#and let her down gently if she doesn’t make the squad

[heavencasteel420]

I finally figured out how Jonathan and Chrissy are gonna start having weird sex.

[charliemwrites]

A Thought™️ that I had yesterday after watching those AITA videos and babbling in the discord:

(This is also babble to be clear. I’ve been writing this throughout the morning so it might be a bit incoherent)

The 141 is shopping for a new team member, someone to round out their four person squad into five. They have a dozen candidates, pick one that looks promising, and transfer him over under the military equivalent of “probationary” status.

Pretty quickly they decide his personality alone might not make him a good fit but whatever, if he’s good at his job, they’ll suck it up. The “alpha male” posturing bullshit is kind of amusing in the meantime at least.

Well, first mission comes and goes. The guy isn’t too bad, honestly — apart from almost picking a fight with Gaz. Skills-wise he’s as advertised, so he gets to stay a bit longer while the 141 decides if they can stand him.

Post successful mission, though, they go out for drinks at the guy’s insistence. He invites his girlfriend — who he dragged along with him — to the bar to meet his new squad. (Because he thinks there’s no way they’re not making him a permanent teammate.)

And the 141 may be barely tolerant of him, but they decide almost instantly that they adore his girlfriend. She’s incredibly charming and bubbly, doesn’t even blink at Ghost’s mask. One of the first things she does is thank them for the opportunity they’re giving her boyfriend and for keeping him alive.

Which is about the time the real issue starts.

The boyfriend says some rubbish about “an alpha doesn’t need protecting, he does the protecting. He looks out for his pack.”

And you smile a bit awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and try to usher the conversation along.

It doesn’t take long for him to quickly fall out of what little favor he accrued. You’re a bright spot in their group, laughing and chatting with them all like you’ve known them for years. Incredibly sensitive to asking any hard questions and sort of forcing the conversation through the weird patches where your boyfriend interjects with some inane comment.

Eventually, your boyfriend gets sick of your chattering and tells you to fetch them more drinks. Soap instantly sits up, saying you don’t have to do that, but you gently wave him off. Chirp that you don’t mind doing it as a thank you for their service, and weave into the crowd.

The table goes uncomfortable quiet — apart from your boyfriend, who makes some ghastly comment about how you have a pretty face but an annoying laugh. When you get back, drinks expertly balanced in your hands, Ghost goes out of his way to drop puns that get you giggling like mad.

As the night ticks later, and your boyfriend gets drunker, he reaches the point you always dread.

“Garrick, le’s arm wrestle.”

“Baby, I don’t think that’s…”

“This is between us men.”

You groan a bit and sit back. Gaz looks befuddled but shrugs and agrees. It’s not even a contest; your boyfriend’s arm is flat to the table in all of ten seconds. Flustered, your boyfriend demands a rematch. And when he loses again, scoffs and demands a go with Soap.

You practically sink deeper and deeper into your seat before the secondhand embarrassment starts to weigh and you have to excuse yourself to the restroom. When you get back, the impromptu arm wrestling seems to be over, though your boyfriend is sulking in his corner of the booth.

When you gingerly slide back in, Price nudges you with his calf.

“Would you like a go, luv?”

You grin and shake your head. “I don’t fancy a broken wrist, Captain.”

“C’mon luv, you might surprise yourself,” he teases and you can’t resist the playful glint in his eye.

So you lock your thumb around his, elbow on the table, and push. And his arm incrementally goes down… down… down…

“Well would you look at that,” he muses.

You burst into laughter, flattered and endeared by his indulgence.

“That tough, eh?” Soap muses, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

So you roll your eyes, fully expecting to get trounced. But just like with Price, he starts to relent when you put up resistance, making a show of straining and panting as he “loses.” When you’ve won, you finally play into the joke.

“Serves you right,” you tease.

By your side, you hear your boyfriend huff derisively. “Oh, come on.”

Before your fun can be ruined, though, Ghost is offering you his hand, dark eyes sparkling. You bite your lip, but it doesn’t hide your grin as you accept the unspoken challenge. His hand is huge around yours, but shockingly gentle. He goes down easiest of all, whistling in amazement.

“Look’it that, you’re a pro,” he says, “think we should all be buying you a drink.”

“She doesn’t drink,” your boyfriend interjects.

You huff and settle back into the booth. “Maybe some other time, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Count on it.”

You get into an argument with your boyfriend that night. He thinks you were “challenging his dominance” and “stirring the pot,” trying to sew discord and strife amongst the men to get them fighting over you. He says something about being the alpha of the group and that he would win but it’s insulting to him as your “provider” that you would question his authority.

He’s tipsy as he says it though, working himself up. You just follow the usual routine of soothing, reassuring, simpering — and then considering leaving when he’s finally asleep. But you’re far from home, don’t have the means to leave, and besides, you won’t be finding any support from your family on this front so…

Well, it’s not so bad, you remind yourself. He can be an asshole, but so can you and it takes two to fight. Besides, he only gets really bad when he’s been drinking and that’s only once a week? 1 out of 7 isn’t a bad ratio.

—

The 141 pretty much collectively decide that they adore you though. You get regularly invited to team outings, wherein your boyfriend keeps challenging (and losing) arm wrestling, while the boys coax you into “winning.”

They’ve also become rather adamant that you don’t bring them drinks anymore.

“You’re not our personal beer wench, yeah? We’re able to get our own pints,” Gaz soothes.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shakes his head, imparts his “wisdom” that it’s a female’s job to serve her man and his friends. As a sign of respect or something. You know it’s not an argument worth having and just sip at your drink in silence.

But you love going out with them. Love knowing the men keeping your boyfriend alive and they’re a good bunch. Respectful and funny and disciplined — you’re kind of hoping they snap your boyfriend out of this weird “alpha male” phase he’s been going through. On the other hand, you’re thrilled to be making something like friends. Sure, your boyfriend has made it clear that the 141 are his friends, but they’re always so conscious of keeping you involved and comfortable.

Then one night your boyfriend mentions what a “good little cook” you are and that instantly has all the boys perking up. Smiling, you offer to host during the Saturday League matches. They gleefully accept over your boyfriend’s protests about other men in his territory or something like that.

But when they do come over they’re horrified by the unspoken expectations. You tell them to sit, that you’ll bring them all drinks, with snacks on the way. They’ll be having none of it.

Ghost helps you with drinks, Gaz chops the veggies for snacks (and dinner). Soap pops in to keep you company while you babysit simmering pots. Price helps to tidy as you go, despite you’re fussing that he really doesn’t need to, he should be enjoying the games!

They end up spending more time with you in the kitchen than out in the den with their own teammate. You barely notice, swept up in the busy currents of playing hostess. When your boyfriend shouts that he needs another beer, you come back to find Price getting plates and utensils for dinner. It’s so thoughtful you could cry.

Even worse is when they help you clean up afterwards. Each of them taking and clearing their own plates. Soap on washing big dishes, Gaz on drying. Ghost is packing up leftovers. Price is turning over the dishwasher, asking you where dishes go and tutting when you insist you should be helping.

All the while, your boyfriend stands in the doorway telling you all the ways you could improve the meal next time. And how you definitely ate too much for your body size, etc.

He only stops when Price makes a pointed comment about standing around looking pretty.

When they leave, they each sweep you up in a hug and drop a kiss on your cheek, praising your home and cooking and hosting. Soap promises that he’ll get you a little souvenir on their next mission as a thank you.

And sure enough, three weeks later, the boys are coming by. Except your boyfriend is nowhere to be found — out with some other guys from the base that he says he hit it off with. The 141 insist that he agreed to a football watch again, the empty headed muppet.

And of course you’re not going to turn them away! They’ve brought you flowers, a little matryoshka set from their last mission, chocolates and wine. Not one of them is empty handed.

“Do you even like the game?” Gaz asks as you put it on.

“My favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow but I don’t mind watching,” you answer, shrugging.

But somehow no football is watched at all. Instead they convince you to tell them your top three favorite movies, then claim none of them have ever seen any of them and they have to watch all of them.

Which is how your boyfriend finds his whole team enjoying a little movie marathon with you. You’re on the ground with Johnny (it’s Johnny now, for you) doing his eyebrows. Gaz is braiding your hair. Ghost (Simon) is sharing a bowl of candies with you. You’re sat against Price’s shins, the captain sitting in your boyfriend’s chair, lounging like a king.

When you welcome him back, telling him the boys are staying the night, he tries to throw a fit about it. How dare you let four strange men stay alone with you?! You calmly remind him that he promised he’d be home by 11 and it’s already nearly 1. And besides, he trusts them with his life, you’re allowed to trust them to be polite in your own home.

With all four of his teammates watching, tense and nearly hostile, he mutters something about being tired and storms off to bed. You end up falling asleep on the couch with ghost despite yourself.

And your boyfriend becomes absolutely haunted by his team’s (is it even his team? It feels more like yours!) affection for you.

They always invite you out even if he doesn’t plan to invite you. (When did you get any of their numbers?! Never mind Ghost’s. He doesn’t even have Ghost’s number.)

They stop by the flat constantly, sometimes dropping in. Other times staying for hours. Soap tells him that they’re all one big family; that includes you. (“Alright then why don’t we go hang out with one of your girlfriends?!” He had an actual nightmare about the laughter that gets him.)

And the fucking gifts. It’s not just soap bringing you things anymore. It’s all of them. Magnets, mugs, sweets, pretty rocks. Just garbage to your boyfriend but you treat it all like treasure. They’ve even got you sending them on hunts for specific things. Something blue, something with nuts, something with the flag.

Then there’s the base.

They bring you on one day — Price picks you up, the boys greet you at the barracks with coffee and breakfast. You’re put into a big 141 hoodie that says “Riley” on the back and toured around. You’re supposed to be “surprising” your boyfriend, but he’s busy with recruits and generally seems uninterested in being around you.

Not to worry though, the 141 is happy to show you a good time around base! Gaz and Johnny walk you through one of the obstacle courses, Simon lets you sit on his back for pushups during the last of his workout. Price takes you to the range and shows you the basics of shooting, then lets you catnap through the adrenaline drop in his office.

Your boyfriend only bothers to find you when Johnny and Simon are teaching you basic self-defense. Your boyfriend scoffs that you’re plenty protected by him, but you point out that he’s away too often to be of any real help — at which point Johnny tags you and bolts before your boyfriend can get all up in arms.

You only recognize that this little hurdle in your relationship has become a chasm when something happens. A big argument with your parents over the phone — you barely even remember what about. But instead of calling your boyfriend afterwards, your first call is to Gaz. (Because you know he’s the most likely to be free and paying attention to his phone.) You’re almost shocked when he picks up on the second ring. Your boyfriend has never answered on the first call.

When you try to explain through poorly-restrained tears, he coos at you to find a warm coffee shop and that they’ll be right there. “They” ends up being him and Johnny, since Simon and Price are locked up in an important meeting. They buy you hot chocolate and pastries while you vent to them, and end up leaving feeling better for once.

But you can’t break up with your boyfriend. Because if you do, the 141 will surely stop hanging out with you, and you value their company enough to put up with it.

At least until you come home one day to find all your little gifts gone. When you ask through a tight throat where everything is, your boyfriend says he was just making space. That you’ve been complaining that you two need a bigger flat, but now he’s solved the problem without wasting money.

You actually raise your voice for once, throwing an entire fit because this. This is the last straw. You storm into your bedroom, slam and lock the door, and call the 141.

A small part of you expects they’ll take his side or something. But nope. Simon soothes you on the other end, that the whole squad will be there in fifteen and to pack your stuff.

You do so while Price takes over and keeps you level. Reminds you of essentials to pack and explains that you’ll be coming to stay at his place, since he’s got off-base housing. It’ll be quiet and cozy and safe while you recover.

Five minutes away, they promise to be right there and end the call.

You could absolutely scream when your boyfriend — ex boyfriend — starts banging on the door. Demanding that you open the door to him. That you’re being over dramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Using the “your emotional and irrational” line that you’ve heard a thousand times and are just about sick of.

Your heart stutters with relief when you hear the knocking at the apartment door, confused silence as your ex goes to see who it is. You take that moment to slip out, packed suitcase in hand.

You startle a bit at some commotion, round the corner to see your ex’s shirt bunched up in Johnny’s fists, looking ready kill him. No one seems inclined to pull him away; neither are you.

“How are you holding up, luv?” Gaz asks gently as Simon takes your bag.

“Been better,” you admit, sniffling as Price wraps you up in a hug.

“It was just things, luv,” he soothes, “we’ll get you a million more, if you like.”

You pull back to give him a miserable look. “But they were my things and they didn’t have to go anywhere. He just threw them out.”

Johnny snarls something out, but Gaz is already ushering you out the door. You tell your family about the break up through text and then shut off your phone, bundled into the backseat of an SUV with Gaz in the backseat. Price is in the front, all of you waiting for Simon and Johnny to come down.

“What now?” you ask quietly.

“Well, about time we cut that knob loose,” Price muses. “But that’s not your problem anymore.”

“Oh…

“And you, luv.” He looks at you through the rear view. “You get whatever you want.”

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

A Little Time

(Steve Harrington x Reader)

Steve was always soft.

He was soft and gentle and kind.

Well, he was with you anyway.

It had always been that way since Middle School. When he first saw you again after summer break and you smiled at him with a quick wave across the park lot, Steve just knew you were good.

Too good.

He wasn’t as gracious in High School, he got popular and a little mean but you kept your distance, ran in different crowds. It was just how things were. But when he was paired with you in Bio or when he borrowed your notes there was a calmness that took over him.

A peacefulness he doesn’t experience often.

But now, after the hell you were all thrusted into at Star Court and everything that had happened since then Steve had hardened.

Exteriorly he had anyway.

The soft spot he’s had for you since Middle School was now goo, he was protective and worried and no matter how many times you reached out and touched his arm, gently telling him ‘it’s okay Steve, I’m tougher than I look’ it didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was that you were safe and always within reaching distance.

And it’s not even that he didn’t know that, of course he knew how strong you were. He had witnessed it on more than one occasion. It was more like he knew that if he ever let anything happen to you he would lose his mind.

It would break him.

He almost felt as though he’d been looking after you since Middle School, making sure Tommy and his goon squad didn’t bother you, checking in during mid terms and finals, and even down to walking you to your car after shifts at Star Court.

And then more recently, dragging you out of the Upside Down and patching up whatever scratches or cuts you’d managed to get down there.

His touch always soft, always leaving you wanting and needing more. Despite his frantic and panicked over reacting, both of you always made it out alive.

Together.

And that was enough for now as you tried to adjust back into reality, real life taking over quickly and your early twenties flying by even quicker.

“Hey, you’re spacing out.” Robin snapped clicking her fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry.” You told her with a soft laugh, your attention spanning back to her.

“So are you coming?” She asked impatiently and making you nod not really knowing what she was referring to.

“Of course.” You replied to her just as Steve and Eddie rejoined you, a tray of fries and milkshakes placed on the table in front of you.

Steve sliding in easily beside you in the booth, his arm behind your shoulders resting on the seat, his back to the aisle so you were safely blocked between the window and anyone even passing through the diner.

His movements were casual but calculated.

He was comfortable when you were safe, and felt safe.

That’s all that ever matters to him.

“What are you gossiping about?” Eddie asked throwing a handful of fries into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously, your nose scrunching in disgust.

“Gross Eddie!” You scolded moving closer into Steve without even realising. His heart elating with joy as you did, his warmth showering you.

Robin watched with a small knowing smile as Steve passed you your milkshake, not even caring about his own until you were set.

“We were talking about your show later. When does it start?” She asked him also shoving fries in her mouth.

And you were listening to Eddie, you really were but Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your neck as you reached forward for some fries. And the electricity the small touch sent down your spine was deafening.

Literally.

You couldn’t hear Eddie talking about the itinerary. Just his mouth movement and animated hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t even hear Steve no doubt joking about bringing ear plugs.

It frightened you sometimes how he made you feel.

Because he was just Steve, your Steve. But just Steve nonetheless.

Gulping you blinked back into the room, a deep breath and focusing back on Steve’s voice.

“So we can get there at eleven? And you start around midnight? I’ll pick you girls up at ten thirty.” He confirmed looking down at you with an easy grin.

“Great! Sounds perfect.”

___

Later that night you were clutching onto Steve’s arm as if your life depended on it, Robin’s fingers hooked around your wrist as you all pushed through the crowds in the Hideout.

Steve, worried about losing you in the crowd wriggled his arm out of your hold and laced his fingers through yours instead. A grip you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to.

Which you definitely didn’t.

Once you found a good spot you thought he’d let go, even when Robin passed him a beer you thought that must be it, he’ll want his hand back and you feel cold but he didn’t.

He tugged you closer beside him when the music started and eventually when bodies were moving and the crowd pushing forward he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hand letting go of yours but running down your rib cage and then finding home on your hip.

With you in one hand and his beer in his other he started to relax and enjoy the music. Nothing he wanted more in this moment. Having you in his arms in this moment was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

And then Corroded Coffin strayed from their usual set list and played some familiar chords.

The drums making you chuckle, Eddie’s cheesy line to ‘all the lovers out there tonight, let’s slow it down.’

Steve leaning down to your ear and you could feel his grin.

“I love this song!” He told you and you couldn’t stop the grin taking over your features as you turned to face up at him.

“I know Steve! You play this like a hundred times in the car!” You told him with a playful eye roll and he squeezed your hip in retaliation.

You giggled,

Giggled, like a pathetic little school girl.

But Steve managed to do that to you. Reducing you to a smitten girl with a huge crush.

Looking back at Eddie and his band you enjoyed the warmth of Steve surrounding you. His chest rumbling as he sang along.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me.

Joining in the singing you felt Steve’s thumb brush over the exposed skin on your hip, Robin swaying beside you both.

You weren’t sure what came over you but your eyes burned with tears and you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You were happy.

Relieved.

But so happy.

And it was Steve, it always came back to Steve.

By the time he was dropping back off at your place you didn’t want the night to end despite it now being almost 3am.

“Hey Steve?” You heard yourself before your brain even processed what you were doing.

You spun on the doorstep and he’d stopped in his tracks to face you, hopeful.

“Yeah?” He asked already inching back towards you.

You didn’t know this and he’d never tell you but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the thud thud thud ringing through his ears. A million thoughts running through his brain.

“You wanna come in?” You asked so quickly as if to not allow yourself to change your mind.

Steve smiled, slowly at first, maybe a little shy as if unsure you were being serious but then definitely confident when he saw your chest heave with a brave breath.

Grinning he nodded and your bottom lip was captured by your teeth to stop your own grin.

“Yeah.” He breathed out jogging back up the path to you. “I definitely want to.” And before even giving you a chance to respond his hands were on your cheeks and he was kissing you so intently.

Still soft and still gentle like you always knew Steve to be.

But also determined and eager.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” He told you finally pulling away but still close enough that you could feel his lips against yours as he spoke.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to kiss me.” You joked back, leading him into shutting you up with another kiss, just a peck.

“Well I won’t keeping you waiting as long next time.” He offered standing up straight and letting you unlock the door.

“You promise?” You asked over your shoulder, a glint of something in your eyes that Steve hoped he got to see everyday.

“I promise.” He confirmed and following you inside, hands itching to find your skin again and heart still pounding in his chest.

[callsign-rogueone]

one too many

Liam Mairi x reader you have one too many on a night out, but Liam is there to take care of you. this is a part 2 to the spider, but can be read as a standalone. words: 1.0k 🏷: no book spoilers, just fluff, I may be sober but I can still write about drinking and how much it sucks, descriptions of being drunk, she/her "girl" reader, one very minor instance of a guy at the bar being creepy but again -- Liam to the rescue. that's all I got for tags. it's nap time now, byee (yes, there will be a part three to this. it's already in motion.)

You’re definitely starting to regret going out tonight. You have no idea where your friends are, if they’re still here or not, and you really don’t feel good. Weaving through the crowd, you finally spot a friendly face. “Hi, Liam.”

“Hi yourself,” he greets, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you a bit closer to keep you out of the way of the other patrons, and to be able to hear you over the lively conversations and music filling the tavern.

You smile, cuddling into his side contentedly. “Missed you.”

You’ve had a soft spot for the boy for a while now. You don’t spend much time together, being in separate squads, but he’s your across-the-hall neighbor in the dorms — you see him a few times every day, coming to and from your room between classes. 

He’s always nice to you, offering you soft smiles and the occasional kind word or small talk, and the other week, when you’d knocked on his door in a mild panic and asked — begged — him to evict a spider from your room, he’d done it without hesitation, and without judgment.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks gently.

“Head’s a little fuzzy,” you answer with a frown, “but I don’t think I had that much.”

You only remember having one drink, that you’d been sipping on steadily through the night but never finished. You shouldn’t feel this intoxicated — the room is spinning, blurring at the edges, and you feel unsteady on your feet, hence the way you’re rather un-subtly clinging to him.

“There you are,” some guy he doesn’t recognize calls, “thought I lost ya. You ready to go?”

“Who’s your new friend?” Liam asks, holding you a little closer and shifting his body to place himself between you and this new guy, eyeing him with apprehension.

“Oh, this is…” you blink, struggling to recall the other boy��s name. Everything between him walking up to you and the present moment seems a little hazy and unclear.

Liam makes his decision; you’ve had one too many, and you clearly aren’t there enough to agree to go home with a stranger, especially not this guy, who just looks like bad news. “She’s not leaving with you, if that’s what you’re after,” he states flatly, not leaving any room for argument.

The boy scowls, likely thinking that Liam is your boyfriend, and realizing he’s wasted his time flirting with you. He leaves, presumably to find some other girl to sweet-talk into his bed.

“Let’s get you back to the school,” Liam coaxes. 

You agree quietly, letting him guide you out the door and down the street, his arm still around your shoulders to keep you upright. You’re glad you chose sensible shoes for the night — it’s already hard enough to walk in your current state.

You rub at the exposed skin of your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up — you can’t remember if you had brought your jacket with you and forgotten it in the tavern, or if you’d left it in your room.

Ever-observant, Liam shrugs off his own jacket and helps you get your arms through the sleeves. You burrow into the soft fleece-lined leather, warm from his body heat and nicely oversized, the cuffs extending past your knuckles.

“Thank you, Li,” you mumble, taking hold of his arm. “I really didn’t want to go home with that guy.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You continue to tell him how you feel. “You’re such a good guy, you know. Always looking out for everyone. S’ why I like you so much. Well, that ‘n your eyes.”

“My eyes?” he asks casually, as if you hadn’t just drunkenly confessed to having a crush on him.

You hum in affirmation. “They’re really pretty. Like the ocean. Reminds me of home.”

You cover a yawn with a sleeved hand, exhausted, but keep walking alongside him. The alcohol may have lowered your inhibitions, but he still can’t help but feel a little squeeze of pride that you trust him to do the right thing, to take care of you in your vulnerable state.

You don’t protest, or seem to notice at all, that he’s headed in the opposite direction of the dorms — to the healers’ quadrant, instead. 

You continue holding onto him as he leads you into the infirmary and explains to one of the healers what’s going on.

After a quick glance at you and a flip through your patient file, she identifies the problem: “We gave her a medication last week that shouldn’t be mixed with alcohol — it makes one glass feel like five. She’ll be fine in the morning, just really hungover, but she can’t go out drinking again for a while yet. Make sure she gets some water, and plenty of sleep.”

Liam nods, thanking her.

“She’s lucky to have such a good boyfriend to take care of her.”

Liam doesn’t correct her, just offers her a smile and another thank you before he leads you back across the campus to your room.

Thankfully you’re cognizant enough to unlock the door yourself, and you move to sit on your bed as soon as it’s in your sight.

He uncaps your water bottle, finding it half-full. “You should have some water,” he coaxes, extending it to you. 

You comply, emptying it slowly. 

He certainly isn’t going to change your clothes for you, and you look too exhausted and unsteady to do it yourself, so he settles for tugging off your boots and setting them next to the pile of shoes by the door. You can sleep in your outside clothes for the night and just wash your sheets tomorrow.

He picks your stuffed dragon up off of the desk, handing it to you — you hum happily, hugging it to your chest as you lay down. “You gonna be okay?” He asks softly.

Another hum in affirmation as your eyes start to close. 

“Alright. Blythe can have Deigh wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Mmkay,” you murmur. “Thank you, Li.”

He lays a featherlight kiss on your forehead, draping a blanket over you. “Get some sleep, pretty girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[nahoney22]

Happy Birthday 🌊

🫧 pairings: Hunter X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts: none

A/N: For a special someone for their birthday. Happy birthday @photogirl894 ♥️ 🎂

It’s your first birthday without your loved ones nearby, however Hunter has a little surprise in store for you.

warnings: Safe for work, Fluff, Light Angst, Reader Missing Family, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, The Batch Being the Sweetest, Present Giving, Surprise Birthday Celebrations, Female Reader, Not Proofread.

“So, I heard it’s someone’s birthday today?”

The voice is like a warm caress, and you spin around in the pilot’s chair, a soft smile already forming. Hunter stands in the doorway, his arms crossed, and that ever-gracious smirk playing on his lips. Stars above, how could one man be so effortlessly handsome and charming at the same time? His presence alone sends your heart into a wild rhythm.

You try to hide your bashfulness, a difficult feat given Hunter's heightened senses. You often wonder if he can hear the way your heart skips a beat whenever he talks to you, or if he can sense the blood rushing to your cheeks. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” you say, pinching your chin in mock contemplation. “Remind me again?”

He chuckles, a sound that feels like a soft embrace, and walks towards you, placing a caring hand on your shoulder. “Happy birthday, trooper.”

His touch sends a warmth coursing through you, and you grin, though he quickly notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His brows furrow slightly, a sign of his genuine concern. “Something the matter?”

“It’s just… it’s my first birthday without seeing my friends and family, so it feels a bit, I don’t know, different? I guess.”

It had been almost a year since you last visited your home planet. Being a medic for the squad meant you were always on call, patching up the boys and tending to Omega’s scraped knees. You loved your job and the Batch, especially one member more than the others. But celebrating your birthday without your other loved ones felt tougher than you had anticipated.

Hunter moves to the chair beside you, using his foot to gently spin you around to face him. “I guess it would be quite strange,” he acknowledges, leaning forward. “But we will make the day work, huh? Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, and Echo want to take you out for breakfast this morning. Maybe go for a walk on the beach too.”

The thought of the boys offering to take you out for breakfast is sweet, but you can’t help the slight disappointment. “And you and Omega don’t want to come too?”

He shifts, suddenly looking a bit nervous. “Oh, erm, I just have to do some data logs and boring stuff, and Omega said her stomach hurts this morning.”

In an instant, you panic and stand. “What? Is she okay? Why didn’t she tell me?” You start to walk away to find her, your medical and nurturing instincts kicking in. But you’re stopped by a gentle hand grabbing hold of yours.

A warmth spreads up your fingers as you look down at the hand intertwined with yours, then up to the gentle eyes they belong to. “She’s okay, just sleeping.”

Your breath catches in your throat, unsure how to respond. Why was he holding your hand? Why hadn’t he let go yet? “O-Oh, I see.”

He smiles, another one of those smiles that often turn your knees to jelly. “I’m sure you’re going to have a great birthday,” he says fondly.

Your heart swells, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. Hunter’s presence, his touch, his words—they all have a way of making you feel seen and cherished in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You had liked him for the longest of time and you had a somewhat naive hunch he felt something for you too. You had seen the way he acted with women before and it was never the way he was with you. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but you couldn’t miss the way he looked at you.

Hunter’s hand lingers in yours, neither of you seeming to want to let go. The warmth of his touch sends a gentle thrill through you, and you find yourself completely lost in his eyes. Memories flood back: the countless times he had stood by your side, his protective nature, the soft, caring words he had for you after tough missions, and the gentle way he always made sure you were okay.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel your heart pounding in your chest, breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. His face is inches from yours, and you can almost feel his breath when—

The moment is shattered as Wrecker bursts into the room, his loud, jovial voice breaking the spell. “Hey! Happy birthday!” he bellows, his enthusiasm filling the cockpit.

You and Hunter quickly pull apart, standing back as though caught doing something you shouldn’t. Wrecker’s massive arms envelop you in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet momentarily.

“Wrecker!” you laugh, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering warmth from the almost-moment with Hunter.

The rest of the Batch filters in, each offering their birthday wishes. Echo’s smile is warm and genuine, Crosshair gives a nod of acknowledgment, and Tech adjusts his goggles as he speaks. “We should get going before all the good food spots are full. I’ve done extensive research and compiled a list of optimal breakfast locations.”

You chuckle and nod, grateful for the distraction. As you prepare to leave, you give a shy wave to Hunter. He returns it with a nod and a smile that makes your heart flutter once again. Once you’re gone, Omega peeks into the cockpit, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Is she gone?”

Hunter nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s get to work.”

Breakfast is a yummy affair, filled with so much laughter juice nearly snorted out your nose at one point. With Tech having done his research, he led you all to a place where you could indulge in a variety of good dishes—crispy hash browns, fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, and a savoury omelette loaded with anything topping you could think of. Wrecker, of course, devours his food with unabashed enthusiasm, while Tech critiques the menu with a meticulous eye.

After breakfast as promised, the group of you heads to the beach. The sun is warm on your skin but a little too hot later on which meant you had to buy a straw hat by one of the nearby stalls, and the gentle waves lap at the shore.

As you lay on the sand, you watched on as the boys engage in light-hearted banter which soon lead to Wrecker and Crosshair ending up in a playful scuffle, each trying to push the other into the ocean. Their laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but join in, feeling a lightness you hadn’t in a while. But, the longing for your family was still there.

As the day winds down, Echo announces we need to return to the ship.

As soon as you step inside you’re greeted by the sight of decorations, a table laden with gifts and, and the people you love most in the galaxy. Your friends and family. Along with the Batch and Omega, who beams at you with pride.

Emotion wells up within you, your eyes watering instantly and you rush to your loved ones, pulling them into a tight embrace. “I can’t believe you guys are here!”

Echo approaches Hunter, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good job.” They both watch you wipe the tears of happiness from your eyes.

That evening, the festivities of your party slowly start to dwindle. The campfire that was made crackles gently, casting a warm glow on those around you.

After the games, laughter, and a satisfying barbecue, presents are exchanged. You always felt shy when receiving gifts and today was no different. Though you were very grateful.

Tech hands you a crafted gadget, its sleek design and functionality immediately appealing to your practical side. Crosshair, true to his stoic nature, offers a high-quality knife with a subtle smile, acknowledging its usefulness. You weren’t much of a fighter but maybe you could ask Hunter to teach you one day…

Echo gives you a beautifully bound journal with a smooth leather cover and crisp pages of flimsi. He knew you liked to make notes on your adventures and this just adds a more personal touch. Wrecker’s gift, a massive stuffed animal, brings out delighted laughter from you though the others weren’t too impressed with where it’ll fit on the ship.

As the night settles, Hunter catches your eye from across the fire and nods towards the lake. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Curiosity piqued, you nod and follow him away from the glowing campfire and the soft chatter of your friends. The path to the lake is softly illuminated by the last hues of twilight. The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving a trail of purples, pinks, and deep blues in the sky, reflected beautifully on the still waters of the lake.

The environment is serene, with the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze and the distant sound of creatures stirring. The cool air carries the subtle scent of pine and freshwater, wrapping around you. Hunter walks beside you, his presence steady and calming which is what you always felt.

“Thank you for the surprise,” you say, your voice soft and sincere. “I promise not to ugly cry again.”

Hunter chuckles softly, the sound blending harmoniously with the natural ambiance. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Are you wondering where your gift from me is?”

“Not at all, you already did so much!” You say quickly, hoping you hadn’t come across ungrateful at all. But he reassures you as you both come to a stop, away from the view of the others.

“It was nothing, you do so much for us so it’s only fair I do something in return.. but I do actually have a gift for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small box. Opening it, he reveals a stunning bracelet, an intricate mix of different shades of blue stones, woven together in a delicate design on a silver band. The twilight’s remaining light catches on the bracelet, making it shimmer softly.

You’re momentarily speechless, the beauty of the bracelet and the thoughtfulness of Hunter’s gesture leaving you stunned. Smiling gently, Hunter takes your hand, his touch warm, and slips the bracelet onto your wrist. “I don’t know how to thank you,” you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Hunter replies, his voice filled with warmth. He pauses, his eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity. “But maybe we could finish what was almost started this morning?” His tone hopeful

You didn’t expect him to bring it up again, in fact you momentarily forgot about it, but his words send a thrill through you. You nod, a shy smile playing on your lips. Hunter steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The touch is electric, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

The kiss is soft, slow, and tender, a sweet exploration of emotions that were long felt, but never spoken. The galaxy around you fades, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, timeless moment.

When you finally part, Hunter’s eyes are filled with warmth and affection. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Your heart swells with happiness, and you realise that this birthday, surrounded by love is one you will cherish forever.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet t @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Hi! Would you please write one with Matt/Kelly/Jay x reader where the reader is walking home or something and gets attacked. Roughed up a bit maybe a concussion and like a dislocated shoulder... but she manages to get away before anything too bad happens and just runs on instinct to 51. Kelly and Matt all worried and trying to comfort her but she’s in shock. Sylvie and Violet take care of her and take her to med. Jay meets them there. Maybe with worried brother-in-law Will and a Connor appearance?

Messed with the wrong one- Matt, Kelly, and Jay

Warnings: attack briefly described, vomiting, possibly wrong medical jargon

————————————

You have always been decently independent, which is something that your boys love and hate at the same time. You enjoy doing the grocery shopping and often find yourself walking the short distance to the small neighborhood market around the corner from your shared home. Today was no different.

It was late in the afternoon. The sun was just starting to set and you were happily enjoying watching the beautiful colors change in the sky. Jay was still at work, you having been able to leave early since you finished your paper work, but Jay still had a few files left to tidy up. Your errands could have waited, but you had the time now. So, while Matt, Kelly, and Jay were all still at work, you planned on getting a head start on dinner.

You were two blocks from the market when you felt four hands grab you and drag you into a nearby ally. All your training kicked in and you fought back as hard as you could. All you could think about was getting home to your boys. You kicked and punched, having to drag yourself off the ground twice. The second time you found yourself on the ground, your head also found purchase on a brick wall. You quickly shook it off and stood, laying one guy out and dodging the other, bolting down the ally and running as fast as you could. You didn’t dare look back.

Next thing you know, you are running through the bay doors of 51 and Kelly is snatching you up in his arms. You are violently shaking, blood tricking down your neck and face. You don’t respond when Kelly talks to you, given the fact that you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. You notice blurred figures run past you and out of the bay doors, others running out of the firehouse to see what the commotion is all about. Matt comes to your side, but you flinch and scream when he touches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just Matt.” Kelly whispers, rocking you back and forth in his arms. He isn’t sure you hear him, but you relax as you bury your face into his neck and breath in his familiar scent.

Matt doesn’t attempt to touch you again. Not yet anyways, but he thinks he understands why you screamed now. Your left arm is cradled between you and Kelly protectively, leading Matt to believe that your hurt. “Kelly. She’s hurt pretty bad.” Matt whispers, walking around you slowly to examine you with only his eyes.

Kelly nods. “I know. I know baby. Let’s sit down, yeah?” Kelly says, acknowledging Matt and guiding you to sit in his chair at the squad table.

Brett and Violet are standing at the ambo with the doors open. They are both assessing you from afar until Matt and Kelly can get you focused or give them permission to approach. Brett can tell you are slipping into shock, but she doesn’t want to make things worse, so she waits.

It doesn’t take long after Kelly gets you sitting down. His hands pushing your shoulders to lower you down has you screaming in pain. Matt steps aside and waves the medics over, allowing Kelly to keep a hold on you since he got to you first.

“Y/n? It’s Sylvie Brett. Can you hear me?” Brett asks, crouching down to find your tear filled eyes. When you nod, Brett smiles warmly at you. “Good. Good. Can you tell me what hurts?” Brett asks, not yet laying a hand on you.

You gently run your right hand over your collar bone and then touch the back of your head. When your hand comes away with blood, you start shaking harder and hyperventilating. You didn’t feel that.

“Hey. Hey. Baby. It’s okay.” Kelly soothes, taking your hands in his. He carefully wipes them off with a towel that Violet offers as Brett stands to examine your head wound.

“Pretty deep.” Brett comments. At this point, you have lost most of the color in your face and are sweating pretty heavily. Brett can tell, without checking your vitals, that the shock is fully setting in. “Kelly. Get her loaded up. Violet, run inside and tell Boden what’s going on then drive us to med. Matt, call med and have them set up a trauma room and have x ray and CT ready upon arrival.” Brett instructs, putting her feelings as your friend aside to get you help quickly.

Everyone jumps to their tasks. Kelly scoops you up and apologizes as you cry out in pain from the movement. Brett gets in the ambo and immediately pulls out some pain killers and an Iv tray for you. She hands Kelly a towel to keep pressure on your head wound as she hooks you up. You barely flinch as the Iv is stuck in your hand, but begin to calm slightly as the meds take over.

When you stop whimpering, Brett moves to check your chest. “Y/n. I gotta look, okay? No pressing. I promise. Just gotta make sure that everything is still relatively where it’s suppose to be.” Brett said, not wanting to scare you with the fact that your bone could potentially be out of your skin or at an alarming angle or something.

You nodded, leaning your head further into Kelly’s hold as Matt finally jumped in and the ambo began moving. You groaned as the movement caused nausea to spike as your head swam. “Mmmm.” You ground out, trying to breath through the nausea.

“What’s wrong hunny?” Brett asked, pulling back from looking at your collarbone, which seemed to be in place, to look at your face. You had gone pale once again, your face scrunched up as you shakily brought a hand to your mouth. “Okay. Hang on.” Brett said, pushing Kelly forward to lean over and grab a sick bag for you. Matt immediately took it and held it under your chin so that Brett could keep examining you.

“M-Matt.” You gasped, clutching onto his wrist when he came into view. It was like you were just processing that he was even around at all.

“Shhhh. I’m here baby. Kelly and I are here.” Matt soothed, using his free hand to wipe tears from your face. “We are almost to med. We gotcha now.” Matt murmured, hating to see the pain and fear in your eyes. He wanted nothing more than to find whoever did this to you and lay into them, but you were his first priority.

Matt’s thought process was cut short when you heaved, flying forward with a scream of pain at the end of it. Kelly stood, holding your forehead in one hand and the cloth to the back of your head with his other hand. Matt held the bag around your mouth, holding one of Kelly’s arms to stop from trying to steady you or put his hand in the wrong place and hurt you more instead o comforting you.

“Brett. You gotta do something.” Kelly said, trying not to burst into tears as you threw up, screaming when you had enough air. You were shaking violently again, the pain and the vomiting causing your body to go into overdrive.

“Kelly. I can’t. We are two minutes out. I gave her enough to take the edge off, but they gotta assess her before she gets anything else on board.” Brett tried to reason, wiping tears from her own face as she attached wires to you to check your vitals. “I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m so sorry. We are getting you to med.” Brett whispered, her heart aching as she watched her friend get sick and scream while her other friends desperately tried to help.

As soon as the ambo got to Med, Conner Rhoads, Maggie, and your brother in law, Will Halstead, were pulling open the doors. Will stood slightly away, knowing he couldn’t treat you, but he also couldn’t leave you and the boys until Jay got there. Luckily, Jay had been notified by Will when he found out, so he knew his brother would be there soon.

“What do we got?” Conner asked, helping Brett get the stretcher out of the ambo as Kelly kept up, one hand still holding the cloth to your head while the other held the bag Matt had to secure it under your chin as you gagged.

“Deep head lac and suspected broken collar bone. The vomiting started about 4 minutes ago. GCS 6, 140/97, pulse 120, O2 95 on room air.” Brett spout out. “Iv in the field. Left hand. Administered 5 of Morphine to take the edge off.” Brett said, getting your sheets in her hands.

“Okay.” Conner said, “On my count. 1, 2, 3.” Conner counted, then helped transfer you onto the hospital bed. You screamed out again as they moved you, then proceeded to pass out. “She’s out. Elevate her feet. Tip the bed.” Conner instructed, following your head down as you were moved. He checked your pupils and palpitated your collarbone while you were out. “I can feel some inflammation around her collar bone on the left side. Most likely broken, but still in place. She also has a minor concussion. I’m gonna have them do an xray and CT just to make sure on both.” Conner said, standing and looking at the monitor. “Maggie, put her on 5ML of oxygen. Her stats are dropping some. Probably from the pain. Let’s go ahead with another 15 of morphine and some Zofran too.” Conner said, typing it all up pretty quickly.

You began to stir as Kelly pushed some fly away back. Conner was quick to get to you, repositioning the bed to a more comfortable position and checked your head lac. Your eyes fluttered open just as Conner was stepping back.

“Welcome back.” Connor said with a smile. “Your gonna be okay. We need to run some tests, but I think that you’ll only need a few stitches and all you’ll need is a sling to stabilize that arm while your collar bone heals.” Conner supplied, smiling as he heard Matt, Kelly, and Will sigh in relief.

You nodded, then winced. “Hurts.” You whispered, throat raw from throwing up.

Conner nodded and moved aside for Maggie. “Mags is gonna give you more morphine and some Zofran. Sound good?” Conner asked, searching your face for confirmation. When you you gave a shaky thumbs up, he smiled. “Good, I’ll check back in a bit.” Just as Conner was leaving, Jay skidded to a stop as he came barreling through the door, almost hitting Conner in his haste to get to you.

“Baby girl.” Jay breathed, patting Conner on the shoulder and going around him to get to you. He was sweating, eyes wild as he searched your body for injuries, hands and bottom lip shaking.

“J-Jay.” You immediately sobbed out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You wailed, covering your face with your right hand.

Jay shook his head as he laid a hand on your leg. “Shhh. No baby. No. It’s okay. It’s not your fault sweet girl.” Jay soothed, rubbing your leg over the blanket. “We got them. Voight and Antonio have them. Your safe.” Jay soothed, smiling sadly at you.

“She was so smart and so brave. She ran straight into the bay doors of the fire house.” Kelly praised, kissing your forehead.

“You know your always safe with us.” Matt said, rubbing one of your feet over the blanket.

“I-I didn’t even think. I j-just ran.” You sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your arm. “I just thought a-about you guys. I-I needed to get h-home to you guys.” You murmured, tears streaking down your face again as the horrors of the event began to creep into your head.

“You’ll be home tonight sweet girl. Until then, we are here.” Jay soothed, moving forward as Maggie walked out, kissing your forehead gently. “You did so good Angel.”

“I’m home here with you guys. Wherever you are is home.” You whispered, finally relaxing as the drugs numbed the pain and the nausea. You were exhausted and you knew your boys would keep you safe, so you allowed your eyes to slip closed.

——————

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

@starset21

[starsjulia]

beneath the surface - leah williamson

a/n : i have a flight in a few hours and i can’t sleep, so here’s some angst.

warnings!! - homophobia, kinda stockholm syndrome??, abusive father (nothing actually described just implied) no happy ending sorry :(

this is set when they were teenagers

Leah Williamson stood at the edge of the training pitch, her breath misting in the cold evening air. She watched as Y/N worked through drills, her movements precise, but with a mechanical quality that Leah had come to recognize as a shield. It was the way Y/N played when she was trying to hide, when she was trying to keep the world, and Leah, at arm's length.

Leah had known Y/N for years, long enough to recognize the fire in her eyes and the way it dimmed when something weighed heavy on her heart. They had come up through the ranks together, fought for their place on the Arsenal squad, and shared countless moments of joy and triumph on the pitch. But lately, the bond that had always felt unbreakable had been strained by something Leah couldn’t quite touch, something that seemed to grow darker with each passing day.

Leah’s feelings for Y/N had been a constant, a quiet love that had taken root in her heart from the first time they’d laced up their boots together. She’d never said anything, too afraid of what it might mean to put that love into words, to give it life. But now, seeing Y/N so distant, so broken, she couldn’t stay silent anymore.

After practice, Leah approached Y/N, who was already heading toward the locker rooms, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Y/N, wait,” Leah called out, jogging to catch up with her. Y/N paused, glancing over her shoulder, her expression guarded.

“What’s up?” Y/N asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Leah hesitated, searching for the right words. “Can we talk? It’s just… you haven’t been yourself lately. I’m worried about you.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with something Leah couldn’t quite decipher before she quickly masked it with a small, tight smile. “I’m fine, Leah. Just tired. You know how it is.”

Leah wasn’t convinced. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know something’s wrong.”

Y/N looked away, her hands fidgeting nervously. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Leah stepped closer, lowering her voice as she spoke. “Is it your dad?”

At the mention of her father, Y/N flinched, the slight movement sending a pang of hurt through Leah’s chest. Y/N’s father had always been a shadow over their friendship, a figure Leah had never met but had heard enough about to know he was controlling, manipulative, and far from the supportive parent Y/N deserved. Leah had tried to bring it up before, but Y/N would always shut down, insisting everything was fine.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah’s heart ached for her, for the pain she knew Y/N was holding inside. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You know that, right?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, Leah thought she might finally open up, finally let her in. But then Y/N blinked them away, steeling herself. “I’m not alone. I have my dad.”

Leah felt a surge of anger, not at Y/N, but at the man who had twisted her mind, who had made her believe that the only love she deserved was the kind that came with conditions and control. “He’s hurting you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/N shook her head, her expression desperate, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Leah. “He loves me. He just wants what’s best for me.”

Leah reached out, gently taking Y/N’s hand in her own. “That’s not love. Love doesn’t make you feel like you’re not good enough. It doesn’t make you scared to be who you are.”

Y/N pulled her hand away, the movement sharp and painful. “You don’t understand, Leah. I can’t… I can’t be like you.”

Leah’s breath caught in her throat. She had never come out to Y/N, had never told her about the feelings she harbored, but somehow, Y/N had always known. “There’s nothing wrong with being like me,” Leah said softly.

“There is,” Y/N replied, her voice cracking. “My dad… he says it’s wrong. That it’s a sin. I can’t disappoint him, Leah. I can’t.”

Leah wanted to scream, to shake Y/N, to make her see that the man she was so desperate to please was the one who was truly in the wrong. But she knew it wasn’t that simple. Y/N had been conditioned to believe these things for so long that breaking free seemed impossible.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Leah confessed, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I don’t care what your dad says. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved for who you are.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, Leah saw something flicker there—hope, maybe, or even longing. But then it was gone, replaced by fear and confusion.

“I can’t,” Y/N whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Before Leah could say anything else, Y/N turned and ran, leaving Leah standing there alone, her heart shattered into pieces.

***

That night, Leah lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. She couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about the pain in her eyes and the way she had pulled away. Leah wanted to help her, to save her from the nightmare she was living, but she didn’t know how.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N grew more distant, retreating further into herself. On the pitch, they were still teammates, still the unstoppable duo they had always been, but off the pitch, Y/N was a ghost, slipping away before Leah could even reach her.

Leah tried to talk to her, to make her see that she was being manipulated, that her father’s love was conditional and toxic. But every time she brought it up, Y/N would shut down, her expression blank and unreadable.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Leah found Y/N sitting alone in the locker room, staring at the floor, her shoulders hunched.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, sitting down beside her. “Please talk to me.”

Y/N didn’t look up, her voice hollow as she spoke. “I don’t know what to do, Leah. I feel like I’m drowning, but I don’t know how to get out.”

Leah’s heart broke at the despair in Y/N’s voice. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Y/N finally looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with a deep sadness that made Leah’s chest ache. “I’m scared, Leah. I’m scared of what he’ll do if I tell him… if I admit what I feel.”

Leah took Y/N’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You don’t owe him anything. You deserve to live your life on your own terms, not his. But I can’t make that decision for you. Only you can.”

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she leaned into Leah, resting her head on her shoulder. Leah wrapped her arms around her, holding her close, wishing she could take away the pain, the fear, the confusion that had Y/N so tightly bound.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Y/N whispered.

“You are,” Leah said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

For a moment, it felt like Y/N might believe her, might find the courage to break free. But then she pulled away, shaking her head.

“I can’t,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. “I can’t lose him, Leah. I’ve already lost Mum. I can’t lose dad too.”

Leah wanted to scream, wanted to tell Y/N that she was already lost, that the man she was clinging to so desperately had taken away the person she used to be. But she knew it wouldn’t help, knew that Y/N had to come to that realization on her own.

“I love you,” Leah whispered, the words a desperate plea, a final attempt to reach the part of Y/N that still remembered who she was before her father’s poison took hold.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t say it back. She just shook her head, her expression one of deep sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” she said, her voice barely audible.

And then she was gone, slipping away from Leah’s grasp, leaving behind a void that nothing could fill.

Leah watched her walk away, her heart breaking all over again. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if Y/N would ever find the strength to break free from the chains her father had wrapped around her. But she knew one thing for certain—she would be there, waiting, hoping, and loving Y/N from afar, even if it meant breaking her own heart in the process.

[trendywaifus]

Greetings trendy! It is I! The great and mighty Kaijunon! I'm here with just a wholesome suggestion, giving Miyabi headpats. Y'know? Gently caressing her hair, giving her small kisses, cuddling her like just giving her general affection bc I the epic and cool Kaiju rat am feeling extra affectionate today, anyway I shall now drink Pepsi

🍞 anon

hi hi!! coke better>> since I’ve been thinking about miyabi recently, here guyths🤓

also miyabi will take any type of affection you give her. the baby is touched starved and loves being praised. miyabi is at her clingiest when it’s cuddle time.

“ is my fox comfortable? “ you asked gently, tangled in the the sheets with miyabi’s small form snuggled up against you, cold nose burrowed in the crook of your neck. with toned arms hugging you tight, she let out a pleased sigh which felt like cool air fanning against your neck. “ yes, i am. “ after a long day at work, she finally gets to indulge herself in you. miyabi didn’t get to see you one time today due to being busy with slaying ethereals and she did not even get the chance to answer your texts or call before entering and exiting the hollow. it was all thanks to dragging and nonsensical reports too. you’ve been on her mind all day and the amount of times miyabi mused out loud to herself about wishing to see you made harumasa shake his head and tease her, yanagi reassure her, and soukaku offer her candy throughout the whole mission.

you run a hand up and down miyabi’s back repetitively, massaging invisible lines into her back through the inky kimono in a manner that makes her melt and fox ears push back against her head with contentment. “ you sure you don’t want to eat dinner? aren’t you hungry, ‘yabi? “

she shakes her head, “ no, i ate a bowl of two miso noodles before coming home so we can get straight to this. i have. .missed you too much today, my love.”

cracking into a warm smile, you give the crown of her head a kiss. “ i see. long day too? “

“ admittedly so. “ she replies in seemingly bland tone but you know her well enough to hear her words sounded a little heavier than usual. you don’t like how miyabi’s treated sometimes—her squad members are amazing, it’s the h.a.n.d. higher-ups. just because she’s the strongest void hunter right now doesn’t give them the right to treat her and her other members as some sort of weapons. they’ve been buried in missions recently because of the influx of increased hollow activity in some hollows. you briefly sighed before planting a lingering kiss on her head again. one of miyabi’s ears flickered with delight.

“ I’m sorry to hear that, my heart. but i know you handled it well today, you always do. as expected from my amazing lover. i just don’t like how you’re not getting any breaks lately. “

if she had a tail, it would undoubtedly be wagging right now. you can feel a small smile pressed against your next. “ . .they’re nothing. and no matter how many missions they give me, i’ll finish them all because of your unshakable support and you having me in your prayers. “

gently, you retract miyabi’s head away from your neck. ruby eyes connect with yours in brief confusion before they shine with soft affection. your hand place itself on her cheek and almost immediately, she leans into your tender warmth, soaking it in to her cool skin. “ of course, i’m yours after all. “

you lean in to share a soft kiss with miyabi who returns the gesture right back. she’s been getting better and more relaxed with kissing recently. you definitely can conclude that she’s a very good kisser now that her stiffness is disappearing away. “ rightfully so. “ the sable haired woman responds back with softness of her own.

“ haha. .rightfully so? do i sense the great miyabi showing off her arrogance? “ you teased, pressing your lips against the right crevice of hers.

“ no, i just firmly believe i’m the only one who can honor you and call you mine. . .however, if you want to view that as arrogance in a way. .then so be it. i do not pay it no mind. “

[ilovetopgunsstuff]

heyyy!! i love your writing especially the night shift! i was wondering if i could submit a request for bradley? just him being physically affectionate and always having a hand on you (i feel like that’s his love language idk idk), maybe we’re at the hard deck with the dagger squad and it’s just super fluffy! overall rooster is just hubby material, and maybe there’s a cute kiss or make out sesh outside the hard deck or against his bronco! i trust you haha and i love your writing so whatever you think works! :))

touchy

prompt: it doesn’t matter where you are, but bradley HAS to touch you, it’s his love language it doesn’t matter where on your body: on your arm, thigh, knee. for a tall gruff military guy, he’s like a little teddy bear

warnings: literally js fluff, maybe a little suggestive

a/n: this was such a cute request, hope you enjoy!

“Christ, are you ready yet?” Bradley called from your couch. It was easy for him to say; all he had to do was put on a Hawaiian shirt, a tank top, and jeans. You, however, had to shower, shave your legs, dry and style your hair, do your makeup, pick and outfit, the list goes on.

Bradley acts annoyed, but secretly he enjoys it. He’d wait for you forever. He loved laying on your couch, already dressed for wherever you were going, and listening to you get ready. He’d continue to act annoyed every time, though, cause your little eye roll as he complained was worth it. He was itching to get up and go see you in the bathroom, but you barred him from entering while you were doing your makeup so you could “be in your zone.” He’d pretend he wasn’t bothered by it, but every second he was away from you he wished he wasn’t. He wanted to touch you, kiss you, smell your perfume, anything. He wanted you, all the time.

Tonight, the team was going to the Hard Deck since it was Friday. It was a spot you two would attend regularly, but Bradley loved how done up you got every time you went. Without fail, you were the most beautiful girl in the room, makeup or not, and he’d tell you that over and over.

“Shush,” you replied, spraying one last bit of perfume on before stepping out of the bathroom. You smoothed out your dress, which was light blue, and it hugged your curves so well. You hadn’t looked up at him yet, but you heard a whistle.

He stood up, not hiding that he was looking you up and down. You thought you heard a “damn” whispered under his breath but you weren’t sure. You also weren’t completely sure about your outfit.

“I really don’t know if I like these heels. It was between these and another pair and I might go-“

“You look perfect,” he said as he grabbed both your hands, pulling you into him. You felt his hands snake down to grab your ass, and he couldn’t help but kiss your neck. “So perfect,” he murmured into your skin, “that we could skip the whole bar thing and just stay at home. And if you’re unsure about the shoes, I could take those right off for ya.”

You pulled yourself away from him to keep from possibly agreeing. “Bradleyyy, you love the Hard Deck!”

“That I do,” he said as he pulled you back to him. “You know what I love more?”

“Hm?”

“My girl.”

You could help but shyly smile. “Well,” you stated, “tell her she can wait then.”

He scoffed at your joke as he nuzzled into your neck.

“Come on, let’s go!” you turned around and dragged him by the hand out the front door.

He groaned as he followed after you like a puppy. You walked like this all the way down the gravel path to the driveway. He opened the Bronco door for you on the passenger’s side, then walked around and got into the drivers seat.

As soon as he turned on the car and started driving, his hand took its common place on the inside of your upper thigh. His thumb absentminded rubbed your skin gently. You looked over at him and just watched him. His mustache and hair together looked so good against his tan skin and flowy Hawaiian shirt.

“What?” he was at a red light, and he lolled his head to look at you with his sunglasses on.

“Nothing.”

A small smirk was on his face as he looked back forward, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” you whispered.

- - -

The Hard Deck was crowded tonight, but it didn’t take long to find your group. You met Phoenix at the bar; she was standing there talking to Penny, who greeted you with a drink. You smiled at her and joined in on their conversation.

Rooster was in the process of being convinced by the guys to play a game of pool.

“Mind if we steal your girl for a little while, Rooster?” Penny called out over the noise of the crowd and music.

“If you promise to give her back.” He smiled at her.

He then kissed you on the cheek from behind, squeezing your hips as he whispered that he’d come find you later before he got dragged off. Your knees almost buckled, you wouldn’t lie. Phoenix looked at you with feigned admiration.

“Aren’t you two just adorable?” she teased.

“Two peas in a pod,” Penny quipped, winking at you.

You couldn’t even be annoyed at them, because you were beaming. “Whatever, guys.”

“So… what’s been going on with you two? Spill!” Phoenix pressed you.

You knew Penny would never ask you that sort of question outright, but she was definitely leaning in to hear.

You loved having girl talk, and you could talk about Bradley for hours and hours, happily bending to Phoenix’s wishes. You glanced over to the pool table to find Bradley laughing with the cue in his hand, a beer in the other. You girls’ conversation went on into the night as you lost track of time.

- - -

Bradley played a tipsy game of pool with Hangman, Bob, and Coyote while the others sat and watched, sipping lazily on beers. He and Bob won of course, and game after game went by into the night. Every once in a while, he’d glance up at you, making sure you were still there and he could still see you. You had no idea how bad he just wanted to take you home in that dress, but he’d wait it out. Seeing you so happy talking with your friends was worth it.

Before he knew it, though, he was a few beers in and he just couldn’t get you off his mind. He checked his watch and time had flown. It had been a few hours since you got here, and it was now a little before 1 AM.

- - -

You’d stopped drinking after your second drink; you didn’t feel like getting drunk tonight. The crowd was dying down and so was your energy.

“Well, ladies, I think it may be time to call it. I’m tapping out,” you told them. They agreed with you.

“I was thinking that also. Need help closing or anything, Penny?” Phoenix asked as she looked around for Hangman, Bob, and Coyote, the group she came with.

“Oh I’m good. Not much left to do around here,” Penny responded as she finished polishing glasses. “You girls have a good night.” You and Phoenix thanked her. Phoenix hugged you goodbye, promising to call you tomorrow and saying that she’d see you at work Monday.

Then it was just you. You looked around at the dwindling crowd, narrowing your eyes to try and find-

Then his familiar arms slid around your waist.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered.

You turned in his arms, and you were now face to face with him. “Hi,” you smiled up at him. “I’m tired.”

“Me, too.” He couldn’t get his hands or gaze off you. He just looked down at you while holding you close. It was his favorite thing to do. “Lead the way.”

And you did, all the way out to his car. The parking lot was void of people except for you two. He hadn’t kissed you in so long. As soon as you got out of sight from everyone he backed you against his car and his lips passionately met yours. His hands roamed so desperately. You hummed in surprise as his hands found the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the hood of his car.

“I’m sorry baby,” he said through kissing you. “I know we should continue this at home, I just want you so bad.”

“Take me home, then,” you said breathlessly. All of your self control was gone by now.

“Gladly.”

And boy did he speed home.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Cherry Chapstick

Pairing: Armin x reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: Armin refuses to let you use his chapstick. No worries, you have other ideas on how to keep your lips from getting chapped.

(also just pretend chapstick is canon in the aot universe for the sake of the fic 😭)

Another long and grueling day of training was finishing up. The sun was setting through the huge forest of trees.

“Alright, trainings over! Rest up and be ready to head back in 15 minutes.” The squad leader said with his barking voice.

Your squad leader liked doing various training sessions with just your squad, something about strengthening the bond and making it easier to tag team during expeditions.

Landing on one of the branches to catch your breath, you sat against the bark let your body slouch for the first time that day.

“Tired?”

Looking up at the voice, Armin was standing in front of you. His new shorter blond locks shifting gently in the breeze as his pretty blue eyes locked on your figure. He was one of your closest friends. The friendship was honestly ideal with him giving you the guidance that you needed while you encouraged him when he was feeling insecure.

You nodded at him through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile. “I’m so glad we have a day off tomorrow, I’ll probably spend it sleeping.”

Armin returned a smile at your words. “You’re almost there, (y/n). I’m sure your bed misses you too.” While you laughed at him, Armin squatted down next to you.

“What do you got planned tomorrow?” You asked and leaned your head against the tree. He pulled his green cloak tighter around his shoulders when the breeze kicked in.

“Probably go out into the valley and find a nice place to read.”

“By yourself? What about Eren and Mikasa?” You raised an eyebrow. The trio was pretty much inseparable.

Armin waved off your question with his hand. “They wanted to go into the city and I’m tired of third-wheeling. It wasn’t much fun as kids and still isn’t now.”

Nodding your head, you gazed once more at the sun just about to set. The orange hues casting over the green plains.

Armin finally sat down on the branch, his leg brushing up against yours. “God, I can’t stand this weather.” He muttered and started to fish for something out of his pocket.

With curious eyes, you saw him pull out a small tube. Chapstick? He uncapped it and gently spread it on his lips.

Armin chuckled when he caught you staring at him. “What? My lips are chapped.”

“I can see that.” You could also see his plump pink lips all shiny from the substance. “What flavor is it?”

“Cherry.” He pocketed the chapstick.

You inched over to him. Cherry was your favorite flavor, a timeless classic that forever held your heart. You were about to ask him for some when he seemed to have read your thoughts and immediately shut you down.

“No, you can’t have any.”

Instantly shocked at his words, your mouth was agape and you crossed your arms with a pout. “What, why?”

Honestly, you couldn’t care less… well maybe you cared a little bit. But being petty and dramatic was more fun however, especially in front of Armin.

“(Y/n), don’t take this the wrong way, but anything you touch immediately disappears.”

Ok, now you cared a lot a bit. “No it doesn’t!”

“Oh, you defended yourself real quick there, huh? Alright, tell me where Sasha’s hairbrush is.” Armin had a smile on his face as he rested his arm on his propped up knee. Sasha lent you her brush one day and it was never seen again. She made you buy her a new one the next day.

Your silence was the answer he needed.

“Maybe you know where Mikasa’s training gloves are?”

Again, more silence. She’d let you borrow them for training and you stupidly set them down when it was windy.

“Oh, wait! My blue sweater? Haven’t seen that in a while and you were the only person I lent it to.”

It was a rather chilly morning one day, so Armin lent you his infamous blue sweater.

Manipulative little bastard.

A slight blush dusted your cheeks. You glared at the blonde and scoffed. “I feel like this isn’t just about chapstick.”

Arming gave out a chuckle. “It is, (y/n). Don’t worry.” With that, Armin rose to his feet and patted your head as he walked along the branch.

Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction when his fingertips rubbed your scalp.

“I can’t even have a little?”

“No.”

Ugh, be like that then.

———

Your squad eventually had to make the journey back home. Riding next to Armin, your horses ran in sync as you both gave each other little glances every few minutes.

“Can I have some of that chapstick now?” Your voice rang over thundering steps of the horses.

“No.” Armin replied.

“But my lips are chapped!”

“Figure it out.” He shouted back.

Oh I will.

———

“Finally home.” You moaned and jumped off your horse and led her to the stables. Your body ached and sleep was all you were craving. It was dark by the time you guys got back and your squad leader gave his appreciation by quickly dismissing everyone.

Maybe I’ll skip dinner. I’m so tired.

Thoughts flowing through your head as you undressed your horse of her gear. Hanging the saddle on a peg, you brushed her mane and fed her some carrots.

“Eat up, Star. My pretty girl.” You cooed, gently running your hand over her nose. Another set of steps disrupted your intimate moment with Star.

Turning around, your eyes softened at Armin, who led his horse over by the reins.

“Hey, stranger.” He teased and began working on his horse. You smiled back at him and it was silent for a few moments, just the sound of the equipment clinking with movement.

You turned to look at him only to give a dry chuckle when you saw him pulling out his stupid cherry chapstick again. The stupid smile never left his face as he applied it.

“Ar-”

“No chapstick, (y/n).”

Damn.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say!”

Armin turned to meet your gaze with raised eyebrows. “What was it then?”

Shit. Think (y/n).

Armin chuckled as the silence answered his question. His hands gently brushed through his horse’s mane. “You’re a bad liar.”

A scoff left your lips. “I don’t like this new attitude of yours.”

Over time, Armin slowly broke out of his shell, no longer the dorky and nervous kid he once was- even though you loved that about him. Now, he was comfortable enough to speak his mind without a second thought, even to you.

“Get used to it, (y/n). Looks like you’ll have to find another way to keep your lips moisturized.”

You didn’t like the snarky look he had on his face. A sudden idea popped into your head. As Armin finished settling his horse for the night, you caught his wrist as he walked by.

A confused look adorning his features when he turned to look at you.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him towards you and stood on your toes. Lifting your head, your lips quickly planted themselves onto his.

You could tell he was caught of guard. His blue eyes widened at the sudden action and a startled whimper escaped him. It was kinda hot honestly. Pulling away, you rubbed your lips together and popped them. “Mmm, gotta love cherry.”

His lips were partly opened and a red rouge covered his face. He still couldn’t believe it.

“U-uh, I-”

“Night, Armin. See ya tomorrow.” You smiled innocently at him before brushing past him to leave.

His hand latched onto your elbow and pulled you back. Raising an eyebrow at him, Armin gripped both your shoulders before pulling you back in, lips meeting yours once more. His back was crouched down a little to meet your height. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

Oh. Oooh

He moaned slightly against your lips when you started kissing back.

The kiss lasted a few seconds before Armin slowly pulled away from you. You both were slightly panting from the adrenaline and the eye contact between you both never broke.

“There.” His hands still gripped your shoulders. “That should last you a bit.” With that, his hand moved just below your ear, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

Armin finally snapped himself of whatever trance you had on him and gave a small smile. “Meet me here tomorrow at noon, that’ll give you plenty of time to sleep in and you can join me in the valley.”

“O-okay.”

Without another word, Armin left the stables. Your mind ran crazy with thoughts. Yes, you kissed him first, but you didn’t expect him to actually want to kiss you again.

How in the world did he play the game better than you? It was your idea-

—————

The sun shines brightly through the curtains of your room. You let out a groan as the stiffness in your muscles were more prominent from yesterdays training.

Looking at the clock on the wall- 8:25 am.

You can still catch breakfast before it ends and relax a bit before meeting up with Armin.

Oh yeah…

What a peculiar night. You honestly thought Armin would either be confused or disgusted when you kissed him. Not flustered. Him kissing you on his own also surprised you. The little manipulators all grown up now.

You got up and threw on some random clothes, heading to the dining hall.

You quietly ate your food, only a few soldiers remained in the dining hall since breakfast was ending soon.

Time slowly passed by, and you decided to take a nap in your bed for another hour or two before leaving. The nap only left you more tired. After changing into a more presentable outfit, a simple button up and a long skirt, you threw your favorite sweater over. The material was soft and the fading but familiar scent was comforting to you.

Your footsteps were slow as you walked to the stables. The soreness in your body along with the tiredness still swirled in your system.

“(Y/n), over here.” Armin called out to you as he led his horse outside his stall. “Perfect timing, I was just getting ready to- is that my sweater?”

Oops. Yes, yes it was.

“Maybe.”

“I thought you said you lost it!”

“I never said I lost it.” You yawned. “Just never wanted to give it back to you.”

Armin chuckled and was a bit surprised at your words, he climbed on his horse and turned down to you, hand extended. “You ready?”

Nodding, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. Your legs straddled the horse and your hand hesitantly grazed his waist. It wasn’t until Armin flicked the reigns and the horse quickly trotted forward that you decided to wrap your arms tightly around his waist as he navigated through the towns.

“You good there?” He joked and placed his hand on top of your clasped ones that pressed against his abdomen.

—————

“You look nice in my sweater.” Armin commented, trekking his fingers gently through your scalp.

The warm breeze swayed the grass and wildflowers surrounding you. The meadow Armin took you to was beautiful this time of year.

Your head currently rested on his thigh. Armin was sat against a willow tree, a book in his other hand. Every so often, his hand would leave your head to turn the page and gently return.

“It’s mine now.” You mumbled through closed eyes. Armin insisted you try to nap again while he read. However, no one brought up the situation from last night. At the moment it almost seemed like it never happens. No one acknowledged it.

“Of course it is.” He said with a smile before taking his hand away from your head. He shifted and buried his hand in the pocket of his trousers. His leg raised your head slightly as he moved. “Sorry, I just can’t- dammit where is it?”

You craned your neck to see his agitated face. “What happened?”

“I can’t find my chapstick.” He muttered with a frown.

A giggle erupted from your mouth, making him look at you. “And you say I lose stuff?”

“Shut up.” He muttered.

You both returned to your original positions with you head still resting on his lap. The breeze continued to blow and you glanced at Armin to see the tips of his blonde hair blow across his face. The shorter hair really suited him.

You let out a small sigh and pulled the sweater tighter around your frame. Reaching into the small pocket, you pulled something out.

Uncapping it, you gently applied it to your lips and didn’t miss the way Armin was staring at you dumbfounded. The label was clearly a different color than his. No, this one was yours. All yours.

“It’s strawberry and before you ask- no you can’t have any. I wouldn’t want you to lose this one too.” A devilish smirk crossed your face. Payback was a bitch. If he could be petty, so could you.

Armin sat back and mumbled something incoherent. His book was now discarded to the side and his arms were crossed with a pout. Memories of last night flooded his thoughts.

The way he held you. The way he looked at you. How you tasted.

You looked up at him with innocent eyes and rubbed the substance coating your lips together. He was staring at you.

You let out a small laugh as he pulled your body up and lowered himself down closer to you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes stared into yours before darting to your lips, then back to your eyes. He was so close. Then as if he decided it was right, Armin’s lips were encasing yours once more.

You gave a small sigh into the kiss and your fingers raked through his blonde hair.

Armin’s tongue gently swiped against your bottom lip and before you could open your mouth for more, he pulled away.

“You’re right.” He said and rubbed his own lips together. “Cherry does taste better.”

You were a little disappointed at the sudden break in contact. Sitting your body up, you faced him. “We can get you more when we head back into town.” You offered and avoided your gaze.

Maybe he was just getting payback for last night?

Armin rolled his eyes and pulled you back towards him. “Yeah that sounds good, but I like this option better.”

And he kissed you again. More passionately this time.

He suddenly pulled your body against his so you were fully sat in his lap, emitting a small squeal from you. Your legs curled into his side and his hands were placed at your waist, thumb brushing your hip.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Just take me out and we’ll call it even.” You replied, your arm wrapping around his neck.

“Okay.”

——

Taglist: @cullenswife

(Lmk if you wanna be added <3)

[naturesapphic]

Hi! I have an Olivia Benson x reader request, if you want to change it up that’s cool too!

Reader and Olivia are out on field, in this case to a multi story high business building, following up on leads. Reader doesn’t ever take elevators, she gets triggers to past events. She never wanted to disclose this to the squad, they always pass it off with how she’s super fit already. This time Olivia scolds her out of climbing flights of stairs. Reader was tense on the way up and unlike herself, Liv notices but doesn’t put any emphasis on it. On the way down the power cuts and elevator halts…

Fears of Elevators

Olivia benson x fem!reader

Warnings: fear of elevators, hurt/comfort, Olivia being a complete softy

“Ugh! I hate men! I can’t believe he didn’t give us any information and had the balls to hit on me!” You exclaimed to your girlfriend Olivia who is also your partner in the SVU after Elliot left. You knew her when she was in the academy and was close friends with her which later led into a relationship that’s been going on for four years now. When Elliot left, Olivia was heartbroken. Olivia considered Elliot a close friend and it hurt her that he left. When he left, you offered to take this opportunity to work with your girlfriend. You got the job and from there y’all were the best team out there.

She chuckled and gave you a look “you shouldn’t be that surprised now.” She explained and you sighed in understanding. “That’s true.” You replied back as y’all were walking down the halls in a multistory building that was filled with elevators all around, with a couple of stairs that you immediately took a liking to. You were about to take the stairs again for the third time until Olivia pulled you back on your arm gently. “Y/n. Please stop taking the stairs, you are wearing yourself out and we need as much energy as we can until we catch this son of a bitch.” She explained and you groaned loudly with made her raise her eyebrow at you. She never understood why you liked taking the stairs when there was a perfectly good working elevator waiting to be used. She just thought it was good exercise for you but these stairs were long and she didn’t want you to be tired and worn out already.

“Please livia…I just like taking the stairs.” You tried to explain but liv was pushing you gently towards the elevator and you sighed in defeat, letting her guide you toward it. Once you the both of you were in, you immediately held her hand, seeking comfort. Olivia gave you a corned look but nonetheless gave you a gentle smile and rubbed her thumb over your knuckles. Everything was going smoothly until the elevator abruptly which made your heart sink. “Shit. The elevator is stuck. I’ll call Elliot and munch.” She said and she whipped out her phone calling them to let them know about the situation they were currently in. While Olivia was getting help, you were panicking the fuck out. You knew you should have taken the stairs but you realized that Olivia would be all alone and you couldn’t imagine that, but you were still freaking out.

You tried to calm your breathing but it was no use. The lights went out and you whimpered out which got Olivia’s attention quickly. She hung up the phone, telling them to hurry their asses up and quickly got your hands in hers and looked in your fear written eyes. “Hey hey baby. It’s okay. What’s wrong? Breath.” She said softly and you couldn’t make a sound besides heaving breathing. She realized that you weren’t gonna talk, there’s no way you could right now, and decided to gently get you sitting on the ground and she immediately went behind you so your back was against her chest. She put you in her lap and moved you to where you were being cradled like a baby and she gently took your shaking hand and put it on her heart. “Breath with me baby. It’s okay. I’m here. Follow my breathing.” She coached you with a quiet voice and you were slowly following her breathing and after seven minutes your breathing was slowly going back to normal.

“Thank you livia…” you said quietly and she gave you a small but genuine smile. “Of course sweetheart. Anytime.” She said as she leaned down to give you a loving kiss on your forehead. “Now. Would you like to tell me why you are scared of elevators?” She asked and you started fidgeting with Olivia’s fingers and she kept giving you kisses on your head. “It’s okay baby. You don’t have to tell me just yet if you aren’t ready.” She explained and you smiled softly but shook your head. “No no…I’m ready…” you said and you went on to tell her the story on how your mom and sister was killed in a elevator accident. You were only 10 and staying with your grandma while your mom and sister went to do some errands. When you found out what happened you never ever went on elevators again.

“Oh babygirl…I’m so sorry…now I know why you never really talked about your mom and sister.” She replied and you nodded your head yes. When you were about to say it was okay, the lights flickered back on and the doors of the elevators were opened revealing the cops and the svu team along with captain cragen. Olivia helped you stand on your feet and you immediately rushed out of the elevator, relieved to get the fuck out of that thing. Olivia was close behind you but was stopped by cragen and Elliot. She explained what happened but didn’t go into full detail, leaving that up to you to tell them and they respected that. You went back over to them and let them know that you were okay and was just happy to get out.

The team left shortly after, leaving just you and Olivia again. Olivia came to you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “Let’s go home baby. Cragen said we can have the rest of the day off but we have to be back tomorrow morning. He could tell how fragile you are right now and he doesn’t want you to have another panic attack again.” She said and you giggled at her. “Yep. We do have a dirty bastard to catch.” You said and she smiled as the both of you walking out of the building, walking back to the home that y’all both shared.

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed! Winter/Christmas requests are still open for all of the people that I write! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

[gothicxreylover]

dude ur works amazing im obsessed with the giant hashira x tiny reader I was wondering if u could do the same but kamaboko squad like how reader meets them and what they would do if they fund reader escaping

Meeting the Kamaboko Squad

You’re small—so small, in fact, that the world around you seems overwhelmingly large. And one day, while out on a mission, you somehow find yourself in the midst of the Kamaboko Squad, though you were trying to stay hidden from the rest of the Corps. You never planned on meeting them, but a series of mishaps (perhaps some lost directions or running into a tree) lead you right into their path.

Tanjiro, with his ever-gentle nature, is the first to notice you. His concern is immediate, a slight panic in his voice as he kneels down. “Hey, are you okay? You’re so small… Did you get lost?” His eyes widen in wonder and confusion. How did someone so tiny end up here in the first place?

Nezuko, ever protective of those she cares for, peers curiously from the basket on Tanjiro’s back. Her eyes soften when she sees you, her gaze filled with both affection and a little bit of concern. Her instincts as a demon protector seem to kick in, sensing that you’re vulnerable and need to be kept safe.

Zenitsu, on the other hand, immediately gets worried about your size. “What’s going on? You’re so small! You could get hurt easily like that! Are you okay? Are you lost?!” He exclaims, his voice trembling with concern, even if he’s unsure of how to handle this new development.

Inosuke, with his boisterous and blunt personality, simply grins. “I’ve never seen someone like you before! So tiny! You’d be a perfect challenge for me!” But there’s a glint of curiosity in his eyes—this tiny person is intriguing to him, and despite his competitive nature, he can’t help but feel protective.

When They Discover You’ve Escaped

At first, they don’t realize what’s going on. But when they start to notice you’re nowhere to be found, panic sets in.

Tanjiro’s Reaction:

“Where did they go?” Tanjiro asks, frantically searching the area, calling your name gently. He’s concerned and confused, unable to understand why you would leave without a word. His heart aches at the thought of you wandering off on your own. He knows how dangerous it can be for someone so small, especially in the dangerous world they live in. “Please, come back…”

When Tanjiro finally finds you, perhaps sneaking through some bushes or making your way back to a familiar hiding place, his immediate response is a mix of relief and sadness. “You didn’t have to run off like that,” he says softly, kneeling down to your level. His large hand reaches out, offering warmth and comfort. “You’re safe here with us, you know? We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Nezuko’s Reaction:

Nezuko, already protective of you after just a short time together, becomes more aware of your movements as soon as you start trying to slip away. When she finds you trying to escape again, she immediately scoops you up in her arms without a word. Her eyes tell you everything—she’s worried about you, but she also can’t let you go off on your own.

Her embrace is gentle yet firm. You can feel the care in every movement, even if she’s not able to express it verbally. There’s a protective fierceness in her gaze as she holds you close. “You don’t have to run. You’re with family now,” her eyes seem to say, and there’s a promise in them that she won’t ever let you go.

Zenitsu’s Reaction:

Zenitsu, when he realizes you’ve slipped away, goes into full-blown panic mode. “Y/N! No, no, no, where are you?” His voice trembles with fear. He doesn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to you. The thought of you being out there alone makes him sick to his stomach.

When he finally finds you, he nearly drops to his knees in relief. He doesn’t scold you immediately—he’s just too happy you’re safe. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, his voice breaking with emotion. “Don’t scare me like that! You’re so tiny, anything could happen! Please, don’t run away again…” His desperation is genuine, and his protective nature shines through. He can’t imagine life without you by his side.

Inosuke’s Reaction:

Inosuke is the least likely to understand the full reason why you ran off, but when he finds you, it’s clear that he’s more concerned than he lets on. “What’s the big idea, huh? Running away like that! You think you’re faster than me or something?” He crouches down, trying to sound intimidating, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

When you look up at him, a mixture of fear and confusion in your eyes, Inosuke’s tough exterior softens a little. “Don’t ever run off again,” he mutters under his breath, sitting down next to you and pulling you into a strong but surprisingly tender hold. “If you want to go somewhere, you better tell me first.”

Overall Group Dynamic:

After the discovery, the Kamaboko Squad collectively starts to understand that they need to be more mindful of you. They’re used to the dangers of their world, and though they each have their own ways of handling their own fears and emotions, they all agree on one thing—your safety comes first. As the squad continues to protect you, they become more and more protective, though each member expresses it differently.

Tanjiro ensures you’re well cared for and offers comfort and encouragement whenever you need it. Nezuko becomes your silent guardian, always by your side, holding you close when the world gets overwhelming. Zenitsu, ever the worrywart, showers you with affection and makes sure you’re always looked after. Inosuke, while still figuring out how to properly take care of someone so small, develops a strange bond with you, one rooted in respect and care that’s hard to break.

Together, they become your family, your protectors, and your home. Despite your desire to be independent, you can’t help but feel safe and loved in their presence, knowing they will never let you face the world alone again.

[voicesinthedarkness]

friends

Clint Barton

Feburary 17th, 2008

Unspecified location

Clint wakes to the sound of the other hotel bed creaking.

“Nat?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m fine, Barton,” she snaps, but her voice shakes—just barely.

She heads to the bathroom, and he can hear her washing her face at the sink. He sits up, turning on the lamp as she returns. “You okay?” he asks gently, noticing her red, puffy eyes. She grunts, the sound nearly a growl, and gets back into bed, facing away from him.

“Why do we need extraction?” Nat asks after a long, silent moment, and Clint’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that she’s never had anybody come back for her.

He shrugs. “In case we got badly injured, I guess?” She looks over her shoulder at him, examining and evaluating his response. 

“You know you can tell me if you’re not okay, right?” he says just before she turns back around. “It’s—it’s okay to not be okay. I won’t think any less of you for it.” Nat stares at him. “I had a nightmare,” she says bluntly. Then she faces away from Clint again.

He turns out the light, curling back up under the blankets with a sigh. It’s a while before Nat breaks the heavy silence.

“I dreamed that the extraction squad were double agents from the Room,” she says quietly. “And they came for me. And you let them take me.” Clint sighs sadly. “You will never have to go back there if you don’t want to,” he tells her firmly. “Not on my watch.”

Nat doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t believe him; maybe she’s reached her limit of vulnerability for the month. Clint can’t tell.

He really, really hopes she believes him.

>>>———————————————>

Natasha Romanoff

April 12th, 2009

Odessa, Ukraine

"Ястреб."

Natasha's voice echoes raspily through the comms, cool and calm as ever despite the immense pain dancing merrily through her injured body. Barton reopens his end of the comms immediately.

"Паук," he answers easily. She coughs, wiping dust off her face. "I've been shot," she tells him, rummaging through the supplies in the half-smushed jeep for a first-aid kit. "The engineer is dead." She pauses to focus on bandaging the bloody hole in her gut, and Barton panics. 

“Паук?! Respond!” he yelps right in her ear. “I’m doing first-aid, ястреб!” she snarls, and she can practically hear his embarrassment. “Sorry,” Barton mumbles, “I… I got worried.” His American accent is rough, raw, genuine.

For some stupid fucking reason, this makes Natasha’s heart constrict. She doesn’t deign to respond except with a cold, “Over and out.”

She thinks about it as she’s cleaning up the many, many scrapes from falling down the cliff. Did Barton really care for her like that? Was it all some greater scheme? 

Fucking hell, she thinks, I’m so damn sick and tired of being so wary of the first person to ever show me kindness.

>>>———————————————>

Clint Barton

June 5th, 2010

Clint and Natasha’s shared apartment

Clint flops on the couch, exhausted. Absently, he wonders when Nat’s going to get home. A few days was the longest S.H.I.E.L.D. had let them be apart since Budapest, and now they’d been apart for two weeks, give or take.

He’s only vaguely surprised to realize that he misses her.

The door clicks open. Lucky barks excitedly, and Liho meows from the back of the couch. And Nat’s there, just as exhausted and even more beautiful. She looks at him, unsmilingly, yet Clint can see the glint in her eyes.

“How are you?” she asks casually, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Tired as shit,” he answers. She laughs genuinely. It wasn’t even that funny.

He leans closer, waiting for the punch to his groin. Nat continues to watch him calmly. Clint swallows, tentatively running his calloused fingers through her red-gold curls.

Nat’s eyes drift shut, and she leans into his touch. Clint’s breath hitches audibly and a delighted smirk curls Nat’s scarlet lips. “I missed you, you dork,” she whispers, snuggling close against his side. “I missed you too,” he whispers back, nuzzling a kiss into her hair and holding her close. He closes his eyes, breathing in her pine scent. 

God, she smells amazing.

~ ~ ~

so this was meant to be long but the MCU's timeline is confusing and even longer and also I don't like having to bullshit scenes where we know they happened but we don't know the exact details because my brain is just like "But What If 🤭 This Didn't Actually Happen 🤔”

anyway

"Ястреб" = Hawk

"Паук" = Spider

[thedelusionalfiles]

Streeter’s Girl PART 1

A Dominique Luca X Y/N fic

Plot - Based on the Rick Springfield song ‘Jessie’s Girl’ but with a twist. Y/N is part of the LAPD working at SWAT HQ and is great friends with all of the 20 David Squad.

Luca has a crush on Y/N but always sees her giggling with Street and making him blush, he doesn’t want to ruin his friendships with either of them but just can’t help pining and feeling a little jealous……but maybe Luca has got the wrong end of the stick 👀

Authors note - This is my first time posting a fanfic, I had this idea one evening at like 4am and decided to write it out. Idk how long this is gonna end up being 💀

Warnings - tiny bit of swearing, might go crazy and write some smut one of these days 🤷🏻‍♀️

Luca cant help but glare over at them both. They are sat way too close for his liking and Y/N said something obviously hilarious because Street is blushing and giggling with her. He can’t help the eye roll and the huff that escapes his lips, he tries cleaning his gun as a form of distraction, unfortunately it doesn’t last long as his mind wanders.

I don’t understand why they are hiding it from everyone? It’s obvious right?

He thinks to himself

They are 100% dating, the way she looks at him with those eyes….. those goddamn beautiful sparkling eyes….

Luca has to snap himself out of the his daydream as he sees those gorgeous eyes along with the rest of her moving towards him.

“Oh h-hey kid” Luca stutters as he tries to regain his usual calm demeanour.

“Hey Luca, you still alright driving me home from Annie and Deac’s party tomorrow evening?” Y/N asks with her usual kind smile. She never wants to put anyone out of their way so she wanted to double check that Luca was still okay with what he had originally offered to do.

“Of course Y/N, I told you I would and I’m a man of my word” Luca winks with a cheeky grin.

“Well thank you again” Y/N embraces him with a warm hug, this was a usual occurrence for the two of them, both being very affectionate towards they’re friends and as such, each other.

Luca gently sighs as he watches the woman he’s secretly fell in love with walk away, once again being none the wiser of his affections.

————————————————————

Y/N POV

I don’t know why I’m so anxious, this is just a little party with all of my friends…… including the one man I’ve had the biggest crush on ever since I met him. Dominique fucking Luca….

Chris and I get out of her car, tonight was the night I promised myself I’d finally get her and Street to confess their feelings. I knew how Chris felt about him for a long time but it’s only been recently Jim confessed to me how he felt about her, which in turn made me want to tease him constantly and make him blush. We have formed a brother/sister like relationship where it’s basically constantly annoying and embarrassing one another. It’s great honestly!

“C’mon Y/N let’s get in there!” I hear Chris call me from standing on the front porch.

As we join the party, greeting everyone with hugs and smiles, I immediately notice him. He’s wearing a dress shirt and some very nice fitting jeans and he’s walking straight towards me oh shit oh shit keep cool stay calm!!!!

“Hey Chris, hey Y/N” Luca smiles and waves at us both. I feel like he glances down at what I’m wearing and I instantly feel shy under his gaze but I’m probably overreacting, he doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend, right?

As the night progresses I mentally cheer as I notice Street and Alonso getting extra friendly over in the corner, I’m so pleased that they have finally told each other how they feel!

I decide my job here is done and make my way to find my ride home.

“Ready to head off now?” Luca says as I approach him.

“Yeah that’d be great, thanks again for the ride” I say.

We walk out to his truck and I climb in the passenger seat. Classic rock is quietly playing through the speakers and we sit in comfortable silence.

“You alright there kid?” Luca breaks the stillness. I’m not really sure where this has come from but as I’m feeling calm and absolutely okay I reply as such.

“It’s just…. I saw you watching Street and Chris kissing…that must have been hard for you to see” He cautiously replies as to not upset me.

“….wait, what?” I’m completely lost now.

“Well, you and Street, were kinda becoming a thing….right?” He murmurs as he focuses back on the road.

I can’t help the giggle that erupts from my chest “oh Luca” I huff out between breaths “Street is basically like a brother to me!”

I notice Luca’s brows furrow in confusion “but what about all the whispering and the giggles and the blushing?” He rambles.

It’s like a lightbulb went off in my head “Oh you idiot!” I slap his arm affectionately, “I’ve been teasing Streeter because he told me about his crush on Chris the other week, I was the one who encouraged him to finally ask her out.”

“Oh.” He says whilst scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I had definitely got the wrong end of the stick” Luca chuckles.

“Yes, you did” I giggle out. “Why have you been watching me and Street so closely huh? Were you jealous?” I jokingly say whilst I nudge my shoulder against his.

I’ve never seen Luca go this red before!

“You were!” I gasp pointing at him then the realisation hits “…… wait…. You were?” I question sincerely.

He pulls his truck onto my driveway and sighs as he turns the engine off.

“Yeah, Y.N, I was a little jealous….. I know, it was stupid.”

“Why were you jealous Luca?” I gently push the subject.

“Because I like you, a lot actually.” He looks over just as I lean over the to gently touch my lips to his.

It feels like time just stops.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xiii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Why should you live while the others died?

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Ghost face spoilers for Scream 1-4.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: 👀 smashed through my writers block, let me know your 🔪🔪 theories.

You haven’t left the car - or Tara’s lap - by the time the police arrive. 

Sam greets them, watches as they make their way through the house, casing for strewn pieces of clothing, discarded weapons, footprints, handprints, anything. 

But there’s nothing to find. Ghostface is long gone. 

By the time they’re done, your anxiety is at an all time high, not even Tara’s arms around you enough to quell the fear inside you. Your chest thumps uncomfortably. Your palms are shaky, sweaty. Flashes of the mask, the knife raised against you. 

Is this how Tara’s victims felt in the end? Is this how Wes felt? 

The only difference between you and Wes is you’d survived. And he’d died innocent while you survived, guilty. It isn’t fair. You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Your will to live is selfish, almost. 

Why should you live while the others died?

The answer is pressed to your side. She’s beautiful, as ever, squeezing your hand so tight the tips of your fingers turn white. Her knee bounces steadily, an indication of her nerves. Her dark eyes are wild, flitting from you to the house to the officers on the lawn. Scanning, as if Ghostface will jump out at any moment. God help him if he does, when she’s like this. White-faced, quietly stewing in her own anger and anxiety. You can almost hear the cogs turning in her brain as she runs wild with the possibilities of who it could be. 

The police have questions, what feels like millions of them. The most pressing is why. Why would Ghostface target you specifically? Of course, you know why. 

You don’t mention the other victims. You don’t mention Tara’s Ghostface mask hidden in a lockbox in her closet. You don’t mention the motive Ghostface had all but spit into your face. 

Someone who thinks you should pay. 

Tara, a little on edge, tires very quickly of their incessant questions. 

“There’s never a why, do you even live in this town?” Tara barks, voice hot with annoyance, “They’re random. They’ve always been random.” 

“That’s not exactly true.” It’s Sheriff Hicks. She climbs out of her squad car, slips her gun into her holster as she stands. 

Your chest tightens. She makes you so nervous. You’re so scared one of these days you’ll slip, blurt out the truth before it’s too late.  

“Billy Loomis blamed Sidney for his mother abandoning him. Nancy Loomis blamed her for killing her son. Roman Bridger and Jill Roberts wanted infamy.” She surveys you, hand resting gently on her holstered pistol, “The question is: what does this Ghostface want?” 

The back of your neck prickles uncomfortably under her gaze. You sink deeper into Tara, wear her almost like a shield. 

“Forget his motive, what are you going to do about catching him?” Tara says, arm tight around your waist, “I want a squad car here 24/7. I want officers escorting YN to school. I want a walkie talkie and a phone number so we can have direct contact with them whenever we need-”

The thought of stepping foot into that house sends shockwaves of panic through your body. You grip her waist, tight, trying to draw her attention. 

“I can’t go back in there.” You say, voice tight, “Tara, I can’t stay here tonight. I can’t sleep here.” 

If Tara’s surprised by this, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wraps her arms tight around your shoulder and presses a long kiss to your forehead.  

“Okay baby.” She says, “We’ll stay with your parents, how about that?”

“I can post a squad car.” Sheriff Hicks interjects, “Two officers. I’ll give you their cell numbers. I’m afraid we’re all out of walkie-talkies.”

She looks at you, for the first time in a long time there’s sympathy in her eyes, “You’re going to be okay.” She promises, “My officers are the very best. But you call me if you remember anything. Anything at all that could help.” 

The moment is interrupted by the sheen of blinding headlights. You avert your gaze, blink away the stars in your eyes at the sudden intrusion. 

It’s a familiar truck, the heavy slam of the door signals the driver has exited the vehicle. You squint, make out Richie’s figure as he rushes towards you. 

“Hey. I came here as fast as I could. Where’s Sam, is she okay?” He’s out of breath, a little panicked as he scans the driveway for his girlfriend. 

“Sam’s fine.” Tara says, her shoulders tight, “YN was attacked.” 

Richie blinks. 

“By Ghostface? Are you alright?” 

“Of course she’s not alright.” Snaps Tara, “Some psycho just attacked her at knifepoint.”

She pauses, as if something has just occurred to her. Suspicion brews in her eyes. 

“Where have you been?” 

Richie draws his attention back to her. The lights of the police sirens flash across his face. 

“I was meeting some friends at a bar,” Richie says, “Is Sam in the house?” 

“What friends? You got an alibi?” Tara asks, her eyebrows drawn tight. 

“You’re not serious?” Richie stares back at her. 

The Sheriff tilts her head, suddenly interested. 

“Do you?” She reiterates, “Tara and Sam are accounted for. We’ll need to corroborate with any potential witnesses who can place you at the bar.” 

Richie opens his mouth in disbelief. He looks between the three of you, waiting for the punchline. 

“I didn’t make it there. Sam called-”

The Sheriff hums, scribbles something down on her notepad. 

“So no alibi.” Tara scoffs, “You’ve been here two weeks and the one night you go out, YN gets attacked.” 

“This is ridiculous.” Richie splutters, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, “Tara. Why would I attack YN? I have no motive.” 

But Tara’s mind is made up, she crosses her arms, glares at the Sheriff. 

“Are you going to arrest him or what?”

“Tara. I can’t just arrest people.” The Sheriff says, closing her notebook. She looks at Richie, “I suggest you outline to one of my officers the exact route you took to and from the bar. If we can place you on CCTV we can rule you out as a suspect.” 

“You can’t arrest people?” Tara challenges. There’s that fire, the one that’s been brewing for the last hour, finally emerging, “What kind of a Sheriff are you?”

“Tara.” You hiss. You turn back to the Sheriff, eyes wide, “I am so sorry, Sheriff, she’s just scared-”

“Scared?” Tara says, sounding outraged. Her dark eyes burn, “I’m furious. I have a prime suspect for you and you won’t arrest him-”

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I put on a Ghostface mask and tried to kill your girlfriend.” Richie argues, loudly. 

“What’s going on?” It’s Sam, finally emerging from the house. Richie and Tara both turn to face her, matching expressions of outrage on their faces. 

“What’s going on? Your creep of a boyfriend just tried to murder my girlfriend.” Tara snarls. 

Richie throws his hands up. 

“Why? Why would I want to kill her?”

“I don’t know.” Tara says, “You tell me. Because you’re twisted?”

“You know what,” Richie says, his nostrils flaring. He points his finger at her, “It definitely wasn’t me, because if I was going to murder anyone, it would be you-”

“Stop it!” Sam yells, “Both of you. God. You’re like fucking children.” 

They both fall silent. Glare at each other. Sam storms off, presumably back into the house. With a final dirty look at Tara, Richie turns and follows her inside. 

You take Tara’s hand, rub your fingers over the back of her hand reassuringly. Richie is a little strange, granted, but you seriously doubt he’d try and kill you. You’ll talk her down later tonight, you figure. Right now; you want out of here. 

“Do you have any more questions, Sheriff?” You ask, quietly hoping the answer is no, “I need to call my Dad.”

She surveys you for a moment. 

“I think we’re all good here.” She says, finally, “Call me if you remember anything.” 

-

Your Dad is freaked, rightfully so. 

In a panic, he demands you come home. He seems to be so frightened he doesn’t even protest when you tell him Tara’s coming too. 

She’s still glaring at Richie as she pulls out of the driveway, leaving the slew of officers and sirens behind as she makes her way to your parents home. One hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh, tight. 

“It’s him, I know it’s him.” She stews, hands tightening on the wheel, “How fucking suspicious can he be. Meeting with some friends, my ass.” 

“We don’t know that, babe.” You say, squeezing her hand, “He’s kind of right - what’s his motive? As far as I know we haven’t done anything to offend him.” 

“I’ve been on his ass since he got here.” Tara says, “Maybe he’s sick of me. Of us.” 

“Or maybe it’s someone else.” You say, staring out the window, “Someone related to the others. Sadie has a brother, I think. One of Aaron’s friends? One of Chase’s?”

There’s a long list of people who would want vengeance on the two of you. It hurts your head to think about. 

“Cool it on Richie, please babe. If he is Ghostface, the last thing we need is him getting spooked.”

“I need to get him away from Sam,” She says, chewing her bottom lip, “If he hurts her-”

“We don’t know it’s him, babe.” You say, pressing your hand over Tara’s, rub the back of her knuckles, “Besides, if he is Ghostface, he’s not going to kill her. His beef is with us.”

It doesn’t calm her down. Her knee is still bouncing when she pulls into your parents driveway, grip around thigh so tight it’s starting to hurt. She shuts off the car and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry baby.” She says, voice heavy. Despite the comfort she’s trying to give you, her eyes betray her. Brown, wide, swimming with worry, “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I’m not taking my eyes off you. You’re not going anywhere alone, I mean it. You’ll have to get used to me watching you pee.” 

You half think she’s kidding, until she follows you upstairs and into the bathroom. 

“Absolutely not.” You say, pressing your hand to her chest and pressing a kiss to her lips, “Wait here.”

“But-”

“Ghostface isn’t hiding in the bathtub, babe.” You tell her, and close the door behind you. 

You pause. Check the bathtub just in case. 

Your parents make a fuss, like you knew they would. Your mom rushes off to comfort cook, something she does best, and your Dad gets his power tools out, triple checks all the windows and doors for any shaky locks. 

If he minds Tara staying the night, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he hovers at the bedroom door, eyeing her up as he reiterates his safety mechanisms. 

“Keep the door locked,” He says, voice gruff as you climb onto the bed, next to Tara, “At all times. Front and back. I have a security specialist coming in tomorrow to install some cameras and alarms.” 

“Thanks Dad.” You say. It takes the weight of your chest, just a little. 

“I’ve got my shotgun loaded and ready to go,” He continues, “If you hear anything- anything at all - just call out and I’ll be here in a moment.” 

“Do you have a spare?” Tara asks suddenly, “Gun, that is? I’ll be a little closer, is all.” 

He watches her for a moment. That expression is on his face - the one he always wears when he sees Tara. Mild distaste, like he’s just taken a bite of something that’s gone bad. Briefly, you worry he’s going to try to kick her out. 

“I can’t give a gun to a kid.” He says, voice curt. Her brows furrow. 

“This kid might be the only person who’s able to protect her in time.” Tara challenges, “You’re all the way across the hall. What if he covers her mouth so she can’t cry out?”

“Babe.” You warn, “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.” 

Your Dad shifts his weight, staring Tara down. You know he doesn’t like her, it’s written all over his face. But if she goes, so do you. And he understands that, you know he does. 

“I have a handgun.” He says, finally. He looks at you, “I’ll give it to YN. Remember those lessons down at the cabin? You’re confident you know how to use it?” 

You nod. 

When you were younger, your Dad had taken you shooting, taught you how to fire a gun, how to load it - and most importantly, how not to hurt yourself doing it. The thought of drawing out a gun to protect Tara from Ghostface’s knife makes you feel only the slightest bit better. 

He looks back to Tara. The distaste is back in his expression. 

“It’s for her. You’re not to touch it. Understand?”

You can feel Tara fizzling next to you. Her fingers curl, and before she can give your Dad the dressing down you know she so desperately wants to give, you jump in. 

“She understands.” You say quickly, “Thanks Dad.”

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Tara complains, stormy-eyed, when he finally leaves, “I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“He’s just being a Dad,” You say, pulling her into your arms and quelling her mood with a kiss, “Don’t take it personally.”

Dinner’s awkward. 

Your head is a mess, heart pounding out of your chest every time you think of the looming threat. Tara grips your thigh under the table protectively, as if she’s afraid Ghostface might launch in any second and send the roast laid out on the table flying. 

Your Dad glares at Tara. Tara glares back at him. Your mom stares at you, worry in her eyes. 

You stare down at your plate, your appetite somewhat dissipated. 

“I just don’t understand.” Your mom says for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, “What does he want with you?”

“What does he want with any of them?” You mumble, “He’s a psycho, that’s all.” 

You push a rogue potato around your plate, starting to regret the choice to come home. At least Sam’s questions were easily combatted by one of Tara’s swiftly timed jabs. You could hardly expect Tara to snap at your Mom. 

“Let’s not talk about it.” Your Dad says, to your relief, “You’re freaking her out.” 

“I’m just saying,” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “Are we sure he was there… for you?”

She lets it hang. The scrape of cutlery against plates stops momentarily, as the entire table takes in the implication. You frown, look up at your Mom. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” She says, hurriedly. You don’t miss the glance she sneaks at Tara. 

“Seriously?” You say, “You’re blaming Tara?”

“I’m not blaming anyone.” She says quickly, “I’m just saying-”

“Well, don’t.” You snap, standing up, “God. Tell me now if you don’t want us here and we’ll go.” 

“Of course we want you here.” Your Mom says, “YN, sit down, please sweetheart-”

“I’m not hungry.” You say, scooting yourself away from the table, “Thanks anyway. Come on, babe, let’s go to bed.” 

They don’t protest as you lead Tara upstairs and into your bedroom. You slip your pants off, curl up into bed, take Tara in your arms. 

“Your Mom’s right, you know.” She says, after a quiet moment, “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me.” 

“Don’t say that.” You murmur. You press a kiss to her head, wrap your arms a little tighter around her. 

“It’s true.” 

It is true. But she doesn’t need to think that, not right now. You curl your fingers through her dark hair, scratch her scalp affectionately. 

“You-” You hesitate, picking your words carefully, “You’ve made some mistakes. But that’s in the past now. You turned over a new leaf, remember?”

You remember it vividly. The night after Amber’s death, making her swear black and blue she’d never kill again. Promising her she’d never have a reason. She shifts in your arms and looks up at you. There’s something in her eyes. Fear. Hesitance. 

“Baby,” She says, biting her lip, “Whoever this person is. I have to kill him. You know that, right?”

Your stomach flips. 

“No.” You say immediately, “No, Tara.”

“If he’s alive, he’ll hurt you. You know I can’t let that happen. We can’t turn him in, he knows too much. It’s the only way.” 

That sinking feeling is back. The one that had been there when Chase died. The one after Amber and the one after Wes. Like everything is crumbling around you. You squeeze her a little tighter. 

“I’ll do it.” You say. The thought makes you sick. The thought of her doing it makes you sicker. 

“No, baby.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your shoulder, “Not after last time. Look at what Wes did to you.”

“I don’t care.” You say, shaking your head, “I don't want you doing it. You can’t-” 

Be trusted, is what you want to say. The Rage is terrifying, violent, and you don’t want to reawaken it. You hold it back, pull her closer to you. 

“I don’t want that part of you back. I don’t like that part of you.” 

Tara’s quiet a moment. 

“It’s already back, babe.” She says, pulls your hand to her chest. Her heartbeat is wild, out of control, “Don’t you see? It isn’t killing that prompts it. It’s anybody trying to get to you.”

You’re too tired to fight. Too tired to admit she might be right. At the end of the day if it’s her or him, you know what you’d rather her do. 

You lean down, press your lips to hers, try to redirect the conversation. 

“You will sleep tonight, right?” 

“Not likely.” She admits, her grip on your hips tightening. 

“Let’s take it in shifts.” You suggest, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “Half and half so we both get some sleep.” 

She nuzzles her nose into the side of your neck. 

“Okay. I’ll take first watch.”

She looks towards the handgun your Dad left for you on the bedside table, tugs it carefully over to her side of the bed. 

“You know how to use that?” You ask, a little skeptical, “You know to turn the safety off?” 

“Yes babe, I know how to use a gun.” She assures, a little irritated you asked. 

“Alright, alright. Just checking. The last thing I need is you shooting yourself in the foot.” 

“Give me some credit,” She grumbles, “That’s something Chad would do.” 

You kiss her, softly, then snuggle down into her chest. Listen to the rise and fall of her breathing, her rampant, crazed heartbeat as it pumps in her chest. 

“Remember to wake me.” 

-

She doesn’t wake you, as you should have predicated. When you open your eyes it’s the next morning, and she’s pressing a warm kiss to your lips. 

You scrunch your eyes, blink her into view. 

“Babe? Did you stay up the whole night?” She kisses your forehead, nudges a warm cup of coffee into your hands. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. There was no point in me waking you.” 

“Baby.” You groan. Her eyes are red, tired. You press your hands to her cheeks, lean up to kiss her. 

“You’re exhausted.” 

“I’ll nap in science.” She promises, “Mrs. Fletcher is enough to put anyone to sleep. Besides. I needed to make sure you were safe.” 

She kisses you again.

“Speaking of: I asked Chad and Liv to stop by with a few supplies.” 

She reaches for a paper bag, empties out the contents onto your mattress. You sit up, interest piqued. 

It’s nothing less of an armory. You blink, hold up a small metal device. 

“A rape whistle and a taser?” You say, “Babe, how am I supposed to take this into school?”

“Keep them in your purse.” Tara says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request, “It’s not like they check our bags. It’s for emergencies.”

She presses a long kiss to your forehead, “But you won’t need them. I’m not leaving your side. Not for a minute.” 

“I have Chem today,” You say, heavily, “And you have English. We can’t be together all the time, Tara.” 

“We’re skipping.” Tara says, “I’m taking you home early.” 

“Tara, if the school calls my Dad and he finds out I’m skipping classes-”

“He’ll do nothing.” Tara says, fire behind her eyes, “You’re eighteen, he can’t force you home with him. And if he tries then I’ll-”

“You’re not killing my Dad.” You say, firmly. She pouts a little. 

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” She says, a little put out, “I’d give him a piece of my mind, is all.” 

You sit up, pull her into you. 

“Sorry, babe.” You apologize, soothe her with a kiss, “I’m just a little on edge.” 

“It’s fine,” She reassures, “Just please keep these on you. Please.” 

You agree for her sake. 

-

Word gets out quick. 

People stare in the hallways, everyone trying to get a glimpse of Ghostface’s latest victim. It’s unsettling, this much attention. You grip Tara’s hand tight in yours and try to ignore the leering of the other students as she walks you to your locker. 

When you reach it, Mindy, Chad and Liv are waiting for you. 

“Is it true you saw him?” Chad asks, wide-eyed. 

“Is it true he stabbed you?” Liv asks. 

You shoot her a look, open your locker and grab your books for first period. 

“Does it look like he stabbed me, Liv?” You ask, witheringly. 

“Give her some space guys,” Tara says, pushing Liv back slightly, “She’s not a zoo animal.” 

“Still.” Mindy says, “You survived a brush with Ghostface. Not many people can say that.” 

You ignore the hot flash of dread that zaps through you at the mention of him. He could be anyone. Maybe he’s even here now, watching you. Waiting to get you alone. It must flash through your face because suddenly Tara’s hands are on your waist, rubbing your back reassuringly.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.” Tara says, a little protectively, “Why don’t we meet you guys in Math.” 

“Come on.” Mindy says, “Not talking about him gives him power. You don’t know who it is, right? Maybe we can help you figure it out.” 

“Maybe it’s you, Mindy.” Liv says, voice sweet, “After all, you’re obsessed with horror movies.” 

Mindy looks over, sharply. 

“What kind of motive is that?” She says, annoyed, “Besides, I’m not the only one who likes horror movies. Tara does too. Maybe even more than me.” 

“So Tara attacked her own girlfriend, that’s your theory?” Chad says, incredulous. 

Mindy shrugs, “It’s happened before.” 

She turns to you. 

“YN, ever get the feeling like Tara wants to kill you?”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute,” Tara growls. 

“Yeah.” Mindy nods, like her theory is confirmed, “Major Ghostface vibes.” 

“Stop it,” You say, reaching for your Math textbook, “Tara didn’t attack me, she was with Sam. And I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Mindy’s shoulders deflate a little. 

“Wes likes horror movies too.” Liv pipes up, “Maybe that’s why he ran away. He wanted us all to think he was dead so he could live his true life as Ghostface.” 

You roll your eyes. Let them bicker. As you grab your final textbook your finger catches on something soft. Something you didn’t put there. 

It’s a t-shirt, worn, gray, ACDC logo on the front. Your fingers curl around it, brows furrowing. Something hard is within the fabric. You fish it out, turn the cool plastic in your hand. It’s a DVD. Stab 2. Your stomach flips.

You slam your locker shut, white as a sheet. It draws the attention of the entire group. You feel a little dizzy, like you might pass out. Someone had been in your locker. It feels more of a violation than it should. Tara straightens, grips your hand. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” She asks immediately. 

“Bathroom.” You mumble. 

You don’t say goodbye to Tara’s friends. You tug her behind you hard and fast, not sure how much longer you’ll be able to stand upright. 

When you reach the bathroom, you slam the door closed, fish out the t-shirt and thrust it towards Tara. 

“What’s this?” She looks confused. Flips the t-shirt in her hands. 

“It’s Wes’,” You say. You take a heavy breath, try to quell the blood rushing to your ears. 

Tara swallows. Her fingers brush the DVD. 

“Stab 2.” She says, furrowing her brows, “What is this supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know.’ You say, biting your lip, “Nothing good. How did he get into my locker?” 

“The school has cameras.” Tara says, thinking fast, “If I can get into the security feed I might be able to see who it was.” 

“How are you going to do that?” You ask,  

She bites her lip. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Please don’t get yourself in trouble,” You say, reaching for her hand. You entwine your fingers, “The last thing I need is you getting kicked out of school.” 

“I’ll be careful.” She promises. Dips down to kiss you. 

Then, she retracts, tosses the t-shirt and DVD in the trash. 

“Tara. What are you doing? What if we need that?” 

“We don’t need it, babe.” Tara assures, “Ghostface is trying to fuck with us, that’s all. Besides, the last thing we need is for the Sheriff to catch us with Wes’ old t-shirt and one of his movies.”

She pulls you in again, holds you tight. 

“Are you going to be okay in class?”

You nod, drop your forehead to her neck. Wrap your arms around her waist. Your hand catches on something in the back pocket of her jeans. You furrow your brow, then tug it out. 

“Tara!” You hiss,  mouth dropping, “You brought a knife to school?”

Tara blinks back at you. 

“Of course I did.” She says, “There’s some lunatic running around. You really thought I wouldn’t come prepared?” 

“Baby, if one of the teachers catches you with this-”

“I have it hidden.” She assures, “They’ll never see it. How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t have a weapon?”

You're more concerned with protecting her. There’s a horrible niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like Ghostface has been a little too easy on her so far. The knife in her hand gives you only the slightest reprieve. 

“Let’s go to class.” She says, with a kiss to your cheek, “Do you have your rape whistle?”

You shoot her a look, tug at the string around your neck. She’d insisted you wear it at all times. 

“Right here, babe.” 

“Good girl.” She kisses you once more. 

Your fingers curl around the taser in your back pocket. Slip your phone into your backpack and head to class, Tara’s fingers entwined with your own. 

You take a deep breath. You're in school. In the middle of the day. Hundreds of students around.

Whoever Ghostface is, he wouldn't be so stupid to attack you in broad daylight.

Right?

next part