#i just want it to stop hurting. i want the panic attacks and nightmares to stop

[eneslobby]

I’m just going to talk about the “abuse” implication here. I’m a Caitlyn defender, but that doesn’t mean I think her actions her *justified*. I mean that I understand how circumstances and emotions led her to hit vi.

In my eyes, vi is not innocent here at all, at least not from Cait’s perspective. I completely agree that vi stopping Caitlyn from shooting was a good thing and I’m glad she did it, but in Caitlyn’s eyes it was a betrayal. Vi, before they found jinx, was basically telling Cait that her sister is gone and just shoot to kill her. Vi, in this way, fed into Caitlyn’s revenge, justifying her and giving her thumbs up to kill her sister.

So when they fight jinx, caitlyn is in overwhelming distress because she is facing the creature of her nightmares and is so tunnel visioned she can’t see anything else, not even that she’s about to shoot a child. She wants so badly to kill jinx and expects vi to be on her side, but then vi stops her from taking the shot (vi did the right thing here). This is the second time vi stops Caitlyn from taking the shot. After the first time, Cait was blaming herself and not vi (I think deep down she was blaming vi a little bit). But after the second time, Caitlyn is fully blaming vi. Caitlyn feels betrayed by the very person that encouraged her earlier and she thought stood by her side (and I kinda understand her). Caitlyn tells her that vi is no different from her sister, and then vi tells Cait that “she is the one acting like her”. I agree with vi here, but can you imagine hearing the person you love comparing to your kidnapper and your mother’s killer? In Caitlyn’s eyes, vi chose jinx over her and she’s enraged and feels betrayed. Caitlyn is trying to get away from vi in that moment, but vi stops her. Caitlyn, who in a in a state of rage right after a panic attack from facing jinx, hits vi with the back of her gun and and leaves her there.

Now, what Caitlyn has done is bad and we should definitely be upset at that (I can’t even rewatch this scene Because it upsets me so much). She hurt vi deeply, but when you call her an abuser is when you lose me. For a person in immense pressure that feels so betrayed by the other person, it makes sense to hit them to push them away. It’s not okay, but it is understandable. Usually anti Cait people just call her an abuser and don’t try to understand her side and that’s what upsets me. Vi and cait both hurt each other in that situation, but only Cait gets the blame.

To sum up, what upsets me is that anti Cait people don’t try to understand both sides and call Caitlyn an abuser for snapping in a high pressure situation. Caitlyn is not justified, but she is not an abuser nor vi is completely innocent here. They are both flawed humans in a tv show where tragedies happen regularly. So in my eyes the haters never really criticize the writing, they just don’t like what happened and can’t make sense of it, so they are trying to blame the “bad” writing.

Sorry for the long post I’m passionate about this.

MY TAKE ON THE CAITVI DISCOURSE

total wordcount: 1591

I will say that I've briefly commented on their dynamic in the past, but it was worded really badly so I feel like I need to defend my writing skills a little bit as well with this, but that's just a sidenote. 💀

I think what a lot of people are missing when people do criticise CaitVi is that they aren't necessarily hating on the ship, it's what writing choices have done to it.

I'm not even going to even say I'm a CaitVi hater, I'm not (S1 CaitVi my beloved, you deserved better), but I do think the choices that writers made this season heavily effected how audiences portrayed the ship, even including myself.

Idk I hope this insight might give some people more perspective on why CaitVi became so hated in this season, people rlly need to start looking at both sides and not taking criticism as a personal attack. It really could've been avoided too if the writers had added more time or extended the series onto a third season, but that's another issue on its own.

1. Caitlyn hits Vi

I really don't get why people are so quick to defend Caitlyn on this one, especially considering the amount of hate Vi got when she hit Powder. Are both inexcusable? Yes. But I do think that the situation is a little different when it's a fifteen year old child who had just witnessed the death of her entire family and a twenty something year old woman who took out her anger and grief on the woman she loved because she blocked her shot.

I do think that people also do ignore the immense amount of trauma that Caitlyn suffered at the hand of Jinx, but unlike when Vi 'abandoned' Powder, (again, that's a whole other conversation, we know she was not abandoned), Vi was not that direct source of anguish to Caitlyn the way Powder was to Vi. (Pls lmk if you want me to expand further on this)

Again, not excusing Vi hitting Powder, I'm pointing out the differences.

It's then also incredibly tone deaf when Caitlyn hits her on two more occasions with the same gun, the third time being played off as a joke. It really doesn't come off well, especially when Vi had been a victim of police-brutality even before the abuse she faced at the hands of the enforcers in Stillwater.

And then, even after all this, it's never addressed. It's brushed over, like Vi's entire trauma in the show, the most we get is Caitlyn brushing her hand over Vi's abdomen in the cell scene. Again, can be taken as an apology, but I think that for some very specific things (like hitting your romantic partner), verbal apologies do need to be made in order to communicate healthily and somewhat build a healthier relationship.

I don't really want to talk about the abusive implications of this, because I don't think I'm someone who can talk about it with a full understanding because that's something I've fortunately never been through, but the blatant disregard and shunning of abuse survivors when they pull up the red flags raised because of this is disgusting. In real life, or if it had even been someone else in the show, if the ship had been a heterosexual relationship, people would call Caitlyn an abuser and would be outraged that Vi had been paired with her in the end. But I digress.

1. The cell sex scene

Initially I hadn't been too bothered about this when I had first watched the episode, but when you really think about it, it shouldn't have happened. Hell, they could've had sex in Caitlyn's office and half of the criticism wouldn't have happened, the ship wouldn't be so hated and the fandom wouldn't be half as divided as it is now (from what I've seen).

First and foremost, the cell.

All I can say is wtf. It was such a poor choice it's actually unfathomable to me now. I don't know why the writers thought that it'd be a good idea for Caitlyn and Vi to have their first time in a jail cell, not only the one Jinx had been locked in, but the one Vi had herself been locked in for what we can assume to be hours. The place of her abuse should not be somewhere where the writers could possibly think would be a suitable for a victim to have such an intimate moment with her partner.

Then there's the fact that Vi had looked to have had some sort of breakdown, we see she's sh and there are literal crates in the wall from where she punched it as well as her knuckles bleeding. As soon as she sees Caitlyn, there's a parallel to when they first met, to when Vi is quite literally caged. She's clearly not in the right state of mind, and so when the scene eventually happens it inevitably comes off as wrong because Vi is incredibly emotionally vulnerable in that moment.

"But Vi initiated it!" That still doesn't make it okay. I do think that this also came with an issue of timing, but then again, as I mentioned earlier, it literally could've been in the office as they argued and it would've been recieved so much better then the cell scene was. Vi wasn't breaking down, she wasn't locked in a reminder of the abuse she faced and her sister hadn't just ran off to do goodness knows what (in Vi's POV, us as the audience know exactly what she's about to do). They could've even have it fade to black and cut to the next scene tangled in bed doing whatever they would've been doing in the cell, Vi would assumably have had time to calm down, would be having sex in a warm and safe environment, and guess what? The audience would've been even happier.

Sure there would've been criticism, but Vi could literally save a thousand babies and adopt them all and still face hate, because a lot of the hate is being directed to Vi too because of the situation with Jinx. That, again, is a whole other situation.

3. "Dirt Under Your Nails"

Again, for the love of god, there can be so many takeaways from this sentence but do not be surprised that people didn't like it. I didn't, it made me cringe horribly.

And before people throw 'media literacy is dead', this whole post (practically essay), is analysing a piece of media that I love. To be literate, you can draw different interpretations and conclusions and that's exactly what I'm doing. It's like saying literacy is dead if two people were to disagree on what the meaning of Macbeth's quote 'I am in blood' meant.

I digress.

I think the main issue here is the class difference between Vi and Cait. Caitlyn is from the aristocracy, a direct heir to a position of power in Piltover, while Vi is lower class, effected indefinitely by growing up in poverty. Even though she grew up as Vander's kid, they were still 'scraping for scraps'. The wealth margin between the two is almost immeasurable, and with the difference in money comes a difference in experiences, as we - the audiences - know.

It especially comes off wrong considering the class tensions and political themes heavily focussed on within the first season. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun, the abuse of power and exploitation of Zaunites by both topside and the chembarons, the prevalence of police brutality on the streets of the Undercity. Again, Vi is someone who is directly effected by this, while Caitlyn came into this blissfully naïve. She did learn yes, and in s1 she was so determined to help, but when then this progress reverts into her calling zaunites 'animals' and using the grey as a weapon, it again makes Vi's words feel uncomfortable.

Again, I think this was a massive timing issue, I would've love to see Caitlyn succumb fully to a villain arc. It would've been so interesting to delve into.

I think Vi has always had the image of herself that she'll always be viewed as less by Piltover, that she herself views herself as less. She says it herself to Vander in s1 ep2 while they're on the bridge, "I grew up knowing I'm less than them." So when she then says as her final words in the show, "I'm the dirt under your nails" obviously, that's going to come across as tacky.

People are free to think of romantic connotations for this, I won't stop you, but when you think about how the show was so focussed on class tensions, police brutality, oppression and exploitation, it doesn't come off right. Idk, that's what got me so interested with the show in the first place, the way these themes were explored so deeply but subtly in a way that didn't feel forced, so Vi's words really rubbed me the wrong way.

Conclusion

So I hope everyone that read somewhat gets where I'm coming from, this was my attempt to try and explain what I think needed to be, badly. Again, you can like the ship, I'm not saying I don't, but it also needs to be acknowledged that there is so many things that could've been worked on properly, done properly or addressed properly, and ignoring criticism won't help these issues to be fixed in the future.

Feel free to ask any questions and thanks for reading this long ass rant :)

[lunatea]

ive had a migraine since mid january. just kill me, it would be a mercy at this point

[heeikeuu]

In Your Embrace Is My Solitude

» how lads men comfort you during a panic attack

» pairing – lads x fem!reader

» genre – fluff, comfort, romance

» warnings – blood, panic attacks, teeny tiny angst, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

note: my first official lads fic! Sorry for any typos in advance, enjoy!

ZAYNE:

Returning from a rough mission, you were badly injured and needed to attend to your wounds immediately. However you couldn't stop thinking about how you childishly fought with your fiance this morning because he kept telling you to not go alone on this mission but you argued back that you weren't a little girl and could handle yourself. But those words came to bite you right in the ass as you returned home at 1:30am covered in blood. It was hard to tell if it was mostly your blood or the wanderers. You weakly made your way to the hallway. You were nervous to face Zayne because you didn't want to burden your already tired and hard-working fiance, knowing he already does so much for you. What you didn't know is that he was sitting in the living room, worried sick, waiting for you. Your body froze seeing him. He looked at you and felt his heart drop. He instantly made his way to you, "What happened? Darling, are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?" His questions were rushing, but you could barely hear him anymore. Your anxiety spiked up further as you buried your face in his warmth. Zayne wasn't sure if he should hold you or not because he didn't want to make your injuries worse, but then he heard faint sobs and "I'm sorrys." Leave your lips. His heart ached, but he held back his tongue from scolding you. Instead, he gently inspected your body and held you. Your knees felt weak, and so did your entire body. Before you could collapse, Zayne carried you to the bedroom to care for your wounds and clean you up. Your body was still shaking as he wiped off the blood. Though Zayne wasn't a man of many words, he gently held your hand, "Next time, I'll be more careful, I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, "there is no need to apologize, darling. There will be no next time, I won't let you get hurt like this ever again."

SYLUS:

The night was very lively. You would argue too lively as the air felt stuffy. You had agreed to attend a charity event with your lover. However, you underestimated just how well known he would be during this event. You felt very uneasy, like eyes were on you almost as if they were trying to cut through the depths of your soul. Feeling your ears ringing as you were spacing out without realize. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand hold your own which was clamy, looking up you notice it was Sylus, he looked at you knowingly with a soft gaze and squeezed your hand twice, asking you if you're okay. You didn't want to ruin the night, so you simply nodded and flashed the best fake smile you could muster up, but he wasn't convinced. Pulling you towards his chest, he whispers to you, "Honey, if you're not feeling, we can always go home. There is no pressure to stay here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words eased your heart, making you calm down a bit more. Looking up at him, you no longer wanted to protest. Scared to use your voice, you just nodded again. He gently yet with a firm grip took your hand again and led you to his car to go home. His job was done for the night, and his wife was his top priority no matter what.

CALEB:

Waking up from a nightmare, you felt your sweaty body shake as you were trying to process that it wasn't real. Your hand instinctively reached out to your right side, expecting to feel your boyfriend next to you. However, you don't. You felt your anxiety spike up even more. You hadn't even bothered to check your phone or the time. You quickly got up from your shared bed and went to look for Caleb. You looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Tears flooded your vision further, scared that something happened to him like it did in your nightmare. What if he got into a fight with wanderers like the ones in you saw, you started pacing, heart pounding, hyperventilating now with tears streaming down your face because you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend was that you couldn't promise to live a 100 years with him. After 2 minutes passed, you didn't seem to notice the soft click of the apartment door opening and closing, caleb came into view. Shocked at your state. Without hesitation, he immediately set down the groceries he got to make breakfast for you on the ground and ran up to check on you. Your body froze once you saw him and immediately ran into his arms. He held you protectively, "shhhh, I'm here, angel. Look at me, yeah?" He spoke ever so gently as he held your face in his hands. Looking at him, through your blurred vision, you see him kiss your tears away, his warmth a sharp contrast to how cold your body felt. "Do you want a distraction or a hug, angel?" He asked carefully, "a hug," you whispered. He held you until you calmed down and soon made you both breakfast to eat as it was 6am.

XAVIER:

You didn't mean to, but you had been spacing out too often today. You felt uneasy and kept trying to distract yourself however you could. You and Xavier were cuddling on the couch, watching old films together, but as Xavier was talking to you and explaining the movie's plot, you kept absentmindedly nodding. He eventually caught on and grabbed your chin, making you face him. "What's wrong, starlight? You've been out of it since this morning," He asked sweetly while carefully observing your body language. He noticed. He saw the way your eyes got ever so glossy, how your hands were sweaty, your fast heartbeat, and how you tried to discreetly stop your legs from shaking. You tried to speak but kept stuttering, "deep breaths, slowly." He talked you through it while holding your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other, bringing impossibly closer to him. You had trouble controlling your mind and often had panic attacks due to your intrusive thoughts. They always came unexpectedly and you couldn't stop them. You had been suppressing your feelings since this morning, but you ended up breaking down in front of your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," you voice muffled as he brought you to his chest, softly petting your hair and rocking back and forth with you in his arms. "It's okay, starlight. I'm not mad, I won't go anywhere, and yes I made sure to turn off the stove earlier" he joked at the last part making you giggle softly at his attempt to make you smile. You stayed like that for a while, feeling whole and safe in his arms.

RAFAYEL:

You were out with your friends having a great time after not seeing them for a long time, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of someone's piercing gaze on you. You brushed it off a few times. It's probably nothing, you thought to yourself as you excused yourself to the bathroom to wash up. Your heels clicking, but you were on high alert of your surroundings. Too high that you got lost in your mind, "going somewhere, miss?" An eerie voice spoke, flinching slightly. You look up and notice a strange man looking at you like you were deer caught in his trap. His smile got wider as he stepped closer to you. Shit what do I do, I don't have my weapons on me, you notice he had a knife, trapped between his large body, you felt your body and mind panic, you felt the cold dagger pressed closer to your pulse point drawing some blood in its awake. You tried to rack your brain on how to escape this situation swiftly, "You tell that lousy boyfriend of yours to not meddle in my business," the man threatened with a crazy look in his eyes. Rafayel? As if on que, your thoughts came to a halt as you heard his voice, the next few seconds were all a blur as you saw the man being pinned against the hallway walls with a deadly grip, "touching a woman without permission is a lousy move," Rafayel's voice said mockingly, "but touching my woman without her permission is a death wish." He spoke as the man cried in fear apologizing again and again. Rafayel wasn't having any of it. He threw the man onto the ground roughly before his gaze softened as he turned to look at you. Holding you in his arms, "shhh, it's okay, cutie, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, yeah?" His tone ever so sweet and soft. Your shaking body slowly calmed down afterward. Part of you knew that if you weren't here right now, that man would've been killed off in cold blood, yet you weren't scared of Rafayel. You knew he could never hurt you or let anyone hurt you.

Special tag; @imaluvsj7

© heeikeuu | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[memepocalypse]

Late Night Panic Attack

"I woke up and you weren't there."

"I heard you screaming."

"Oh, no - another nightmare?"

"Okay, hey, I'm here - I'm here -"

"Whoa hey what the fuck - are you okay?"

"It's just a nightmare! Wake up!"

"How did you end up on the floor? [Name]?"

"[Name]? Are you - hey - are you okay?"

"Look at me. Look at me! I'm here!"

"Not again - you're safe."

"You're okay, you're at home, you're in bed."

"Snap out of it! Please! You're scaring me!"

"Wake up!!"

"How did you get into the hall?"

"We need to get you back to bed."

"I can't bre - breathe -"

"They're back, they came back for me -"

"Where am I?!"

"Get off me! No! No! Wait - wait, I'm sorry -"

"It's not safe - it's not safe here -"

"Don't leave me, don't - don't go - "

"Ow - how did I end up on the floor?"

"Not again... I just want to sleep..."

"I'm s- so sor-sorry -"

"I can't st-stop shaking -"

"Is it this? Forever? Every night?"

"My - chest - hurts -"

"Don't let go of me, please, please -"

"My throat hurts... oh, no, was I screaming?"

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry, I just.. I got so scared. So scared..."

[thesecondhandwoman]

NIGHTMARES

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: You were experiencing heavy, traumatic nightmares again, reliving unwanted memories, and resulted in you waking up dazed. It was to the point where Sevika had to step in, even when you barely recognized her.

The nightmare hit with the intensity of a freight train, dragging you back to a place you’d fought hard to escape. The dim, oppressive walls of an unfamiliar room surrounded you, the scent of blood and sweat hanging heavy in the air. You could hear your attacker’s breath, feel the harsh, burning touch of their hands on your body, their low voice whispering cruel, taunting words into your ear.

Your chest tightened, and the sounds of your breath started to quicken in sync with the panic that surged through you. The room felt too small, suffocating.

You wanted to escape.

You tried to scream for help, but your voice wouldn’t come. The terror was suffocating, overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t escape.

Suddenly, you shot up from the bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, your heart hammering in your chest. The room around you felt unfamiliar, wrong. Your breath was ragged, and the shadows of your nightmare seemed to creep into the corners of your vision, blurring everything in sight.

Sevika stirred beside you, instinctively sitting up when she felt the tension in the bed. Her sharp, calculating eyes immediately found yours, wide and panicked.

“Hey, hey,” Sevika’s low voice was soft but commanding, the tone not unfamiliar, but something about the urgency in her voice made your heart race faster. “It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

But the darkness clung to you, the terror from the dream still sharp in your mind. You looked at her, but in your panicked state, everything blurred together. Her face — her eyes — were distorted, morphing into something you couldn’t recognize. Something darker. Someone from your past. Someone that haunted you in your nightmares.

“No!” You screamed, backing away from her, your legs tangling in the sheets. “Stay away! Get away from me!”

Sevika was quick to react, trying to grab hold of your arms to steady you, but the touch only made you more panicked, more frantic. “No! No, please!” You yelled, shoving at her chest, desperate to get away from her.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Sevika’s voice tried to soothe, but you were too far gone, lost in the fog of your nightmare’s aftermath. Your breathing came in shallow, frantic gasps as your body trembled with fear.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face as you shoved her away. “You’re not real. You’re not real!”

Sevika froze, her expression momentarily hardening at your rejection, but then she took a deep breath, collecting herself. Her instinct to protect you overrode the hurt in her chest. “I’m real,” she insisted firmly, gently but firmly taking your hands, locking her gaze onto yours. “You’re not in that nightmare anymore. You’re with me.”

You flinched, your heart still hammering, your mind screaming at you to run, to get away from whatever this was — but she wasn’t letting you go.

“Please, don’t,” you sobbed, curling in on yourself as the adrenaline from the nightmare surged through you, heightening every sense, distorting reality. “I can’t…I can’t be here. Not with you!”

The pain in Sevika’s eyes was almost too much to bear, but she didn’t pull away. She was steady, unyielding, even as you fought her, even as your hands trembled against her chest in fear.

“I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever,” Sevika said, her voice softer now, though the firmness remained. Slowly, she pulled you into her arms, wrapping you in a protective hold despite your resistance.

“Let me go!” You shouted, struggling against her grip, but it was futile. She was stronger, and though your body fought her, she held you with an almost unnatural calm.

“You have to listen to me, please,” Sevika whispered, her voice now a quiet murmur. She stroked your back in slow, rhythmic motions, letting her presence become the anchor for your racing thoughts. “This is just a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re here, with me. You’re real. I’m real.”

Her words broke through the haze of your fear, and you gasped again, trembling, your hands pressing against her chest as if to push her away, but your strength was fading. You sobbed harder, unable to control the flood of emotions that came crashing over you — fear, relief, shame — all of it mixing into an overwhelming whirlwind.

Sevika didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to. She just held you. Her presence, her scent, the strength of her embrace — all of it was there to remind you that you weren’t lost in that nightmare anymore.

Slowly, your breathing began to even out, the panic starting to recede as you buried your face against her shoulder. The raw fear still lingered in your chest, but now, Sevika was here. She was warm, solid, unyielding.

When you finally calmed, when the world around you began to settle back into focus, you pulled back just enough to look up at her face. Her eyes were filled with nothing but concern, her jaw tight as she resisted the urge to pull you back in too tightly. She had to give you space, even if it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the screaming, the tears. “I didn’t mean to… to push you away.”

Sevika’s gaze softened, her hands gently cupping your face as she wiped away the tears. “I know,” she said, her voice low and steady. “I know, love. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

You took a shaky breath, still in her embrace, but feeling the sting of the nightmare begin to fade. Slowly, your mind began to accept the truth: Sevika wasn’t your attacker. She was your protector. The person who would never hurt you, no matter how intense the shadows of your mind became.

“You’re my safe place,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into her again, your head resting against her chest.

Sevika let out a long breath, relief flooding through her as she held you even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I always will be,” she promised quietly.

And for the first time that night, you believed it.

[snowballseal]

Breathe

Zayne X Reader

Summary: Trying to cope with losing Caleb and your grandmother, you throw yourself into work and push yourself to the very limit, only to break at the end of a particularly bad day. Thankfully, Zayne is there to get you through it.

Word Count: 2953

Warnings: dealing poorly with grief, depression, anxiety, what could be considered a panic attack, this is all hurt comfort folks, Zayne calls you good girl cause it's CANON and I can't get over it

Enjoy

---

One person can only take so much before they break. And the harder they try not to, the worse it gets.

Your day sucked. First you were late to the team meeting because you spilled coffee - piping hot you might add - on yourself right before leaving. Then, you and Xavier got into a stupid fight - he thought you were pushing yourself too hard. A part of you knew he was just concerned, they all were, but as soon as those pitying eyes turned on you, you could feel yourself bristling like an angry street cat.

You were fine.

Was it that wrong that you just wanted to work? You hate being home alone, which happens often since Zayne has to work extra hours, what with the increase in wanderer attacks. Not seeing him has already made you a little grumpy. But even worse, is the deafening silence of that apartment. Every time you’re alone, every time it gets just a little to quiet, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting to Caleb and Gran- 

So you work. You take extra hours, cover shifts, field the reports nobody wants to do, even if it means you stay up all night, even if it means you skip a few meals. At least then you don’t have to think about it, you don’t have to deal with the nightmares. Maybe if you throw yourself into work, you might be able to outrun the storm creeping on your horizon.

And that’s how you ended up messing up on a mission. Pushed to your limits, your mind was foggy and your body just. wouldn’t. move.

You hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough. A stray energy blast narrowly caught your shoulder, sending you careening into the nearest wall. The impact sent your head spinning, your vision going blurry for a second too long. You could hardly make out Xavier’s face when he kneeled beside you, telling you to stay down, that he could handle it.

A bitter taste had filled your mouth when he said those words.

You were utterly and completely useless. And that thought seeded itself somewhere in your chest, wrapping tight around your ribs until you couldn’t breathe.

Jenna sent you home after that, with a stern command to rest. You wanted to argue, tell them you’re fine, but your shoulder was screaming and the look she gave you when you opened your mouth was seering enough to shut down the most experienced hunter.

So you threw your jacket over your shoulders and stormed out of the office, trying to ignore the way your team’s gaze followed you, not even bothering to hide their concern. You could feel it burning on your skin all the way home. And that was only the beginning.

Now you find yourself laying on your couch, staring blankly at the television, the volume turned up too loud, just to drown out the thoughts swirling like a storm in your head.

You hate it. This feeling. Like you’re stuck underwater, trying so hard to reach the surface, but everything you do just drags you deeper and deeper. Your muscles are burning for any relief, but you can’t let yourself stop. You’re too scared to let yourself stop. Because if you do-

“Are you aware that listening to the television at this volume could cause damage to your hearing?”

You jump at the sudden calm voice that speaks behind you, flipping around to come face to face with a rather unamused Zayne. Quickly, you snatch the tv remote, turning it down until it’s barely a whisper in the background.

“Zayne! I thought you were working late tonight,” you chirp, the waver in your voice almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

Zayne’s eyes narrow, making you shift uncomfortably. Sometimes it feels like he can see right through you, right to the very core of your being.

“Things were not as busy as expected, so I decided to come home early and make sure you eat a full meal,” he explains, voice calm despite the way his gaze burns through you.

Skin prickling with unease, you jump from the couch, forcing a playful laugh, “What are you, my doctor?”

“Yes.”

Right. You awkwardly shift around him, heading towards the kitchen, “Well, then I guess we should start dinner, huh? What do you want?”

“You are also home early.” It’s not a question, merely an observation, but it makes your throat go dry.

Sometimes having such an observant boyfriend is amazing. You love Zayne more than anything, love how attentive he is, but in moments like this, you feel like a creature under a microscope. Every single flaw and action under his sharp scrutiny. There’s nowhere to hide, and all you want to do is run.

“We have some leftover moo shoo pork,” you hum shakily, hands unsteady as you pull it from the fridge. “And I could make some rice, I think it’s up he-”

Forgetting about your shoulder, you reach up to one of the cupboards. Pain shoots up to your fingers like electricity, searing back down your spine. You inhale sharply, momentarily paralyzed as you clutch it to your chest, eyes squeezing shut.

Zayne is there in an instant. His fingers ease over your taut jaw, his skin cool to the touch. He doesn’t say a word, but you can practically feel his concern in the way he barely touches you, like he’s scared you’ll break. It makes your chest tighten.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, gritting your teeth.

“You’re injured,” he counters, voice still irritatingly calm, “Why don’t you let me-”

“I said I’m fine,” you bite out again, this time with a little more force, “I’m perfectly capable of making dinner. I’m not useless.”

Zayne pauses, partially taken aback by your words. They feel out of place, and he can tell you didn’t mean to say them when you glance away, cheeks burning a vicious pink. His brow furrows, confusion flickering over his features.

“I wasn’t suggesting you are,” he says, each word measured carefully, like the wrong ones could set you off.

And now you feel guilty. God, you can’t do anything right today.

Biting your tongue, you grab the rice with your good arm, stepping around him to busy yourself at the counter. Not that setting up the rice cooker takes up much time. Soon enough you've nothing more to do, bracing yourself against the counter just to stay upright. The silence that creeps between you is unbearable, thick enough to cut, especially when you can still feel Zayne’s eyes following you so closely.

“God, this is so stupid,” you huff out, false bravado broken as your voice warbles, “I’m fine. I can handle it. I’m a hunter. I’m supposed to handle it. I’m supposed to- I’m supposed to help people. Not-”

You bite off the rest, fingers digging into the counter. The pain in your shoulder distracts you, keeps the tears at bay. You can’t cry. Not now. Not-

A hand traces lightly against your waist. You tremble at the gentle touch, a lump forming in your throat as his arm circles around you. Zayne pauses for only a moment before pulling you back into a rare embrace when you show no signs of moving away. He presses his face against your hair and holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, like you’re made of the thinnest ice, which is how you feel.

Tears blur your vision. You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to hold it all together. Until-

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/n).”

His voice is so quiet, so certain.

And you break.

You don’t know what sound leaves your body at that moment, but you’re sure it’s ugly and broken. Your entire body trembles in his hold, but he doesn’t waver, simply holds you tighter as everything spills out.

It’s so much. So much weight, so much grief, your throat is raw in seconds from crying. Every breath is like knives, until suddenly, you can’t breathe.

It’s like your lungs are full of sand, your chest spasming as you fail to take in air. It hurts. It all hurts.

“Darling, I need you to breathe,” Zayne’s voice speaks urgently at your ear, and you want to, you need to, but all you can muster is a pathetic whimper and shake your head. Before you can blink, Zayne has you turned around and lifted onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. He catches one of your hands, pressing it firmly against his chest as his green eyes bore into yours, a hint of desperation pulling at his features. “I know you can. Be a good girl and copy me, alright? Can you do that?”

You nod shakily, trying to focus on him and not the burning in your chest. Zayne takes a deep, exaggerated breath, his chest rising against your hand. You try to do the same, your body shaking with the effort.

“Now breathe out.”

His chest falls and you once again copy him, the breath leaving you shakily. It takes a few repetitions until your breathing comes to any normal pattern, and Zayne silently tracks the time in his head. He traces your wrist gently, subtly checking your pulse to see how your heart is doing. It’s racing, but still within a normal range, which is enough to ease his firing nerves a little.

Not that this is over.

“‘m sorry,” you hiccup softly, gasping down breathes, fresh tears spilling over your cheeks. “God I’m sorry, Zayne. I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean to snap at you, and I just, I-”

The doctor hums, tone stern, making you fall silent. He traces his fingers against your cheek, the cold of his touch welcome against your overheated skin. He carefully wipes your tears away.

“I accept your apology. It is very common for people dealing with grief to lash out at those closest to them. I am merely thankful you trusted me enough to let me help you through it.”

You sag into his touch, lips wobbling. To most, that wouldn’t be comforting. But for you, knowing Zayne, it’s like finally having a hand to hold you above the water. He’s unmoving, unyielding in the way he loves you, all of you. Even like this.

“I trust you with my life, Zayne,” you whisper and lean forward to press your forehead against his chest.

“Then I assume you’ll allow me to examine your shoulder.” It’s not really a question, but you nod anyway. Zayne leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair. “I will go get the first aid kit. Please take off your shirt if you feel comfortable doing so. If not, I ask that you change into something that will give me access to do a thorough exam.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums approvingly, a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Your heart jumps a little at that and you’re thankful for the curtain of hair hiding your face. It’s not often Zayne indulges you with such soft praise and you can’t help but soak it in, especially now. Your eyes flicker shut when he presses another kiss to your head, the touch lingering before he disappears to go retrieve the kit.

Sighing softly, you set to work on trying to get your shirt off. The nerves have settled back in your chest, not sure what to expect. You haven’t looked at your shoulder once since the fight, dead set on ignoring it as long as you could. Which was stupid. If the pain tells you anything, it’s probably pretty bad.

Bad enough that you can’t actually get your shirt off. You’re able to slip one arm out, but wince when you try to lift your bad one. So you're stuck like that, half undressed. Which is how Zayne finds you when he comes back, medical kit in hand.

He glances at you, dark brow raising a fraction. If he’s amused, his face doesn’t give it away.

“Will you um, will you help me?” You ask, voice quiet, “I can’t…I can’t lift my arm.”

Zayne’s lips press into a thin line. He nods, setting the kit aside. You can’t help but hold your breath as his fingers brush against your knee, slowly tracing up your thigh, jumping to your waist and brushing against your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch is unbearably soft, and your heart squeezes as you watch his face, noticing the way his brows twitch as he works, and how focused his gaze is. Every movement is calm, self-assured. You hardly have to move as he lifts the shirt over your head, sliding it down your injured arm.

 And once it’s off, his hand returns to your waist, thumb brushing tenderly over your ribs. His eyes stay focused on your shoulder, and yours stay glued to his expression, catching the smallest flicker of shock.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” You ask, biting your cheek.

Zayne carefully schools his expression, but you can still see his disapproval in the tight set of his jaw, “You should have gone to the hospital immediately. I am surprised your team let you walk away with such an injury.”

“They didn’t know,” you mumble, trying to defend them at least a little bit. It really was your fault.

“So you hid this injury from your team?” He doesn’t hide his disapproval this time. You flush, looking down at your lap again, though that’s hard with him settled right between your legs.

“I didn’t…” The words get caught in your mouth. It’s so silly now, you know that. Your team would never look down on you for being injured, but- “I didn’t want them to think I couldn’t handle it. I just, I didn’t want to seem…useless.”

Zayne clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t say anything else. His fingers graze lightly against your shoulder and you wince, a low hiss passing between your teeth. Murmuring an apology, he moves to grab a few things from the kit. The silence returns as he sets to work, though this time, it’s not so uncomfortable.

Your head feels a little clearer now. You’re not through it, that’s for sure, but the pain from losing Caleb and your grandmother lingers a little less sharply. Zayne’s words from before repeat like a mantra in your head, and for once, you can feel yourself almost accepting them.

It wasn’t your fault.

There’s nothing you could have done. You can’t change the outcome of that day in the same way that you can’t change the color of the sky. That doesn’t stop how deeply you feel their absence, though.

“I miss them so much,” you admit, mostly to yourself.

Zayne pauses, already wrapping your shoulder after applying some medicine and deciding that the hospital could wait until tomorrow. He finishes pinning the bandage down before shifting back, eyes trailing over your face. You look up at him, exhaustion gleaming in your wide, (e/c) eyes. It’s like looking at a sad, little puppy. He breathes out a low sigh, brushing a few rogue hairs from your face.

“Your grandmother and Caleb were kind, caring people,” he says slowly, thoughtful, “It is right that you should miss them. It is not a sign of weakness to feel grief.”

“I know.” You reach for his hand, desperate for some form of contact. He gives in without hesitation, fingers brushing against your jaw to hold your face. You turn, nuzzling into his palm with a sigh. His touch gives you the comfort to continue, “Sometimes it just feels like if I let myself sit with it too long, I’ll be swallowed whole. And that…scares me. A lot.”

A pause. You keep your face tucked against his palm, enjoying the way he pets you as he thinks. Zayne has never been the strongest when it comes to emotions. With everything else he likes to distance himself from them to stay objective, so you know he needs the time to figure out what he wants to say. 

“I suppose…” he starts, and you glance back up at his face, catching the serious gleam in his eyes, “if it gives you any comfort, I would like to remind you that I will always be here to bring you back from whatever depths you fall to. Even if risking your life is your choice of coping mechanism.”

He pinches your cheek ever so lightly, and finally, finally, a smile pulls at your lips.

“I’ll work on it, I promise.”

He doesn’t look like he truly believes you, but Zayne nods.

“As your doctor, I would deeply appreciate it if you would.”

Eyes dancing with a bit of mirth, you lean forward, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. Zayne catches you before you can pull back, fingers curling along your jaw as he draws you into a deeper kiss. It’s slow, his lips slanting perfectly over your own, like a well-rehearsed dance. When he pulls away, you can’t help but sigh, leaning your forehead against his chest again.

“What on earth would I do without you, Zayne?”

He presses another kiss to your hair, voice a low, teasing murmur, “You would likely die from an untreated wound.”

And just like that, you’re laughing. Zayne smiles, relief washing over him at the sound. 

You’ll be alright. He knows that today was just the first step, that grief is complex and differs from person to person, and you might have another bad day like this, but he doesn’t mind that. Not now that he’s finally by your side and can take care of you.

Nothing could drive him away.

---

I literally started this game 11 days ago and I'm so down bad for these characters, it's shameful. Anyways! Hope y'all enjoyed!

Feel free to send requests!

[timmydraker]

CW: Cynophobia, mentions of putting pets down

The dog had just been scared and cornered, with Tim being a young boy and wanting to help the animal only to make things worse.

He felt guilt for being the reason the poor thing was put down, yet he couldn’t help the fear more than anything. He became petrified of them, having nightmares about maws with hundreds of teeth and vicious snarls rumbling his bones. He never got over it, even when his parents bought a little dog for him to have a home so he would stop complaining.

The dog was small and calm, never posing a threat, but it didn’t change the fact that it had teeth.

Luckily he moved in with Bruce soon after.

Then Damien came, and soon he bought Titus in their home.

Tim had a panic attack, managed to hide it from everyone then proceeded to make several plans to avoid Titus. Heidi ensured he would never be available to walk to giant dog or fill his water or food. He did what he could to ale sure no one would see how his breathing would become heavy and strained when the dog was near, made sure he kept a compression sleeve around his old scar so he wouldn’t get the phantom pains that became stronger and stronger every time he saw the beastly dog.

It last for six months before Titus, who had previously only cared for Damien, decides to walk right up to him with enough casualness that he’d seem harmless.

Tim drops his glass as he starts to panic, alerting everyone to what’s going on as he presses himself against the wall and fearfully looks to Damien for help. His brother looks close to scoffing at his display, yet the amount of fear in Tim’s eyes must be enough for him to decide to help without comment.

He calls Titus away and Bruce and Dick rush over to him. They see him holding his wrist and worry that they missed him getting hurt either in a mission or by Titus, so they take his sleeves off and both quickly come to realisation.

Jason and Damien stand to the side, watching somewhat awkwardly as their brother and father calm him down.

Bruce speaks first once his panicking is over, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tim, tired and ashamed, doesn’t think before he speaks, “Damien doesn’t like anything, I couldn’t make you take his dog away.”

Damien looks away.

[mockerycrow]

Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Cut my entire heart out to write this chapter. I love love how soft Joel is, and I hope this brings a little comfort to all the healing girlies 🩷 There’s a lot of triggers in this chapter, so pay attention to the tags. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I so loved writing it.

Chapter Summary: Who knew that facing one of your fears would be so hard? It’s just a shower, but a shower is so much more to you. And just when you think you can’t face it, Joel helps you one step at a time.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6k words

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused and SA, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, shower triggers, vulnerable reader, panic attack, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, angel)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

One month. You’ve been here one entire whole month and you still haven’t been able to get yourself to step into the shower. It’s only a shower. It can’t hurt you, but they can. The memories that drag knives through your skull, leaving you to bleed out on the cracked tile. 

   It’s only memories, only deep scars from your past, but they still haunt you night and day, swearing to come back and swallow you whole with their jagged, sharp teeth — just like a great white shark. 

   Nevermind that you’ve been washing your hair in the sink or scrubbing your body until your skin glows red with the washcloth. You can’t fucking do it, but you’re going to force yourself to try today. You have to. You have got to break this traumatic cycle. 

   You can do this. It’s a shower. Only a shower. 

   Making your way cautiously to the edge of the tub, you glimpse at the metal shower head, fixate on the way it curves and dips and glares back at you with vengeance in its wake. It’s like a monster’s staring right back at you, sneering its sharp teeth and whispering nightmares into your mind. 

   Come and get me, you want to say, but it’s already sunk its razor-sharp fangs into your skin. It’s already bled you dry.

   Swallowing your fears, you stand your ground and narrow your eyes into thin slits, flexing your fingers into tight fists as you look into the face of fear. 

   It can’t hurt you, can’t wrap its long cord around your neck like they tried. But yet, it still can…

   You still feel their icy breaths blowing down your neck, still feel their filthy hands trailing up your skin, still feel the scars they clawed down your back while they had you pinned against the tiled wall. You still feel them inside you, all around you, branding you as their own forever. 

   You’re still theirs. 

   You hear their cackling laughter ringing through your eardrums as you reach for the shower head, stretching your arm through the visions of Garrett and his buddies having their way with you in the bathroom. 

   “Get out,” you mewl, chattering your teeth as you grab a hold of the bottled lavender soap from the side of the porcelain tub. You can’t let them win.

   “Look at you. All scared and helpless, begging for someone to come save you,” Garrett snickers, fisting the back of your hair as another man tears your dress off. 

   “Stop. Please…” you beg, tears streaming down and clouding your vision. “I’m worth more than this. You don’t have to…”

   “What makes you think you’re so special, princess? Nobody’s looking for you. You’re ours until we sell you. And right now? Right now you’re mine.”

   Tears slip from your lash line, falling like raindrops as they hit the edge of the tub. You remember that night so clearly, remember it like it’s happening all over. 

   Your body starts to shake the further you reach for the shower head, making it your mission to push through. But the voices echo in your mind, vibrating down your spine until you actually see their muted faces and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the metal. 

   Push through. Fight. Forget them. They’re not real anymore. But they are still real, and they’re just repeating the cycle with other innocent women that were taken…

   Just as your fingers latch around the shower head, Garrett’s voice booms through your head, ricocheting off the pristine tiled walls. “You’re mine, little whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

   “Get out of my head. I’m not yours!” you scream, dropping the shower head as it bangs a loud clash against the shower walls, startling you like a gunshot just went off. The soap tumbles out of your palm, the bottle opening and spilling lavender liquid all over the bottom of the tub, making messes you can’t get yourself to clean up. 

   You drop to the floor and cover your head with your hands, begging the yelling voices to just stop. But they don’t. They come parading in like a steep hurricane and crash their waves down on you, knocking you off center so they can snake their way into your mind to scream even louder. 

   “Stop, stop,” you whisper as a fallen teardrop hits the edge of the bathtub. And then they just keep coming like scattered storm clouds.

   You can’t fucking do this. You’re not strong enough. You’re not brave. You’re not brave. 

   Footsteps on the floorboards make your fingers curl deeper into your messy hair. You squeeze your eyes shut as the door hits the back of the wall with a loud bang. And now you’re spiraling.

   Garrett. It’s Garrett coming for you. And this time, he wants blood.

   You have to run. You have to get out, you have to leave. 

   “Hey, sweetheart—”

   “No!” you scream out in blind fear, afraid your life is about to flash before your eyes. You start to swing your arm but when you look up, you drop it right back to your side with wide eyes. 

   “Hey, it’s jus’ me. It’s me,” he reassures gently.

   When you look through your tear-stained eyelashes, the world gets a little more quiet. A green flannel fitted against broad shoulders sits before you, his silver-threaded hair glowing from the fluorescent bathroom lights, and those eyes... Those big, brown, syrupy eyes.

   Joel. 

   “Joel…” you whimper out.

   He leans down right beside you and gets on your level, brown eyes locked directly on your teary ones. “S’right. It’s me.” His hand lands on the edge of the bathtub, thumb grazing against the smooth surface. Close enough to feel the heat off his tanned skin. 

   You’re breathless, tears still streaming down your cheek, but he looks like he wants to reach out and wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. 

   “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lathered all through his soft brown eyes.

   “I was just… I just…” You can’t finish your sentence without cringing at the shift of his shoulders.

   “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says encouragingly.

   He’s always so patient. 

   Taking a deep breath, you make yourself speak quietly. “I just wanted to get a shower. And I just can’t. I couldn’t do it. I can’t…” Tears muddle your vision, and then you’re right back into the pool you were in.

   “Breathe for me,” he coos softly, making your breathing a little easier. “There ya go,” he encourages. “Jus’ take it slow.”

   He takes a long look at the hanging shower head and the spilled lavender soap that runs down the edge of the tub, ending in a small puddle where your fear lies. It’s like he puts two and two together, like he understands exactly what happened. 

   “I made a mess with the soap, I…”

   He stops you right there. “Shh. S’okay,” he whispers. “Let me jus’ help you here, sweetheart.”

   Slowly reaching over, he turns the faucet to warm and lets fresh water run through the tub. He pours more lavender soap in, creating a pool of bubbles that cover the surface of the water. And then he puts the shower head back where it belongs, at a safe distance where it can’t touch you. And you just sit there, watching in silence as he tests out the temperature of the water next. 

   “You’re running a bath for me…”

   He stops for a moment and looks at you with big, warm eyes, looking at you as if you’re in need of saving. “Yeah, I am.”

   Gulping down a lump in your throat, you watch him get back to his task at hand. Stretching his long arms, he cuts the faucet off when the water hits just against the top of the tub. Enough for you to slip in and not spill any water out. 

   He tilts his head back to you and says, “You think you can get in by yourself?”

   Staring at the steam coming up from the warm water, you tremble inside. He drew you a bath when you didn’t have the strength to stand in a shower. He did that. He did it for you…

   Wiping your blurry eyes, you sniffle out. “I think so.”

   He gives you a small smile and then pushes himself up to his feet, nodding to the bath water as he turns the other way. “Go ahead then. I won’t look.”

   You sit there in shambles, still gawking as his broad back stands firm across the room. He’s not even peeking. He’s not trying to look at you. 

   “Sweetheart, s’alright. You can trust me.”

   You can trust me. There’s that word again. Trust. 

   Gradually, you start to pull your t-shirt over your head, cautiously dragging your leggings to the floor and hiding your purple lace underneath the fabric of your shirt. And then your bra unclasps with a snap, leaving you completely bare as you sit in a heap on the cold floor. 

   Turning your head back around, you see he’s still not looking, so you decide to slip under the warmth of the bath bubbles and sink until your body is covered from the breasts down. You pull your knees up to your chest, blanketing yourself with the large bubbles and your arms. 

   “You okay?” he asks.

   “Mhm,” you whimper out.

   “Is it alright if I turn around?”

   Freezing, your body is suddenly ice cold, despite the warmth surrounding your skin. Panic consumes you for a second, but then you remember it’s Joel. 

   He won’t hurt you.

   Balling yourself up even tighter, you make your decision. “Oh. Yeah, I umm. Okay,” you mumble out.

   The shift of his jeans and his boots tiptoeing across the floor makes your mind race, feelings of fight or flight invading your body as you work to steady your fast breath.

   You’re completely naked, stripped raw and bleeding all your insecurities and fears into the lavender soap that envelops the bath. There’s no layers covering you except the thin coating of bubbles and your curled up knees hiding what’s been taken time after time again from you. 

   You shrink yourself further into the tub, curving your back, praying your hair will cover the faded scars that slit you open night after night. You don’t want anyone to see them, can’t even stand to look at them yourself. They’re ugly reminders of what’s happened to you. Just heavy burdens weighing you down, telling you how invaluable and broken you really are. 

   Garrett used to love that… dragging glass through the top of your right shoulder, or just using his teeth to make blood run down your cracked skin. You still feel it. Every lash and bite and cut he gave you. He ruined you just like every other man that touched you in that house. Except he was the worst of them.

   You’re so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and it’s so raw. And you’re just showing all your bleeding shades of red to Joel. 

   When you hear him shift behind you and slightly feel his large presence near the bathtub, you freeze, and then your body starts to shake violently, like you just got dunked below an icy lake.

   “Hey, s’alright. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos as he kneels down against the side of the tub. “You’re tremblin’ like a leaf. Are you cold?”

   “N—no,” you whisper, shaking your head back and forth until you believe what you’re saying. It’s warm inside the bath water, but you’re still shuddering like you just got hit with a bucket of ice cold water.

   It’s quiet for a second before he asks, “Is it me? Do you want me to leave?”

   Briefly flicking your teary eyes up at him, you take a long look at his concerned face, embracing those warm brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

   Do you really want him to leave? If he does, that means you’ll be all alone with the roaring thoughts in your head. And you don’t want to be alone. Not really. You want him to stay because the truth is… he makes you feel not so alone. 

   He feels like fresh air.

   “No. I… I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked right on those deep brown pools.

   He gives you a tight-lipped nod and takes a good look at your face, like he can just slip inside your mind and feel everything you’ve ever felt in those last two years.

   “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Gonna stay right here. Right where you need me.” His words pull at your heartstrings, stopping the screaming voices in your mind. 

   He said he’ll stay. 

   You… need him. 

   Sitting there curled up in shambles, you don’t move. You just wade in the soapy bubbles and look up bashfully beneath your eyelashes, praying he’ll keep the flashbacks at bay. You don’t know when exactly you grabbed a washcloth, but your knuckles are white from how tight you’re holding on. Maybe it’s helping keep you sane right now.

   Don’t let the memories come flooding back. Keep me from sinking, Joel. 

   His thumb traces along the edge of the tub, while his other grabs the open bottle of lavender soap. And then he looks at you, hesitating before he speaks. He almost looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’ll scare you off or say the wrong thing. 

   He could never scare you, you think. No. Never. 

   “Can I?” He tilts his head toward your exposed back, his calloused fingers still skimming the surface while your heart beats sporadically from what he’s asking. 

   Swallowing the words that threaten to spit out, you push them back and nod cautiously, allowing him to take the purple washcloth from your shaking palm. He brushes his calloused skin against yours, and you jump at the contact.

   “Hey, s’okay. I’m gonna be real gentle, sweetheart. You just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.” His deep timbre stops the panic, and all you can do is hang your head lower and focus on the slow deep breathing technique Joel taught you last week.

   “Okay…” you whisper out in a hushed breath. 

   The first touch of the soapy washcloth feels like knives to your skin, carving you up slowly as your body is served to the slaughterhouse. It almost feels like Garrett behind you, cackling as he had his way with you all those times. And when he slides the washcloth down your spine again, you hear a quiet sob escape your lips. 

   You weren’t supposed to show him this side. One that’s so torn apart and abused and broken. You weren’t supposed to show him your scars…

   “Sweetheart, s’alright,” he coos, blowing his warm breath against the back of your head as he stops his slow strokes for just a moment. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you…” he repeats again slowly, quietly.

   Swiping a falling tear away with the back of your arm, you let him continue. He’s so gentle with every movement, taking care to watch your reactions, back off if something seems too much. He listens to your body language and respects you because he knows how scary this is for you. You don’t want anyone to touch you, but you think this is okay. Because the truth is, you couldn’t do this without him. 

   Slowly brushing your hair to the side, he washes along the back of your neck, gently going over the curve of your shoulders, down your spine, and stopping where your body is submerged. 

   “Tilt your head back for me, sweetheart,” he asks politely, reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo. You do as he says. 

   He fills a little bucket with water and slowly runs it through your hair, until it’s all drenched in warmth. Next, he laces his thick fingers through your hair, scrubbing your scalp to get all the knots and tangles and sweat out. You fight to hold in a low groan, reveling in how good it feels to have his fingers running through your locks in such a gentle way. 

   And he stays there, talking you through it, telling you it’s all okay. And he’s so gentle. Almost like a little lamb with those brown eyes that could soothe you into a deep lull, calm your flying thoughts until you’re just standing still. 

   No one’s ever done this, taken the time to care. You’ve never had someone to do that. He’s doing what no one else signed up to do. 

   But why… why would he do this? You’re nothing. At least that’s what they told you back at the house. That’s what Angela said while Garrett had you pinned to the dining room chair, breathing all down your ear, his teeth dragging until he left marks.

   You shiver in place, teeth chattering even though you’re in warm bath water. But right now you feel like you’re ten feet under a frozen lake, and you need Joel to pull you out.

   The visions of Garrett come rushing back, clouding your better judgement and making you fold over again in fear. 

   Get out. Get out of my head. 

   But you’re right back at that stagnant old house. You’re back in Garrett’s hands…

   Fuck. Why’d you have to remember that night…

   It’d be so easy to slip under the surface of the bubbles, embrace the black seas that would drag you under into oblivion. You could just sink into the warmth, watch the real world disappear along with all your memories. Melt into a peaceful bliss. You could just end it all, but you don’t want that. You want to live, to face your fears, to go on living. You want to be brave. You want… you want… 

   “Sweetheart? What is it?” he asks lightly as he watches a tear break the surface of the water. 

   “I… I just…” You trail off, staring at the shower head, trembling as you remember everything. 

   His eyes follow yours, and it’s like he sees right through your thin layers of red.

   You’re scared. You’re so fucking terrified. 

   Joel knocks you out of your dark mindset, his Southern drawl taking that fear away. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Umm. I…”

   “S’okay if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Jus’ tryin’ to understand what happened so I can help. I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

   You turn his words over and over in your mind, contemplating if you want to let him in. But honestly, talking to Joel does make you feel a little better. And keeping everything bottled up inside is eating you alive, so maybe talking about it will help. Joel will help. He always helps… 

   You take a deep breath and let it all out. “I just… I used to be so independent. I did everything for myself and now? Now I can barely do anything…”

   “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get back to that point one day. You’re gonna be okay.”

   “I don’t feel okay.”

   He stops the slow movements of his wrist, rests the washcloth against the middle of your back. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

   “He hurt me…”

   The room turns silent, not even the splash of water meets the white noise in the bathroom. That is, until you hear his knuckles flex.

   “What?” he asks in a husky breath.

   “He hurt me,” you repeat, your voice dropped an octave lower.

   “Who, sweetheart? Tell me who hurt you.” He’s attentive, all attention on you, his eyes dark chocolate when they lock with yours.

   “Garrett… The one that sold me. He… he…” Your voice quivers into silence, only the quiet sobs escaping your throat.

   “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coos. “He’s not here and he never will be again. He won’t touch you again. Ever. And I… Well, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe now.”

   You’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

   Your eyes drop back down to the bubbles, shining under the fluorescent lights, your hands skimming under the water against your hidden legs. “Back at the house, we weren’t really allowed to take showers alone. Well, not all the girls. One of them just happened to be me…”

   Pausing to flinch, you start again when he doesn’t interrupt. “No matter how much I fought back or screamed or tried to get away, they just held me down against the tile wall. And Garrett was the worst of them, even if he was the one trying to sell me. He was the one that used me the most. Said I was his favorite plaything,” you spit out, sinking your nails deep into your ankles to relieve some of the heartache.

   “Jesus Christ…” His voice drops an octave, and you feel his fingers flex against the washcloth, ringing it dry as he takes his frustration out on it. 

   “And the shower head,” you continue. “They… they umm, did things to me with it. Horrible, awful things.” You see his lips part, eyes widening in horror out of your peripheral vision. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “They should’ve just finished me off when they strangled me with it while they had my face pressed against the wall…” You choke on a sob, like you’re reliving that night over right now. You still feel it. The press of the coiled hose wrapped tightly around your neck, choking you as they had their way with your frayed body. 

   Joel sits back on his heels, looking at you like you’re made of glass. Like he’s afraid one wrong word will send you over the edge. “Sweetheart, I… Fuck. M’so sorry that you went through that. That I didn’t get you out sooner. I swear to God if I ever get my hands on Garrett or any of those men, I’m gonna make ‘em pay. They’ll wish they never laid a finger on you. I’m gonna fuckin—” 

   You stop him from going any further. You don’t need him to be the knight in shining armor right now. You just need someone to listen. “You’ve done enough, Joel. You don’t have to. What’s done is done. I’ll never be anything more than something to use to them, and they’ll never change.”

   Staring off into the waves of water, you try to let the bubbles wash your pain away, but another tear slips free, falling down the side of your cheek.

   “Hey, look at me for a second,” he asks softly. You turn to face him all teary eyed, and he catches the tear from falling. His knuckles brush tenderly against your skin for just a second, and then his warmth is gone the second he pulls away. He doesn’t let it linger, but you almost wish he would. His touch is so feather-like. So soft and gentle and warm.  

   He takes a good look at your somber face and sighs, his fingers knocking against the side of the tub. “You never deserved any of that abuse. And I’m sick to death that it happened to you. But you can’t jus’… You gotta keep goin’, sweetheart. You gotta keep livin’. You have so much to give. You’re so full of life and bright and the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and you—”

   “Brave?”

   “S’right, sweetheart. Jus’ like I said the other day in the parking lot. You’re so very brave. And you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you jus’ waitin’.” He stares at the washcloth for a second, but then he’s looking back up at you. “It’s gonna be hard. God, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ hard for a while, but you’re gonna make it. With a little help, you’re gonna soar.” 

   You feel water burn the backs of your eyes, feel like you’re going to implode right now in this bathtub. But you push the fears away and look back up into the soft brown eyes of a man who cares what happens to you. 

   “It’s not gonna be easy, but you’re gonna get through it. You’re gonna have bad days where you feel like you can’t do anything, but those are the days you gotta jus’ take it one step at a time, like today. And those are the kinda days where it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here to help, whatever I can with. I jus’ want you to be okay, sweetheart. That’s all I want. For you to live.”

   Your heart clenches in your chest as you gaze into those soft brown eyes. And you just stare with your arms wrapped around your legs, almost want to reach out and graze your fingers through his sandy brown locks. He does something to you. Makes you feel like you’re worth saving. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like a human being. 

   He had every chance to take advantage of you in here. He could’ve done anything, but he chose to protect you and take care of you instead. 

   He took care of you. 

   So you continue to stare into those glossy brown eyes, memorizing every speck of gold in his flecked irises. He kinda reminds you of sunshine, warm rays of yellow and orange peeking over the horizon. 

   He reminds you of safety. He’s safe.  

   You shift in the bubbles that cover you, watch as the water breaks against your knees, and then your eyes are back on him just like you’re mesmerized. “How is it that every single particle of me doesn’t want to trust another man ever again, but I trust you?”

   A smile crosses his lips. “You trust me?”

   “Mhm.”

   He takes a good look at you and smiles wider, making his dimple sink into his left cheek. It tugs a little at your heartstrings. “Well then, thank you for trustin’ me.”

   You nod and peek up through your eyelashes, waiting a few seconds before you confess something. “You make me feel safe…”

   His brown eyes delve deep into yours, and his smile still hasn’t faded. “That’s ’cause you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always. I would rather kill a thousand men than ever lay a harmful finger on you. You’re too special for that, sweet girl. You deserve good things. You deserve the world.”

   His voice sounds like velvet. Smooth, delicate, soft. And even though you’re laid out like bare bones and crumbled dust, he seems to cover all your vulnerabilities and put all your broken pieces back together like glue.

   Somehow, he can knock the breath out of you but also give you an overabundance of oxygen at the same time. He’s good at that. Bringing you life when you feel like you’re getting buried alive. He gives life. Gives you life. And you feel so alive around him.

   You could drown in this bathtub, disappear under the thick sheen of bubbles until the world goes silent, but he wouldn’t let you go so easily. So maybe you’ll just drown in him instead. 

   Silence resonates over the bathroom. Only the longing stares and unspoken words fill the empty void. And it’s so obvious now why every time you stare into those soft brown eyes you fall a little more. 

   That’s it. You’re falling for him. Slowly, cautiously, silently. And maybe one day he’ll catch you, too. Maybe you’ll just fall into his arms one day when you’re a bit braver. Maybe he’ll take the sting out of your bleeding wounds. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you’ve needed all along. 

   But today, you’re not that brave. So you’ll just keep it bottled up like you do most things. For now, you’ll just let the slow burn simmer until it’s an uncontrollable wildfire that bursts into fiery flames. 

   Another few minutes pass by and just as the bath water starts to get cold, Joel asks, “You ‘bout ready to get out, sweetheart?”

   “Yeah. It’s getting a little cold now.”

   “Alright. Well, here’s a clean towel. Gonna put it right here for you.” He sets a fluffy white towel next to the side of the tub and nods his head toward the sink. “And I put your pajamas on the counter for you.”

   “Thank you,” you reply quietly, fascinated by the lengths he goes to make sure you’re taken care of.

   “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his words softening like his gentle brown eyes.

   “I think so,” you nod as a bubble pops around you. 

   “Alright, sweetheart.” He pushes off the floor with a grunt and heads toward the closed door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll let you get dried off and changed. I’m jus’ gonna…”

   “Joel?” You stop him before he leaves the room.

   “Yeah?” He turns his head, slicking a hand back through his dark locks.

   “Thank you… for being here for me.”

   A gentle smile meets his lips and a soft chuckle comes out. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

   Angel. He called you angel. 

   With one more glance, he’s exiting the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. You sink into the tub, letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

   Joel did it. He helped you take a small step forward, helped you face one of your fears. And he didn’t push you, didn’t even nudge you toward the shower head. Instead, he drew you a bath and helped you get through it in one piece. You don’t think you can ever say enough words to thank him for what he did tonight. But deep down, he knows. 

   After drying off and throwing on your pink pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, you run the towel through your wet strands and rake the brush through your locks, already exhausted from the exertion of your shower meltdown. But then relief hits you that you took one step. 

   The first step is always the hardest, and Joel was right there, holding your hand the entire way. He was the reason you made it into the bathtub. And with him, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. Although, it was still terrifying, but you did it. 

   One step forward, no more back. 

   When you’re slipping under the sheets and about to turn off the bedside lamp, a slight knock sounds across the room, and your head snaps to the closed door, pulling your hand back from the lit lamp. 

   “Come in,” you echo across the big room. 

   The doorknob turns and in comes Joel, hesitantly hovering by the threshold of the open door, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You all settled?”

   “All settled,” you reply, shifting just a smidge beneath the warm comforter.

   “That’s good.” He leans against the doorway, his broad muscles pulling against the flannel fabric, eyes as warm as the first night you saw them. 

   You fidget your fingers around a thin piece of string, flicking your eyes nervously up at the man that stands in the glow of the dim hall lights. A man that helped you face one of your fears. And suddenly, you can’t think of what to say, so you just silently stare up at him until he speaks. 

   “Jus’ wanted to see if you got to bed alright.” He hovers there, big hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heel of his leather boots. 

   “Oh, right. Yeah, guess I made it alright.”

   He nods, giving you another soft smile in return. “You need anything? Water, tea?” 

   Shaking your head, you smile. “No. I think I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

   “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another pause and then he’s slowly turning away from you. “Well, uhh. I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart. S’been a long day—”

   “Wait,” you stop him and watch him turn back toward you, his eyebrows threaded together, an eager stare masking his face. 

   “Yeah?” he asks, anticipation hanging in the air. 

   This is it. You gulp down a breath, blow one out, and let another fall from your lips. “Joel, I just wanted to say thank you. For… for helping me take that first step of facing something that’s been eating me alive.”

   He nods, the pad of his thumb brushing over his denim jeans. “You were brave doin’ that, you know? After what you’ve been through… That took a lot of guts.”

   “Yeah…” you whisper out, nails digging deep into the blanket over your thighs, but then you flick your eyes up to him. “Not just for that either but also for listening to me. You didn’t have to…”

   “I did have to, though. That’s what you needed. Someone to listen.”

   Your eyes widen, throat tightens up, and you feel the prick of a tear meet your lash line. He wants to listen to you. He didn’t shut you out when you needed to get a little weight off your shoulders.

   Brushing away the tear before it can fall, you give him a look that says how desperate you are to be free from these nightmares that plague your mind. “Maybe if I just… talk about it then maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”

   His face drops, and his big, sad eyes look like a lost puppy who just watched its owner drive off without them. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m always here. I’ll always listen. You jus’ let me know when, and I’ll be right by your side. And Tess will listen. Ya know, when you’re ready, that is. But I’ll be your outlet when you need one.”

   You tug on a little smile, giving everything you have to show him how grateful you are he’s here. If it wasn’t for him, you might’ve been lost to the shadows already. But there he is, trying to pull you into the sunlight. 

   Sunlight. He’s sunlight. 

   “You always seem to know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you say reassuringly, eyes glossy as you look up into pools of warmth. 

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a crooked smile. “I try, sweetheart.”

   There’s a pause in the room, a silence that’s fallen like snow. You’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak so instead, you lift the blanket higher under your chin and slip down further in the bed, letting a yawn leave your lips. 

   Joel shifts by the door and places a large hand on the handle, about to make his exit. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart.”

   “Yeah, good idea,” you yawn again, now realizing how tired you actually are. 

   But before he steps out, he turns back and looks at you with those sappy brown eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head. “Oh, before I forget…” He pauses to take a breath. “They might’ve tried to drain you, deplete you of everything inside you, but they didn’t steal it all. You’ve still got your shine, your soul, your heart. And they can’t ever take that from you. You’ve got so much potential in you, and I see it all. You’re gonna glow. I already see that flame in you. S’burnin’ brighter than a wildfire.”

   Eyes as wide as can be, you swallow back a choke and feel your eyes swimming. Did he really just say that?

   Brighter than a wildfire. 

   You open your mouth but nothing comes out. It’s like you’re stunned in place, frozen under a bright spotlight with nowhere to run. Nowhere except maybe to Joel because he’s at the end of the bright light just waiting for you. 

   He’s waiting. 

   “Thanks for seeing that I was worth saving…” you whisper out, still enamored by his kind words, his doe eyes, his beautiful heart. 

   “You’re welcome, angel,” he smiles, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.”

   “Good night…”

   And then he’s shutting the door softly, leaving you still mesmerized and bewitched by all the events that unraveled this evening. But most of all, you can’t forget every single word he said to you. 

   He sees potential in you, sees it all. He thinks you were worth saving. Thinks you’re gonna glow and shine and thrive. 

   As you rest your head on the fluffy pillow and close your eyes, all you see is Joel. Joel Joel Joel. And he’s the last thing you see before you slip off into a deep sleep. Except he’s still there in your dreams, shining like gold under the sunlight. 

   He’s sunlight. 

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows

@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk

@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

[canthelpit0]

Cry Baby

Pairing: Matt x crybaby!popular!reader

Wordcount : 3.3K+

Summary: you were popular. The jester of the group. But atleast it was something. Nobody knew just how much you’d been struggling, until your secrets were exposed in the school cafeteria.

Warnings: swearing, angst, crying, mentioned of depression, Matt’s PoV, sensitive!reader, mentions of SH, SH mocking, humiliation, exposing secrets, fake friends, hurt/comfort, pet names (baby), use of y/n

(A/N: I wrote this based of this song. Bcs I was listening to it and had this scenario in my head, so I wrote it down.)

You had always been a bit of a crybaby.

You’re the oldest sibling. Your mother thought she couldn’t have any children, but she had. You were a blessing to her.

So after you were born you were never put down. Someone was always with you. To keep you from crying, entertaining you. Caving to your needs.

But once you got to kindergarten, it seemed that all those times your parents hushed you and made sure you didn’t cry had bottled up.

You didn’t speak a lot. You didn’t like socializing with people. You kept to yourself and that’s how you liked it.

You had severe attachment issues to your mom though. Because of her always being with you to soothe you, her not being there seemed like a nightmare.

So when she dropped you off at kindergarden, every day, you would cry, begging your mom to stay.

Eventually you got used to it, but you quickly found a friend to cling to.

Emma, was your one and only friend. The only person you talked to.

It was pretty much the same in elementary school. You’d trod around and talk to people. You were a bubbly social kid.

But you were also easy to break.

You didn’t have a lot of friends. All friends you had were only people you’d hang around in recess.

Emma stuck with you though.

Until, middle school.

In middle school you’d, for some reason, fallen into a depressive mindset.

Emma and you were in your awkward middle school phases. And in that time she’d become really rude.

And one day during a fight she told you how much she hated listening to your sobs.

You’d been vulnerable around her. You had trusted her.

And she’d broken that trust. By telling you that every time you had seeked her comfort she actually didn’t want to give it to you.

Your heart’s too big for your body.

You two stopped talking after that day. Until four months later Emma apologized for her words. You, being an empath, excepted the apology and went back to being friends with her.

Little did she know that her words rang through your head while you cut yourself.

A few months after you became friend again, she moved. She moved out of the country. You never saw her again.

So for high school you had taken it spoon yourself to mask your depression and ‘get over yourself’.

You started to dress more basic, learning to do your make up, hair, skincare. And basically everything to hide your miserable state the best you could.

Somehow it worked.

You had good facial proportions, and just a little bit of work you looked like a basic mean girl who is full of herself. But that was exactly the point.

Somehow, once High school started, you managed to get into the clique of the popular girls.

You were always so upbeat, cheery and talkative. No one could ever guess that you’re the most depressive mother fucker in a 50 mile radius.

Though as much as you would like the power of being the leader of the group, you were not. You were more like the jester of the group than anything.

You had held your mental breakdowns to a minimum. Holding back as much as you could. You only had Few panic attacks nowadays. And if you had one in school, you always had a touch up make up bag there.

Now it was senior year. You got ready like usual, not knowing that today would alter your life and the way people perceive you.

Matt’s PoV

I watch in horror.

Y/n is one of the popular girls in our school.

I’m not too popular. But I’m well known, all due to the fact that I’m a triplet. And due to the fact that Nick and Chris are really extroverted people.

Both of them are currently not with me.

Chris is sick at home. While Nick is in the library with some of our female friends.

I sit at my table with the lacrosse team around Me.

The entire cafeteria has their eyes focused on y/n.

She was arguably the prettiest out of all the popular girls.

But right now she was crying, Biting her lip. Her head tilted forward in shame at the claims her group was throwing at her.

The leader of the popular girls, Kelly, was accusing y/n of stealing her boyfriend at first, yelling right in her face. She yelled right back at Kelly though, not scared to stand up for herself.

But Kelly being the leader of the group, all the other girls sided with her.

I never understood why people would talk, or would argue, about stuff like this in public places. It was humiliating.

I was getting second hand embarrassment just watching.

The insults were getting more and more personal by the second.

Nobody was doing anything, captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. Some people have their phones out filming for, ..who knows what reason.

I drown out most of the insults-

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING CUT YOURSELF?” Kelly yells right back in y/n’s face.

The cafeteria had already been quiet. But with those words even the quiet conversations stopped. It seemed like everyone’s attention snapped back to the scene.

It was the passerby effect in full force. No one was doing anything, too shocked. Not even the teachers that were present said anything.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My ear start ringing, my eyes staying glued on y/n.

To me, it was obvious that something about y/n was off. She was polished to perfection. To a concerning degree. Nobody was that perfect.

So the revelation didn’t necessarily shock me. But the fact that Kelly was heartless enough to air y/n’s business out like that.

“I don’t.” Y/n’s words cut harshly through the quiet cafeteria. Her words are insistent like she was telling the truth.

She was a great liar, yet everyone would believe Kelly over her. Even if it was a lie.

“Oh but you do.” Kelly scoffs looking at the people y/n used to call friends. They all nod at Kelly’s statement.

“You have those scars all over your wrists.” Kelly points out nodding down to y/n’s wrists.

It’s like everyone takes a collective look down at her arms to see if something is actually there.

Me being so far away from their table I can’t see it clearly. But I really don’t want to anyway.

I watch as Y/n lets her head fall forward letting out a small laugh, shocking everyone in the cafeteria including me.

Y/n’s hands are trembling and shaking. She purses her lips looking back up at Kelly who looks at her with superiority.

Y/n picks her head back up and leans her head up to readjust her hair. Her hands ball into fists before she crosses her arms, trying to keep her composure.

Even from being a few tables away from the scene i can clearly see the tears running down her cheeks.

She huffs a laugh through a sob.

“Some friends you fucking are” she says harshly her glare focused on the girls around Kelly that she used to call friends.

The cafeteria is silent again for a moment the only thing heard being y/n’s soft sniffles

“Crybaby” one of the girls huffs under her breath, but its loud and clear in the silent cafeteria.

“Fuck you Rebecca.” I hear y/n’s voice snap at the girl. Despite crying her tone was still sharp.

“What’re you gonna do about it, gonna go home and cut yourself some more?” Another one of the girls in the group scoffs.

Y/n lets out another miserable chuckle hearing the comment.

I purse my lips remaining seated. I probably look miserable right now. I don’t want to be watching this. Hell I would like to stop this, but I can’t.

Before y/n can fire back though more and more comments from all the girls pore out. And the more: “you gonna kill yourself?” “you gonna cut yourself?” remarks they make the more humiliated y/n looks.

By the end of their relentless comments and bullying y/n is crying sobbing. And as someone with anxiety I can see the inevitable anxiety attack, in the way her entire body shakes.

With a strong “fuck you all” to her former friends y/n turns in her heels and leaves.

The cafeteria is quiet for a moment before the room breaks out in conversation, everyone gossiping about the scene they just witnessed. Debating how much of what was said was true.

I feel sick to my stomach knowing I had watched a girl just get torn down by her own, so called friends, like that, and didn’t do anything.

I mumble an excuse to my friends leaving the table. They don’t even seem to care emerged in their own conversations about the ‘gossip’.

I speed walk out of the cafeteria to find y/n.

There are only two places I can think of her being at. The girls bathroom, wich is probably not the case since she looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible,

Or her car.

She’d parked next to my van today. So I run out of the school to my car, to see hers still parked next to mine. I glance into it and she’s not in the drivers seat.

I get closer, catching my breath. I look through the window of the backseat seeing her sitting there curled up in on herself.

I knock on the car window catching her attention. Y/n’s beautiful teary eyes meet mine through the tinted glass.

She presses on a button on her car keys, the car unlocking.

Immediately I open the car door and slide in. My gaze soft as I look at the hyperventilating girl in front of me.

I close the door behind me. I gently take the car keys out of her hands. She was clinging to it like her life depended on it. I lock the car again and then lean to the front of the car and toss her keys on the drivers seat.

I turn back to y/n, she had her legs up to her chest hugging them while she continues to sob.

“Matt” she breaths out my name so tenderly.

We weren’t friends. But we shared one class in which we partnered up sometimes.

“Sh, you’re okay y/n” I breathe out. In an instant, my arms wrap around her smaller frame pulling her into me. I hug her from the side, her sobs wracking her body.

“No, no it’s not okay.” She lets out an irritated sigh, her breath hitching as a sobs Tores through her body again. “I just lost all my friends.”

I purse my lips holding her head. I cradle her into my chest. She didn’t deserve to have her stuff aired out like that, but all she was worried about was loosing her fake ass friends?

“Oh baby.” I sigh out. The nickname slips through my lips so effortlessly I didn’t even notice.

I keep her head cradled into my chest while I feel tears start to form in my own eyes.

“They ruined it.” She chokes out again, her voice shaky.

I breathe in heavily. “They ruined what?” I ask gently.

“My reputation”

I pause. My lips quiver at the sound of her cries. I try to blink away my own tears.

“That���s all you care about?” The words leave my lips before they register. I know she cares about all the things others say to her. She just seems like the type to.

“Matt, I spend so much time,” she sobs through the few words she said. Pausing to cry some more at the thought of it. “So, so much time, perfecting myself.”

I hear her pause again, and by this point I can’t hold back my own tears. I let out a soft sob crying with her as I hold her even closer to myself.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s none of their business” her words are soft. But the more she talks the more quiet she gets.

In a way she was like me. Masking her sorrow like that. She always just seemed too perfect to be true.

Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect face. Great humor, nice, kind, popular.

But nobody ever questioned it. She had everyone fooled. She was a great liar. And even though I had my suspicions she never gave me a reason to believe I was right.

I just thought I was delusional for reading into things.

But I was right.

As much as I wish I wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. I try to breathe hard as to not sob like she was. I wanted to comfort her not cry with her.

She pulls away slightly. I look at her. She still has tears running down her cheeks, not looking like it’d stop soon. She looks up at me through her tear stained lashes, her mascara only slightly smudged.

Her lips quivers as I see another wave of sadness wash over her. “Why are you crying?” She asks her voice shaky. She lets out another choked sob.

Her hands cup my cheeks as we both cry looking at the other. “Please don’t cry,” the sight of my tears only seems to make her more sad.

But seeing the way she looked crying, I only wanted to cry harder.

She still looked perfect. Though her makeup was smudged slightly, her hair messy, her perfect features stained with her tears.

I gently grab her wrists slowly pulling her hands off of my face. I pull up the sleeve of her longs sleeved shirt and flip her arm to look at her wrist.

My gut clenches at the sight of the tiny white healed marks. They were barely noticeable anymore.

I had noticed them before when we had partnered up for some project. But out of respect I didn’t say anything. Besides they weren’t that bad, thin, white stripes messily across her wrist.

For all I knew it could’ve been her cat. I don’t have a cat, and neither have I seen self harm cuts before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

I purse my lips. I let my head fall forward slightly my eyes closed. I feel sick to my stomach knowing someone as perfect as y/n was, or had been cutting herself at some point.

I hear a choked sob fall from her lips. I feel her intense stare burn through my scalp.

I pick up my head again, my eyes immediately looking to hers. She was crying again. Making me also shed a few tears again.

I bring her wrist up to my face leaving a gentle peck on it.

She watches me. The sight only making her cry more. She closes her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t like she’d expected me out of all people to shame her for her scars. But she also hadn’t expected him to just kiss them.

“You didn’t deserve that sweetheart.” I whisper under my breath. I pull her back in leaving a firm kiss on her forehead before cradling her head back into my chest.

She breaks out into sobs again her arms going under mine and hugging me tightly.

She was clinging to me tightly, her sobs wrecking her body, and also making me cry.

I gently pat down her hair,as she keeps crying, trying to soothe both of us.

“Y/n.” She pulls back slightly, her arm still wrapped around me. “Do you still..” I trail off not wanting to say it. Because if I say it, it’ll be too true.

Her lip quivers as I see her glossy eyes shed tears again. She lets out a gut wrenching sob again pressing her face into my chest again, mumbling “I’m sorry”s over and over again.

I sigh sympathetically, rubbing her scalp. I knew from experience, that after crying so much, your head would hurt so bad. And even though she was still crying I wanted to soothe her.

“Honey.” I say gently pulling her away from me. Our eyes meet briefly before she looks down in shame. I gently grab her cheek again making her look back up at me.

“Where do you cut?” I ask softly. I grimace at the words leaving my lips. I calmed down not crying anymore, but my eyes staying glassy.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together as she slightly pouts. Her eyes were still glassy, threatening to break out in sobs again.

“I don’t do it often..” she whispers under her breath, trying to over herself. Her eyes close briefly shame written all other her face.

“Where.” My tone is still low, but more firm, demanding an answer.

“My thigh.” She lets one of her Chanda fall from around me resting her hand on her very upper right thigh.

My eyes soften even further. My tears had dried in my face by now, but I felt just about ready to cry again.

I shift slightly. Her hand that had still been around me going to the bottom of my shirt and keeping a firm grip on the fabric.

I put my hand on her waist my touch featherlight, not wanting to overstep. “Is this okay?”

She purses her lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she tries to read what I’m trying to do. But she ultimately nods.

I put both my hands on her waist and pick her up from next to me putting her on my lap. She lets out a shaky breath her eyes going wide.

“Is this okay?” I enquirer my tone staying low.

Her bottom lip wobbles again. She closes her eyes briefly. “I don’t wanna go anything.” She breaths out her voice small and almost afraid.

My own eyes widen for a second looking back at her. I just realized how bad this looked without context. But I’m not a dick. I want to comfort her, not get in her pants.

I take my hands from her waist putting them on my thighs. Yet she doesn’t make a move off of me. Her hand stayed bunched up on my shirt.

“God, I don’t mean it like that.” I breathe out. “Just, me comforting you would be easier like this?” I says slowly.

Her gaze goes up to meet mine again, her lip quivering holding herself back from crying again.

She leans forward resting her face on my collarbone. She puts her other hand on my chest too as she starts to sob again. my right hand goes to her back rubbing it gently. While my left hand goes to her thigh massaging where her scars presumably were.

Her crying makes me tear up again. So we just cry together. My hand rubbing soothing motions into her back, and my other hand finally going up to cradle her head into me further.

I whisper encouraging words. Until eventually her cries die down, and so do mine.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The tip of her nose and her cheeks red. And her lips as puffy as her eyes. She is a pretty crier, but the sight still makes me feel remorseful.

I put my hand back on her right thigh gently rubbing circles on it. My other hand going to cup her cheek. She leans into my touch relaxing more. She looked more tired than anything now.

“You can always talk to me, you know that.” I breath out, finally feeling like the lump in my throat was gone.

Her hand cups my wrist keeping my hand in her face. I start to rub her cheek gently looking at her pretty face.

“You can stay with me, Nick and Chris. Alright?” She nods slightly in answer.

I move my hand from her cheek to her hair rubbing at her scalp slightly. “You want me to take you home pretty girl?” I ask softly.

After all we were still in the school parking lot.

“Please.”

Masterlist

A/N: I actually cried writing this. the first part was actually literally me. and i also used to cry a lot, and cut, so this just made me cry while writing, bcs i relate to it so much. i love you all, stay safe & clean <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

[mayasaurusss]

TRANSFEM VIRGIN JACKIE TAYLOR X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Transfem virgin Jackie Taylor blurbs

Contains: transfem Jackie, smut, 1700 k words blurb.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have delayed this for so long anon😥. I promise that next time I'll do it quicker and also more explicit🙇‍♀️

It's not as explicit as my other recent Lucy nsfw blurb, but I hope you guys will enjoy it still!

P.s i know that's Rhiannon in the photo, just pretend it's Jackie alright?

Jackie who survived the wilderness, who has come out of it scarred and traumatized. She has seen death and famine, and her personality and mental health become severely affected. She is introverted, shy and her outgoing personality has been frozen under pain and nightmares.

But she pulls through, and manages to go to college like she had wanted. She thinks that she can make a new life for herself, but as it turns out, college life isn't what she is supposed to be: making friends is hard, exams are tough and her professors are just shitty people. After all she has been through, she doesn't think that she'll be able to have any friendship ever again, not like the one she had with Shauna, anyway.

She doesn't have any roommates until you show up. One day you just barge in her room, suitcase in hand and say "I'm your new roommate!". Truth to be told, as much as she wishes for a friend, Jackie would rather have some peace and quiet. That's what she says to herself anyway, until your company starts to grow on her. She didn't really understand how lonely she was. You guys start to spend your nights together, playing card games, chit chatting, watching movies on Netflix and so on. But slowly, something happens to Jackie's heart. Nothing major, of course, but she feels...weird. Why does her heart throb when she sees you? And what about the butterflies in her stomach? Why is she jealous when other guys and girls flirt with you? And why is she so damned angry at you for not realizing their intentions?

Maybe she is just envious or jealous, but the thought of other people trying to get in your pants makes her angry. For a while, she thinks she's being unreasonable: you are her first friend after the incident; of course she'd want to gatekeep your relationship. And after all, she seems only to attract people who will hurt her and who she will hurt. She distances herself from you, thinking that maybe "I'll be a bad influence, I should just leave them alone". But then one day, she makes a connection.

You have been gone to class for half of the day, leaving her alone inside your dorm room. She needs a little bit of space, and she has been stressed for a while.

She watches as two women grind against each other's bodies on her phone, their skin sweaty and their kisses passionate. One of them pulls out a strap and ties it to her hips, sinking it inside the other's. Jackie sits underneath her covers, stroking herself, curling her fingertips downward at the base, when a thought flashes inside her mind. "Wish we could do that..." and her brain immediatley swaps the bottom's face with yours, interchanging you between the dominating and the dominated. Her heart races, thoughts of you two on her bed, together, grinding against each other... and then kissing tenderly after all is done, giggling and falling asleep together. The feeling inside Jackie's heart is warm, so good that it makes her ache. And as she comes down from her high, she puts two and two together: she has already felt this way once, long ago in the cold of the wilderness, and recalls the pain of how she felt when she had-. Jackie stops and understands, an almost guttural "Fuck!" comes out of her throat.

And as if the situation is not bad enough, you come in a few minutes after her little panic attack. She's still naked underneath the covers, goosebumps travel along her skin when she sees you coming in. She makes an effort in justifying why she was naked underneath, "I just sleep this way when I'm hot, you know?" you make no remark on how it's november and her covers aren't warm enough to sleep under unless she wears something, but oh well.

Jackie who feels embarrassed to masturbate from then on. No matter how hard she tries, you're inside her mind, constantly. She tries to muffle her moans on her covers, stroking up and down her length with you sleeping soundly on your bed. You'd be horrified, she thinks, at the images she has of you in her mind: above her bouncing and with your hands at her throat, beneath her on all fours, cuddled in her arms while she moves from behind...

Jackie who has a hard time going to her lessons because no matter what she does, you just seem to not get out of her head. She needs you to have her in your arms, kissing her. Who has to go out of class early to take care of her little problem.

Jackie, who feels bad about masturbating with you in her mind, who feels dirty and unlovable as she does so, but she can't help it, her body can't help it. And all the while, a little voice tells her that "You're not good enough" and "They won't love you, How could they love you of all people? She didn't love you, he didn't love you; why should they? ".

Jackie who steals glances of you, imagining your hands on her chest, your lips on hers. Who yearns to kiss you so bad it hurts. Who has to go to the bathroom at least once per night whenever you two are spending time together. You don't know what she is doing, but shrug off your concerns.

Jackie who finally gets caught by you. You stand outside the doom room, listening to the sounds coming from the other side. Moans, groans, wet movements and little slips of your name here and there make it obvious to you what Jackie is doing. You slip inside the room, as slowly and quietly as possible, watching how Jackie is bucking up in her hand, hips chasing upwards the feeling. You smile, deciding to approach her with a simple "Hey" but your voice gives Jackie a small heart attack and she shouts, covering her body as best as she can, leaving her chest out in the open and her legs uncovered.

"How...how long have you been there?" she asks, blood freezing with shame and mind racing, trying to understand if you've heard her say your name. "Long enough to understand what's going on" you sit on the bed, too close for her liking, giving her a knowing smirk that she already knows the meaning of. "You were thinking about me, weren't you?" her body stops, missing heartbeats and air. She can feel tears prickling at her skin, but you quickly say to her "I-No Jackie, I liked it". From then on, you tell her how you wished to do the first step, but how you were always so scared that she might've not liked you, how you yearned for her lips on yours. The moment you two are done talking about your feelings, you all but leap into each other's arms.

Jackie who can't help but get hard almost instantly. She can feel blood traveling through her veins, pooling at her crotch, warming her skin and flesh. Who will have to clench her hand around her cock to ground herself, to avoid cumming just from kissing you. She will feel so good from just kissing you that a drop of cum falls from her slit, signaling just how full she is, ready to let all of her pleasure out.

Jackie who feels so incredibly good when you ignore her cock and press two fingers beneath her balls, mimicking fingering her. She's already so hard as it is, and your actions only serve to egg her on more.

Jackie whose hands are shaky as she undresses you, full of eagerness and craving every part of you. Who, as soon as your chest is naked, will plant wet open mouth kisses on any inch of your skin, feeling your muscles harden against her ministrations.

Jackie who will climb on you, cock pressed between your and her stomachs, grinding back and forth. Who will get off like that, grinding on your stomach. Who will spend her time under your crotch, head pressed in between your hips and the mattress. Who will feel euphoric and decide to not touch herself in any way.

Jackie who's cock throbs in need, tip and balls red as she desperately tries to hold it in, wanting only your hands on her.

Jackie who confesses, as you are about to push her length in, that she is a virgin. She sweats and apologizes, already ready for you to leave her hanging, but then lets out a loud gasp when she's finally stilled inside of you.

Jackie who trembles as you ride her into oblivion, hands shaky gripping with force at your sides, short of breath and eyes rolling backwards. She has never felt this way with anyone else, not Jeff nor Shauna, just with you. It's euphoric, it's amazing, and she doesn't wish you to stop anytime soon.

Jackie who has very low stamina but a super high libido. She'll release the precum already five minutes after you start to bounce on her, staining white the condom she wore, panting like she just crossed the line in a marathon run. You haven't even cummed yet, and as you're about to hop off of her, she grabs your hips again and mumbles incoherently, grinding you back against her as she starts to harden again.

Jackie who at one point, decides to move you and fuck you from above, fingers gripping the sheet near your head. She moves erratically, gasping and panting and moaning, her hips pushing into you at a speed you didn't even know she was capable of. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato, lips coming to settle on yours as she moves back and forth, back and forth.

Jackie who, when she cums, sees stars behind her eyelids and feels like she's about to faint.

Jackie who falls asleep almost immediatley between your arms, snoozing off with the knowledge that she has finally found someone to rely on.

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Let Me Keep You Safe

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, mentions of child sexual abuse, flashbacks, panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, some explicit language Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: When Emily works a case that hits a little too close to home–a little too close to you–she has a hard time keeping her emotions in check. Takes place during S3.E5.

Your heart beat rapidly, desperately, as Emily pressed her lips into yours, hands roving over your body, the weight of her on top of you giving you just the right amount of resistance as you pushed your hips against her.

You moaned into her mouth and she grinned, grabbing your face and kissing you more, deeper, harder, until you could barely breathe.

You snaked one of your hands down the waistband of her shorts, and she grabbed your wrist.

"Nope," she said, smiling, snatching up both your hands and holding your wrists together with one of hers. "Not this time," she said, kissing each of your knuckles. "This time, I take care of you and you..." You gasped as she slammed your wrists above your head, pinning them in place. "You stay still for me."

The moment your hands hit the bed above your head, it was like you'd been transported to another dimension, into a nightmare. You blinked rapidly, looking around, the layers of the world around you like a Viewfinder caught between slides. Emily's room, then the elementary school gym equipment closet. You coughed, feeling bile rise in your throat. You could smell the stale sweat, the rubber of the basketballs, the Juicy Fruit in the gym coach's mouth as he leered over you. You felt the gym mat–such a poor barrier between you and the hard tile floor–at your back, the coach's rough hands, huge against your tiny wrists, pinning your hands in place above your head. He sat on your legs as you tried to squirm away, shaking, tears leaking down your face as he roughly pulled down your shorts.

"Stop!" you yelled. "Stopstopstopstop."

In one layer of your brain, you saw Emily release your hands immediately, sitting up and holding them away from you, a concerned look on her face.

You breathed heavily and sat up, pulling your knees to your chest.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked gently, looking you over frantically. "Did I hurt you?"

You covered your ears with your hands, rocking back and forth.

"Y/N," Emily prompted, growing more concerned by the second. "Talk to me."

Your head shot up, looking wildly about the room.

"I gotta go home," you said, still rocking.

"What!?"

"I have to leave," you insisted, hyperventilating. "I have to– I have to go. Right now. I have to go, I have to leave."

Emily placed a cautious hand on your shoulder. "I'm not gonna let you leave, Y/N. You're clearly not okay."

You grew more and more distressed, your breathing haphazard and tears forming in your eyes

"Shit!" you yelled, slamming your fist into your head.

Emily grabbed your hands tightly in hers, deeply alarmed.

"Hey!" Her voice was forceful, worried. "What the hell is going on!?"

You started to shake, and Emily noticed that your pupils had dilated wildly.

"I can't–" you stuttered. "I- I have to leave. I don't- I don't want you to– see."

There was a moment then that Emily would remember vividly for the rest of her life. It was the moment that she got it. The way you hugged your arms around your body. The way you recoiled from her touch, and covered your head protectively with your hands, nearly in a fetal position. She'd remember later the way her stomach sank, the way her heart felt as if it had burst open and bled out. It was the moment she realized that something bad had happened to you. Something violating, something awful, something so horrific it would never let you go.

She inched closer to you, careful not to touch you. "Is it a panic attack or a flashback?" she whispered.

"F-flashback," you answered, shaky. "I h-haven't had one in a l-long time."

"Okay," Emily nodded, her voice soft and kind. "What can I do to help you?"

You looked at her then, your eyes huge, a tear streaking down your face. "Can you j-just h-hold me? Really t-tight? It'll get w-worse. I just have to r-ride it– out. I'm s-sorry, Em. I–" Your voice cracked, and you turned away.

"Shh," Emily cooed, pulling you close, wrapping her arms tightly around you. She pressed your head into her chest, a gentle hand on the side of your face. "It's okay," she whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'm right here, baby." She ran her fingers through your hair, the rhythm soothing you a bit. "I'm right here."

The worst moments of your life played in your mind as if from a 4D projector, surrounding you with the smells, the sights, the tactile disgust of his hands on you, his body against yours.

You screamed, but your voice was muffled, as if it was stuck in your throat and only the echo of a scream could get out. You grasped tufts of your hair, pulling tightly.

Emily took your hands and placed them gently under her arms, so that they were stuck in her tight grip around your body.

"It's not real anymore," she whispered, for you and for herself. "Y/N, I'm right here." Her voice broke, and she looked at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry, not right now. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Do you hear me? I love you. You're safe. You're safe with me."

After a few minutes, the horror film in your mind came to a close. Your body shook, spent from the adrenaline rush. Panic took an incredible toll on the body.

After a moment, you pulled away from Emily, burying your head in your hands. "I'm sorry, Em," you said, voice rough. "I'm so sorry."

Emily caressed the side of your face. "Honey, look at me."

"I can't," you whispered, your voice small, like a terrified child's. "We can break up if you want to. I'll understand."

Emily held your face in her hands, tilting her head down to meet your eyes. "Oh, honey, I don't want that at all. I love you. It's gonna be okay."

You let her run her thumb back and forth along your cheekbone for a few minutes, letting your heartbeat and breathing match the rhythm.

After a while, Emily ventured a question, one she was terrified to ask. "Was it something I did?" Her voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear her.

You exhaled deeply, taking her hand in yours and rubbing circles into her palm.

"The man who hurt me," you started, letting out a shaky breath. "When he held me down, he..." You hated to tell her, but she needed to know. She needed to know it all. "He pinned my hands above my head."

Emily pressed her hand over her mouth, a look of abject horror on her face.

"Y/N," she breathed, her face wracked with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I–" Her voice broke, and a few tears slid down her cheeks.

You were quick to reassure her. "It's okay," you said. "You didn't know. How would you have known?"

"Still," she said, her brows furrowed, dashing tears from under her eyes. "I should have asked first. I should have–"

"I probably would've told you to go for it," you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't think about it until..."

The silence between you was heavy, with your shame, with Emily's guilt and heartbreak.

Emily looked awful, like she'd never forgive herself. "Emily," you said, pressing your body into hers and wrapping your arms around her waist. "It's okay, I promise. I'm okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I hurt you," she whispered, beating herself up.

You placed your hands on your face, your arms, your chest, as if checking for injuries. "Mm, I don't feel hurt."

"You know what I mean."

You lay down in the bed, beckoning Emily to you. She reluctantly obliged, pulling you into her so that you were snuggled into the crook of her neck, her fingers tracing back and forth over your arm.

"I'm okay, Emily," you assured her.

"No, you're not." Her voice was still thick with sadness.

It was in your nature to be bright, to try and combat the dark things with laughter and beauty. You'd had so much darkness in your life, so much hurt, that the only way through it was to seek out the bright spots, to avoid the dark ones. But sometimes the dark spots couldn't be avoided.

"I'm not, but I am," you tried to explain, then sighed. "I'll call my therapist in the morning."

Emily pressed her lips into your temple, trailing her fingers through your hair. After a few minutes, your eyelids grew heavy.

"Em, I'm tired. We should go to bed."

"Shh," she cooed, pulling the blankets up around you and leaning to turn off the light. Her arms were tight around you, secure. "You go to sleep, baby. I just want to hold you for a while."

You woke up screaming that night. And the next night. And the next. It was taking a toll on your health–mental and physical. Emily hated it. She hated that you woke up terrified, woke up hurting, woke up with the knowledge that it wasn't just a dream. It had really happened. It became her sole mission at night to make sure that she was there for you when you woke up, ready to wrap you up in her arms, to press kisses to your face, to let you know that you were safe, that she had you, that she'd never let anyone hurt you.

Therapy would help, you said, but it'd probably take a while. When the BAU got called in on a child abduction later that week, she was relieved it was in the area. She knew she'd eventually have to leave you overnight, but she wasn't ready to, not yet.

If there was one thing Emily was good at, it was compartmentalizing, and that served her well in the field. She managed not to think about you for most of the day, focused instead on the little girl who'd gone missing in a mall.

That is, until they started to suspect that the girl had been sexually abused. Emily seethed under the surface, trying her best to remain calm and collected. She needed to be calm in order to do her job.

She was calm as they broke the uncle, drawing him out, luring him into confessing that he had, in fact, been molesting his niece.

She tried to stay calm as they approached the aunt, but she hit her limit when she realized that the aunt had known. The aunt had known and had prioritized her comfort, her ignorance, over that little girl's safety and innocence.

Emily felt herself growing angrier and angrier as she grilled the aunt. Time was running out for the girl. And, now, every time Emily thought of her, she saw you. She saw you hurt and scared and betrayed with no one to help you. And it made her livid.

"She trusted you!" Emily spat. "She trusted your family, she trusted your husband. You need to tell me where she is!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the aunt lied, avoiding Emily's eyes.

Fuming, Emily grabbed the doll Morgan and Reid had brought from the girl's house, the doll she'd desecrated and broken and dirtied as a reflection of herself. It made Emily sick to look at it. It made her sick to know that you, too, at some level, still thought of yourself this way. Because of what someone took from you, did to you.

She shoved the doll in the aunt's face, nearly spitting with rage. "This is how Katie sees herself! Self-loathing. Dirty. Disgusting. That is what your husband made her feel!"

The aunt shook her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how terrified she must have been? How confused?! While you lay awake protecting an animal!" Emily railed, thinking of the nights you woke up screaming, shaking. The nights you ran to the toilet and vomited because you were that scared, that disgusted, even all these years later.

Morgan stood off to the side, watching, a concerned look on his face. Emily's impassioned questioning seemed to be working, but he could tell it wasn't just an interrogation tactic. Emily was losing control of her emotions. For now, it was working in their favor. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned.

"You robbed that little girl of her innocence!" Emily yelled, getting in the woman's face. "Are you gonna steal the rest of her life from her as well?!"

And with that, the aunt broke, revealing where she'd stashed her niece. Morgan sprinted out of the room, beckoning a team of paramedics to follow.

Emily, spent from her outburst, numbly handcuffed the aunt and led her to a waiting squad car.

Afterward, Morgan pulled her aside, making sure they were far enough away that no one else could hear their conversation.

"You alright, Prentiss?"

"Yeah," she replied tersely, looking at the ground.

"I don't mean to pry, but it feels like this one was personal for you."

Emily remembered suddenly that Morgan had been molested, too, and softened.

She met his eyes, and they just looked at each other for a moment.

"It's not me," Emily finally said.

Morgan waited, leaving her space to continue if she wanted to, and space for silence if she'd prefer that.

Emily briefly considered lying to Morgan, but he was her best friend and, honestly, she could use a friend in this with her. Especially one who'd understand like Morgan would.

"It's Y/N," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry." His voice was sincere, heartfelt. It was a simple thing to say, but sometimes the simplest things said the most.

"It's... come back up recently," Emily continued, trying to toe the line between confiding in Morgan but not violating your privacy. "I think she has PTSD."

Morgan placed a strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "It gets better," he said. "It takes a while, but it gets better."

Emily nodded, breathing deeply.

"You know I'm here if you need me," Morgan said. It was a statement, not a question.

"I know. Thanks."

When Emily came home that night, physically and emotionally exhausted, you were in bed reading, scared to go to sleep, as you always were these days.

Emily climbed into bed, kicking her shoes off behind her, and plastering her body to yours, holding you protectively, tightly, as if she'd never let you go.

"Did they find the girl?" you asked. "Was she okay?"

"She will be," Emily whispered.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," Emily said, resting her head on yours. "Just... let me hold you. Please. Let me keep you safe."

You leaned in and let her, and you'd never felt safer in your life.

[damiansgoodgirll]

DONT BREAK MY HEART PART 7 but make it smut 🥵🤭

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six

terror twins x reader (platonic) / the judgment day x reader (platonic) / drew mcintyre x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️family issues, fear or abandonment, fear of loneliness, nightmares, panic attacks, mention and talk of sex (?), some hints of smut, slow burn

don’t break my heart - part 7

you and drew took some time off from the company after what happened last time. you saw a side of finn that you never saw and it honestly scared you. from him treating you as a daughter, helping you overcome your fears and traumas to be the one who caused you more pain than ever.

you didn’t know what triggered him to get violent with you and, at this point, you didn’t even care to find out. rhea and damian understood why you weren’t going to be there with them and they couldn’t blame you. rhea was still shocked that finn raised his hands on you and she understood that you needed time to heal. they were both very concerned about you and even if rhea spoke - or more, threatened and screamed at finn - he didn’t see any wrong in what he did.

you texted a good luck message to both rhea and damian before you got comfy on your couch with drew next to you.

he huffed when he saw punk opening tonight’s raw, making you smile a little. you both watched what he had to say and you couldn’t lie that he was very good at doing promos. drew, of course, was pretty irritated and as petty as he is, he had to have the last word “can you take a video of me to post on instagram? punk needs to see his words aren’t a threat for me…” drew asked with his typical smirk on his face. you nodded, chuckling at his expression once you clicked on the camera and started recording. he turned serious, clapping at what punk said. he wanted to show who was really in charge and you couldn’t lie, this side of him always turned you on but you couldn’t let him know. you never even talked about sex so it seemed weird for you to tell him about how hot he looked while being so dominant. he posted the video and thanked you, complimenting your videographer skills “what you looking at?” he whispered, noticing you dozing off.

“oh, nothing…let’s keep watching the show, rhea told me she had some promos with jey and i’m so happy for her…” you tried to change the subject, knowing that drew’s thick accent and deep voice always made you flustered “i think jey might be good for her…”

“yeah, she deserves some happiness, just like you” he whispered, dragging you closer to his body and gently covering you with his blanket. his little gesture made you smile, as you laid your head over his shoulder, you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were that you had found someone as kind and caring and as drew was.

you both got comfortable watching monday night raw while eating popcorn. you were both ready to come back after a week of being at home - your home as drew crashed in and never left - and you honestly missed the feeling of being in the ring and training with damian and rhea. you’ve been in contact this past week but you missed their company and you couldn’t wait for them to be back in town so you could visit them.

as you watched rhea’s promo getting interrupted by finn, your body tensed a little. drew felt that and he gently caressed your thigh, almost as if he wanted to let you know that he was there.

“what you mean finn caused all of this?” you whispered watching how finn confessed all of his wicked plan to rhea. he was the one who told you that everything was going to be okay at summerslam and now he confessed he was the one to lure dominik to go for liv? oh, you were so pissed. he was the reason your family fell apart and, truthfully, even though it hurt, you were lucky that finn showed his true colours before it was too late for you “he’s so dead…” you whispered loud enough that drew was able to hear you.

“yeah he’s dead but you’re not going closer to him anymore in your life…” drew was still mad about the outcome of last week. he never saw you so shaken up. he wanted to kill finn for causing you all of this pain, for bringing back bad memories and unpleasant feelings and if murder was legal, he probably would have already done it. but you were his first priority and that night he took care of you. he held you while you were falling asleep and he calmed you down after you woke up crying from a nightmare. he was there for you.

“you should have listened to what he was saying to me at summerslam” you remembered “he said how he didn’t know about dominik betraying liv, how he cared for the group…and now, he just confessed that he was the mind behind all of it? how can someone be so manipulative?” you took a deep breath, already knowing the answer.

“hey, why don’t we focus on something else?” he asked, hoping that it would distract you.

“yeah, probably better” you laughed “please, enlighten me with how you are going to destroy cm punk at bad blood” you teased him, making him smile.

you loved how happy he was to talk about his feud with punk. he couldn’t stand the older man but knowing that he had you on his side, made him feel proud.

you talked about it for hours. monday night raw already forgotten, as an other show played in the background. your head laid on his chest while he was softly stroking your back.

you felt yourself getting tired and before you could protest, you fell asleep on his muscular chest. hearing a soft laugh before you dozed off, he kissed you good night and gently carried you to your bedroom.

he got comfortable on the bed, laying you under the blanket and him laying next to you, holding you as he turned off the lights and fell asleep.

you didn’t know what time it was when you woke up. probably around 3 am. it was dark outside and there was an uncomfortable silence going on that made your heart beat faster. you got out of bed carefully, trying not to wake drew that was peacefully sleeping next to you. with nowhere to go, you decided to hide yourself in the bathroom.

another night, another nightmare.

but this time it was more graphic. it wasn’t something that happened - no - it was something that your mind was making up, something so scary that you couldn’t control your tears. you were scared of your mind and all the dark thoughts that you were experiencing.

drew - of course - felt the moment you stood up from your bed and hid yourself in the bathroom. he was used to your nightmares and everytime it was different. sometimes you would wake up screaming, crying, sometimes you wouldn’t even wake up - he would find you shaking on the bed and he would have to wake you up - and sometimes you would wake up without making a sound.

but no matter what, he always told you to wake him up in case he wouldn’t hear you and everytime you did the opposite of what he asked. always hiding or closing you in yourself.

he heard your soft sobs and he immediately knew what was going on. knocking on the locked bathroom door, he was almost begging you to let him in. slowly, unlocking the door, you were met with his worried eyes “oh love…come here” he opened his arms for you, letting you know that he was there for you “another nightmare?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

no words came from your mouth but you didn’t need to - he understood perfectly what was going on. softly walking you to the bed, he laid with you, holding you in his arms as you cried.

“i’m sorry i woke you up…” you sniffled.

“don’t apologise, baby, never apologise for this…it’s okay i promise you” leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering softly in your ear as he rocked you between his arms “do you feel safe sleeping again? we can stay awake and watch tv if not” he was so patient with you and you melted everytime he showed his soft side to you.

“we should sleep…we’re coming back to raw soon and with bad blood in just a few weeks, i wanna be okay for that…i have to, for rhea and damian, for you, and mostly for me” you loved how day by day you gained some little confidence, thanks for the amount of love drew always showed you.

“okay, let’s lay down my love” without leaving you, he kept holding your body in his arms. laying your head on his chest, you fell asleep quickly to the sound of his heartbeat.

when morning hit, you and drew began your usual routine, and so it went on for days and days until you were both scheduled to come back to monday night raw.

“can’t wait to see rhea and damian again…” you whispered a little excited as you were packing your bags. drew chuckled, it was becoming less rare to see you this bubbly and he loved it.

of course rhea texted you that damian and her would be on a different flight because their timing was very chaotic and so they forgot to book flights for the event. she couldn’t wait to see you, she kept in touch with you and sometimes you trained together but you also needed more time for you, more time for you and drew, to explore your relationship.

as you texted her that you would see her at the hotel, drew carried all of your bags into his car as he was ready for the airport.

“coming!” you shouted before making sure you took everything you needed and closing the doors.

you could simplify the word airport with pure chaos. you hated flying, especially when you had to go from florida to canada. from the warmest temperature to the coldest one. nine times out of ten you would always get sick because of the drastic temperature change. but drew took care of everything. from checking in your bags to looking for your gate, from buying you some snacks to eat during the flight to give you the window seat that was initially under his name. he did everything he could to make this flight comfortable for you.

“what hotel room do you have baby?” he causally asked you.

“uhm…357, what about you?”

“209” he laughed “why do they keep putting us on different levels?”

“maybe because no one else apart from rhea and damian know that we are together” you joked.

“yeah…” he laughed but he thought for a minute. what if you went public? would it be too early for you? would it make you uncomfortable? he definitely was going to bring the topic up but not now as he saw how stressed you already were, trying to find a comfortable position in your seat.

many hours later you finally arrived. car rental waiting for drew outside the airport was nothing new. you saw him signing off some paperwork and you immediately jumped in the car, not wanting to freeze your ass more than what you were already doing. chuckling, drew got into the car and drove towards the hotel.

“we’re gonna stay here for three days baby, will you make it?” he joked, seeing how hardly you were trying to keep your hands warm.

“i’ll tell you when i start transitioning in elsa” you matched his irony, making the both of you laugh.

as usual, drew walked you to your room first and helped you with your bags.

“i’m gonna go through the script again in the meantime…i can’t believe rhea and damian forgot to book their flights” you laughed. you actually could believe it since they always did that. when you were still in the judgment day finn was the one who took care of everything but now, with you even hating the idea of flying, with rhea and damian being always too busy with their lives, it wasn’t nothing new that you booked last minute tickets.

“i’ll go rest a little bit and then i’ll hit the gym, text me when you’re done with rhea and damian, let me know if i can join you for dinner or if they’ll kill me” he joked before kissing you goodbye, heading towards his room.

you definitely weren’t expecting that rhea and damian would be so welcoming with drew. dinner went smoothly, laughing and making jokes and for the first time, after the mess with the judgment day, as you look at them, you saw a family, a real family, that was going to be there for you, no matter what.

while rhea and damian moved to reach their bedrooms, you and drew took a few steps along the hallways of the hotel, holding hands and talking about the little things.

like always, he walked you back to your room and stayed there for a few minutes. he was visibly tired, from the long day he just had but nevertheless, he took time making sure that you were okay and safe in your room.

before he left he gently pushed your body into his bigger one, circling your hips with his hands. you stood up a little taller to reach his lips - a goodnight kiss as usual - and when he bit your lips you couldn’t help but moan a little into his mouth. you definitely wasn’t expecting that. you liked it, a lot, but his strong grip on your hips and his tongue teasing your lips were making you hot and very bothered as you had no idea on how to react.

“if you ever want, tonight or tomorrow night, my room is always open for you” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. with one last kiss he left, a cocky smile on his face while you stood there speechless.

with all that was going on with your life, you’ve never thought about that. the possibility of having sex with drew. sure, it crossed your mind but you never thought about it. and it was a serious thing. of course he wouldn’t wait for you forever, he had needs and somehow, being always so close to him, made you realise that you had needs too.

panicking, you sent a quick message to rhea and damian, asking them to come immediately to your room.

in less than five minutes they were both there, wondering what was keeping you awake.

“is everything okay hermosa?” damian asked.

“yes, no…yes and no, i don’t know i need your help” you felt like you were in your sixteens again.

“with what?” rhea interrupted sitting on your bed next to damian as you were pacing around the room.

“it’s drew…i love him, i really do and he loves me too…this past weeks really helped us a lot with coming to the conclusion that we want this to be a long term relationship” you saw rhea and damian smiling “but…there’s a thing we haven’t really talked about and i think i need your help on this…” you were embarrassed.

you remember how your mother first told you about sex, you were only nine and you felt like she traumatised you. talking about it with your friends at school always made you embarrassed. you just didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“we haven’t done…you know, that” you tried to avoid those weird terms that always made you cringe.

“oh” they both said in sync.

“it’s bad, isn’t it?” you questioned, your eyes moving from the damian to rhea.

“what? no…absolutely not, it’s not bad y/n…” rhea immediately spoke up “he loves you and he clearly wants to wait for you to be ready”

“he was here before and he kinda let me understand that he wants to do it…you know, and i want it too but i don’t have much experience, basically i never had an ex boyfriend, just some dickheads who just wanted a blowjob and i have no idea what to do!” you started pacing around the room one more time. the duo glancing between you and themselves “and i know that if i tell him that, he would probably laugh…he’s a grown man after all” defeated, you threw yourself on the bed.

“that’s nonsense…” damian spoke with his gentle yet strong tone “he loves you and no matter what you say, he will never judge you or laugh at you…if you two want to have a long relationship, you gotta talk about this…he will be patient with you and who cares if you’re inexperienced, he will show you…you have all the time in front of you to learn, you’re young” damian soft voice made you realise that everything he said was true. you needed to talk about it with drew, you wanted to talk about it with drew.

“you’re right…you’re always right” you said making him chuckle.

“hey…you do you, do what you feel comfortable to do, no one will pressure you, okay?” rhea’s loving eyes stared into your look.

“i will, i promise…thank you” you were so glad to have them by your side.

“if you need anything, we’re a couple of doors away” damian said before kissing your forehead and leaving the room, followed by rhea.

needless to say, you stayed awake all night thinking about the duo’s words. maybe, tonight after the show you will find the courage to talk with drew.

drew texted you first thing in the morning, asking you if you were riding with him to the arena. accepting his offer, you met him down in the parking lot. with his cocky smile, he greeted you with a big hug and gentle kiss.

“have you slept good?” he asked.

“yeah…” you tried to fix your eye bags with some make up and thankfully, drew didn’t notice.

the ride towards the arena was silent but comfortable. one his hand was placed upon your thigh, gently squeezing it and sometimes drawing random circles on your skin.

“are you ready for tonight?” he asked, waking you up from your thoughts.

tonight? “what…tonight?”

“yeah the show” he laughed “we’re so close to bad blood…you sure you have slept?”

“oh yeah, the show…it’s probably gonna be the same boring story…damian has a match against dom, he’s definitely gonna crush him and then the budget day will crush damian, then rhea and i have come to the rescue, making those cowards run away” you knew how it was going to happen because that was everything you’ve been doing for the past weeks. you didn’t know how to feel, knowing that you would have to face balor, you didn’t wanna see him.

and so it was as you said. you almost predicted everything, except for the part where liv would hit rhea’s injured leg and so it was just you standing in front of rhea and damian as they were both laying there, inside the ring.

finn smirked, making you feel very uncomfortable. he had that sadistic smile he had the night he hit you.

“you can’t run…you can’t hide” he smirked, laughing at you.

at this point you weren’t even sure what was going to happen. liv didn’t attack you, she was the only one that logically would have attacked you. instead finn took a few steps forward, making you back up.

he was right - nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, especially since rhea and damian were laying injured behind you and the only thing that was stopping the judgment day from hitting them was you.

with the little strength he had left, damian reached out for you and threw himself over your body, the same way he did with rhea, when he saw that finn was ready to hit you.

he promised he would have never left finn hurt you again and so he saw the moment and took the hits instead of you.

in the meantime, jey uso music echoed through the arena, making people cheering and screaming. when they saw him, the group immediately ran away. but the twin didn’t care, his priority was rhea, and you two.

as damian helped you standing up, you couldn’t control your emotions and you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him.

“are you okay?” you whispered.

“yes, are you?” he looked down into your eyes and when he saw you nodding, he held you close.

“thank you…for protecting me” your voice trembled.

“i promised you, he would never lay his hands on you ever again” his tone was serious and you could tell that this wasn’t over.

you helped him backstage as rhea was being helped by jey. medical staff immediately went to check upon the duo as you and jey waited for them to be cleared. worried for them, you couldn’t sit still and jey tried his best to calm you down. your mind kept replaying the scene where damian covered you with his body, taking the hits for you.

“…hey, they’re gonna be okay” jey kept whispering, seeing how worried you were.

twenty minutes later and they were both finally cleared. damian was okay, rhea’s leg was still injured but the doctor told her that she would be recovering before bad blood so she wasn’t that worried.

they walked out, jey talked with rhea before going to get ready for his match. you went with them and when you all entered rhea’s changing room, you saw rhea being pissed. she was pissed with liv and the judgment day. she couldn’t stand them anymore.

“i can’t wait for bad blood…i’m gonna whip her ass, i can’t stand her” rhea kept mumbling.

“i can’t believe finn had the nerve to stand in front of y/n like that! he’s dead! i can’t wait to have my hands on him at bad blood” damian was angrier than rhea. talking as if you weren’t there, you let them, knowing that they needed to let their frustration out. as they were talking, your eyes were focused on the screen in front of you. drew was next and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked that night. the way he spoke, his thick accent making everything ten times hotter. the way his eyes tried to be mischievous but deep down you knew the truth and he was a softie. everything from the way he was looking was making you hot. rhea and damian were trying to talk with you but you were too focused on the tv that you didn’t even know what they were saying.

“y/n!” rhea screamed a little too loud, making you jump on your spot “i asked you, do you come back with us or do you wait for drew?”

“uhm…you guys go, i’m gonna wait for him…have a goodnight” you smiled before hugging them both.

your eyes never leaving the screen, you couldn’t wait for drew to come backstage. feeling the need to be in his presence, to hug him and touch him.

patiently waiting for his segment to finish, the moment he came back to his locker room, you waited for him to shower and get ready. he was quick so you gave him 10 minutes before barging into his room.

“hey darling” he smiled seeing you there “are you okay? i saw what happened there with finn…i’m so glad damian was there to protect you” he was concerned.

“yeah i’m okay, thank you” you smiled “i loved your promo”

he was surprised but not that surprised “thank you” he always knew how much you struggled with words - preferring physical action instead of words - so he was happy to hear you say that “what do you think if we go back to the hotel? eating something and then sleeping? i’m busted” you nodded, wanting to be alone with drew as much as possible.

the ride took less than expected, your eyes darting between the soft rain outside and drew’s focused face as he drove.

“my room or yours?” he asked once you got into the hotel hall.

“yours” you didn’t know where that confidence came from and he was surprised as you were but he couldn’t say no to you so you both walked towards his room.

he gave you some of his clothes so you could change and be more comfortable and once food came, you both ate talking about the show. you could tell he was excited about bad blood too. and you hoped he could take home the victory, he wanted this feud with punk to be over and he wanted it to be over at bad blood.

after you were all done, full and satisfied with the amount of food drew got, you both comfortably laid on his bed, watching whatever show the tv was playing - not that you were paying attention to it.

“i’m proud of you” he broke the silence “the way you stood up in front of the man who hurt you, in front of finn…the fans don’t know what happened but i know, and i’m so proud of you” his smile was genuine. his words making you lean more into his touch as his hand was on your back.

“thank you” you whispered “it means a lot to me…” you looked up at him and saw his look moving between your lips and your eyes. you couldn’t wait anymore as you’ve been waiting impatiently all day long to be in his arms, so you lifted your head up and softly kissed his lips. you felt him smile into the kiss, his tongue teasing you.

“i can’t get you out of my head y/n…don’t know what spell you put on me” he whispered against your lips making you chuckle.

“a witch never tells her secrets” you teased him back, making him smile.

“i just love the taste of your lips on mine, the way your body fits perfectly into my hands, the way your skin feels against mine…you’re a good witch because i never want that spell to end” he teased one more time before diving his lips back onto yours.

in a swift move, he helped you sitting on his lap, so now your hands were both teasing his hair as his bigger ones moved to hold your hips down. few kisses turned into a full make out session and his warm hands started teasing the hem of his t-shirt that you were wearing. you felt his fingers over your skin, on your back, moving over your stomach and hips. the sudden sensation of his teeth biting your lower lip made you whimper in his mouth, grinding your hips lower, you accidentally brushed over his length. feeling him growing harder and fuller, drew softly moaned over your lips.

you took a few seconds to watch at him, his eyes closed as he was taking in everything that you were willing to give him.

“drew…” your soft voice called him.

he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face “tell me love…”

how were you going to tell him? you didn’t want to ruin the moment, everything was going well, everything was romantic and you didn’t want to set the mood off.

“well…” words caught in your mouth.

he took one look at you and realised what you were going to say “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, i’m happy as long as you’re comfortable” his words were genuine and you found honesty in his voice.

your heart melted “i really wanna do it, but..i’ve never uhm, done it? i mean i did but at the same time i have not and i don’t know what i’m doing…” you blurted out panicking a little, making him laugh.

“shhh, it’s okay baby…i wanna take care of you and i’ll show you everything you want, i promise” you couldn’t believe how patient he was with you and you loved him even more “but not tonight baby…when you’re ready”

“okay…” you whispered, a soft smile on your face “but i really enjoy kissing you…”

your words made him laugh as he smiled into the kiss, gently laying his lips over yours again.

you knew you were safe with him and no matter what, he was going to be there for you.

your mind was too focused on bad blood, so maybe, after the event you would have experimented something with drew.

your only fear was - what if everything goes down? what if rhea loses? what if damian loses? what if drew loses? what if the events of that night were going to change your future forever?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

i’m sorry it took so long but with me being sick and my mom being sick i hadn’t much to myself but now i’m back! let me know what you think and if you have ideas for the next chapter please let me know

[logictoinsanity]

Do you ever think about Logan being terrified of thunder and fireworks (too proud to ever ever admit it, of course he's not scared of shit) both because of PTSD from the wars and also because his enhanced hearing makes those sounds 100x louder for him than anyone else.

And how he's always been shut out and alone so it was easy to hide it and hide away until it's gone but now he's living in a tiny apartment with Wade so there's no way to keep avoiding it

WELL NOW I HAVE

And you're so fucking right, he'd never want to admit that he's scared of thunder storms and fireworks of all things, he's the fucking wolverine, he's seen things regular people can't even imagine, and he's scared by the fucking weather??

He tries so god damn hard every time to just be okay and power through it, he knows it can't hurt him, but every time no matter how prepared he is and how hard he tries, with the first crash hes spiralling, it feels like someone shot a gun right next to his face, his ears are ringing and his head starts hurting and he looks around and all he can see are trenches and guns and the dead bodies of his fellow soldiers. Before Wade, he'd always just find somewhere to hunker down and wait it out, pretty much in a constant state of flashbacks and panic attacks until it finally stopped.

This is just me projecting but I feel like Logan would feel safest in small spaces where he can shove himself into a corner, so he knows no one can sneak up on him, so he spent a lot of stormy nights and fourth of Julys shoved into the closest of a shitty motel.

I also think that it reminds him of the night the X-Men died, like most things do. He'd run off to go drink himself into a coma at a nearby bar, and a storm picked up while he was there. He didn't think anything of it at the time, but later realized that it had probably been Orroro's last attempts to save herself and her friends. He blames himself for not thinking of that at the time, just one more reason to hate himself.

But then he moves in with Wade, and it doesn't occur to him at first to even worry about it, so much happened so fast, storms and fireworks were pretty low on his list of concerns with a whole new universe.

Luckily, Wade isn't home when the storm hits, neither is Althea. Unluckily, Wade returns about 30 minutes after. He almost thinks Logan went out, since he isn't in his usual spot on the couch, or anywhere else for that matter, until Wade goes into the bedroom and hears the tiniest shifting sound coming from the closet.

Logan freezes when the door opens. He'd been hoping Wade would stay out until after the storm, but when did Logan ever get a lucky break? For a solid ten seconds, it's silent, Wade staring down at Logan, Logan remaining squished in the back corner of the closet, knees to his chest, looking like he can't decide whether he wants to stab Wade through the skull or bolt out of the apartment into the rain.

Wade opens his mouth to say..something, he hadn't actually figured out what yet but it didn't matter because before he got the chance there was another crack of thunder, and Logan jolted like the lightening had hit him square on his head. His eyes went distant and dark like they did when he just woke up from a nightmare and he slammed his hands over his ears, pressing his face into his knees. Wade felt kind of stupid, once he realized what was going on, of course Mr. Logan every-war-ever Howlett would have a problem with noises like that.

Wade panics, for a second, because scared of not, this is still Logan, and he's well aware of how Logan tends to feel about being caught in a vulnerable position, but then he sees Logan's hand shaking, and hears a sound that if he didn't know any better (he doesn't) he'd call a whimper (it was), and his heart just shatters, he can't stand seeing Logan this afraid, so he quickly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him. The closet is hardly big enough for one grown man to crouch in, much less two, but Logan is clearly in no state to leave, so Wade shoves himself into the corner between Logan and the door, careful not to lress up against him incase the touch is to overwhelming.

At this point, Logan has recovered slightly from the most recent crash of thunder, and he lifts his head, though he still won't look at Wade. He wants to be angry, mad at Wade for catching him like this, he wants to scowl and tell him to fuck off and leave him alone, but he's been panicking for thirty minutes now, flashing back with every clap of thunder, slowly starting to calm down only to be yanked right back into his own mind when it happens again, he's exhausted and just doesn't have the energy, so he just sighs, swallowing thickly to try and stop his voice from shaking and grumbling something about how he's fine, it's just loud, Wade can go about his day and he'll be out in a bit.

Wade honestly only understands about half of what he says, between the mumbling and the shaky voice and the storm outside, but he's sure as hell not gonna leave Logan to deal with this alone, and besides, the closet isn't to bad, kinda cozy once you give it a chance, and hey what're the odds they have a closet big enough for this in such a shitty apartment anyway? pretty plot convenient if you ask him. He ends up telling Logan all of this, partly to reassure him he doesn't mind but mostly to buy time while he figures out what to do. After a moment he lets out a quiet gasp and stands up, assuring Logan he'll be right back. Logan just nods and puts his head back on his knees, resigned to his fate of riding out his PTSD episode stuffed into a closet with fucking Deadpool.

Wade comes back a minute later with a small assortment of items in his arms, shuffling to sit back down. First, he sets down a small electric candle that he had laying around for some reason, because even if Logan can see in the dark closet, he can't, and he explains as much as he turns it on and the soft, warm light fills the space. Wade's heart breaks just a little more now that he can see Logan better, the way his whole body is shaking with every breath, the tear tracks covering his face, some dry, some fresh, but he does his best not to make to big a deal out of it and moves on.

I'm gonna put something on your head now, Peanut. You trust me? Wade asks, trying to keep his voice low and even.

No. Logan grumbles in response, but he leans towards Wade just slightly, and Wade places his gaming headset over Logan's ears. Logan pauses, evaluating, before giving a small nod and relaxing ever so slightly. He can still hear the storm, but it's better. Wade grins, trying desperately to keep his cool as he shows Logan the rest of his items. He brought a bag of Logan's favorite chips, a water bottle, and a bottle of whiskey.

They spend the next hour and a half in that closet together, alternating between Wade talking (much more quiet and restrained than usual) and Logan nodding occasionally in response, to out of it to say much but appreciating the distraction nonetheless and, with every crack of thunder, Logan panicking, and Wade doing his best to keep him tethered to reality.

It still sucks, storms probably always will for Logan, but it's better, and when the storm finally ends Wade leads him out of the closet, and he doesn't make a big deal out if it (like Logan feared), He doesn't make fun of him or think less of him, he gets it. And damn it if that doesn't make Logan feel more cared for and understood than he has in years, maybe ever, even if that fact alone pisses him off to no end.

[dindjarindiaries]

The End of Love

summary: After losing Hunter to both his inhibitor chip and the Empire on Bracca, you and the squad stop at nothing to bring the real him back.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: angst, panic attack, injuries & blood, canon-typical violence, mind control, hurt/comfort

rating: T

word count: 9.780k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

His golden brown eyes had never looked so empty, nor so haunted. You stood and stared at him, breathless and frozen in place. He could snap out of it. He had to.

Rex had to be wrong. He had to be.

But then Hunter raised his blaster at you. You could only shake your head at him. Any of the protests you wanted to make were lodged in your throat.

You were wrong, because Rex had to be right. There was no way that Hunter, your Hunter, would ever point his blaster at you.

You couldn’t muster the strength to grab your own weapon, even though you were the last one standing between Hunter and Omega. She had at least listened to your instructions to flee and hide, but you didn’t know how much more time you could buy her. You couldn’t fight him. You wouldn’t.

Hunter’s blaster shook in his grasp. You weren’t sure why, but it devastated you all the same. You held your hands up in surrender, your own body trembling as you swallowed past the lump in your throat. You could only manage a whisper. That was still enough for Hunter and his enhanced senses to hear.

“Please.”

But you had already lost him. He pulled the trigger, you ducked down to try to avoid the shot…

And you sat up in your makeshift bed, gasping for air.

Your hand flew to your shoulder. It was no longer bandaged, thanks to the bacta treatments, but the texture of the forming scar could still be felt underneath your fingertips. You closed your eyes and attempted to catch your breath, but you were failing.

Because this wasn’t just a nightmare you experienced while you slept. This was a nightmare you were forced to live every single day.

“Sunny?”

Omega sounded as if she was underwater as her tired voice spoke to you. She was blurred by the tears trapped within your vision. You tried to reach out for her to assure her that you were okay, but the motion was scrambled in your own panic and devastation. Omega held your hand and wrapped the other around your arm.

Omega’s voice rose to a volume loud enough for the others to hear her. “Echo, help!” You pressed the heel of your free hand to one of your eyes as your body started to rack with frantic sobs. “It’s Sunny!”

It only took a few more desperate breaths for Echo to show up. Then there was a hand running soothing circles over your back, and a calming voice attempting to ground you back to your cruel reality. “Okay, Sunny. Tell me five things you can see.”

You worked your throat to speak around the pitiful sobs that tore through it. “Hunter…”

“Not inside your head.” Echo gave your back a gentle pat. “Out here. Open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

You obeyed, fighting the panic that seized your very heart as you did so. “I see Omega.” The young girl smiled at you, a gesture that was obvious even through the blurriness of your tears. “The weapons station. Hyperspace.” You looked down. “The blanket.” You wanted to cry for a completely different reason when you spotted the fifth thing sitting right in your lap, no doubt the work of Omega. “And… Lula.”

“Good.” Echo nodded in your periphery. “Now give me four things you can touch.”

You gave Omega’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Omega.” Your free hand lowered to your lap, just as your gaze had. “The blanket. Lula.” You searched for something else nearby, but came up empty—until Echo offered you his hand. “You.”

“That’s it.” Echo’s smile was evident in his voice. “You’re making great progress. You know what’s next.”

You nodded, because this exact process had become routine in the weeks after Bracca. “I can hear your voice, the hyperspace vibrations, and…” you strained for one more, “Wrecker’s snoring.”

Omega giggled. That at least got you to crack a smile.

Echo also chuckled. “What else?”

“I smell leather and a bunch of other confusing, gross smells that this squad can’t get rid of for some reason.”

That got even heartier laughter out of both Echo and Omega. “Damn right, Sunny.” He patted your back again. “One more.”

You glanced at your nearby canteen. “I could taste water if I drank from that.”

Echo bobbed his head. “Sure, I’ll take it.”

With your vision now clear and your chest rising and falling in normal breaths, you looked between Echo and Omega, who were equal parts relieved and sympathetic. You hung your head in defeat as you exhaled a heavy breath. “Thank you both. Again.”

“You don’t have to thank us.” Omega sounded just like Hunter as she offered reassurance. She squeezed your hand. “We’ll always help you.”

You lifted your head back up and caught Echo gesturing with his head towards Omega. “What she said.”

You shook your head, the weight on your shoulders causing them to deflate. Your eyes fell closed and your voice grew smaller. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

“It won’t be much longer at all.” Your eyes shot open at Echo’s words. He awaited your stare with a small smile. “We found him.”

You blinked at him, your jaw dropping in pure disbelief. You had lost count of the amount of days it had been ever since Bracca, but each one had felt like a lifetime in its own right. You had been so ready to give up completely. “Really?”

“Really?” Omega repeated your word with more enthusiasm.

Echo nodded. “Really.”

His confirmation opened up an endless stream of words and wonders from within you. “Where is he? Has he gone far? Is he alone?”

Echo set his hand over yours again. “He’s on Kaller.” Your eyes widened at that. “He must be looking for the Padawan he saved back when we first got the order.” Echo exhaled and looked away from your gaze. “Tech said Crosshair’s not with him.”

Your lips tightened at that. You had all been hoping that you could get them together and bring them both home.

“Where’s Crosshair?” Omega sounded hopeful, clearly still elated by the idea of Hunter being found. You had certainly been taking Hunter’s absence the hardest, but Omega was just behind you in that regard.

“We’re still not sure. Because he’s been placed in high command, he’s harder to track.”

You let go of Omega’s and Echo’s hands and held Lula instead, hugging the tooka doll closer to your chest. “Are we heading there now?”

Echo nodded again. “We are.”

You frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve woken me up.”

Echo softened and tilted his head at you. “Because, Sunny, you need all the rest you can get right now.”

You handed Lula off to Omega and prepared to stand. “Well, now I’m awake.” You stretched. “Let’s start planning.”

Echo sighed, though the fond smile on his lips proved it was far from being one of annoyance. “Yeah, we had a feeling you’d say that.” He started to stand with you and turned his head over his shoulder. “Tech, time to wake up Wrecker.”

“Affirmative.” Tech sounded just as alert as Echo was. You huffed to yourself; they had clearly been spending their watch shift locating Hunter, and then starting a plan. You might have had the most special connection to Hunter, but you were far from the only person who wanted him back, desperately.

Not just wanted, though. Needed.

“I’m coming to help, too.” Omega’s mind was made up, and the chin she lifted at both you and Echo proved it. The two of you shared a look before you both nodded at her.

You, Echo, and Omega all headed to the hold, where Tech and a half-awake Wrecker were awaiting you. Tech and Wrecker remained seated where they were, while Echo stood by Tech’s chair and Omega leaned against Wrecker’s. You paced the floor, your arms crossed and your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“Our current inference is that Hunter has been assigned a miniscule squad.” Tech wasted no time getting right to it. “Despite this, it would be wisest to prepare for more numbers.”

“Exactly.” Echo was just as focused as you were, now. “Especially if we think they’re looking for a Jedi.”

“I will land the ship just outside the perimeter of the clearing where we last fought on Kaller.” Tech typed on his datapad, no doubt making note of the plans as a backup—or for his own research. “I advise splitting into teams.”

“I agree.” Echo nodded in Wrecker and Omega’s direction. “Tech, Wrecker, and Omega, you should all stick together and act as a distraction. We need to keep Omega away from Hunter for now. Sunny…” he paused and let his gaze flicker over to you, “we’ll go after him.”

You froze in place, the image of Hunter standing across from you on Bracca yet again haunting your mind. You were torn; you wanted nothing more than to see him again, even if he was still trying to kill or capture you, but you couldn’t forget the hesitation you had the last time you were forced to face him.

Ultimately, you let out a soft, defeated sigh. “I’m not sure if I can, Echo.”

Echo’s brow furrowed in determination. “If any of us can get through to him, it’s you.” Echo offered you a nod. “You can do this.”

Your haunted mind replayed that moment on Bracca, but this time, it focused in on Hunter’s shaking blaster. You couldn’t help but think, or maybe hope, that the trembling was indicative of him trying to fight the chip. If it was, then it proved Echo’s words to be true. You could have a chance of getting through to him.

And that was a chance you had no choice but to take.

You steadied yourself with another breath before you nodded. “Okay.” You resumed your pacing, even as you continued. “So, let’s say you and I succeed, Echo, and we get Hunter. What next? Do we go back to Bracca?”

Tech lifted a finger. “It is either the Jedi cruiser on Bracca or Kamino.” He adjusted his goggles as his brow rose. “Though Kamino is not much of an option, given our present… unfavorability with the Empire and the regs.”

“It has to be Bracca.” Echo was set on it. “We just have to make sure he stays unconscious until then.”

You tightened your jaw and gripped your upper arms tighter. The thought of keeping Hunter unconscious, no matter his current state of mind, was unsettling. You didn’t want him hurt.

That was what had made this situation so difficult for you in the first place. You knew Hunter, and you knew how he would feel the second he realized what had happened and what he, or at least his body, had done.

That was going to hurt him more than any physical wound ever could.

You stopped your pacing and faced the group. “That’s it, then?”

Echo and Tech shared a look before nodding. Echo provided the verbal confirmation. “That’s it.”

“Wait.” Wrecker’s voice betrayed his confusion, as did the furrow between his brows. “Who’s going to get Hunter?”

Tech frowned. “Echo and Sunny. We have already reviewed this.” He huffed and looked back at his datapad. “Perhaps if you paid attention.”

“I’m still wakin’ up!” Wrecker stretched out his arms. “It could be the middle of the night for all we know.”

Tech tilted his head. “On which planet, exactly?”

Echo sighed. “That’s enough of that.” He leveled both Tech and Wrecker with stern looks before walking over to you. He set his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We need to get ready. We should be dropping out of hyperspace soon.”

You lifted your brow. “We were that close?”

The corner of Echo’s mouth rose in a smile. “We were.”

You let out another steady exhale as the shock of all these quick developments began to sink in. Echo, recognizing this, took a step back as you gestured with your head towards the weapons station. “I’m gonna take some time to prepare.”

Echo nodded in understanding. “Take as long as you need, Sunny.”

You offered him a small smile of your own before you headed back towards your makeshift bed. Once you got there, you reached forward to pull the blanket off the item you kept hidden in the corner, close to the place where you rested your head every night to sleep.

It was Hunter’s helmet, the only piece of himself he had left behind on Bracca.

You held it between your hands and set it on your lap, with your legs crossed and folded underneath you. The empty visor stared back at you, familiar and comforting enough to make the corners of your lips twitch upwards. You lifted the helmet as you lowered your forehead, allowing the two to meet as your eyes fluttered closed.

You had found him, and you weren’t going to leave without him. You weren’t sure whether it was the stars, the Force, or the gods responsible for this chance, but you didn’t hesitate to thank them all. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

“Are you nervous?”

Omega’s voice made you jump as you opened your eyes and lowered Hunter’s helmet back to your lap. She wore a sheepish smile as she sat across from you.

“I think we’ll get him this time.” Omega’s innocent eyes bore into yours, as if she was silently begging you for reassurance. “Do you?”

You had always vowed to be nothing but honest with Omega, mostly because she could sense a lie better than anyone else you had ever known, and you were able to do the same now. “I do.”

You handed Hunter’s helmet to her. Omega took it, her gaze giving it a once-over as her chest inflated with a soft inhale. She then hugged the helmet against herself, closing her eyes just as you had before. “I can’t wait for him to be home.”

You maneuvered yourself to Omega’s side and set your hand upon her back. “Me too.” She leaned into you, and you rested your head against hers. “And he may not be thinking about it yet because of that chip, but I’m sure he can’t wait to be back, either.”

Omega reopened her eyes and looked up at you. “Are you gonna tell him?”

You blinked at her. “Tell him what?” Your chest flared with panic at her knowing more than you wanted her to.

Instead, Omega’s gaze gestured to your shoulder. “About your scar.”

You twisted your lips. “I have a feeling he’ll already know.”

Omega’s expression fell. “You mean… you think Hunter will remember everything he’s doing?”

You gave her a solemn look. “Do you remember when Rex told us about the chips at Cid’s?” You paused, giving Omega time to recall the memory. Once she nodded, you went on. “He said it wasn’t something that could be controlled. He would’ve only known that if he experienced it for himself, and remembered it all.”

Omega’s sweet eyes searched yours before she lowered her focus to the helmet in her lap. She hugged it just a bit tighter and let out a worried sigh. “He’ll be so upset.”

You offered her an encouraging smile. “But at least he’ll have us.” Omega’s gaze flickered back up to yours. “We can help him through it.”

Omega returned your smile and nodded once more to agree with you. She rested her head against you again, and you assumed the same position as before. The two of you sat together with Hunter’s helmet in peaceful silence until the Marauder jolted out of hyperspace.

Echo poked his head inside Omega’s makeshift room. “We’re here.”

Your stomach fluttered with a confusing mixture of anxiety and excitement as you acknowledged him with a nod. You focused back on Omega as you held her face between your hands. “Ready?”

Omega set her jaw as her kind gaze hardened with determination. You started to smile at the traces of Hunter you saw within her. “Ready.”

Your smile widened before you bent down to give her forehead a kiss. You then eased Hunter’s helmet from her lap and put it back in its spot, though it would hopefully soon return to its proper place. Omega led the way back to the hold and the cockpit, where the rest of the squad had already gathered.

You braced your hands upon the back of Echo’s chair as you watched the atmosphere of Kaller grow closer. Everyone was holding a collective breath at the anticipation of the battle to come. There was an unspoken yet universally understood and agreed upon truth; you weren’t leaving without Hunter.

Even if that meant you didn’t leave at all.

Wrecker was the one who broke the tense silence. “Hunter’s done a lot for us.” He looked around the squad, his expression more serious than you had ever seen it. “The least we can do for him now is bring him home and save him from that chip.”

Everyone else started to nod in agreement. You, on the other hand, walked away from your place at Echo’s chair and gave Wrecker an embrace you both needed. He held you there for a few long moments, his gloved hand patting your back every once in a while. When you pulled away from each other, Wrecker set his hands on your shoulders and smiled.

He repeated Echo’s words from before. “You can do this, Sunny.”

You returned his smile and straightened your shoulders. “Thanks, Wrecker.”

You all took your seats as Tech lowered the Marauder to Kaller’s surface. Your heart leapt into your throat when you flew over an Imperial shuttle. You had half a mind to tell Tech to destroy it for fear of Hunter getting away again, but you bit your tongue. Hunter would know you were here, no doubt, but he wouldn’t run with a whole squad backing him up this time.

Once the ship was grounded and powered down, the squad rose to their feet. You triple checked all of your gear as the boys did the same. Omega had her bow and her comm, and she stuck close to Wrecker and Tech. Echo glanced at you before he spoke to the group.

“They already know we’re here.” Echo slid his helmet on as he continued. “We’ll stick together until Hunter leads them to us. That’s when we’ll split up. We’ll want to draw as many of their forces away from Hunter as possible.”

You steadied yourself with deep breaths as you nodded at him. Now that you were here, it was beginning to feel more real—and your nervousness was growing. The mere idea of facing Hunter and his activated chip again made your stomach tie into sickening knots.

Echo held up his blaster and gestured with his helmet to the open hatch. “Let’s head out.”

Echo continued to lead the way, weaving the group around the snow-covered trees until you reached the clearing from that fateful day when the war ended. You froze there for a moment, recalling the pure horror in Hunter’s voice when he realized what was happening. If only he knew then what was happening now, that the Empire had dragged him into it.

You swallowed hard and pushed on.

You descended the downward slope on the other side of the clearing and entered the density of the surrounding wood again. It was a lot harder to know when to stop without Hunter on your side. He certainly would’ve been able to hear them and sense their location by now.

Echo held up his scomp, a substitution for a fist. The squad stopped, and you began to look around your surroundings in a careful circle—but you didn’t see anyone. Your heart was racing inside your tightened chest, and each fogged-up breath you took sounded louder and louder in your roaring ears.

“So, you decided to come to me first.”

Hunter.

Your knees nearly gave out at the sound of his voice. It was even lower than usual, evidence of the way the chip was corrupting him. All of your heads snapped towards the source of the sound, and you watched as he emerged from the trees.

Hunter had painted his armor entirely black, and he had been issued a helmet with a green visor, just like Crosshair’s. Those were the only noticeable differences, until he paused and lifted the helmet from his head.

Your heart pounded even more violently against your chest as you caught sight of him. He had exchanged his red bandana for a simple black that matched the rest of his armor, and rather than letting his hair flow behind him, he had tied it back, aside from the usual small pieces that framed his face. The most notable difference, however, was still his dark gaze.

It was completely empty, and it was just as haunting as you had remembered it to be—especially once it locked with your own.

“We’re here for you,” Wrecker corrected him. “We’re gonna bring you home, Sarge.”

Hunter’s gaze flickered over to Wrecker as he huffed, his jaw circling and his brow furrowing. “I don’t think so.”

He lifted his free hand and waved two fingers, drawing his Imperial forces out of the shadows. Thankfully, as you observed them all, you realized Tech’s initial thoughts were true; he only had a smaller squad with him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Hunter set his helmet back over his head. “Not this time.”

Echo held his blaster tighter. “Yeah, and neither are you.”

Hunter’s fingers fluttered at his side before he gave the command. “Fire!”

You saw what he was reaching for. You leapt forward to lower Echo’s hand, causing it to just narrowly avoid being hit with the blade Hunter had thrown to disarm him. Meanwhile, as the blaster fire started to rain down upon you, Wrecker and Tech focused on shielding Omega and leading more of Hunter’s forces away. You took Echo and hid behind the cover of a tree.

After checking that your blaster was set to stun, you leaned out and fired in Hunter’s direction. He ducked behind a nearby tree, hiding from your shots. You took the opportunity to hop over to the trunk beside Echo’s, letting each of you have your own space.

“Go after them,” you heard Hunter instruct his troopers. He gestured with his helmet in Wrecker, Tech, and Omega’s direction. “The rest of you are with me. We’re going after those two.”

Echo tilted his helmet at you. “Told you, Sunny.” He chuckled and lifted his blaster. “Even with the chip, he can’t resist you.”

You rolled your eyes, and despite the severity of the moment and the anxious trembling that threatened to overtake your entire body, the corners of your lips turned up in an amused smile. “Let’s make sure we get him far away from the others.”

Echo nodded to agree with you. This time, you led the way, diving between the trees to avoid any of the blaster fire that was aimed in your direction. Echo was just behind you the entire time, and every once in a while, he shot off some stuns of his own.

You went far enough for the sounds of Wrecker, Tech, and Omega’s pursuers to disappear. Only at that point did you speak up to Echo through your panting breaths. “What now?”

Echo got a few more shots off before answering. “I have a theory to test.” He caught up to your side and nodded. “I’m gonna split off and see if he sends them after me.”

Your eyes widened. “You think Hunter will go after me alone?”

“Like I said.” Echo dodged a blaster bolt and hid behind a tree trunk. “I’m testing a theory!” He tapped his helmet. “We’ll comm if it doesn’t work!”

You inhaled before ultimately nodding at him. Echo patted you on the shoulder before he split off to the right, drawing their fire as he wove through the trees. You continued to the left and tried not to worry about him, or yourself. There was a high possibility that one of you could end up being the focus of all their firepower.

But deep down, you knew Echo was right, because you had seen it somehow inside Hunter’s empty gaze. There was a part of him that couldn’t keep himself from focusing on, and ultimately pursuing, you—and you could only hope it was the good part of him.

You heard the crunch of a branch from close behind you, and you didn’t have a chance to turn your head over your shoulder to see who it was. The same blade from before was whizzing through the air, thrown at just the right angle to catch the material of your shirt and pin you to the nearest tree trunk. Only one person could have an aim that precise.

You holstered your blaster to focus on pulling yourself free from the blade. Hunter was closing the distance quickly, and you weren’t waiting around to find out what he would do next. You cried out with effort as you managed to tear the blade from the bark. Instantly, you threw it back in his direction, missing on purpose so that it solely served as a distraction. It hit the bark of the tree across from you, and Hunter pulled it free without missing a beat as he barreled towards you.

You stumbled back and grabbed your blaster, holding it with both hands as you prepared to pull the trigger and stun him. Hunter stepped close enough to knock the weapon from your hands, though your sidestep kept him from getting any other hits in. You blocked each one of his blows, suddenly grateful for the long, grueling training sessions that he would do with you back during the war. You refused to go on offense, instead doing whatever you could to keep him from hurting you—for his own sake.

But being forced backwards wasn’t a stable way to fight. You soon tripped over a fallen branch, and that gave Hunter a window to kick your middle. You lost your breath the moment your back connected with a tree trunk, and in a flash, Hunter was upon you. His blade was at your throat, and his knee was pressed between your legs, keeping you in place.

Your eyes went wide, especially as Hunter took the liberty of removing his own helmet with his free hand. Your chest rose and fell in quick breaths, but all you could focus on was him. There had to be a piece of him left in his gaze, but all you could see was darkness, the same darkness that had been plaguing your nightmares ever since Bracca.

He shouldn’t have been hesitating to slit your throat, yet he was. The edge of his blade was kissing your skin, flirting with the very real possibility of swift death, but he wouldn’t make that final move.

The real him was still in there.

“Hunter.” Your voice was softer and calmer than you expected it to be, nothing more than an intimate whisper of his name. His brow was still furrowed, but you could see a muscle in his jaw flex. You swallowed hard, feeling the blade bob on your throat, and went on. “H.”

Hunter blinked at you. His brow softened for a split second, but then the knit returned with even more ferocity than before. “Don’t call me that.” His voice was a sneer. “Traitor.”

You remained soft, even if every single survival instinct inside you was screaming to tense up and fight for your life. “Come home, H.” You repeated the only thing you could say to him on Bracca. “Please.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, but you couldn’t be fooled. The blade had started to tremble slightly against your skin, and just as Echo had worked on his theory before, you started to work on your own.

“I’m sorry.” You let the genuine, raw truths spill from your tongue as you shook your head. “I shouldn’t have waited until now to say this, because you deserved to hear this truth from me a long time ago.”

Hunter growled and tightened his grasp on the hilt of his blade. “Don’t.”

You ignored him. “I love you.” Your vision started to go blurry as tears pooled at your waterline. Your lips were trembling just as much as Hunter’s blade was. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I wasn’t brave enough to say it. Not until I had to face a reality where I had lost you.”

Hunter blinked, his brow relaxing again as he absorbed your words. The shaking of the blade worsened, but he still didn’t lower it. Even your blurry vision could still make out the small, golden flecks that began to faintly illuminate his gaze. A piece of him was here with you now, and he was fighting to be here.

“I love you, H.” You dared to lift a hand to his tattooed cheek, your thumb tracing the outline of it as you did so. Your voice lowered back to a hushed whisper. “Let me bring you home. Please.”

Hunter’s gaze searched yours. Most of it was still dark, but that growing light was unmistakable, as was the trembling weapon against your throat—and the tear that fell from his eye. You caught it on your thumb.

He needed one last push to give himself completely over to you, if only for a moment, and you were going to take your opportunity to provide it.

Your free hand caught his wrist and moved it just enough to let you lean forward, sealing your lips over his. The hand on his cheek snaked back to the nape of his neck, securing him in place against you. Hunter hesitated to respond, but the moment your fingertips threaded into the hair that was secured at the back of his head, he gave in.

The blade fell from his hand and clattered to the ground as he instead focused on holding you against him. You were hit with a confusing mixture of emotions, with relief and pure love reigning above all the others, but there was also a strong trace of guilt—because as much as you wanted this, you couldn’t forget the reason why you were doing it.

And as you pushed your tongue through his parted lips, you drew his blaster from his holster, switching it stun and pulling the trigger against his armored chest.

Hunter froze, the shock of the stun running through him. You didn’t break away from him just yet, instead continuing to hold the back of his neck as you whispered your apology against his lips. “I’m sorry.”

When his knees gave out, you went with him, supporting him the best you could to ease his descent to the ground. It was only then, when you had his head cradled in your lap, that you realized how damp your cheeks had become from your own tears.

Your actions were numb as you kept one hand on his face and used the other to lift your comlink to your lips. “I got him.” Your voice shook, though you tried to project as much strength into it as you could muster. “I’m gonna need some help to—.”

“I’m on my way.” It was Wrecker who answered with protective decisiveness. The words brought a small smile back to your lips.

“So am I.” Echo sounded slightly out of breath, no doubt preoccupied with eliminating the threats that had trailed him. “I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

“Omega and I are en route to the ship,” Tech added. “I will bring it closer to facilitate a more expedient exit.”

You listened to their voices as you hung your comlink back on your belt and reached for your blaster in the snow. You then disarmed Hunter of his weapons and kept them tucked into other places on your belt. Keeping your blaster drawn, you held it at the ready, though it was trembling in your hand similarly to the way it had trembled in his on Bracca.

But this time, he wasn’t getting away. He was finally coming home.

Still, your shoulders weighed heavy with guilt at the things you had to do to him, and the fact he could potentially see your love confession as nothing more than a calculated tactic to get through to him. Nothing would devastate you more than him doubting the truth, especially when you had meant every single word of it.

You continued to repeat an apology to him as your free hand cupped the side of his face. Your gaze ran along the lines of his relaxed expression until they led you back to his hair. You took a deep breath and reached back to free it from its restraint, marking the first official step in bringing back the man who was trapped within his own, traitorous body.

You were so focused on Hunter that you didn’t even hear Echo’s approach. He was suddenly kneeling on Hunter’s other side, his blaster holstered and his hands lifting his helmet from his head. He wore the same expression that he did when he helped you through your nightmare-induced panic attacks.

“You did it, Sunny.” Echo’s voice was softer than you had ever heard it, and he reached forward to rest his hand over the one that was clutching your blaster. He lowered the weapon for you and nodded. “Just like I said.” The corner of his mouth rose in an amused grin. “I knew my theory would work.”

You huffed and raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Tech.”

Echo chuckled and shrugged. “Yeah, this entire squad’s starting to rub off on me, I guess.” He put his helmet back on as you holstered your weapon. “Let’s try to get him up.”

You nodded and reached for Hunter’s arm, waiting until Echo was ready to hoist him up. You set his arm over your shoulders and pushed up until you and Echo were back on your feet. Hunter’s limp head hung between you, and his boots dragged over the snow as you and Echo headed back to the clearing. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from externally reacting to the sight of Hunter like this, but even that couldn’t prevent Echo from knowing you as any good family member would.

“He’ll be thanking you for this once the chip’s out.” Echo’s visor glanced in your direction. “You know that, right?”

You closed your eyes and exhaled a steady breath. “It’s more than stunning him and dragging him around, Echo. It’s…” You paused, uncertain if you could even bring your fears to words.

“And like I said, he’ll thank you for it.” Echo remained firm in his reassurance. “Whatever it is that broke through to him.”

Your shoulders fell in defeat, but before Echo could question you about it, Wrecker burst through the trees. “There… you… are!” He was out of breath as he reached forward to take his brother’s limp body from you and Echo. “You guys… went far.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, that was the idea.” You smiled as Wrecker tossed Hunter over his shoulder, and once he was settled, you hugged Wrecker on his open side. “Thank you for coming.”

Wrecker held your shoulder with his free hand and echoed Omega’s words from earlier that morning. “You don’t have to thank me.” He secured his hold on Hunter and nodded. “Now let’s bring ‘im home.”

You grinned wider at that. The more members of the squad that you saw, the better you began to feel about it all. Your guilt still loomed like a shadow over your mind and your heart, but this family was a light that began to illuminate your darkest corners.

Echo and Wrecker stood close to both sides of you, keeping you in the warmth of their realms as the three of you made your way back to the clearing. The Marauder was waiting there for you, just as Tech had promised. Omega was waiting on the steps that had been lowered from the hatch, and as soon as the three of you stepped out of the surrounding wood, she gasped and ran forward.

“You did it!” Omega was smiling as she closed the distance to your group. You fully expected her to go to Wrecker and Hunter first, but instead, she went right up to you. Omega threw her arms around you and let the side of her face smush against your middle. “I knew you could do it, Sunny.”

You were too choked up to respond with your words, so you settled for holding her back just as tightly. Her pure love was a healing balm for your very soul. You hoped she knew that—and somehow, you knew that she did.

“Let’s keep celebrating inside the ship.” Echo was gentle with his directive as Omega stepped away from you. “We should get going so we can make it before he wakes up.” Echo nodded towards Hunter on Wrecker’s shoulder.

Your gaze fell to your feet. You didn’t like remembering that it was you who had put him in such a state.

Omega held your hand, drawing your attention back to her. Her eyes were wide with a sympathy that was genuine rather than pitiful. She kept her hand in yours the entire way back to the ship, only letting go once you were settling yourself next to where Wrecker had eased Hunter down onto the floor of the ship.

Hunter’s upper half rested upon the interior hull, his head and shoulders slouching under the weight of his unconsciousness. Either Wrecker or Echo had already taken care of restraining his wrists, in the event that he woke up and tried to fight. You steadied yourself with a breath and closed your eyes as you exhaled. It would all be over soon.

When you reopened your eyes, you caught Echo’s gaze from across the ship. Wrecker had taken Omega to the cockpit to witness the takeoff back to Bracca. Echo made his approach and knelt down in front of you and Hunter.

“If he wakes up,” you warned him in a low yet honest voice, “I won’t be able to do it again, Echo.”

“I understand.” Echo set a hand on your shoulder. “And you won’t have to.” He gestured back to the chairs behind him. “We’ll be right here, ready to do it for you.”

You smiled in the best show of gratitude you could muster. Echo squeezed your shoulder before he stood back up and returned to his chair. As soon as the hull at your back began to hum with the familiar sensation of hyperspace, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega were all joining you, too. Omega sat at Hunter’s other side, her head resting against his arm, while Wrecker and Tech stayed at the ready by Echo.

After a drawn-out stretch of silence, with tension thick enough to have been cut by your blade if you tried, Tech dared to speak—which hardly surprised anyone. “I must ask, Sunny.” He adjusted his goggles before going on. “How exactly did you succeed in… apprehending him?”

Wrecker swatted Tech’s shoulder hard enough to make him grunt in both surprise and pain. “You actually don’t have to ask that!”

“On the contrary,” Tech narrowed his eyes as his hand rubbed his sore shoulder, “this could be vital information should we run into another individual whose inhibitor chip is active.” He inhaled a gentle breath before going on. “Such as Crosshair.”

You ran your thumb over your forehead and sighed. “What I did won’t work on Crosshair.” You gained the faith to look up, just to see the entire squad staring back at you. Even Omega had lifted her head from Hunter’s arm. You steadied your shoulders and returned their eager gazes. “It won’t work on anyone.”

Tech raised an eyebrow. “Well, clearly…” He gestured towards Hunter.

You mumbled, “Anyone except Hunter.”

The ship fell silent before Tech yet again spoke up. “Ah.” His furrowed brow relaxed as his gaze cut away from you. “I see.”

Wrecker gave Tech’s shoulder another nudge. “I told ya’ you didn’t have to ask.”

“All that matters is that Sunny did it.” Echo finally entered the conversation with a voice of reason. “The next thing we have to focus on is getting to Bracca and removing Hunter’s chip.” Echo’s gaze caught yours. “Not the ‘why’ or the ‘how’ behind what’s already been done.”

Your lips stretched up in a small smile as you mouthed a silent Thank you to him. While you usually wouldn’t mind Tech pressing for information, this situation was more delicate than any other. You were having a hard enough time coming to terms with what you had to do to get through to Hunter.

Even if it had worked.

Echo kept Tech and Wrecker busy by discussing plans for getting to the Jedi cruiser on Bracca as fast as possible. You should have been participating in the discussion yourself, but you instead took the opportunity to wallow in your own self-pity, and to come up with things you would say if Hunter woke and immediately questioned everything you had said to him.

It was in the midst of this that you hear Omega’s hushed voice from Hunter’s other side. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

Your eyes widened as your head slowly turned in her direction. Omega’s brown gaze was piercing, but not in an uncomfortable way, as it flickered over your own expression. Even at her young age, she exuded a wisdom and a peace that was difficult to bring to words.

“He would have done the same to bring you back.” Omega nodded and gestured to the rest of the squad. “We all would.”

You let out a breathy chuckle and shook your head. “I’m not sure about that.”

Omega began to wear an amused smile. “You mean the kissing, and the ‘I love—.’”

“Shhh!” You held a finger to your lips and cut your gaze at the boys. They were still talking amongst themselves, completely unaware about whatever you and Omega were discussing. You narrowed your eyes at Omega. “How did you know that?”

Omega giggled and shrugged. “I guessed.” She snapped her fingers and pointed them at you like a blaster. “And I was right.”

You returned her smile, but only for a moment. It faded as your worries, and the overall heavy weight of the entire situation, settled over you once again. You closed your eyes and let out a long exhale. “It worked, Omega, but if I’m being honest?” You reopened your eyes to look at her. “I don’t know if I should’ve done it.”

Omega’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

You couldn’t meet her gaze as you instead studied the lines of Hunter’s face beside your own. He could always calm you down, even if he wasn’t awake to do it. “Because I don’t want him to think I didn’t mean it.”

Omega blinked once, then twice. She reached her hand over Hunter to quietly ask for yours. You accepted her small hand in your grasp, which left your entwined hands on Hunter’s armored thigh. Her stare never left yours as she went on. “Did you say it with your brain, Sunny,” she tapped the side of her head with her free hand, “or your heart?” She lowered her palm against her chest.

You took a gentle breath before answering. “My heart.”

Omega offered a small smile and a quick squeeze of her hand. “Then he’ll know the truth.” She raised an eyebrow. “I think he already knew.”

You narrowed your eyes at her again. “Why would you think that?”

Omega gave you a knowing look. “Everybody knows, Sunny.” She looked at the boys again, and your gaze followed hers. Their heads all whipped in different directions, as if they had just barely avoided being caught staring directly at you.

You huffed and shook your head. “Yeah, I guess it’s hard to hide feelings around here.”

“The mission was to bring him back, Sunny.” Omega’s voice was nothing but warmth as she went on. “And you did.” Her eyes welled with sudden emotion, but using her strength that had always amazed you, she kept it held back. “Thank you.”

You immediately softened, the strain of her voice pulling you full-force out of your self-pity as you instead opened yourself up to her. Omega stood just enough to move from Hunter’s side to yours, her arms wrapping tight around you. You held her back and leaned your head against hers, your eyes closing as you recognized this exact scene.

It was the perfect reversal of your journey to Kaller.

You and Omega stayed like that until the Marauder exited hyperspace. You were immediately shot with a new wave of adrenaline at the thought of having Hunter back so soon. Though he had physically been here, you all were painfully aware that it wasn't really him, not until that chip was out of his head. You were going to do everything you could to make sure that happened.

Once Tech had landed the ship as close to the Jedi cruiser as he could, you all geared up again and prepared for the trek. Wrecker yet again took care of Hunter, who was somehow still unconscious, as the rest of you led the way and made the path as easy for him as possible. An unsettling wave of déjà vu settled inside you, but you tapped into your buzzing adrenaline instead.

Tech stared at his datapad as he led the group inside the Jedi cruiser. Thankfully, you had already learned all its traps the last time, and Tech had—of course—made note of them. Since the others had still taken the time to remove their chips the last time you were here, Tech was also familiar with the process, too. Everything would be expedited.

Which meant you would be facing Hunter again, your Hunter, before you could really begin to process it. That excited you and scared you more than you thought possible.

As you arrived at the infirmary and Tech began to dial up the machine again, you began to run at least a thousand possibilities about what would happen the moment he woke in his right mind again. Rather than dwelling on yourself as you had for the majority of the trip here, you focused on Hunter alone. You had to have a plan for how you would help him through his own guilt of what he had done, because it would indubiously be there.

Wrecker set Hunter down and prepared him to be operated on. You steadied yourself with a breath and made your way over to his side. Gently, you lifted a hand to his bandana and slid it off, making room for the machine to do its work. As you brought your hand back towards yourself, you let your fingertips linger on the warmth of his skin along his defined and tattooed cheekbone.

After this moment, you would no longer have to see him as a stranger. Hopefully.

You held onto the bandana and looked at Tech, who was clearly waiting on you. You nodded. “Go ahead.”

Tech returned your nod and lowered his gaze to the controls. His fingers flew across them before the machine whirred to life and eased Hunter inside. You watched, your gaze glued to the sight, until Hunter’s body stopped again.

Tech spoke into the tense silence. “The process should only require a few standard minutes.” It was no doubt his attempt at reassurance, due to the fact you had all seen before how long this process took. “Though I am uncertain how long it will be before he wakes.”

Echo, who had his arms crossed Tech’s side, was the next to speak up. “Well, we’re not going anywhere until he does.”

You nodded before glancing over your shoulder at Wrecker and Omega. He had his hands on Omega’s shoulders as she stood in front of him and stared endlessly in Hunter’s direction.

You looked around and found one of the chairs you all had utilized the last time you were here, and you pulled it right up to Hunter’s side. Looking at Omega once again, you tapped the back of the chair, inviting her to sit in it. She smiled and stepped forward, letting Wrecker’s hands fall from her shoulders as she hopped onto it.

It was exactly where she had been for the others’ chip removals, and you wanted this one to feel just as normal for her—even if it was anything but.

Meanwhile, you and Wrecker both walked back towards Tech and Echo. Everyone remained quiet with anticipation, though the unspoken sentiment of hope shined brighter than the light that poured from the working machine. Hunter’s absence had been difficult on all of you, and at last, that trying time was coming to an end. In the waiting, all you could do was fumble with the material of his bandana in your hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat the moment the machine finished. Hunter’s body slowly slid back to where it had started, his expression displaying a different kind of serene than it had before, though that may have just been you fooling yourself. You stepped forward to slip his bandana back on, minding the bandage that had already attached itself to the side of his head. You knew he would want it back on when he woke.

But before you could even finish pulling your hands away, one of your wrists was suddenly grasped by a delicate touch. You let out a soft gasp and could only stand there, blinking in surprise with your jaw dropped, as Hunter’s dark eyes fluttered open.

Only they weren’t dark anymore. They were a sweet, golden brown again, sparkling more and more the longer he looked upon you.

Omega’s gasp at your side was much louder than yours had been. It drew you and Hunter apart as you both looked over at her, seeing the uncontainable joy and relief written all over her smiling face. “Hunter?” Her utterance of his name was strained with the same emotions you had seen on her expression.

Hunter chuckled, the sound breathy as he pushed himself to sit up. “Hey, kid.”

Omega couldn’t contain herself, and you couldn’t blame her. She all but leapt from the chair into his arms, holding onto him even more tightly than she had held you before. Hunter grunted in surprise, but the sound morphed into sweet laughter as he held her back. You pressed a hand against your warm chest and tried to take it all in.

The relief. The admiration. The overwhelming love…

Your eyes were watering before you could help it. All your fears from before returned and created a confusing mixture with the overjoyed emotions that had already been devouring you whole. You were drowning in a sea of dark devastation and breathless relief; he was right here, finally back to his true self, but you weren’t sure what he would think about how it had happened.

You stepped back, making room for Hunter to approach his brothers once he was done with Omega. But when Hunter patted her back to gently ease her away from him, he only had eyes for you, and they met your gaze with a stare so powerful that you truly did lose whatever air was left inside your lungs.

Hunter stood and closed the distance over to you. You were ready to fall into his arms the moment he opened them up to you, his gloved hand holding the back of your head and inviting you to bury yourself into him. You obliged, your soft cries muffled by his armor. He was holding you in a way he never had, certainly not in front of anyone else.

He waited, his other hand running over your back in soothing strokes, until you had mostly composed yourself. Only then did he ease his hand off your head and encourage you to look at him. 

You both said the same thing at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

Hunter furrowed his brow, his brown gaze studying yours as he lifted a hand to your cheek. “What are you apologizing for?”

You sniffed, your gaze falling to his chestplate as you gently pressed your hands upon it. Your voice was quiet and uncharacteristically timid as you spoke. “I shouldn’t have waited until then to say what I said.”

Hunter’s expression flashed with understanding, but you were surprised to see the corners of his mouth rising in a small smile. “You’re right.” His words made your heart drop until he caught it, using the same gentleness as the grasp he had taken on your chin to tilt your head back up at him. “You shouldn’t have had to wait, because I should have said it a long time ago.”

You blinked at him, your disbelief overwhelming every rational part of your mind. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

Hunter’s grin only widened as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. “We are.” He brought himself closer, the closest he had ever come to you with the others around, and whispered the words upon your lips. “I love you, too.”

Then, he kissed you. It wasn’t much, not with everyone’s attention on you, but it was just enough to prove that his words were anything but a simple reassurance to put you at ease. It was the wholehearted truth, one that was so easy to believe with him showing it to you by finally loving you out loud in the open for those he cared the most about to witness.

And your heart was a melted puddle in his hands, ready for him to do whatever he wished with it—because you knew it would be safe there.

When he pulled away, your gazes lingered the way you wished your lips could, the corners of your stinging mouth finally lifting the same way his had.

Unsurprisingly, it was Tech who broke the silence. “So that is the reason why your method would solely work on Hunter.”

You burst out into laughter, which only intensified as Hunter leveled his brother with a quizzical look. He wasn’t able to question it before Wrecker finally gave up on his restraint and practically barreled over to Hunter. “Welcome home, Sarge!” He cheered the words as he hugged Hunter tight enough to make him audibly gasp for air.

Hunter’s voice was a wheeze that he could only get out once Wrecker had set him down. “It’s good to be back.”

He maintained a warm smile as Echo and Tech approached him with warm handshakes and pats on the shoulder. Hunter’s expression, however, started to fall as his gaze did the very same.

“I’m sorry about everything that happened, and that you had to come after me like that.” His stare returned to you. “It was impossible to control, as much as I tried.”

Your hand mindlessly brushed over the scarred part of your shoulder. “We know.”

But that mindless action had accidentally drawn Hunter’s attention straight to the healed wound. He frowned as he walked back over to you, his gloved hand covering yours as he looked upon the scar. You couldn’t have written mortification more clearly over his face even if the word itself replaced the skull that was tattooed there.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was soft as you gently turned his cheek and set his stare back on your own. “Like you said, you couldn’t control it. I know that.” You nodded at the rest of the squad. “We all do.”

Hunter’s jaw circled. “Still.” His voice was much lower than before. You softened even more as you ran your thumb over his cheek. He took a deep breath and nodded at you. “I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.”

You smiled at him. “You never even hurt me the first time.” Your gaze flickered over to the bandage that hid underneath his bandana. “That wasn’t you. I saw the blaster shaking. I know you were trying to fight it the best you could.”

Hunter closed his eyes in defeat, a heavy exhale falling from his lips. You leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek, which encouraged him to look up at you again. “I couldn’t fight it.” His face morphed into determination as he went on. “And I’m far from the only one who was affected by it.”

Hunter stepped back from you, inviting a patient Omega to his side as he did so. She was eager to take her place there, her arms wrapping around his waist as he set a gloved hand on her back. The sight alone warmed your body like the sunlight.

“Tech, I assume you’ve already found the most optimal route back here?”

Tech nodded. “That is precisely how I got us here this time around.”

Hunter returned his nod and set his shoulders. “Good, because we’re not done with this place yet.” He spoke with a decisiveness that made it clear he wouldn’t ever be moving on the matter. “It’s time to bring Crosshair home.”

You beamed at him, as did the rest of the squad. If you could find and bring back Hunter, then it was possible to do the same for Crosshair, too, no matter how long it had been. Hunter’s gaze found yours as he offered you a warm, loving smile that you had no choice but to return.

This time, you wouldn’t be doing it without him. He was back, as sure of himself as ever, and he wasn’t backing down on anything anymore—not on finding Crosshair, and certainly not on the way you two felt about each other. Those days of dancing around each other were over.

This nightmare would be hard to forget, but maybe it really did have a bright side after all, because it had set you inside a dream you never thought possible.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020