it with her vacant eyes and nodded.

"Just watch your show and before you know it, I'll be back. Alright?"

She said nothing, merely watched the television, so I stood straight, giving her shoulder a squeeze and left the house. I wasn't the one to pray so instead I whispered out into the world my words repeatedly.

"She will be fine. She can handle herself for a few hours."

I walked into the large warehouse hearing laugher and voices carry which eased my worries of leaving my mom alone. No one I worked with knew about my mom and I planned to keep it that way. Davis smiled at me when I walked over to the large table he was standing in front of, a large array of shirts, hats, and sweaters lay on top of it.

"Think it'll be enough?" I asked as I started helping him fold everything into sections.

Davis shrugged. "It's always good to have extra than not enough."

"The new designs look sick," I said.

"Thanks," Davis smiled while bumping his shoulder with me.

While Davis and everyone else who worked for the band had important jobs, mine wasn't anything even close to important. The only reason I got the job was because Davis and I went to high school together. We weren't best friends but stayed in touch. He's also the only one who knows something is going on back home but never knew exactly what; which is why he recommended the job for me. He knew I was desperate for money.

I was the merch girl for Bad Omens and the vocalist absolutely despised it.

Maybe it was because I never asked him for the job or the slack that merch girls always get. They only have the job so they can hook up with members of the band. Which was the absolute last thing I wanted to do; even if he was breathtakingly handsome.

As if her could sense my thoughts about him, his ethereal voice echoed throughout the warehouse and my breath caught in my throat. I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing at the back of a large truck, the one where the merch and other things for the new tour will go.

The smile that graced Noah Sebastian's face brightened everything dark and scary in my mind for a few moments and I reveled in the way my heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.

"You're staring."

Turning back to Davis, I scoffed and went back to work of stuffing the boxes. "I am not."

"Are you actually going to talk to him this tour? Last one you barley said three words to him," he said.

"I would if he wasn't such an asshole towards me. I didn't even do anything to deserve the cold shoulder."

Davis sighed while letting a large pile fall into the box at our feet, a lot messier than the ones I had been packing. I gave him a narrowed gaze of annoyance, one he ignored.

"Don't take it personal. Noah is quiet. I'm sure if you tried to talk to him, you'd find out he's a great guy," Davis suggested.

"I'd rather chew broken glass," I muttered.

I'd work with Bad Omens and crew for about almost a year now and in that time, Noah and I spoke less than ten words to each other. While on the last tour, I kept to myself not knowing anyone besides Davis which might have put me off to Noah. He probably thought I didn't care about getting to know anyone else here; which wasn't true. I had other things on my mind.

Like wondering how I was going to pay my mom's medical bills.

"New designs look sick, Davis."

My shoulders stiffened at the deep voice, his scent filling all of my senses. I could see Noah out of the corner of my eye while I continued to fold the shirts and sweaters. His gaze burned into the side of my head before falling to the messy pile of clothes in the box.

"You're not going to leave it like that, are you?" Noah raised a brow.

I audibly choked on my spit at him blaming me for that mess.

"No, I was planning on leaving it like that. I mean what's the point of folding everything perfect when it's just going to be packed in a box," I replied dryly while holding up the pile of clothes I had been folding.

Something flashed in his dark eyes, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly.

"She does speak."

"Oh, fuck off Noah. I'm not in the mood," I snapped while giving him my back.

Davis let out a low whistle before taking the now full box of merch to the truck, leaving Noah and I alone. It might have been a bad idea snapping at him like that but it was true. I was dealing with a lot at home so the last thing I needed was bullshit from him.

"Did you break up with your boyfriend?"

The shirt I was folding fell onto the table at his words. Boyfriend? I didn't have one; I never did.

"I don't have a boyfriend," I muttered, fingers toying with the fabric of the shirt.

Noah hummed while leaning against the table next to me. He sat facing everything behind me while I stood facing the wall behind him.

"Davis didn't want to go out with you?" He pressed with a sly smirk.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my growing anger at bay. I already snapped at him once, I couldn't risk my job my doing it again.

"Davis and I are just friends. I don't think of him like that and I'm sure the feelings are mutual."

"Good," Noah nodded. "Because the last thing I need is you distracting someone on the crew because of a little crush."

My eyes snapped over to him, flaring with fury. "What is your problem with me, Noah? If you don't want me here, just fire me so you can stop wasting my time and yours."

With how much taller he was than me, even sitting on the edge of the table Noah towered over me as he leaned closer. His warm breath fanned across my face as I peered up at him. Even with my fury, my heart hammered hard against my chest with our proximity, something I hope Noah couldn't hear.

"Trust me, angel. You'd know if I was wasting my time with you."

He watched me for a few moments before walking away; him taking the warmth that cocooned around me away with him. I blinked long after he left, trying to let his words process in my mind. What the hell did he mean by that?

But suddenly, his pet name for me was the only thing at the forefront of my mind and I wasn't sure if I liked the way my body reacted to it; heat spreading from my heart straight down between my legs, core aching with need.

For the next little while, I worked alone finishing up folding all the merch and when I had four boxes stuffed full; I began bringing them over to the truck. On my way back with my third box, I saw Noah and Nick Folio standing at the back of the truck, laughing about something I didn't know. I ignored the way my stomach warmed at seeing the large smile on Noah's face as I walked past him up the ramp of the truck.

Folio noticed how I could barley see over the box and reached out for it.

"Hey, Y/N. Need some help?" He asked.

I let him take it with a small smile. "Thanks, Folio."

Unlike Noah, I spoke to the other members of the band and crew. I wouldn't say we were close but more than strangers.

"How many more do you have?" He asked as he set down the box next to the others.

"Just one. I can get it though, I don't want to distract you."

As the last few words came from lips, I made sure to lock my eyes with Noah, who was watching me with bright eyes, arms crossed over his chest. The way his eyes glinted with the setting sun almost made a smile break out on my face.

Almost.

Folio looked between Noah and I before letting out a low chuckle. "If you guys go the whole tour with this tension, something is going to explode before it ends."

I shook my head. "There's no tension."

"Right," Folio clicked his tongue. "And I play guitar for Bad Omens."

The sarcasm in his voice wasn't missed and with a sigh, I left the two of them back to whatever they were doing before I interpreted. The only tension, if there was any, between Noah and me was hate. He never liked me even from my first day. So why would I bother being nice to him when he didn't give a shit about me?

After the last box was loaded into the truck, I began walking back into the warehouse to see if Davis needed me for anything else when my phone rang.

"Mom?" I spoke when I saw the caller I.D.

Noah was walking inside the warehouse with Nick Ruffilo, laughing that beautiful laugh, so not wanting him to hear my conversation I held back away from them.

"Who is this?"

I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. "Mom, it's Y/N. You called me. Is everything alright?"

"Oh." There was a long beat of silence on the other line before some rustling came through. "I was hungry and wanted to make something to eat."

"NO!" I yelled into the phone.

Noah turned to look at my sudden outburst but I didn't bother to look at him, the fear of wondering if my mom turning on the stove filled me.

"Did you turn on the stove?" I asked.

"No, there's a note saying not too. Which is why I called."

I swallowed the sob that almost crawled out of my throat.

"Okay, good." I nodded. "I'm almost done at work. I'll pick up some pizza on the way home. You like pizza."

Another long beat of silence.

"Alright. I'll go back to watching my show."

"Good, I'll be home soon. Love you mom."

The line clicked off before I even finished speaking and I stared at my phone with a long breath. If she had turned on the stove, things would have been a lot worse. A few weeks ago while I was taking a nap, my mom tried to cook something and forgot about it, letting it blaze up in flames and when she tried to extinguish it, she burned her hand pretty bad. So since that day, I had a large note tapped to the front panel of the oven saying not to use it.

Thank goodness I did.

"Everything alright?"

I jumped slightly at the deep voice and quickly wiped away the stress tears that burned at the corners of my eyes before turning on my heels. Noah stood in front of me with his hands buried deep into the pocket of his black hoodie. My hands itched to run through the messy strands of his face but I held back.

"Uh, yeah. I loaded all the boxes up in the truck. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

His gaze took over my chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath I took and I knew he noticed the tears that gathered in the edge of my eyes.

"If you could-."

My phone rang again, interrupting Noah, and I apologized with a sheepish frown. When I saw the unknown number, I excused myself from him and answered.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Y/L/N?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

"This is Chief Reynolds with the Los Angeles fire department."

My heart fell out of my ass and I stumbled out an incoherent sentence, forgetting that Noah was still standing behind me.

"What happened?" I finally managed out.

"We have a Mrs. Y/L/N here at your residence."

I rapidly nodded even though the Chief couldn't see. "That's my mom. Is she alright?"

"Well, it seems as if she tried to cook something on your stove and let the gas burn. A neighbor called in a strong smell of gas. It seems as if she had it burning for a while."

"Oh fuck," I groaned while running a hand through my hair. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, we tested her for any effects of the gas but she seems fine. We opened some windows to air it out. You shouldn't have any issues."

I spoke to him for a few more seconds before thanking him and hanging up. Fucking hell, she tried to cook something and damn near exposed herself to gas. I left her for two hours, how the fuck was I supposed to leave her for five weeks?

"Do you need to leave?"

I jumped, hand over my chest when I suddenly remembered Noah was still standing behind me. For the first time in almost a year of knowing him, I saw concern in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Uh, a small emergency at home. I have to go take care of it," I said.

Noah nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. Did you have a ride set up for Saturday?"

I cursed, almost forgetting that in two days we were leaving for tour. I needed the money but also couldn't bear the idea of leaving my mom alone.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I was going to ride on the crews bus."

"I hope things are alright," he said while motioning to my car in the parking lot.

"Thanks," I grumbled before jogging over to the car, not wanting to leave my mom alone for a second longer.

[starlazergazer]

Spare Key

Pairing: Anakin x reader

Request: An AU where your left eye is your own color but the right is the color of your soulmates, set between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith, Anakin runs into his soulmate on a lower shadier level of Coruscant where she works as a bartender for a bar that mostly deals with mercenaries and bounty hunters. From here the reader and Anakin have to work through the issues of Anakin not being able to form attachments and the jedi order

Warnings: Some swearing, some jealousy, lots of angst

Word count: 3K

A/N: sorry this took me so long to get out but I really hope you like it I had a lot of fun with the creative freedom and hope you like where I took the story! Sorry it’s angsty!!

 Anakin had never much bothered to study the color of his right eye. There was no point in it really, the jedi code was strict, jedi knights could not form attachments with anyone, even soulmates did not trump it, though it felt cruel for the universe to give him one anyways.

A part of him long ago had mourned the loss of what could have been, had he stayed on Tattooine could he have met her? Was she out there somewhere waiting for him? A soulmate that could never be. Did she even know?

But as he grew up, started to get more serious about being a jedi knight and exactly what that meant he accepted it, accepted that perhaps the order had a reason to establish such a rule it their code. His mind became filled with other thoughts, troubles, dreams, desires, and he forgot about the soulmate that could have been and the color of her eye.

That was why he didn’t think twice when he saw the color of the bartenders left eye as she bent down just beside him to put a round of drinks on the table.

A part of him, a small part that never grew up or moved on, noted that the color of her left matched the color of his right but that didn’t mean much. There were only so many eye colors out there and he had met more than enough with the right color but that didn’t mean they were the ones.

He had a mission to focus on anyways, a table of mercenaries spread out around him as they accepted him as one of their own, talked of the job they were planning to pull off in just a few days, Anakin’s ears finely attuned to the conversation to report back to the council later.

A small break in the conversation as drinks were passed around and the man next to him asked for another, a voice sweet as honey answered him smoothly, the tone hinting at a smile behind those words and Anakin felt his attention being pulled, his gut wrenching ever so slightly as he found he needed to see who had spoken them, needed to see the smile for himself.

He was met with quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the quick glance he stole just moments ago when she set down glasses not nearly enough to do her features justice, a soft smile playing on her lips that was effortlessly lighting up the room, drawing out a similar one on the man next to ham’s features along with quite possibly the most polite words he’d heard the man utter since sitting down. Somehow even getting a please at the end of his question.

He felt himself smirk at the sight, his eyes climbing further up her features before he froze, a very familiar left eye staring down at the mercenary as he spoke, his own eye.

A part of him insisted that it was a fluke, that blue eyes were common in Coruscant, that surely that couldn’t be his own, but at the same time he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t shake the thought as it consumed his conscious mind, his eyes only breaking from her as she slipped past to go back to the bar, his gaze hovering in the empty space where she had been for far too long.

“I’ll go grab that for you” the words were out of his mouth before he could even think them, a hand clapping the man next to him’s shoulder briefly as he stood up and made his way to the bar, at the moment not caring that he was abandoning his mission.

He walked up to the bar on Shakey legs, leaning more onto the countertop than necessary as he watched you work, pouring another drink for his table, her eyes flicking up to his as he stared for longer than what was polite.

She, however, didn’t seem to notice, her body freezing as her gaze connected with his own, her own eyes dancing happily back and forth between his, studying every detail carefully, drinking in the familiarity those eyes brought

“Oh-ah-what can I get you?” something snapped her out of the paralysis, her posture snapping upright as she tried to go back to her job, a distinct pink hue taking over her cheeks as he did so that had Anakin grinning.

“I’m Anakin” he held out his hand, not caring that that didn’t answer her question.

“Y/N” she returned with a smile, clearly showing that she didn’t care either, the handshake going on for a few seconds longer than was necessary.

Eventually Anakin regretfully withdrew his hand, elbow coming up to lean on the bar, by no means eager to leave “Can I just say you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen”

And to his delight she laughed at this, head going back slightly as her body shook with it. With that sound Anakin knew that he was screwed, you both were. Because there was no way this could possibly end well, but he was sure going to enjoy every moment with you in between

-

“Did you have a good date tonight?”

The question came from a darkened corner of your apartment, the familiar voice cutting unexpectedly through the silence making you jump slightly as you walked into the room, turning to shut and lock your door with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“You scared me” you tried to avoid the question, tried to move naturally to pull down the end of your dress, to act like this was all normal.

And to an extent it was, it wasn’t the first time Anakin had used the extra key you gave him, telling him he could come by whenever he liked, knowing he needed a place to get away from the order every once in a while. But this time was different, you knew it would be if he were here, was why you never even considered bringing the guy home with you that night, while that and a few more reasons…

“Did you have a good date tonight?” he repeated his question again and you knew you weren’t getting out of answering it. His tone wasn’t curious, it was flat, accusatory, it was a tone looking for a fight and you had a hard enough time talking yourself into going on the date in the first place, let alone defending that decision to Anakin.

“It was fine” you forced a shrug, forced your tone to be light and nonchalant, forced yourself out of the little foyer and into the room where he could actually see you from his chair, walking over to the kitchen for a glass of water, putting distance between the two of you as if that could calm the oncoming storm.

And to your surprise it seemed to work, his next words coming out much softer than before, barely more than a whisper “I haven’t seen that dress before”

You looked down at your dress as if you had forgotten what you were wearing, eyes grazing over the short, tight, black dress you had worn tonight for your date, a dress you’d worn because you knew you looked good in it, something your date obviously had noticed too. “It’s new”

You heard Anakin’s loud breath from across the room, a long sigh followed by a bitter chuckle, “you bought a new dress for him”

“Anakin why are you here?” you sighed, hands coming naturally to your hips as you looked down at the Jedi in his seated position, gearing up for the fight your could feel coming, the tension in the room thick enough you could feel it.

“I just want to know” he shrugged casually, giving you a moment’s pause to prepare for his next words, for the sucker punch he knew he was about to deliver “what’s the point?”

And just like that you could feel the anger building within you, feel every ounce of patience start to leave as you crossed your arms defensively over your chest, willing yourself to keep a level head “if you’re here just to start a fight you can leave”

“I was just curious” he had a smirk on his face as he pushed himself to his feet, as if he enjoyed taunting you like this “you know he’s not the one, will never be the one, so why bother?”

Your chest puffed as you forced calm deep breaths as he approached you, words forming and dying within your head as you formulated your response. Because there are still options you wanted to scream, for no other reason than to remind yourself of that fact. This was real life, shit happens, soulmates die, or never meet, or are jedi knights sworn to a stupid jedi code to never form attachments and people still needed options for a relationship, for intimacy, for love.

But you knew that argument would fall on deaf ears because it fell on your own the same way. Because it was too hard to believe you could still move on while he was here, to settle for second best while your soulmate stood right in front of you, the evidence written in his eyes that were identical to your own in every way.

“What would you have me do Ani?”

And you could feel the defeat slipping into your tone as you asked, the spite in you ebbing and flowing with the sadness in a way too complicated and too exhausting for you to keep up with as you mourned something that never was and never could be. How can a person mourn a relationship that does not exist?

You watched Anakin’s chest rise and fall before you as he took a few deep breaths in contemplation, the time bringing down his anger in his tone before he answered “I don’t know, I just-I thought I’d have more time”

This time it was your turn to laugh bitterly, taking a few steps back from him not needing to feel his overwhelming presence right now “Okay how about you give me a number, the number of days I’m allowed to wait before moving on and I’ll stick to that yeah?”

Another sigh escaped him as he dragged a hand down his tired face, “Look this is…this is hard for me-“

“Oh and you don’t think this is hard for me?” you asked with a scoff, hands coming back up to cross over your chest.

His eyes raked up and down your body for a brief second, the action sending shivers up your spine before he scoffed “oh yeah looks like you’re absolutely miserable”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demanded with a raised brow, neither of you bothering to cap the volume of your voices, not caring if your neighbors could hear at this point.

“Oh poor Y/N has to go out on dates with guys who fawn over how beautiful she is” Anakin put a slight whine in his voice as he mocked you, “Least you don’t have to watch your soulmate fall in love with someone else”

“And who’s fault is that?” you countered immediately but you could feel the pressure starting to build in the base of your throat, the draw in your forehead as your eyebrows drew together.

Anakin drew his in response, his voice doping down once again as he looked at you in confusion, “you blame me for this?”

Seeing the way your lip quiver ever so slightly, the glass sheen that grew over your eyes, Anakin was reaching for you instinctively, but you batted his hands away quickly, taking another step back, curling your arms around yourself protectively “who else would I blame?” you asked hollowly “you’re a jedi, you can’t form attachments, you don’t get to have a soulmate, I don’t fit into your world”

Anakin’s response to that came quickly, “say the word and I’ll leave”

And it was spoken so softly, so earnestly that you froze on the spot, eyes bouncing back and forth between his, a perfect match of your own. “what?”

“Say the word and I will leave the Jedi order” he repeated never breaking eye contact with you, never hesitating on a single word.

“No you don’t mean that” you said softly, shaking your head ever so slightly because he couldn’t mean that. The jedi order was Anakin’s life, it is all he’s ever known, it had his mentor Obi-wan, the closest thing he had to family.

“I could get a job with you” he insisted nonetheless, taking slow steps towards you, grabbing your hands in his and giving them a soft squeeze “or fixing things, maybe a mechanic, I don’t know but I could figure it out. Just say the word and I’m yours”

And gods that was exactly what you had always wanted to hear from him. Because he was yours, he was your soulmate just as you were his, and here he was telling you that you were his priority, that he would give up everything for you, that you were more important to him than any future or destiny set out already before him.

Gods did it hurt to hear those words knowing they could never be true.

“that’s not fair” your words came out as barely more than a whisper, the first of your tears finally spilling over the surface and down your cheek, the lump in your throat growing so large it hurt.

“We could live here” he continued on, a soft smile on his face as he spoke “cook eachother dinner, watch movies on the couch, do normal couple things-“

“Stop, please Ani just stop” you had to cut him off, had to stop the image of what your life could be like from forming, stop to onslaught of what ifs from streaming past, because you were weak, and you knew if he kept going, if he kept staring down at you with that hopeful smile and puppydog eyes that you would cave.

“Just say the word” he whispered back to you, giving your hands another soft squeeze.

You pulled them out of his, pulled your body away from his, shaking your head as you put as much distance as possible between the two of you “you can’t put that on me Anakin. You don’t get to make this my decision so that you get to resent me later for making it”

His brows furrowed at that “I wouldn’t resent you, I want to leave the order, I want to chose you, just tell me that I can”

“You can’t” a bitter laugh escaped you at that, a glare sent his direction because he knew why he couldn’t, knew why things had to be the way they were and still was insistent that it was your problem, your fault “I know about the prophecy, I know you’re supposed to be ‘the chosen one’, that you bring light to the force or whatever, so you don’t get to just walk away from everything”

“And yet here I am” the anger was bighting back into his voice, the volume starting to rise again “saying that I will walk away from everything for you”

Another tear spilt over and you didn’t bother to wipe it away, refusing to break eye contact with Anakin as he dared you to say something, dared you to tell him to stay. Why did he have to make it so hard, why couldn’t he accept that this was the way things had to be. “I will not be that girl. I will not be the one to doom the entire galaxy, the entire order, especially while we are on the cusp of a war, for selfish reasons”

Anakin took a minute to respond, a deep breath filing the silence before another small hollow chuckle “and you still say this is my fault?”

And there it was, the reason he had started this fight, to release him of his own guilt. To be able to say that he wasn’t ruining your chance at having a relationship with your soulmate, rather you were ruining his.

And at this point fine. You were tired, done with the same argument, done having to rationalize everything not only to yourself but to Anakin as well. If he wanted you to be the bad guy then fine you’ll be the bad guy.

“Anakin” you sighed, a hand coming to your forehead as you pinched the bridge of your nose as you prepared yourself “just leave”

You could see him set his jaw at your words, the way his hands balled up into fists, but he said nothing more, simply made for the door.

“Leave the key”

He froze at the words you had thrown back at him last minute, the implications you were trying to sneak upon him in the last seconds, his head whipping around to look at you.

“Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow” he tried to grovel with you, tried to back down from the ledge you had put you both upon.

“I can’t do this anymore” you pleaded back to him, arms defensively over your chest as you tried and failed to maintain your eye contact, seeing your own eyes staring back at you hurting too much “can’t keep having the same argument, I can’t have you around all the time, so close and never close enough. I can’t do it anymore Anakin”

And he blinked back at you in surprise, hesitating for a long moment before he thrust his hand into a pocket of his robes, rooting around for a minute before extracting a small metal key, holding it stationary in the air for a second before hesitantly setting it down on your coffee table, hand hovering above it for a moment before he extracted it.

“I’ll see you around then…right?”

The hopeful tone in his voice killed you, both of you knowing that your paths didn’t cross naturally, that he was often gone for weeks at a time on missions, that he had a war to win.

“Yeah Ani, sure”

And he forced on a smile at your words, the corners of his lips just barely tilting up before he turned back around and headed for the door, your eyes breaking down to the key.

There was the sound of the door shutting, then a brief pause, and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall before you were ushered into the deafening silence of your empty apartment, eyes never breaking from the small metal key on the coffee table.

Part 2 Here

[dbnightingale24]

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

~~

~~

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had. 

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you. 

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside. 

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it. 

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent. 

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you. 

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room. 

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else. 

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all. 

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now. 

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking. 

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table. 

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes. 

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart. 

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all. 

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod. 

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind. 

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you. 

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud. 

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment. 

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled. 

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you. 

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps. 

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner. 

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

~~

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello! I'd like to request Eula, Hu Tao, and Rosaria's s/o getting super shy/flustered about asking to hold their hand

Even tho its super cheesey i have an absolute soft spot for the trope or whatever you call that tbh

I can't believe this is what I'm using my education for...

Eula and Hu Tao with a reader that get's shy when asking to hold their hand

Characters: Hu Tao / Eula x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: I have to admit that I have absolutely no idea how to write for Rosaria. I came up with something, but it would have literally been something like 2 sentences. So I'm really sorry.

I'm just happy that I got to write for my two favourite's again. it's been so long

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Hu Tao 

Hu Tao never had, isn’t currently in the possession of, and never will grow a sense of shame, so while that meant that getting her to be embarrassed by something she did was almost an impossibility, it didn’t need a genius detective to notice that the people she surrounded herself with, with the exception of Zhongli and Xingqiu, although she was sure she’d get to him someday, didn’t exactly fit the same criteria.

So while her heart did skip a beat whenever you asked her anything that made your face turn red, she couldn’t help but use the chance to get a bit of fun out of your nervousness.

You should have known that no good was going to come out of agreeing to Hu Tao’s request to go somewhere together, but your stupid brain couldn’t help but accept when she asked, too excited when she took the word “date” in her mouth.

Unluckily for you however, the funeral parlor’s director’s definition of a date was taking a trip to wuwang hill and hunting for any lost souls.

“I… don’t know if it's such a good idea to go there. It seems pretty dark”, you voiced your concerns upon seeing where she was going to take you, only for Hu Tao to turn around quickly enough for you to nearly get a heart attack when you were suddenly greeted with her face mere inches away from yours, and summoning her weapon before triumphantly showing it off.

“If it’s too dark for you, I can light my weapon. We might start a small wildfire, but it’s not like the ghosts will care too much”, she suggested with her typical smile, making sure to pronounce the word “ghosts” in as unsettling of a voice she could muster.

It didn’t do much, but coupled with the already sinistre energy the hills gave off and the small, transparent children you could swear you saw running around from the corner of your eyes, only for them to vanish once you took a closer look, made the king of all shivers run down your spine.

“...or”, she began talking once again, causing you to look up at her, anticipating her next words, “you could hold my hand if you’re scared.”

It didn’t take you long to shake your head and stutter out a responce as your face turned hot, only for Hu Tao to laugh and turn back around, ready to lead you farther into the forest. Or at least she would have, if the sound of something stepping on a branch behind a nearby bush hadn’t caused you to nearly fall over dead. And while she wouldn’t complain about receiving a new customer, business could wait for a little longer.

“Y- you know what? I- is the offer still available?”, you asked slowly, the shame and nervousness openly displayed in your voice, as you looked to the ground, too scared of what you might see if you looked up at her..

“Sure, if you buy a casket from me? They’re surprisingly affordable… most of them at least”, Hu Tao joked, only to shut up for a second when she realized you were too occupied with fearing for your life to notice her genius joke.

In one quick motion, she grabbed your hand before moving to your side so the two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, before suddenly intertwining her fingers with yours.

“But since it’s you this should suffice.”

And while you spent the rest of the trip too embarrassed and deafened by the internal screaming to feel frightened by the dark hills that made you nervous from just thinking about them not long ago, Hu Tao happily skipped by your side while humming her favorite tunes.

Eula

Eula, being born and raised as an aristocrat, had been taught how to do anything with elegance and dignity, from chuckling, to getting out of what would otherwise become an awkward scene. All of which was to say that something like holding another person’s hand was no problem to her either, having to have done so at many balls and other events in her past. So as long as you remained at least somewhat calm when asking to hold her hand, it should be no problem at all.

…so why was asking this difficult?

With every minute that your date drew nearer to a close, you became less and less talkative, eventually coming to a point where you silently sat and ate your food while remaining completely silent. If it hadn’t been for the hundreds of quick glances you took at her, only to immediately look back down when your eyes crossed, Eula would have simply assumed you were getting tired. It was pretty late after all and as she knew you, you’d probably spent most of last night awake, overthinking what you would do the next day. But now, she couldn’t help but worry about other motives.

Was there something on her face? Eula quickly wiped the corners of her mouth with ner napkin, trying to play it off as casual as possible.

There it was again! You were still glancing at her, somehow seeming even more nervous than before. If it wasn’t any food, what was it? Was there someone behind her you didn’t exactly have fond memories of? Would it be weird to take a look? Or was it her after all that caused you to act this way? Did she say something hurtful before? No wait, did you take her joke too literally? Maybe she should work on her communication skills after all?

“caniholdyourhand?”, the words shot out of your mouth, as you nervously looked around, your cheeks having turned a deep shade of red.

“What?” Eula asked, more in confusion than in anything else. Was this what you were acting all nervous about? A part of her felt relief wash over her, and yet your shyness began rubbing off on her more than she’d like.

“Can I- you know… uhm. Hold your hand?”, you asked once again, a lot slower this time but in turn much more quiet than before.

Before long, Eula reached out her hand for yours before grabbing it. There was no need to act all shy about something like hand holding, afterall, especially for an aristocrat like her. But then again, you had never been too confident about things like this, so she might as well give you a hand and help you out a bit.

Or so she’d like to, if her face wasn’t in the process of matching yours in the color department.

…Why was this so much more difficult with you?

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - First Meeting 2/4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 and end

Part 2, sequel of this. This Hero and Villain have now their own tag and masterlist.

*

Hero woke up and they didn’t like that very much.

The ground was hard under their head, and they winced. Their fingers unwillingly clenched and grasped some gravel.

Wait a minute. That meant they weren’t in a room. Not theirs, anyways. Come to think of it, where were they and what happened ? Their head hurt. They touched their forehead gently. There was no blood, and it looked like it was in its usual shape. Still, it hurt.

Maybe the next step was standing up, come to think of it. So they did. Stretching up, they clasped their tongue, trying to focus. It had been a while since they had felt this sluggish. They were in a little street. Okay. That was an important piece of information. So, they were going back from their last job (stopping a robbery, nothing serious) when – when – they forgot.

How could have they forgotten ?

They stayed still. Apart from them, there was no one in the street. Everything was quiet. And, possibly, very wrong. Something was missing. Hero was quite sure that it wasn’t a street before, but a dead end. What was blocking the way before was a two-storeyed building, full of people. Now it was... gone. It hadn’t been demolished or anything. There weren’t ruins or even rubble around. There just wasn’t a trace of it, as if it never existed. It was the right street though, and if they struggled very hard to remember, they were inside just before. There were just fragments of memories. A thief sulking in a corner, their hands tied up behind their back. A smile from an old lady. A warm cup of tea into their hands and the odor of the mint.

The next minutes were used to frantically search for the people who lived there, anyone. After a lot of swearing and some tears, they had to renounce. They sat on the ground, vaguely entertaining the idea of curling up and never getting up ever, when their phone rang.

“Are you okay ?” asked Other Hero. “There was an attack from Supervillain in your area.”

“Yes. Just where I was, in fact.”

“Oh shit ! How did you survive ?”

“I think my powers protected me. But a whole building is gone and I – I don’t understand what happened.”

“ It’s your first time with this guy, uh ? You’d better sit down, buddy, I’m gonna break it to you.”

Other Hero had that tone she always had when they passed their regular tests, just before obtaining the highest grades. Hero listened.

“His power is very simple, actually,” she declared. As you saw – or rather as you didn’t see - he can make things disappear. He only has to look at the zone, and everything is gone.”

“A whole building ? What about the people ?”

“I’m sorry, have I stuttered ? Gone.”

A drop of sweat slowly trickled down Hero’s forehead.

“I don’t see how I could fight that”, they finally said. Is there a way ? Has he got a weakness ?”

“Oh, you can’t. With your powers, that is. It’s best if you don’t try. At least you’re protected, but you haven’t got what it takes to bring him down.”

“You do.”

“Of course, but I’ve got my area to protect, you know. Tell you what though, I’ll call the agency and ask them if they can send you backup.”

“Thanks, but -”

They didn’t have the time to finish their sentence. Other Hero had hung up. Having backup was good, but with this kind of threat it couldn’t hurt to have a plan B.

The warehouse they had visited a couple of weeks ago was not far, and still standing. With a bit of luck, it was still Villain’s lair. Hero hadn’t come back since. It wasn’t as if this villain seemed like a serious threat anyway. Even the place itself wasn’t that threatening, past the first impression. So they opened the door without much thought, and because they were still dizzy, they walked on a button without noticing. They only had time to gasp and protect their head with their arms when a huge cage just fell right on them.

There was a series of clicks, and when they opened their eyes again, they were surrounded by heavy metal bars. Spotlights illuminated their trap one by one while a booming laugh resonated in the room:

“You’re mine now ! Miiiiine !”

A dark shape appeared at the end of the corridor. The spotlights were strong, but they couldn’t lighten it up. Light seemed to avoid the black silhouette.

“I knew you’ve come back to taunt me, nemesis, but that was your downfall ! See what I could do in your absence ! Tell me, prisoner, am I harmless now ?”

Hero didn’t answer. They were still staring at the darkness. Villain had to clear their throat to get their attention.

“I said ! Am ! I ! Harmless ?”

“Uh ? Oh, uh, yes. I mean, no – I mean – what was the question again ?”

A grunt of frustration came out of the silhouette:

“You are into my claws ! How can you not pay attention to every one of my words ? I am the master of your life – nay, the master of your very fate ! Be awed !”

“I kinda am.”

The shape stopped its walk:

“You – you are ?”

“Yes. Do you control shadows ?”

“Only mine, but as it is the best, I do not care what others could offer me.”

“ And yet you could darken this whole warehouse”, whispered Hero. “And all the buildings you go to. I suppose you can make it as big as you wish. That’s impressive.”

“Extremely. I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. Imprisonment quickly taught you some manners.”

“Actually, I didn’t come to fight you. I came for two things. A warning, first.”

“Ah, it is to laugh ! They’re nothing but a pitiful prisoner, a mere prey at my mercy, but still they try to rebel ! Such audacity.”

“Supervillain is here.”

“You have to be more precise.”

“The one who can make everything disappear.”

“...shit. I mean, curses !”

“And he’s here to stay if I don’t do anything to stop him.”

“So you want to beg for your freedom ? What if all of that was an outrageous lie to deceive me as a way to mock me once more? ”

“That’s the thing, Villain. Even if I were free, I couldn’t defeat him. I’m not powerful enough. That’s the second thing I wanted to tell you. I need your help.”

“ Excuse me ?”

“Supervillain needs to see to use his power. But if the whole area is in your shadow, he’ll be helpless.”

“A poor plan, if I might say so. I only need to cover his eyes to blind him.”

“If you succeed to find him first, that is.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. If memory serves, he had an awfully tacky magenta suit, even flashier than your orange jacket. But wait ! Why should I listen to you ? Why should I expose myself to the cruel outside and the crueler sun ?”

“Your warehouse might be on his way. And that’s the kind of act that can grant you a pardon from the agency.”

The silhouette recoiled:

“I neither need nor want a pardon. I am a devious malevolent being of pure darkness and I intend to stay that way.”

Hero wiped his forehead. They were getting tired.

“Okay, fine. We’re running out of time. What do you want ?”

“For starters, I want you to kneel.”

Hero tilted their head, confused:

“Why ?”

“You know. To acknowledge my superiority and your defeat, all of that good stuff.”

“Oh. Okay, if you want.”

Hero politely obeyed while the laugh resonated once more:

“Yes...yes ! Muahaha I am the unflinching and unbowed victor of our perilous fight !”

“Uh-uh, sure. If there something else ? I think that we’re running out of time here.”

“Pledge your allegiance to me.”

“What ? But I’m a hero. I can’t.”

“Then I won’t help.”

Hero actually felt a twinge of remorse. That was a promise they were going to break, but then again, it was going to be made under duress.

“What would you make me do ?”

A moment of silence ensued.

“I don’t actually know”, admitted Villain. “It would be my first time someone would submit to me, I don’t go outside much. The very thought of another soul touching my tools and my creations makes even my dark soul shudder.”

“I could go shopping for you. This way you won’t have to scare citizens.”

“Using your own money to trade for the goods I decide you to get to sustain my mortal body ?” asked the voice which was suddenly a lot more cheerful.

“You really don’t like to go outside, uh ?”

“Hush, prisoner. It is decided, then. I shall fight this obnoxious magenta menace who…!”

Despite the heavy doors, a piercing scream from outside made them both start. Hero jumped on their feet.

“...And the sooner, the better.”

*

Sequel here

Back to These Two Dorks masterlist.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[atschoolunfortunetly]

A Very Long and Very Rage Written Rant about people talking about the FNAF Movie because I am seeing some takes that make me want to bash my head into a wall.

Very quickly an apology to my followers on here that followed me for Sonic. I would post this on my main but if you read my username I don't really have the time to do that right now. Very sorry for clogging up your TL.

Anyway, I am about to use very aggressive and targeted language. I am not hating on anyone specific but I am going to be saying sentences like "Are you dumb? Why are you like this?" Tumblr is my void and I am going to scream. I know some of the things I say may not be common knowledge. However, in this rant, I am going to pretend that it is. I am going to swear a lot. I am going to be talking about fist-fighting people whom I disagree with.

Just know that once again, this is a rant. Not a "please stop saying blah blah blah blah." I am not going to go out of my way to attack people. Which is, once again, why I am screaming here.

"Why the big warning?" BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE ON MY MAIN BACK WHEN I COMPLAINED ABOUT PEOPLE COMPLAINING ABOUT THE RED EYES YELLED AT ME. MY POST WASN'T MEANT TO TARGET ANYONE SPECIFIC. I WAS MEANT TO BE YELLING AT A MADE-UP DUMMY I MADE IN MY MIND!

With that out of the way, it is time to scream.

OH MY FUCKING GOD SOME OF THE THINGS YA'LL ARE SAYING. I have never felt the urge to rip through my fucking screen and grab some of yall by the throat. I want to bodyslam you onto the ground and pummel you to death.

Let's begin with a recent complaint I saw about William having no motivation in the movie and how they should have given him his motivation, let me tell you something bud.

They did. They did give him his motive. However, this is a 2-hour movie and they didn't dive into it. It's almost like they're making a second movie or something? OH WAIT THEY ARE! THIS IS THE FIRST MOVIE! THEY ARE ESTABLISHING ROLES!

They want you to grasp from this movie that:

William is a threat.

Mike is doing his best and is not going to pick up on everything.

Abby and the missing kids are, indeed, regular-ass kids who aren't going to understand fully the situation they're in.

Vanessa is a traumatized individual who wants to please her father and was manipulated into helping him because, you know, THAT IS HER DAD.

They are setting up the basics so people know what to expect from the next film. They will, most likely, be going into William's motives then. But as of right now, they are setting the roles that each character is going to take.

I don't know how some of yall ain't getting that because it is the most clear as day thing to me but that may be because I am aiming to be a writer down the line.

Time to aim at the other complaint I've seen which is that Vanessa is an Afton complaint. All I have to say to that is, whoah, it's almost like the movie takes place in an alt-universe from the games. And even if Vanessa is an Afton in the games who gives a fuck? She isn't Williams's direct child if that's the case and it just ties her in with the old characters. A popular thing I have seen a couple of times is that sometimes people portray Gregory as an Afton. So what's so wrong about Vanessa being an Afton. I am genuinely curious here? What's wrong about her being an Afton.

Some of yall come up with the most stupidest ass complaints I swear to god.

"But Micheal is meant to be the Afton-" Tell me how that would have worked in this movie. Tell me how Mike would not have recognized his own father if he was William. Also, I like that the movie implies that his dad is probably Henry.

"How does it imply that?"

I don't know, why don't we look at the career office scene again where William reads Mike's last name and recognizes it. He wants to tie up his loose ends.

And Mike? Mike is a loose end.

It just makes sense and it goes into the last complaint I saw about the movie.

The "I always come back line doesn't make sense," complaint.

THE REASON WHY IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE TO YOU IS THAT YOU KEEP PLACING IT IN THE WRONG CONTEXT YOU FOOL, YOU ABSOLUTE BAFOON. YOU'RE PLACING IT IN THE GAME'S CONTEXT. NOT THE MOVIES.

If I am fucking right about the fact that Henry is a Schmidt in the movie then that means William has always been a part of Mike's life. He has been haunting Mike since he took Garret, he influenced Mike to get a job at Freddy's, and he was the reason why Mike met Vanessa.

When he said he'd come back, he wasn't talking about coming back from the dead.

He meant it as he'll come back and make Mike's life a living hell.

Anyway rant fucking over, yall pisses me off. Good day.

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Five

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of violence

A/N: I’m so sorry this is so late. I have the memory of goldfish I swear. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Prolog - Chapt. 1 - Chapt. 2 - Chapt. 3 - Chapt. 4 - Here - Chapt. 6

      “I refuse to just leave Iris behind.” Ghost's voice is loud and authoritative, nearly yelling at Price.

     “Consider it an order then. There’s nothing we can do to help now.” Price’s face is a cross between hurt and anger as his usually calm and cool demeanor slips.

     Soap’s voice is weak and broken. “Please, not again.” He makes no attempt to hide his devastation as he pleads with Price.

     It was no one’s fault and they all knew that. Not 141 nor KorTac. The mission hadn’t gone as planned. They had been caught off guard on what was meant to be a stealth mission. The building went on high alert. Everyone inside scrambled about readying themselves for battle. The order was given to take out the power and disorient the enemy to give themselves the upper hand. And so they did. It was a solid plan and all was going well until they were separated by oncoming forces.

    Ghost and Soap had watched it happen from a room across the hall. In the midst of a tussle, Iris’ helmet and NVGs had been knocked off. The fight that ensued was over quickly with Iris standing over the opposition’s lifeless body. Before they could reach Iris, they were swept into combat once again. When they finished with the onslaught of enemies, Iris was gone. They looked for a while before Price told them it was time to get out. The enemy had backup on the way and they needed to vacate the premises. They’d waited and watched from a hill a ways away. All of them with binoculars pressed to their faces. They watched as the backup troops entered the building.

     Everyone’s hearts dropped when they heard shots ring out a few moments later. None of them said a word or moved. They held their breath for what felt like hours before Price finally spoke.

     “König, sniper.” He gestures for the large man to take up Iris’ post as the sniper. “With no one else in the building, they’ll be making their move to transport Ronald soon. As soon as you see him, take the shot.” A heavy sigh leaves Price’s mouth. “The rest of you should be ready for a firefight.” With his final order given everyone moved into position, mentally baring themselves for the slaughter they were about to cause.

      They waited in tense silence for a little less than an hour before the side door finally opened and out stepped the man they’d been looking for. König readied himself to pull the trigger but hesitated.

      Price pulled away his binoculars for a brief moment. “What are you waiting for? Take the shot König.” Price watched as König shook his head lightly, still peering through the scope.

     “Not my shot to take Captain.” König pulled away from the scope and nodded for Price to look down at the side door

      Everyone’s eyes shot over at the small gesture just as another small figure exited the door holding what appeared to be a pistol to the back of Ronald’s head. All rushing to lift their binoculars back to their faces, they watch as the person ushered Ronald forward slamming the door closed behind them.

     Price’s voice is full of surprise as he utters the only words that come to mind. “Well, I’ll be goddamned.”

~~~~~

    The day after the briefing, 141 and KorTac set off for the warehouse where you all would be training together. The goal was to take the place down from the inside and capture the target for questioning. The target is Ronald F. Mollins.

 He'd been suspected, and recently confirmed, to be one of three heads of a well-known terrorist organization. Said organization had been responsible for at least twenty-four of the latest terrorist attacks and bombings and your capture two years ago. According to Price, they had another attack planned for two weeks from now. It was crucial that you capture, or take down Ronald.

      On 141’s latest recon mission, Gaz stumbled upon the building plans for Ronald’s new safehouse. Price had everything set up and ready to go by the time you’d all been called in for the briefing.

      The mission training area was an old warehouse that was normally completely empty on the inside. On the occasions that it would be used, recruits would be ordered to set it up in a very specific way. Today, for instance, it was set up to mimic the hideout you’d be infiltrating. Pallets and old metal sheets acted as faux walls and doors. Old lights flicker above your head as you all take a preliminary walk through the building.

      You jump a little at the sound of Price’s voice coming through your headset. “I’m going to give you all 10 minutes to get a hold of your surroundings, then we’ll begin strategizing.” Your eyes find him standing overhead on the left-side catwalk. His watchful eyes from above were a luxury you wouldn’t have come time for you all to execute the actual mission.

     You all regroup at the front of the old warehouse-turned-training facility. Ten minutes had been more than enough for you to mentally map out the quickest route to Ronald’s office. The side entrances would definitely be key for getting you all in and out if you wanted to go with the stealthier option. For the louder alternative, however, the rear entry seemed best suited. Lots of cover from tight winding halls, plenty of rooms to dip into if things got too hairy, and most importantly, it was the closest entrance to Rolnalds office.

      You look around yourself at your team that had recently doubled in size. Most of them were deep in thought as they tried to come up with anything to contribute to a plan. Your eyes stop at König as he swiftly turns his face away from you. Had he been staring or was it simply your imagination? He had seemed off this morning, not that he didn’t seem off most of the time. This morning was different though. When you’d said hello to him in the kitchen he hadn’t said anything back. Not too strange you suppose but the way he avoided eye contact with you had made you feel some way. Hurt almost. You thought you two had started to become somewhat acquaintances at the very least, if not friends. Casual ‘Hello’s in the halls, small conversations about your days when you’d catch each other in the training room. Even sparring with each other.

     It was like a switch had flipped in him. The sweet man from before was gone and here with you stood someone almost as cold as Ghost. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He wouldn’t say even one word to you. You hadn’t really noticed it before but you think maybe he had been avoiding you while you all walked through the building. Your heart drops as you think back to your previous interactions with him. Had you made him angry with something you’d said? Had you hurt him while training with him? No, surely he would have told you if you had. So, what was it then? Your heart grows heavy with your thoughts.

      “Alright ladies,” Price looks around the group and gives you a small nod, “And Iris.” A grin etches itself into your lips as he grins at you. He takes a step toward the center of the group clapping his hands together. “What’s the game plan?” Murmurs break out among the group of soldiers around you.

     One of the members of KorTac, Horangi you think is what the others called him, speaks up. “We could just blow through the doors, go in and take what we want.”

      Your brows raise at how rash he sounded. “That seems like a really bad idea.” Your hand comes up to absent-mindedly rub your temple. Working with contractors such as these was going to be hell on earth.

     Another KorTac member steps forward. “What would you know?” His tone is aggressive, almost hostile. “You just got accepted here, what, last week? I suggest not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

      Heat rises in the back of your neck. Breathe. In. Out. Think through your actions. Anger should be used in a productive manner. “Quite a bit of hypocrisy in that statement, For-Hire.” Your words come out calm and calculated. “Now, if I may finish, I was saying we shouldn’t risk-”

      “For-Hire?” His voice drips with animosity as he steps toe-to-toe with you. “Watch your tone Louse. Wouldn’t want to wind up missing would we?” He’s so close now his nose nearly brushes yours as his eyes scan your form.

     Your mind begins to reel with images of you beating him into submission. Breath. On your right, you can see the 141 watching with entertained looks. From the corner of your eye, you catch a brief interaction between Price and König. Price holds his arm in front of König with a small shake of his head. König's eyes held a look of murder in them as he stared at his comrade’s back. Price clearly wanted to see what you’d do in this situation. You move your eyes back to the man in front of you, his larger form still looming over you. You blink slowly up at him, letting a heavy sigh slip out under your balaclava. The heat soaks into the fabric warming your cheeks with every breath. “I say this with all the respect I can find for you; please exit my personal space.”

     His eyes flash with defiance and he shows no sign of moving. His breath fans your face as he continues to loom over you. “I’ll move when I’m ready, Recruit.”

      “Why are the dumb ones always so cocky?” Your question causes a chorus of snickers to your right. You find it amusing, though it does little to push down the rage that has steadily grown within you. “Look, I asked you politely to get out of my face.” Teaching respect was productive, right? You allow your anger to bubble to the surface. “That. That was your warning.” He opens his mouth to say something back but all that comes out is a small shriek of pain as your boot makes contact with his groin. He falls to his knees before you and without a second thought, you twist him around to face his comrades. Your left-hand pins his right arm behind him, while your other hand pulls a knife from your vest. You press the dull edge lightly to his throat, smart enough even in your rage-stricken state to not seriously harm your own team members.

      You’re still seething but decide the poor man had had enough to learn his lesson. You slowly remove the knife from his throat and shove him forward into the ground. “A second warning is a luxury, For-Hire.” You take a small step back as your body slowly comes down from the adrenaline. “Savor the feeling and don’t make me regret leaving you alive.” You step back into your spot among the 141 as the man scurries back to join KorTac. You can feel König’s eyes on you. The way they take you in, the feeling of his stare was becoming all too familiar. You risk a glance his way and sure enough, he was looking you up and down, admiration replacing the murderous gaze he had moments ago.

     Price chuckles under his breath. “Perhaps I should have introduced you all one by one. I want this to sit in your minds as a prime example of why we never underestimate our opponents.” He gestures toward you as he turns to face the soldiers across from you. “I would like you all to meet Iris. Our newly returning Sergeant specializes in stealth ops, sniping, and swift takedowns. Light-footed, quick thinking and isn’t afraid to play dirty. In shorter terms; not to be messed with.” He steps back and turns so that he’s facing everyone. “Now then, let’s hear that plan.”

      After about thirty minutes of planning you all set off to test out the operation. After a few failed attempts, the first plan was thrown out the window. This pattern repeated itself over and over. Tensions had been rising all day and each failure pushed things closer and closer to the breaking point.

      Everything came to a head when König suggested moving you with KorTac at the front of the group. Ghost was having none of it though. His sudden possessiveness made you a bit weak in the knees. “That’s a fucking fever dream if I’ve ever heard one.” His eyes burned with white-hot rage from the long tense day. “Iris stays with me, end of story.” Me, not us? Your face flushes under the mask you wear.

      “But, if we had someone a bit smaller in the front we could keep things quieter. We could make it further in before being ambushed.” König explained his point as if Ghost would listen to reason.

     You shrug a little as you look between the two. “He’s not wrong Lt.” You play with the bottom edge of your balaclava. “Actually, König, do you think you and your team could get me close to the power box?”  You don’t miss the glare Ghost shoots at you. “If we could cut the power part way through rather than at the end, we would have the upper hand.” You turn to Ghost as he responds.

     “No.” His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues. “We’ll station someone, Gaz, near the power box. Give the word and throw them off. We’ll have the upper hand when we need it, and you.” He pokes his finger into your chest. “You stay with me.” Desperation flashes through his eyes for a split second. You can tell by how rigidly he stands that his mind has taken him back to the day they left you behind.

     Your eyes soften as you reach up and grasp the hand still touching your chest. His hand trembles slightly within yours. Even through both pairs of gloves you feel electricity jump between your hands. “Ok,” You search his eyes, making sure he’s in the present with you. His gaze shifts to where your mouth is under your mask. “I’m here. I’m with you Lt. I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes shoot back up to yours. “I’ll stay with you.”

     He gives a small nod and creases form at the corners of his eyes as though he’s smiling. It’s gone as quickly as it came though replaced with that hardened gaze once again. “Good.” He pulls his hand from yours to pat you on the shoulder. “Let’s see if this works, shall we?”     ~~~~~

     You’d done it again. This time you were certain it was over for you. There would be no relocating you this time. No, you would be dead if you weren’t careful. You messed up, let yourself get caught off guard as your team and KorTac combed the halls in the dark. A group of opposition fighters came out of thin air, rushing your whole group. Everyone got separated in the attack. It was a risk you took every time you stepped out of the base to go on a mission. You could get separated, but you trained for that. You hadn’t, however, trained for the moment when your helmet along with your NVGs got knocked from your head by the opponent.

     You’d done your best to fight him off in the dark unsure where your equipment had landed. Once you had subdued your target you made your way out of the room. Using the sounds of battle you avoided high-traffic areas as you use the wall to guide you. After fifteen minutes your eyes had adjusted enough to see about twenty feet in front of you. Sighing internally you remind yourself that they too were blinded by the darkness and as long as you’re quiet, you may catch up to your team before everything goes to shit.

     You sneak your way through the halls the same as you had days before when practicing for the mission. You still had the rest of your gear to fall back on if things got too chaotic. Stealth is what you’re good at, that’s why you were recon by default. You could do this. You carry yourself in a low crouch through the building remaining silent. Every turn could be your death, and your mind is sure to remind you of that every time you pass an intersecting hall. You had two choices here, go straight for the exit and hope that they don’t have extra forces surrounding the building, or continue the path you had taken 15 times in training. It would most definitely be considered abandonment if you left without the others. What could you do though? Not only were your NVGs attached to the helmet but it also secured your comms to your head. Reaching out to them wasn’t an option whether you want to or not.

     You finally decide to move forward with the mission hoping they hadn’t moved to plan B. You make your way through the halls silently until you come to the center-most room. You had stopped briefly to gather your sense of direction when you heard it. Backup troops stormed through every entrance calling out into the darkness. You had to move quickly to reach your mission point before they did.

     It became evident to you that this would be your end when troops equipped in tactical gear appeared around you. You counted three as you stood, ready to fight for your life. It was pointless, you knew that the sound of the scuffle would most certainly draw more attention. Taking your chances you make a break for the closest doorway. They all followed shouting out their location for any nearby opposition to hear. After entering the room you spin on your heels raising your pistol to the opening you’d just come through. As they round the doorway to file in you open fire. Taking out two of them with no issues. The third managed to get a shot off on you. The impact and searing hot pain in your shoulder sent you stumbling back into the wall. With heaving breaths you allow yourself to slide down the wall.

      “Enemy down, all clear boys.” The man's retreating footsteps surprised you. Had he really thought you were dead? Were you dead?

      Blood drips from the wound down onto your gear as your head lolls forward. You sat there watching it for what felt like hours. There was no point in moving, you’d be gunned down if anyone found out you were still breathing. You couldn’t sit there and do nothing though, you had to do something or you really would die right here in a puddle of your own blood. The halls had been quiet for a while now you could probably risk checking if they had left, right? Your body felt sluggish, you’d lost quite a bit of blood by now. You weren’t strong enough at this moment to get to your feet. With an annoyed roll of your stiff neck, you move to release the straps of your vest. Without the weight of it and everything tucked inside you are able to stand. Every movement sends a sharp pain through the wound in your shoulder.

     As you peer from the doorway you find the halls empty. No enemy troops, no KorTac, and no 141. A light catches your eye from down the hall. As you slowly regain your bearings it dawns on you; Ronald had a generator for his office. That was one of the main points Price had driven into all of your heads during practice. That’s how he’ll call in the backup troops once the power is out. You’ll have less than fifteen minutes to get him or get out. Price’s voice nags in the back of your mind. How had you forgotten?

      The light gives you hope as you step into the hall. It was like the universe was giving you a sign, a way out of this mess. Ronald wasn’t a fighter. He had men for that. But if his men thought it was clear then there was a chance that Ronald was alone in there. There was a chance that you could still complete this capture with or without your team. You move quickly but silently like a predator on the prowl. You peak through every doorway, being sure every room is clear along the way to Ronald’s office. Now, standing toe to toe with the wooden door, you stop for a moment and just listen. The sound of clacking fills your ears as you grasp the handle. The hum of what sounds to be a printer emanates from beyond the door as the clacking stops, giving you the perfect cover to slip into the room.

     Ronald’s back is to you as you silently close and lock the door, ensuring there wouldn’t be any interruptions. Slowly you creep up behind him pressing the barrel of the pistol to the back of his head. “Don’t move, don’t speak. I have an ultimatum for you.” Your breath is deadly silent as you move to wrap your nondominant arm around his throat. You wince inwardly at the pain that ripples through you when moving that shoulder. “Firstly, are you armed?” He’s silent. “Yes or no, Ronald. Are you armed?” Your voice is forceful and wicked in its tone.

      “No.” His voice is shaky. He’s scared. Good. That means he probably isn’t in fact armed.

     “Good. Do you want to make it out of this building alive?”

     “Yes.” The single word comes out as more of a breath.

     “Great, now I have a few steps for you to follow.”

     “Why would I follow any instructions from you?” His voice still comes out shaky.

      “Well, that’s the ultimatum, dear Ronald.” Your voice lilts as your mind begins to suffer a bit of delirium from the blood loss. “Either you follow every word that comes from my mouth, or you die right here, right now.” Your gun presses hard into the side of his head in an attempt to prove your point. “Is that clear?” His small nod is enough for you to ease up just a bit. “Good, now listen.”

      You walk him step by step through every one of your demands. “Turn the power back on and lock down every door. I want them to only work with your key card.” You watch him like a hawk every step of the way. “Now, we’re gonna take a little walk to the west exit and you are going to call off all of your men, understand Ronny?” His legs shake beneath him as he nods fervently. “Alright, let’s get a move on Ronny boy, we’re burning daylight.”

     It was a rather short walk to the side entrance. You’d crossed paths with a few of his men but they were quickly dispatched as you both kept moving. True to his word only his key card worked for the doors. As soon as you’d enter they’d seal behind you, his men stuck on the other side helpless to free their leader. Once you’d finally reached the side door you sighed. This was it. You’ll be out in the fresh air where you could make your run back to the makeshift base about an hour's drive out.

     “Thank you Ronald for your cooperation. I would hate to have had to kill you.” You keep the gun level with his head as he pushes open the door to freedom. He steps out into the daylight, bringing his arm up to shield his eyes from the sun. “Keep moving, I can still shoot you.” He takes a few hesitant steps forward as you follow him out. You spare a glance at the top of the hill on your left, catching sight of 141 and KorTac making their way down to meet you, Ghost and König leading the charge.

     You’d survived. You’d fixed your mistake. Even through all your doubts and thoughts of your own death, you persevered.

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, homophobia (as a joke), and one poop mention

Desc: the boys are trying to find out how cat boys defecate

Mikey: it doesn't matter

Mikey: if Kazutora was a real cat boy he would shit in a litter box

Mikey: that's all i'm saying🤷‍♂️

Baji: don't say that then tf??

Mitsuya: usually i don't ask but this seemed unprovoked

Mitsuya: what are you guys talking about

Mitsuya: i'm gonna regret asking this tbh

Kazutora: i shit in the toilet just fine thank you

Kazutora: and i never claimed to be a cat boy😭. i'm just a boy that loves cats

Mikey: you said, and i quote "yeah i think i'm a catboy"

Mikey: fucking slut

Draken: then leave him alone? like what's the issue

Mikey: oh here comes sensible Ken-chin to save the day with his common sense that will most likely save hours of arguing🙄

Draken: 😐

Kazutora: ok fine maybe i said that but i didn't mean it like that. i meant i was a boy who also happened to like cats. Mikey you aren't listening to me

Kazutora: also why am i a slut???

Chifuyu: i mean

Kazutora: bro??

Chifuyu: no i'm joking lol

Baji: he's not

Mikey: it's your waist

Mikey: and your piercings

Mikey: you're a literal whore

Draken: Mikey

Draken: shut the fuck up

Baji: go fuck his sister to spite him

Draken: dude

Draken: can you ever be normal

Baji: nah

Kazutora: nothing's wrong with my waist?

Baji: you wear crop tops sometimes

Mikey: and your twink like, feminine like, small torso tempts those around you

Baji: don't get me started on those nipple piercing bruh, had me creaming all over the place

Mikey: chill😕

Mitsuya: of course

Mitsuya: of course this is an argument you guys are having

Kazutora: I'M JUST STANDING HERE???

Chifuyu: yeah guys leave him alone

Baji: are you typing with both hands? 🤨

Chifuyu: yes????

Chifuyu: 😭

Smiley: these damned homosexuals bruh

Smiley: sorry thought i was dming Angry

Angry: homosexuals are fine!

Angry: Smiley's homophobic, not me

Angry: please keep that in mind

Angry: i was going to reply with something along the lines "well i like gay people because they slay"

Kazutora: idk man i just feel like i'm being attacked for no reason

Mikey: stop being slutty then!

Baji: only be slutty in our apartment bro

Baji: problem solved 👍

Mikey: wait

Mikey: bro chill i was joking

Mikey: dress anyway you like fr

Draken: don't listen to them Kazutora, they're all delusional

Kazutora: ok...

Kazutora: i am a boy that likes cats and that is all

Hakkai: sorry to interrupt

Hakkai: but does that mean that Inupi's a dog boy

Koko: puppy boy in particular

Angry: bro came out of nowhere

Mikey: lol

Mikey: came out

Mikey: get it

Mikey: cause he's gay

Angry: i believe it's bi

Kazutora: i don't think it's gay to think Inupi's hot

Mikey: why not

Kazutora: he's pretty like a girl

Mikey: he has a dick and balls

Kazutora: ok fine 🙁

Smiley: koko and inupi

Smiley: they're the gays i hate the most tbh

Draken: dude can u stop 🤨

Smiley: no

Smiley: watch me tell Emma you're half gay

Draken: she knows mf😐

Smiley: i wanna call you guys a homophobic slur so bad rn

Kazutora: dude you can't do that

Kazutora: it'll hurt Baji's feelings

Baji: nah i'll just beat his ass

Kazutora: lol cause you're gay

Baji: ...

Baji: yeah?

Kazutora: what?

Baji: yeah? cause i like dudes?

Kazutora: ...

Kazutora: 😯

Baji: ain't no way bruh

Mikey: Tora you fucking idiot man

Draken: L

Kazutora: what'd i do???

Baji: did u think me being attracted to men was a joke

Kazutora: yes...

Kazutora: it's not??

Chifuyu: 😟

Baji: so all the times i physically grabbed your ass...that didn't ring a bell?

Mikey: or the times he stared deeply into your eyes and told you he loved you

Kazutora: i thought you were being sus with the homies

Baji: c'mon man

Baji: bro this isn't even funny

Baji: i thought we had smth fr

Mikey:

Mikey: Kazutora rn lol

Chifuyu: 💀

Draken: lmao

Smiley: Draken chuckled ☺

Smiley: he found the joke funny🤣🤣🤣🤣

Draken: let's go outside

Smiley: nah bruh you gon beat my ass

Kazutora: Baji let's talk bruh

Angry: he emphasized the 'bruh' which means he doesn't have romantic feelings for you

Angry: sorry Baji

Baji: fuck off megamind pubes head ass

Mikey:

Mikey: Baji rn

Baji: i'm gonna shove a cactus in every crevice of you body

Mikey: bro's mad

Baji: ayt

*Baji has gone offline*

Mikey: bro thinks i'm scared

Draken: why r you trying to find a place to hide

Mikey: i'm just looking for my phone

Draken: ...alr

Draken: ...

Mitsuya: what

Draken: Baji

Draken: where'd you get a cactus that big that fast?????

[chrisevansonly]

I'm Not Meant for This

Chris Evans x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: You weren’t meant for this life, the cameras, the gossip, the fan pages, it wasn’t you, letting yourself suffer wasn’t worth it anymore…was there anyway that would change?

Warnings: angst, minor arguing, crying, reader mentioning insecurities, happy ending<3

A/N: This was a request sent in by an anon! Thank you in advance for this, I’m a big lover of happy endings and I did tweak the request a little bit so I hope that’s okay!!I feel so unmotivated but I’m trying to update regardless lol

Word Count: 843

Spending a lot of time watching your life go by from outside your body looking down on yourself is a feeling so hard to describe, surrounding by celebrities of all calibres and standing, next to Chris you felt like you weren’t supposed to be here. You’d been feeling pretty low the past few months, Chris’s career doing really well, he just finished filming his last few movies for 2022 and 2023, and instead of talking about taking a break, he wanted to keep going. In retrospect, talking to Chris about your feelings should have been number one on the list of conversations you wanted to have, but maybe leaving and letting him down gently was better. Watching him talk freely in the sea of people, or handle the cameras like champ, all it did for you was made you feel out of place and disgusted by yourself. You knew this wasn’t his fault, you could only blame yourself for the position you were in, but you couldn’t take it anymore. 

-

The minute the two of you got home, you ditched your heels at the front door, leaving Chris standing there to go upstairs and into the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror only made it worse, the bags and dark circles under your eyes despite the full coverage foundation and concealer covering it. Taking a wipe you cleaned your face off, letting out a quiet sigh, your eyes closing for a few seconds, and when you opened them, Chris was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face 

“You’ve been really quiet all night…what’s going on?”

This was your chance, let him down easy, spend one last night with him and leave tomorrow, move far away, start over, leave Chris in the past

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what baby?” 

You turned and motioned between the two of you 

“This, us, I can’t do it anymore, I’m not meant for this life Chris, I can’t fucking do this.”

You moved past him, ducking away into the closet to get out of the floor length black dress you had on, changing into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt

“Wait a minute, Y/N…we’re going to talk about this”

“I don’t want too anymore! I’m tired of constantly being attacked online, photographed without my consent, being the odd one out at every event, people I don’t even know nitpicking my appearance! I’m done!”

Chris ran a hand down his face 

“You know that’s not my fault, right?”

“Jesus Chris, that’s what you have to say?! I’m going to pack my stuff.”

His hand grasped yours tightly and he pulled you back to him softly, but firm enough for you to land against his chest, his arms holding you to him

“No. No. I can’t lose you, not now, not ever, we can figure a way to fix this problem.”

You shook your head, tears now falling down your cheeks

“No, we can’t, there’s n-”

“Yes, there is. Screw going back to work, i’ll take time off, as much as we need, I should have made that decision last year, but I didn’t and now I am. We can go away, stay at the cabin for a few months just me and you, restart your social media’s, hire more security, hell we can order our fucking groceries, that exists now!”

You laughed quietly into the flannel he had on, and Chris spoke again, beating you to it

“You are everything to me, you are my world, my light, and I wished you would have told me about this sooner so I could have helped you…I’m so sorry I didn’t notice how much this was hurting you, how much I was hurting you. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I swear to you I’ll fix this, we can make this work…”

Staying silent, eventually hugging him back tighter you closed your eyes before making a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret

“Okay.”

Hearing your voice, Chris pulled back and brought his hands up to cup your face, swiping a few tears away before connecting his lips with yours, kissing you tenderly before pulling away and frowning when he noticed just how drained you looked 

“I love you so much angel, I’m going to make this right, and I’m going to work my hardest to keep you safe and happy, I promise I won’t let this happen again…”

A small part of you was worried you made the wrong decision but looking into Chris’s eyes and seeing just how much he love and appreciated you, was enough to help your heart prove you were doing the right thing. In the end you knew Chris would go to the ends of the earth for you, and he was willing to do that now, to protect you, and to give you the life he knows you deserve. The road would be long, but as long as you had Chris, he could make the journey a little more bearable. 

[actual-bill-potts]

The thing abt the nargothrond debacle that makes it endlessly fascinating as a character study is that there’s no good path for anyone involved, and so many of their actions (at least at first) have completely understandable motivations.

Like. starting from the very beginning: was it dumb for the sons of fëanor to swear the Oath? We can all agree it was. And there is some very interesting meta out there on what exactly the oath meant when it was sworn, but tbh in context it mostly reads as a declaration of war against morgoth. Fairly reasonable 🤷‍♀️

And, was it dumb for finrod to swear his oath to barahir? I mean…maybe! On the one hand, by rescuing finrod barahir was kinda just Doing His Damn Job, but on the other hand he did go above and beyond. And it was a very noble and kind gesture, which is the kind of thing finrod specializes in.

So then beren shows up and begs finrod for help, which is a perfectly reasonable thing for him to do. Now, do I wish that he and luthien had told Thingol to get fucked and gone off to live happily somewhere else? Sure! But the thing is, if they stayed in doriath Thingol was probably going to arrange a little accident for his least favorite son-in-law, and if they left doriath Thingol might well have declared war on whatever kingdom they took refuge in, so if beren and luthien had come to nargothrond to ask for shelter instead things might have been even worse.

And for beren, who’s been running a singlehanded guerilla campaign against morgoth forever, it’s actually not that unreasonable to assume that the full might of nargothrond could at least provide a convenient distraction for him to get in and steal a silmaril and then get the fuck outta there. Should he have resigned himself to being a wandering depressed bastard being fed by birds and having a price on his head instead of asking nargothrond to sacrifice many lives for his own happiness? Maybe! But like, the Elves were attacking angband anyway.

So then beren shows up and makes his request, and you gotta feel sorry for finrod because this is genuinely an impossible position. If he says no, he’s breaking an oath (which is not only srs bzns in beleriand, but also seems to be somewhat metaphysically impossible, at least I hope so for the sake of feanorian woobifiers everywhere). And it’s not only the oath; beren is the latest in a line of men who finrod has watched over for ages, a line of men who have loved and trusted finrod, and who have died for him. Since Bëor. Beren probably has bëor’s eyes or smth. He can’t say no.

But on the other hand, if he says yes, either:

a) they succeed, steal a silmaril, and bring it back to Thingol. At which point the wrath of the feanorians is going to fall on doriath, and probably nargothrond too. Right after dagor Bragollach, when things are already so fragile. Also, the feanorians currently in nargothrond are gonna be pissed the hell off.

b) they fail, and morgoth crushes them to death, and probably gets the exact coordinates of nargothrond out of them and crushes the whole realm.

But, the feanorians (Maedhros anyway) can probably be talked round more easily than morgoth. So I’m sure finrod was hoping for option a.

But THEN he breaks the news to c&c. And they can’t take it well; from their perspective, he’s setting his oath, which (presumably) doesn’t doom him to everlasting darkness if he fails, against theirs, which DOES doom them to everlasting darkness if they fail, and. well. that doesn’t seem very cousinly, does it?

It’s ALSO reasonable for the people of nargothrond (independent of c&c) to be a bit wary of their king wanting to go on a mad quest against morgoth when fingolfin JUST went on a mad quest against morgoth and lost rather spectacularly. and idk if finrod could do that much abt it, other than really guilt trip them.

(tbh it’s always seemed to me like finrod gave up real fast to c&c. possibly he figured it was actually better to involve as little of his kingdom as possible in his doom and make it so that the ire of morgoth and/or the fëanorians was focused on him and beren rather than the entire kingdom of nargothrond. and from a purely pragmatic point of view I don’t know that he’s wrong; celegorm and curufin are both good, experienced leaders, and presumably have been helping out around nargothrond anyway, and also there’s orodreth who seemed to do a fine job pre-túrin (the elves of nargothrond are remarkably gullible it must be said). granted finrod could probably have pulled Thingol into the union of Maedhros had he been around, but without the silmaril being stolen the union might never have happened in the first place. Also even if it had the union would have unquestionably still had nargothrond with finrod, which might have helped. but finrod couldn’t be expected to know that.)

anyway i think things went really wrong when c&c started making rash proclamations, and it’s interesting that curufin in particular is so passionate about finrod not going, when there was a different way: just have beren show Thingol the silmaril, then ask him to bring it back to the fëanorians, by theft if necessary. he could hardly say no to that after being helped so generously by finrod. you’d think curufin at least would have thought of that. but I think curufin was feeling so betrayed that finrod of all people was gonna leave and go after a silmaril that he stopped thinking clearly, which is something Elves and also people do a lot.

And of course when finrod throws his crown at their feet it doesn’t help. But again, pretty reasonable after they were like "if you succeed we WILL kill you and probably enjoy it. But you won’t succeed, cuz morgoth is scary and you’re all losers." And after they’ve sent him to his death, well, they’ve cast themselves as the villains of the story, and they have to see it to the bitter end. Not big on redemption and second chances in the first age, elves.

So in summary: no one was being all that evil in nargothrond, but unfortunately they were set at cross purposes by the Narrative, and neither finrod nor c&c were at their best when it came to being a Good Leader bc they were emotionally compromised, but they weren’t bad either…

And also if c&c were to be reunited with finrod in valinor eventually, I think he’d be much angrier abt curufin shooting beren than anything else. They had a point in nargothrond and might even have been playing into his master plan to go alone; shooting beren was just petty. And also a dick move considering finrod had just given his life for beren like 5 seconds ago, I mean come on guys. he ripped out a werewolf’s throat with his teeth, give his last wishes some respect.

So: the majority of the blame goes to the curse of the silmaril for fucking things up yet again, thingol for being a sexist dipshit and not listening to his wife, and of course sauron and morgoth for the whole. yknow. thing