#last night we had the usual group over for dinner and they started talking about recent couples formed in our acquaintance

[whenthegoldrays]

still shook

[aquaticmercy]

Breaking Point

Summary : You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Enemies to Lovers and Confessions! Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Past trauma. Cursing. Violence. Injury. A bit of Jealous!Bucky.

Requested by : @beansprout713

Word count : 4.8k

Note : Enemies to Lovers will always be so good to write about. Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You adjusted your coat, clutching your purse as you strolled back toward the Avengers compound after your date. Your head hung low from the frankly underwhelming night you shared with Ryan, a guy you’d met through a mutual friend. 

Ryan was a librarian. He was perfectly fine, perfectly handsome, perfectly polite. But you weren’t looking for perfect. You sighed. 

He talked about his job, about how a group of school kids making noise had been annoying him. When he asked about yours, you shifted in your seat with unease. You can’t really tell the whole truth. What would that even sound like?

Oh, I went on a mission last week and shot a guy. Don't worry, he was a bad guy.

You would’ve sounded ridiculous.

In the end, Ryan was just another normal person. He couldn’t keep up with you, with your life, being an avenger. With this line of work, you wondered if you’d ever find love. 

You were halfway up the steps to the entrance when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes stood by the doors, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes locked on you as soon as you came into his view. The outdoor light cast long shadows across his face, strengthening the sharpness of his features.

Bucky watched you walked up the steps. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the aching swirl inside him. It was easier to push you away, to let the sharp edges of his words do the damage before you could get any closer, even if he could not deny how beautiful you were underneath the dark glow of the night sky. His gut twisted, knowing you put in all this effort for some half-decent guy who could never give you enough, not that you needed to put any effort at all. He shook his thoughts away, eyes narrowing. 

Great, you thought. The last thing you needed tonight was to deal with his brooding attitude. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever sharp remark he was about to throw your way.

Bucky stepped closer, his chest only inches from yours now, and the proximity sent a jolt of heat through you. His gaze flickered down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again.

"Out late, aren’t we?" His voice was low.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you opened the door to the compound. "It's called having a life, Barnes. You should try it sometime."

He followed you inside, his boots heavy against the floor. "A life, huh?" He scoffed, his tone harsher than usual. “That’s what you call having dinner with some guy who won’t last longer than a week?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something else behind it—something you couldn't quite identify. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and the air between you crackled with a tension you had always felt with him. 

You swallowed hard. "Why do you care who I spend my nights with?" you replied, your voice shakier than you intended. 

His jaw clenched. "Maybe I care because none of those guys know what you really need." His voice was gravelly, and the implication in his words made your stomach flip. For a second, you couldn’t breathe.

You quickly brushed his words. "And you think you do?" you shot back, but your voice faltered. 

Bucky left the question open, not knowing how to respond. Instead, he did what he always does best. He deflected. "You can’t keep a boyfriend because you’re too brash. Too loud."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, the pain twisting in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. He always had a way of cutting deep, but this was different. Calling out your coping mechanisms seemed too low, even for Bucky.

"Wow." Your voice wavered slightly, but you quickly steadied it, refusing to let him see just how much he affected you. "You really know how to hit where it hurts, don’t you?"

Bucky didn’t respond. For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe. But he didn’t apologise. Instead, he turned away, his metal arm flexing at his side.

"Just go to bed," he muttered, almost condescending except for the hint of softness in his voice. "I need you well rested for the mission tomorrow."

As much as you and Bucky outwardly despised each other, the two of you were surprisingly effective partners in the field. Again and again, you found yourselves paired together. You never complained, though. There was an undeniable intimacy in your partnership that you craved, even if Bucky hated your guts.

"Is this really about the mission?” Your anger bubbled to the surface. 

His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop you from moving too far past him. His metal fingers were cool against your skin, his blue eyes alight with frustration. "It’s about you not taking things seriously.” He said, almost sneering. “Instead of preparing your gear, you're off with some random guy. Do you even care?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of him. 

"I care more than you think, Bucky," you said quietly, pulling your arm away from his grip.  "But you don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t know why I am the way I am."

Bucky’s expression softened slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly snapped it shut, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. The truth was, he’d been watching you for months. Not just on missions, but in moments like these, when you thought you were alone. You wore your confidence like armour, but sometimes, when you let it slip, he caught glimpses of something deeper. Something that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way he did, whatever that feeling was. Whatever the racing heart in his chest meant. Whatever the butterflies in his stomach meant. 

But he couldn’t let himself go there. 

The silence between you was unbearable, and finally, you turned away.

"Let’s just get through tomorrow without killing each other, okay?" you muttered. Without waiting for his response, you walked away, leaving him standing alone..

Why did he always do this? 

He didn’t know half of what you carried. Didn’t know what it was like to lose—to build your walls higher every time someone left, because that was the only way to survive.

Or maybe he knew too much of what it was like.

You spent your life keeping people at arm's length. Dates were fine. Fun. Superficial. They didn't ask for more than you were willing to give. You could smile, laugh, let your guard down just enough to feel normal, but never enough to let anyone in. 

Bucky—he was too close. He saw too much. He could cut through the walls with one sentence, and it scared you.

As you made your way back to your bedroom, part of you wondered—what would happen if you let him in?

What a stupid thought. 

—

The next morning, the air between you and Bucky was still cold, your argument from the night before hanging in the air like a hurricane. You were briefed on the mission, but you barely paid attention. Your mind was still reeling from the sting of Bucky’s words. And you hated that he had the power to make you feel this way.

In the quinjet, silence filled the space between you, making the air feel too thick and heavy to breathe. Bucky sat across from you, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. You stole a glance at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched tight, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes as he glanced at you. Regret, maybe?

“Look," you muttered, breaking the silence. "About last night—"

“Don’t," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "Let’s focus on the mission."

You swallowed, biting back whatever words had been forming. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.

The knot in your chest tightened. You wanted to tell him—wanted to say something to bridge the gap between you, but the walls were still there, and neither of you was ready to break them down.

—

The mission was supposed to be simple. You and Bucky had done this a hundred times—get in, gather intel, get out. He was the shadow, slipping in unnoticed, while you were the distraction, loud and violent, drawing the guards’ fire away. 

You took point, leading the guards away with your usual brashness. Something that Bucky criticized you for.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement. Most of the time, his gaze felt like scrutiny, like he was waiting for you to mess up. But today there was something else. Protectiveness, perhaps?

As you manoeuvred through the base, you split up. You were supposed to patrol the halls, distract any guards, draw fire from Bucky to you. Bucky was supposed to secure the intel. You stopped in the centre, where you were supposed to wait for communications right about now. 

Where is he? you thought, scanning for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to signal once he’d reached the server room. But the silence on the comms was making you nervous.

Your instincts kicked in, as you heard more guards coming from your left. 

You cursed, ready for confrontation.

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Normally, you could feel his presence. But now, something was different. The usual synchrony between you two felt… off.

Suddenly, the footsteps halted as gunfire erupted in the distance, shattering the uneasy quiet. Your heart raced. That wasn’t part of the plan. Bucky wasn’t supposed to engage until he had the data. The sound of gunshots rang in your ears, echoing in the corridors of the enemy base.

“Barnes, what the hell’s going on?” you hissed into the comms, trying to keep your voice steady. No response.

Your breath hitched. Something was wrong. Your steps quickened, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sound of shouting and footsteps grew closer. Where the hell is he?

You ran towards where Bucky was supposed to be. Rounding a corner, suddenly a gunshot rang out—close. Too close.

A sharp pain seared across your side as you dove for cover behind a stack of crates. You cursed under your breath, pressing your hand to the wound. Blood oozed through your fingers. The bullet had grazed you, which was survivable, but the sting was enough to remind you just how dangerous this was becoming. 

You shot your attacker with your last bullet, bullseye on the center of their forehead. The body went stiff, still on the ground. Brutal. Clean. Necessary.

“Where are you, Barnes?” you muttered, your breath coming in ragged bursts, but you were only met with static from the other line. You were supposed to be the distraction, but without his backup, you felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Damn it, this isn’t working. You threw away the comms and crushed it beneath your heel.

You heard the commotion getting closer and closer, and then suddenly the gunfire stopped. Maybe Bucky had been able to disarm the enemy and was making a run for it. 

You glanced over the edge of a crate. Your eyes widened, spotting the sniper hidden on the corner, by an air vent, aiming on your head. Your heart pounded, knowing you don’t have the energy to dodge another shot. 

You took a deep breath, readying for impact.

Then, there was a flash of movement—Bucky!

He appeared out of nowhere, barreling toward you just as the sniper lined up his next shot.

“Move!” he shouted, his voice brimming with panic. 

Before you could react, his body slammed into yours, tackling you to the ground. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground hard, his weight pinning you down. 

Bucky’s chest pressed against your back, his breath heavy in your ear as he shielded you from the line of fire. His metal arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and despite the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the heat of his body, the way it made your skin tingle. But the relief was short-lived.

The next sound you heard was a grunt of pain.

You twisted beneath him just in time to see Bucky stumble, his hand clutching his side. Blood. Too much blood. It soaked through his tactical suit, spreading rapidly as he slumped back, his face pale with pain.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you scrambled to your feet, gently laying him on the ground before he could fall. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him upright, but he was heavy, his body sagging against yours.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, his voice strained, but the way he leaned on you told a different story.

You felt the adrenaline surge through your body, giving you the last boost of energy you needed. You grabbed Bucky’s rifle, blindly shooting at the direction of the sniper. 

You weren’t shooting clean shots anymore. You didn’t care. You didn’t stop until you saw the body fall on the floor. 

You scrambled back to Bucky. 

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and fear as you pressed your hand to the wound in his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Why didn’t you stay in position? You weren’t supposed to—”

“To what?” he rasped, wincing as he tried to move. “Let you die?”

“I had it under control!” you shot back, hough you knew it was a lie. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, but the closeness only fueled your anger. “If you had just stayed where you were—”

“You were in the open. I had to—” Bucky interrupted, his voice sharper than before, his eyes dark with frustration. His hands tapped his pocket, making sure he had the intel you came here for.

“I was doing my job, Bucky!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his arm. The fear bubbling up in your chest was quickly being overtaken by anger, the unresolved tension from last night’s fight bleeding into the moment. “But you—damn it, why do you always have to make everything harder than it is?!”

His eyes met yours, blazing with frustration. “I’m the one keeping you alive!” he growled, stepping closer despite the pain radiating from his wound. “You never listen—”

“You don’t trust me!” you accused him, your voice shaking when you noticed the bleeding wasn’t slowing. Did it hit an artery? “and now you’re hurt because you had to play the hero!”

His jaw clenched, his hand gripping your arm tightly as he struggled to stay upright. “I don’t—” He stopped, his voice catching as the weight of your words sank in. His eyes flickered with something that made your heart twist. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession was so quiet, so raw, that it hit you harder than any bullet could have. 

Your anger faltered, the heat of the moment cooling as you stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Bucky…” you started, but the words died on your lips.

Soon, you heard hostile footsteps growing louder in the distance. You didn’t have time for this. Not now.

You tore your gaze from his, focusing on the immediate task at hand—getting him out of here. 

You supported Bucky as best you could, half-dragging him through the enemy base toward the extraction point. His body was heavy against yours, his breaths shallow, but he still had enough strength to keep his arm around you, guiding you through the chaos.

“Stay with me, Barnes,” you muttered, your voice tight with worry as you half-ran, half-stumbled through the corridors.

Bucky groaned in response, his grip on you tightening, his weight sagging against your side. “Are you even… strong enough to carry me?” he gritted out, his voice laced with pain. There was a flicker of his usual sarcasm there, a sign he was still fighting.

You shot him a glare, even as panic clawed at your chest. There was a hint of charm in his voice this time, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. “Don’t make me regret saving your ass.”

His weight pressed heavily on your shoulders, and his blood soaked into your gear, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every time his breathing hitched, you pushed yourself harder, refusing to let the fear of losing him take over.

—

By the time you got him back to the quinjet, Bucky was barely conscious. You worked frantically to stabilise him, your hands shaking as you hooked him up to an IV and bandaged the wound as best as you could with the limited supplies on hand.

When you finally returned to the Avengers compound, they wheeled him away to the med bay, and despite the doctors’ reassurances that he’d pull through, you refused to leave his side. 

For the rest of the night, you stayed by his bedside. 

Sam dropped by a couple of times, bringing you water and food you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. On his third visit, he lingered, watching you with a knowing expression. Bucky was still unconscious, the steady rhythm of the EKG was the only sound in the room as you stared at him. Your hands clutched the arms of your chair as if holding onto something solid would stop your thoughts from spiraling.

“You’ve been here a while,” Sam said softly, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room. “You should eat something.”

He pointed at the bottle and sandwich he had brought a couple of hours ago. You nodded faintly, but your eyes didn’t leave Bucky. “I’m not hungry.”

Sam sat in the chair next to you, his gaze flicking between you and Bucky. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"So..." he started, drawing out the word like he was testing the waters, "you finally decide to stop dancing around each other or what?"

You shot him a glare, but it lacked the amusement you usually reserved for his teasing. "Sam, not now."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Sam replied, holding his hands up in defence. "It's been months of this weird tension, and now you're sitting here like you're at the end of some romantic drama. It's about time you said something."

“Can we not do this now?" You repeated, snapping this time, though you did not mean to. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam reassured you quietly, now aware of your agitation, “You don’t need to sit here all night worrying.”

“I’m not…” you trailed off, realising how defensive you were being. With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair. “I… I should’ve seen the sniper sooner.”

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know Bucky. He wasn’t about to let you take that hit, no matter what.”

You glanced at Bucky, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lowered your voice, scared that he would somehow hear you. “I don’t understand why he’s always like this. One minute he’s insulting me, and the next, he’s throwing himself in front of bullets for me.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You matter more to him than you think.”

You scoffed quietly, not quite believing him. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“Listen,” Sam said, his tone soft but firm. “Bucky… he’s complicated. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. But the fact that you’re sitting here, all torn up over him? Makes me think his feelings aren’t one-sided.”

You looked over at Sam with visceral scepticism in your eyes. 

Sam leaned forward again, his expression serious now. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Hell, he gets jealous of the guys you go out with.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sam’s words sink in. The argument with Bucky from the previous night echoed in your mind—his harsh words, the way he’d cut into you so deeply, as if trying to push you away. Was that really how his jealousy manifested? 

Then there was today, how he’d risked his life without hesitation to save you.

“He nearly died today,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “Because of me.”

“He didn’t do it because he had to.” Sam shook his head. “He did it because it was you.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Sam’s words settling in your chest. You had always felt the tension between you and Bucky, the unspoken something that simmered beneath the surface, but you had never let yourself fully confront it. Maybe because it was too scary to admit. Maybe because you feared that caring about someone like Bucky Barnes carried more risk than you were willing to take.

You blinked back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know what to do...” with all this information you had just dumped on me. 

Sam smiled faintly, standing up and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just be here when he wakes up.”

You watched as Sam walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again. You let your eyes fall back to his sleeping form, his face still pale but peaceful. You reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.

—

Hours had passed before Bucky finally stirred. The room was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, thick with the scent of blood and sweat. You sat beside him, your body drained, shoulders hunched over. Your mind stayed alert—unable to tear your focus from him for even a second. 

“Bucky?” Your voice was hoarse, cracking under the pressure of everything you had witnessed, everything you had felt. 

His eyelids fluttered as if fighting to lift a weight the weight of the world. For a long, quiet moment, he just stared at you, eyes cloudy and disoriented. “You’re still here,” he mumbled, his voice fragile.

“Of course, I’m still here,” you shot back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the tenderness that hid behind it. Your emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. His muscles tensed as he attempted to sit up, but a grimace of pain shot across his face, stopping him short. “You should’ve let me handle it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, frustration leaking into his voice. Not because he had been shot, but because it broke his heart seeing you here. You looked so weak and sleep deprived. You looked so tired, your wounds untended.

The anger that had been quietly burning inside you flared. You rose to your feet, the chair scraping the floor in the silence. Your conversation with Sam swam in the back of your mind, but old habits die hard. “Handle what, Bucky? Getting shot?” 

His gaze snapped to yours, the weariness in his eyes replaced with a flash of cold steel. “Why does it matter to you if I live or die?” His voice cut through the room, louder now, tinged with a bitterness. 

The question hit you like a blow, freezing you in place. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, the truth clawing at your throat. Every wall you’d carefully constructed around yourself, every defence you had in place, crumbled in an instant. Before you could stop yourself, the words you had fought so hard to keep buried tore free.

“Because I fucking care about you!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I care about you so much that I have to pretend I don’t just to keep myself sane! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The air between you felt electric. Bucky’s eyes widened, the force of your confession hanging in the space between you, churning like a wave ready to break. He didn’t move, didn’t speak at first, just stared at you as if seeing something he couldn’t comprehend.

Then, after a beat that seemed to stretch into eternity, his voice came, a low, gravelly whisper that was almost lost in the silence. “You think I don’t feel the same?” His words trembled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before.

Your breath caught, and your body stilled. Maybe Sam was right, the realisation dawned on you.

His voice was cracking under the strain of emotions he’d long suppressed, grunting as he sat up. “I push you away because it’s easier than admitting how much I—” His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to say what he’d buried for so long. “If I let myself feel it... if I let myself get close to you... I’ll lose you. And I can’t—” His voice faltered, breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

Your heart wrenched at his words, at the fear so raw in his voice. Slowly, you took a step toward him, your legs trembling beneath you. The distance between the two of you had never felt so vast, even though it was only a few feet. “Bucky…” The anger, the frustration—it had drained away. Your voice was softer now than it has ever been with him, gentle. You sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.

He looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw everything you had ever felt mirrored back at you—the fear, the longing, the unspoken love that had always been there but never acknowledged. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally let the walls fall completely. 

“It’s easier than admitting how much I—” Bucky tried again, but couldn’t finish. The words weren’t enough. 

You closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your hands reaching for him, pulling him into you, and your lips crashed against his with a force that felt like it could shatter the walls around you. 

The kiss was desperate, letting go of everything you had kept at bay for so long. It was raw, unfiltered. It was an outpouring of all the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore. There was nothing but you and him, the world outside of this fading away into nothingness.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling in sync, your foreheads pressed together as if you were trying to ground yourselves. The gravity of what had been revealed was too much for you to process.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we?”

Bucky's breath was shaky, his forehead still resting against yours as he struggled to find the right words. His hands hovered at your waist, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let you go. The vulnerability in his eyes, raw and unguarded, mirrored yours.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse, barely audible. “But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings, afraid of what he might find there. “You… you matter to me. More than anything or anyone.”

The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ribcage. You didn’t know how to respond—your thoughts in a tangled mess. 

“Bucky…” You started, unsure of where to begin, but the words just didn’t come. You reached up, cupping his face gently with your hand, brushing your thumb across the stubble on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a shaky exhale escaping his lips.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “I’ve lost so much. I’m scared—” He broke off.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, the words firm, even though fear still lingered in the back of your mind. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as the weight of your words settled. Bucky stared at you, pressing his forehead against yours once more, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly.

“Together,” he repeated softly.

The room was quiet again, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound that broke the silence. You sat there, holding each other in the stillness.

And maybe, someday soon, you’d have the courage to say what you both had wanted to say:

I love you.

-end

[justnatoka]

Actions...

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: slight physical violence (manager grabs reader's arm), verbal abuse

Prompt: “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” / “Yes.” / “What if I just break his nose a little?”

Summary: The boys have been coming to the diner you’re waiting tables at for a while. Your manager is not a fan. One night things escalate.

Part 1/2

Next Part

The bell chimed above the door, signaling the arrival of new customers. You looked up after placing the food in front of an older couple, and a bright smile lit up your face as you saw the group of four that just walked in. David and his gang have been coming to the diner for months now. They showed up one night, seemingly curious about the new place that had just opened on the boardwalk. You took their order, they made a few flirty remarks, you flirted right back, and that was it. They obviously took a liking to you and have been coming back every other night. It was honestly the highlight of your day, your stomach flipping in excitement every time. Even if they barely ordered anything, they still spent hours there, and you made an effort to go over to them and chat when work got slower and you had some time.

Your manager clearly didn’t like that. He complained before that they make other customers uncomfortable – although it didn’t seem that way to you –, and chastised you for encouraging them to spend so much time there. He made it a point to give you meaningless tasks so you wouldn’t have time for them, making them leave quicker. He had also been making snide remarks about them and glaring at their table to the point that they started noticing it.

You could basically hear him rolling his eyes from behind the counter as you walked up to their booth and greeted them.

“Hey guys, long time no see,” you joked.

“Hi babe, did you miss us?” Paul purred resting his head in his hand, giving you a dreamy look.

“Maybe,” you smiled coyly. “Maybe not. Who knows?”

“You’re such a tease,” he pouted, but his eyes were smiling.

“You know you like it, Paulie.”

“Oh, I absolutely love it,” he grinned right back at you.

You chuckled. “What can I get you guys? The usual?”

“Can I have you for dinner, sugar? I promise I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to,” Marko said with a shit eating grin on his face.

“You and gentle are on two different planets when it comes to eating, Marko. Babe, if I were you, I wouldn’t let his teeth near me.”

Marko swatted at Paul, who grabbed a menu to shield himself. “Shut up, dude. You’re no better either. You make even bigger messes than I do.”

“Not true.”

“Who complained about his pants getting ruined just a few days ago? Again.”

“Come on, man, that was one time.”

“Like I said. Again.”

“Yeah? Well you-“

“Boys,” David interjected before it could get any more out of hand. “How about we order already?” His tone sounded casual, but there was an edge to it that caused the other two to begrudgingly back down. It was a good thing too. Some of the other customers were already staring at the commotion, shuffling uncomfortably in their seats and whispering among themselves. You could feel your manager practically glaring holes into the back of your head.

They proceeded to give you their orders one by one, and after writing them down and sending them one last smile, you went to relay the orders to the cook. That’s when your manager walked up to you, his stormy expression promising nothing good.

“I need to talk to you for a second,” he stated.

Holding back an eye roll you nodded, “Sure.”

“I told you before that they are not welcome here,” he started, sending a glance towards their table. “Tell those punks to behave or they’ll get kicked out. This is a respectable establishment. We don’t want some hooligans bringing down our reputation.”

You wondered whether he had the balls to do the kicking out himself, but all you said aloud was “Yes, sir.”

When you brought out their food, Dwayne caught your wrist to get your attention.

“Is he giving you trouble again?” He motioned with his eyes towards the kitchen, and you looked to see your manager staring out the little window cut into the door.

“It’s fine, nothing I can’t deal with,” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice. Dwayne gave you a concerned look but nodded, trusting your word.

“Thanks for checking in with me though,” you added, feeling a little bashful all of a sudden, not really used to people caring this much about your well-being.

“Of course,” he smiled back at you.

After giving them their food, you wanted to stay and chat for a bit more, seeing as there weren’t many customers, but you could still feel the glare of your manager so you thought better of it. You went back behind the counter and started wiping it down.

You busied yourself with other tasks for a while, refilling a few coffee cups and making small talk while doing so, cleaning up tables after customers left and taking the orders of new arrivals. Even so, you kept stealing glances at them, blushing when you caught David already looking at you a few times. You noticed that he had a habit of following you around with his eyes while you were working, and although you were slightly unnerved at first, now it felt reassuring to know that he was constantly watching over you.

Tearing your eyes from him you wondered, not for the first time, what their life might be like outside these nightly visits. As much as you’ve gotten to know them these past few months, they were still an enigma in a sense. You haven’t seen them around town during the day before, and every time you asked questions about their background, they skillfully redirected the conversation. So you stopped inquiring, afraid that your prodding will drive them away. For now, you were satisfied with just having them here every other night, brightening up your shift with some light flirting and laughter.

Speaking of laughter, you looked up at the sound of a commotion, only to see Marko dodging a fry chucked at his head by Paul and quickly countering with an attack of his own. Paul barely had time to hold up his menu, the handful of fries bouncing off its surface and onto the seat between them, some of it dropping to the floor. He just let down his impromptu shield, when an onion ring landed right in the middle of his face. The whole table burst out laughing, and he was pointing an accusatory finger at Dwayne, who was shrugging his shoulders with a grin. David was leaning back, watching the food fight with amusement, sipping on his drink.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics, not even bothered that you will have to clean up the mess they created. You headed to the back to get a broom, already thinking about a witty line to tell them off. You just turned around to go back out there, when your manager grabbed your arm. Startled, you let go of the broom and it loudly clattered to the floor.

As you looked into his eyes, you saw that he was seething.

“You tell these low-lives to get the hell out of here right now. Enough is enough. They are loud, not respecting other customers, and now they are making a huge mess by throwing food around. I’ve had it up to here with all this. If they keep coming back I’ll have to do something about it,” he hissed at you, then gave you a look which made you feel like dirt under his shoe. “It would also help a lot if you weren’t encouraging them. Batting your eyelashes like a common whore. You think I couldn’t replace you within a few days? You need to start behaving like a professional or so help me I’ll kick you to the curb.”

His grip on you was tightening with each word, and you tried not to flinch. You’ve never seen him so angry before and it was starting to scare you.

“I’m just trying to be friendly with the customers…”

He wasn’t having any of it. “Enough with the fucking excuses. You go over there and tell them to get out right now.”

“Yes, sir,” you squeaked out and as soon as he let you go, you rushed out of there, broom forgotten on the floor.

David was already looking at you when you approached them. His eyes were on you the second you stepped out of the door, his mood darkening as he took you in. Dwayne picked up on it as well, following his gaze to you. He became alert when he saw your stiff posture, your fingers nervously fidgeting with your apron.

“Hey, dollface,” Paul greeted you with a radiant smile, “have you tried this milkshake before? It’s fucking amazing.”

His grin instantly disappeared from his face when you didn’t smile back.

“Everything okay, babe?” he asked, a bit unsure.

You gave him a sigh before you spoke, “I’m sorry, guys, but you have to leave.” There was silence at the table.

“He did this to you?” Marko’s voice was cold as he asked while staring at your arm, where a bruise was already starting to form.

“Marko, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you tried and failed to calm him down. He looked like he was fuming, ready to explode.

“Sweetheart, that’s not nothing,” Dwayne spoke up next, his jaw tight.

David didn’t say anything, but he was glaring down your manager with such intensity, that you saw him scramble back into the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Marko stated, and you had no doubt that he would if you let him.

“Please don’t. I need this job to pay my bills,” you sighed. You were getting exhausted at this point, and just wanted this shift to be over.

“Has he done this before? Hurt you?” Paul asked the question all of them wanted to know the answer to.

“No, he just likes to remind me that I’m a failure,” you smiled wryly. “But it’s nothing I can’t deal with. I promise.”

“Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” Marko repeated, this time with the corner of his mouth turning upward into a little smirk.

“Yes.”

“What if I just break his nose a little?” Now he was full on grinning.

You snorted. “Man, I would pay money to see that! But like I said, I really need this job. And if you do break his nose, even just a little bit, I’m sure as hell getting fired.”

David finally spoke up. “Alright, we won’t cause you any more trouble. Let’s go, boys.”

They all stood up, filing out one by one, each of them sending death stares towards your manager peeking through the kitchen door. You watched their retreating figures through the window for a second longer, already dreading how much more boring your shifts are going to be from now on if they don’t come back.

Out in the parking lot Dwayne turned to David. “We’re going to do something about this, right?”

“Yes, we’re definitely doing something about it.” He sent a smirk to the others, and as they silently communicated down the plan, they began grinning as well. They got on their bikes, and with a lot of heavy revving, they sped off into the night. It was a promise for later.

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

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History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNOFFICIAL

A/N: i know, it's still not the 3rd part of one summer BUT at least it's something new! it is also based on a dream i had about my work crush lol

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: You and Harry are in a temporary phase of bein unofficial, but you don't mind it, especially the tiny moments you share when no one is looking.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The pub is buzzing as always, the atmosphere is lively, warm, loud but not too much, most of the tables are occupied by the same usual people, glasses, ful, half full and empty are scattered all over every surface. The bartenders are working relentlessly behind the bar, one drink after the other lands on the counter.  It’s not exactly the hottest spot in town, but there’s a core circle that knows and loves the personality of this place and it brings them back every week.

Your group is part of those people, you’ve been spending Friday nights here for as long as you’ve been working at the university, which has been for over two years now. You were fresh out of your PHD studies, very excited to start teaching as a professor finally and who you are lucky enough to call your friends now welcomed you at the school with open arms. 

Sarah was the first one you connected with, women in STEM have a deep, instant bond, especially in a male dominant field such as physics. She invited you out for lunch on your first day and introduced you to the rest of the group. Mitch, the quiet but loving husband, Jeff who speaks enough for Mitch and himself as well, Pauli, the energy bomb and then there’s Harry.

It still makes you smile when you think of the first few months of knowing Harry. You were convinced he didn’t like you, because he seemed timid and tense in your presence, almost avoiding having even the simplest conversation with you. One night when the two of you ended up sharing a cab home from the pub and you had just one too many beers you questioned if you’d done anything to upset him.

He looked shocked and explained that he’s just a bit slow to open up to new people and he was also a bit taken aback by you and how extroverted and bubbly you were. He apologized if it all came off wrong, you laughed about it and it was already forgotten.

Since then, you’ve gotten the closest to him. In every way. 

Sarah is telling you about a funny encounter she had with a student this week, she always has the weirdest stories, you’re listening to her, but your sixth sense also kicks in and as the door of the pub opens you know it’s Harry even before looking there. 

He runs a hand through his hair as he looks around, his glasses fogging up a bit in the hot air of the place after the crispy, chilly october evening he has walked through. He was supposed to leave with all of you but he had to do a last minute consultation with a student, so he just told you to go ahead and he would join you later. 

You’re already smiling when he finally spots you and slaloming between the groups of people he finally reaches your table.

“Man, I thought we would have to go back and drag you out of your office,” Jeff teases him as he shrugs his coat off and takes the last empty seat by the table that’s right next to yours. His knee bumps against yours, your eyes meet and you force yourself not to turn into a giggling mess.

You and Harry have been dancing in a kind of a gray, unofficial zone for a while now. After the rocky start your friendship bloomed easily, but since last semester it’s been more than that. You have no idea when or how, but slowly, you just knew you were more than friends. It started with meeting without the rest of the group, having lunch or dinner, making plans, just the two of you, endless conversations, building a connection you’ve probably never had with anyone before. Secret glances, small touches, you fell for him without even realizing. 

The past month it’s been intensifying, but you still haven’t talked about it, not even after you kissed a few weeks ago. It happened at your place, so naturally and smoothly, you were cooking together, he had opened a bottle of wine and you were just having a good time, moving around each other in your small kitchen until you ended up pressed up together, noses brushing and he just leaned in and kissed you. It was soft and tender, warm and familiar even though it was a first. Like you were meant to be kissing all along. 

Then you just went back to cooking, had dinner and later that night when he left he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and that was it. Neither of you felt the need to talk about it, but it’s been definitely hanging there between the two of you, you just haven’t had that last nudge to finally fall over the edge and right into this new adventure.

“Sorry, tried to be as quick as possible,” Harry chuckles as he looks around, his eyes settling on you last and you see a bit of sparkle in his eyes that definitely has your heart skipping a beat. 

With Harry’s arrival the group is finally complete and another fun Friday evening starts. You ventilate about work and students, then the boys play darts for a bit, Pauli wins as always and then Jeff challenges Sarah and Mitch to play foosball and see who’s the better player and the rest of you are watching their battle. The place is pretty packed, you’re standing by the foosball table and Harry is right behind you, nursing his second beer of the night. People are passing by towards the toilets and back to the bar, it’s noisy in there, but not too much. Harry’s presence behind you is warm and calming, his chest touches your back whenever someone walks past behind him, but he always pulls back, though you wish he would just stay. 

A guy chooses to squeeze past between you and the table, making you move back, bumping against Harry and his hand gently grabs onto your waist, the touch of his palm instantly spreading a buzzing warmth in your body. You fit his front so perfectly and you want to stay like this, but you can already feel his hand moving away, but you grab it and pull it back.

There’s just a split moment of hesitation in him before his whole presence softens and he melts against you, his hand resting on your hip as if it belongs there. 

You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips, especially when he shuffles a bit behind you, his nose brushing into your hair and maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear you feel him kiss the back of your head.

Across the table Pauli just smirks as he catches what’s happening while the Rowlands are playing so determinedly like never before, but he keeps his mouth shut and returns to the game without a word. 

Harry’s fingers are gently moving, stroking you as you stay like that, until the end of the game, which Sarah wins. You want to pout when Harry lets go of you because you all move back to your table, but you swallow it back. After the ruthless game Sarah offers to buy a drink for Mitch so they head over to the bar and Pauli soon stands up as well.

“Jeff, come out for a smoke with me,” Pauli pats his shoulders.

“I’m good,” Jeff nods at him, oblivious to the fact that Pauli is trying to give you and Harry some alone time.

“No, you need to come. I wanna talk to you about something.”

You just laugh under your breath as you hear Jeff asking Pauli what’s so important as they make their way outside, leaving you and Harry alone at the table. Neither of you dares to look at the other, not because it would be weird but because you know the pull would be way too strong. 

Instead, Harry reaches over, his hand finds yours in your lap and he laces his fingers through yours, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. For some reason you feel the urge to finally try to address it for the first time.

“Is it still something unofficial?” you ask and dare to look at him. 

“We can make it official,” he shrugs with a tiny smirk and you just want to climb over and kiss him stupid when he is being so cheesy.

“I kind of like it being unofficial. Because… it’s just ours for now,” you admit. 

There’s nothing you want more than to explore whatever it is that’s between you and Harry, but this phase is so comfortable and only yours, you want to be selfish just for a little bit more and keep it to yourself.

Keep Harry to yourself.

“Unofficial it is,” he chuckles and ignoring the buzzing crowd around, he pulls your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it before letting go of it as Sarah and Mitch approach the table. 

For the rest of the night, it’s all just stolen glances, tiny touches underneath the table and no one comments on just how close the two of you are sitting. It’s kind of funny how obvious it is to all of your friends, but they let you stay in your little unofficial bubble just a little longer. 

You share a cab home and Harry kisses you on your doorstep before getting back into the car. In the morning he texts you if you want to have dinner together and of course you do. You spend the weekend in your bubble, but soon enough, you slowly dance out of the unofficial phase and by the end of the semester everyone knows that you’re a couple.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[acewoo]

Jjk men Bf head-cannons

Note: pure fluff, Sfw Characters included: Gojo, Geto, and sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo will send you tonssss of voice messages talking about literally anything. He’ll be on his couch laying down and he’ll send you a voice message about how the show he’s watching is so boring. “The female lead doesn’t even have any personality and is just there to make the male lead look good!” You’ll complain to him sometimes that he send too many of these voice messages but, he responds that it couldn’t be true because, you love the sound of his voice. (And to be fair you do listen to every one he sends.)

Gojo cannot cook for the life of him. Anytime you try to teach him something wrong will always happen. For example you tired showing him how to make spaghetti and meatballs which is simple enough, right? Wrong. Because Gojo, not only ended up burning the pasta (somehow which still boggles your mind to this day) but, the meatballs weren’t exactly balls… They were certainly meat, and they tasted like meatballs but… they were only shaped to say the least.

Gojo definitely spoils you. And anytime you try to tell him he's doing too much he’ll come up with an excuse for why buying you a 180.00 skirt was necessary. “Well I had to get it, it was the last one and it’d work perfectly for that Christmas party we're attending!” To clarify he was talking about, the Christmas party that was three months away. Of course in all fairness you wouldn't complain too much… It would look pretty nice on you.

Suguru Geto

Even the smallest gestures he does for you are full of thought. Whenever you're having a long day at work you'll usually text Geto about your frustrations. He's trying to be supportive as you rant and help you calm down. When you get home you’ll be welcome to a newly cleaned apartment and Geto in the kitchen finishing up making your favorite meal for dinner. When he sees your home he’ll immediately start talking to you “I’ll finish up here soon, how are you feeling?” The rest of night would end up being him taking care of you fully making you forget about work entirely.

This mf definitely remembers the small things within your relationship and he’ll remember things about you no one else will. For instance you disliked when people surprised you from behind. It wasn’t anything that majorly bugged you but, it made you feel uncomfortable. (Especially since you weren’t a huge fan of being touched) When Geto found this out when we you guys were out in public or hanging with a group of friends he’d always stay slightly behind you. When you questioned why he did this, he said it was so he could make sure no one will surprise you like that. Even though you insisted he didn’t have to he still did which you couldn’t help but love him even more for.

Sukuna

He’s possessive, like really possessive. (He swears he’s not though). Anytime your in public around people or not he’ll make it clear your his. Whether that’s an arm around your waist or being very intimate with you even if it’s not the most appropriate… Whenever it’s at places such as a club it’ll be even worse, not only will be touchy but his whole mind and body will be focused on you. (Even if he doesn’t realize it..) And that’s the thing he doesn’t realize he’s like that infact anytime you bring it up to him he swears you’re just overthinking things. Because, him, Sukuna being possessive over another person? Fucking ridicules. Totally not in denial.

One thing you wouldn’t expect from Sukuna would be him to be rather supportive of you and your decisions. Of course it wasn’t exactly the most traditional way people are supportive. But hey, it’s Sukuna nothing about him is ‘normal’. Sukuna is supportive in the way where you’ll feel insecure about wearing and he’ll give you a confused look. “Why the hell would yah not wear it?” Flushed you respond. “It makes me look bad like-“ “I don’t know what you’re on about I like how it looks on you so you’re wearing it.” And of course you weren’t going to argue with your bf so, you wear it. Throughout the day He’ll make comments about how good you look which make you blush. Of course it isn’t exactly the lovely dovey kind of comments but still.

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Kiss me more

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Fem!Reader

Summary: This is the first time your friends are meeting your girlfriend and you're excited about it.

Disclaimer: I've been gone for a while because a few things are going on in my life right now. This is pure fluff, by the way, and inspired by Florence being in my country a few days ago. That said, English is not my first language, so be kind.

MASTERLIST

You were putting the chopped onion in a bowl when you heard a quick honk coming from outside. You knew, without having to look through the window in your kitchen, that your friends were there, and it immediately brought a smile to your face. It has been a long time since you managed to reunite your best friends all at once for a nice dinner to chat and laugh together, after all.

You dried your hand with a dishcloth that you usually draped over your shoulder when you were in the kitchen and, before you could go to the front door, you heard the knock announcing that you had been right on your assumption before. While you walked there to open the front door, you gave a quick glance around the living room to make sure everything was still in place after your almost manic cleaning during the afternoon. Your eyes ended on the dog walking lazily from his laying spot to sit by the door trying to act like a guard dog when he was yawning every few seconds. It made you smile as you leaned down a bit to pat his big head, making his tail wiggle happily.

“That's okay, Billie,” you said. “Stay, okay?”

Billie wasn’t exactly trained but the large dog knew when he was being dismissed and he started to make his way back to his bed in the corner just as slowly as he had come out before. You shook your head in amusement before finally reaching out to open the door. As soon as you did, you saw five people standing at the other side, all smiling and waiting for you, and you found yourself letting out a happy squeak.

“Hey, guys!” You greeted as you pulled the closest person to you for a hug. That turned out to be your best friend since school days, Anne, who gladly hugged you back while her husband, a nice guy you've met since they first started dating seven years ago, raised his hand to show the bag they had brought. You laughed when you saw the Monopoly board sticking out of the bag and, quickly, you all shared hugs. Your other best friend, Jack, had also brought his boyfriend with him, Danny, and the last person in your little friendship group, Hannah, was the first one to teasingly complain about them still standing outside.

You laughed as you took a step to the side, waving a hand to call them in. “Come on in!”

Your friends all came inside while removing their coats to hang behind the door and Jack shut the door behind all of them while talking about the upcoming rain. They all knew your small house, had been there numerous times before, so they were all pretty comfortable scattering around. It felt like decades since you all managed to be together and it brought a warm feeling inside your chest to see all of them there again.

“How have you been?” Anne asked as she put the Monopoly down for you guys to play later on in the night. That was something the four of you have been doing since college when you all came together, even if it always ended up with Jack and Hannah threatening to throw the board across the room. From all across the room, Billie didn’t seem interested at all in the people he was seeing for the first time as he easily slipped to take another nap.

“I'm great,” you replied. “I'm so glad you could all make it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Hannah declared with a shrug, hands inside her pockets. “It's been months since we last got everyone together.”

“Months?” Jack scoffed as he placed a hand dramatically on his chest. “More like years.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and, playfully, shoved his shoulder. “You were all too busy getting married and shit.”

As they all shared a laugh, Jack threw his arms around her to put her in for a side hug that Hannah tried to escape in vain. “Don't be jealous. You will find someone to marry you,” he joked before making kissing noises close to her face just to see her squirm.

It worked like a charm and you shook your head when Hannah finally managed to push him away while huffing. “I missed you guys,” you commented when you saw Hannah flipping him the bird.

Anne, who had moved to hug her husband, Ben, turned her attention back to you. “Where is your girl?”

You felt your cheeks growing hot even though you knew it was ridiculous to feel prude suddenly. It's not like they didn’t know you had been dating for the past seven months - it had been a big occurrence in your group chat when you told them, after all - but they had yet to know your girlfriend. You hadn’t been dating just anyone. You were dating one of the new Hollywood darlings, which made it a bit hard to arrange a meeting between her and your friends.

Florence had only shown excitement, though, and you knew she had been trying to clean her schedule for months now to make that happen. Between shooting her new movie and living her life between different cities in the USA for work and her hometown near London to see her family and friends, it took some time but you finally set up a date and that’s how that dinner came to life. And then you had to find a day that your friends could make because they all had their own lives going on between work and their personal lives, but you eventually found a date that worked for everyone. That was the first time your friends would meet Florence and you had been barely containing your excitement all week. Now, however, your friends were there and your girlfriend wasn’t.

“Oh, she asked me to voice her apologies,” you ended up saying with a small grimace.

“How british of her,” Jack teased you lightly and earned another eye-roll in his direction.

“She's going to be late,” you explained, remembering the text you had received from your girlfriend about an hour ago. Florence seemed very sorry in her text and she added several apologies that you quickly brushed aside. You knew she didn’t mean to be late. “She got stuck at the studio.” That was something that had happened before, so it wasn’t exactly news. Usually, Florence was able to be in and out of shooting at the same time every day, but there were times when things got delayed and she had to stick around. That was her job, something she had been dedicating all her life to succeed at.

“Liar,” Hannah retorted with a glint in her eyes. “I bet you told her about us and scared her away.”

You tilted your head to the side and pretended to think about it for a moment. “I did tell her to book a ticket and get as far away from the city as she could so she wouldn’t have to see your ugly face.”

Anne complained with a fake groan of annoyance, looking at Ben and Danny. “It’s like watching kids, I swear.”

“Come on, you can all come with me to the kitchen,” you said after you all chuckled at her, ready to turn on your heels to go back to the kitchen. “We can talk while I cook.”

“You're going to cook?” Hannah asked in disbelief as they all followed you back.

In the kitchen, you put yourself behind the counter again to keep cutting the ingredients while your friends find places to sit or stand around you. It felt like old times and it made you smile to yourself.

“Yes,” you replied after picking up a carrot and doing some silly movement of throwing and grabbing it to show off. “Florence was going to, another reason why she apologized for not making it on time.” Your girlfriend had offered to cook something for you and your friends when you first said they all agreed to meet up at your place, and you immediately agreed but now you had taken over the kitchen. You were glad to have, at least, learned some stuff with Florence over the months.

“I thought you would have people cooking for you now that you’re dating a movie star,” Jack teased you happily as he moved around you to try to find a corkscrew to open the wine he had brought with him. You knew he hadn’t said that to be mean or anything, but you couldn’t deny that the fact that you were dating someone as famous as Florence Pugh had been a big deal among your friends. They teased you about it non-stop ever since you told them, but they did it out of love.

“Jack, I still live in my old apartment,” you declared with a glance at him, smirking lightly when the rest of your friends laughed.

“Fair,” he replied as he pointed the corkscrew at you before handing it over so his boyfriend could do the work.

“Besides, Florence likes to cook and she's great at it too. Her father owns a restaurant and all,” you told them, even though you were sure that conversation had come up at some point. It felt like you hadn’t been able to shut up about your girlfriend ever since you met her. “She likes doing most things around the house, actually, which works fine with me because I hate doing the laundry.” Jack nodded along with that, pointing at himself as if to say he also hated that chore.

Ben decided to jump in to offer you some help while Danny poured everyone a glass of wine. “What can we do to help?”

“Just sit there,” you told him with a smile. “I got this. I was going to say I can open some wine if you guys want to start drinking, but Jack beat me to it.”

Jack quickly lowered his wine glass to say: “Honey, I always want to start drinking.”

After that, the six of you fell into easy conversation trying to catch up on all the things going on in your lives. Anne and Ben talked about plans for the holidays, Hannah was excited about her new job, Jack and Danny were trying to find a new place to live, and you jumped in to talk about your life too. It felt like old times when you would all have dinner during college, before Ben and Danny became part of the group as well, and you honestly wished more than anything that Florence fell into your group as easily as they had done before her.

Just as you thought about her - again, because that was just something that you seemed to do all the time - you heard your phone ringing from where it was placed on top of the counter. Anne helpfully turned your phone so you could see who it was and, as soon as you read Florence’s name on the screen, you moved on to wash your hands to pick it up.

“Oh, damn, guys. I need to answer this. Sorry,” you told them, knowing that your girlfriend wouldn’t have called if she didn’t actually need to talk with you. You pressed your phone on your ear and, upon hearing Jack catcalling just to mess up with you, you moved to stand beside the fridge to pretend to have some privacy for the conversation. “Hey, Flo.”

“How late am I?” You heard Florence’s voice coming out a bit out of breath, but her accent rolling up the words made your heart swell inside your chest and a smile soon blossomed on your face.

“Just a bit,” you replied and waved a hand to shush Jack and Hannah when they started to make a chorus of ‘aww’ loud enough to be heard. “Are you done filming?”

“Yes. I'm leaving the studio right now and I’m going to make a quick stop before heading to your place.” As she said that, you heard an alarm going off and a car’s door opening, so you guessed she was already at the parking lot when she called you. “Getting some wine to make up for my error.”

“You don't have to do that…” you started but then your eyes landed on your friends pouring more wine in their glasses and you rolled your eyes before adding: “but Jack is going to be the happiest man on Earth if you do.”

Florence’s husky laugh met your ears and, like a charm, your lips curled up. That was the sound you loved the most in the world. “Don't worry, I’m getting something good.”

“Great. Remember to use your key,” you told her. “I'll be waiting.”

“See you, darling.”

You ended the call right after that, put your phone away and went back to cooking. You had just started to throw things inside the pan when Hannah wiggled her eyebrows at you. “She has a key, huh?”

You blushed because that had been a new development in your relationship with Florence, something you hadn’t shared with your friends yet mostly because you were too busy and ended up forgetting about it. “Yeah.”

“So this is pretty serious,” Anne commented and, suddenly, every eye landed on you.

“It is, yes.”

“How serious?” Jack insisted with a smile.

“Enough for her to have a key to my apartment. Enough for me to have a key to her place even though I’m never going to fly to London without her,” you told them, adding a shrug in the end to play it off as nothing even though you all knew it was a big thing.

“Do I hear wedding bells?” Danny was the one to speak next and you half wanted to tell him he was spending too much time with Jack already.

“Shut up,” you groaned, turning your back at them to hide your blush. “Flo always says she’s too young to get married and that she’s not doing that before she’s thirty.”

Jack laughed the loudest of all of them as he moved to fill your cup again. “Oh, you can't wait, can you?”

Now smiling, you tilted your head to look at him and said: “I take the fifth.”

For the next few minutes, the conversation returned about everything while you cooked and you all drank wine. It didn’t take that long for you to hear another car pulling up and, a couple of minutes later, the door opening again. You glanced over your shoulder to see that Florence had just walked in while carrying what looked like a wine box that you just knew was more expensive than half of the things you owned. Your friends gracefully pretended not to notice that she was there until walked to the kitchen with a polite grin.

“Hello,” she greeted everyone while putting the wine on top of the counter to give everyone a big wave. Billie, who had been asleep ever since they got there, got up to greet his owner, wiggling his tail and bumping his head against her leg. Florence made sure to give him some pets and a quick kiss to his snout.

“Hey!” You heard all of your friends say back as your girlfriend approached you.

You took a step away from the stove and placed a hand on her cheek, smiling when you felt her arm curling around your waist before you leaned in to give her a quick peck. “Hi, babe. I'm glad you could make it.”

Florence was smiling when you put some distance between your faces, although your bodies were still touching. “And I brought the wine.” She pointed over her shoulder and then took a step to the side to face everyone else more easily.

“That is a damn good wine,” Jake whistled, clearly impressed, and earned himself a slap on his shoulder from Hannah, who also tried to quietly communicate with him to tone down his jokes for now.

Florence, who has heard all types of stories about your friends already, only smiled. She got closer to shake Ben’s hand first, over the counter since she had moved to stand beside you, before moving on to do it with everybody. “Hello, guys. I'm terribly sorry I’m late. I got stuck at work,” she told them, shaking Danny’s hand last. “I’m really sorry.”

“No worries,” Anne quickly appeased her worries with a wave of her hand. “We've all been there before. I’m Anne, by the way.”

She started a round of quick introductions that ended with Florence, in that cute way she usually did, saying: “Nice to meet you all, I’m Florence.” which, of course, made you grab her hand to put her close enough to press a kiss on her cheek. That was enough to get a small conversation going on between your friends while Florence returned to the stove with you. “Looks like you have everything under control. This looks great,” she said while looking inside the pan.

“I learned with the best,” you smiled and turned your head to look at her to see her smile but you ended up hearing her chuckle and receiving a kiss on your temple instead, which was totally fine to you.

“Sorry I wasn't here to help you before,” Florence whispered quietly.

“Stop beating yourself for that.”

She squeezed your waist where her hand was resting against you and kissed your head again. “I love you.” And, God, you had no idea if you would ever get used to hearing those words coming from her. “Go talk with your friends, I can take it from here.”

Florence knew how much you had waited for that dinner and how much you missed having all your friends over at the same time, and her offer made you very thankful for having someone as comprehensive as her beside you. Thanking her with a peck, you soon moved on to pour her some of the cheap wine that was left in the second bottle you guys were drinking before pouring the rest of it to yourself. You handed her the glass, heard her small “thank you”, and joined the conversation your friends were having.

They all made a clear effort to include Florence in the talk even if she was busy finishing dinner and, for that, you were also thankful. They were all receiving her with open arms to your group, something you were fairly sure was happening because you had told them all types of histories in the last seven months. You never hid how important she was to you, though you were sure they would’ve easily seen right through you if you had tried to pretend it was nothing.

Since you met Florence, your life has changed for the better. Being her girlfriend was the best thing that happened to you and you didn’t hold back while saying that to your friends. They were just now meeting her, but they all knew how much you loved her. Now, they got to see it in person too.

“When can we open the expensive wine?” You heard Jack asking when you and Anne were setting the table, and you both exchanged a look before rolling your eyes at your friend’s antics.

“Any time you like,” Florence laughed, stirring the food in the pan.

“You do it. I’m afraid I might break the bottle and be depressed for the rest of my life,” Jack replied and their easy conversation made you smile.

“Guess we’re giving you wine for Christmas,” Florence joked but, when you turned around to the kitchen again, she was already opening the wine while Jack waited with his glass already raised.

“Girl, you do that and you will become my favorite person in this group.”

“Traitor,” Hannah shoved him with a firm hand, making all of you laugh again.

“Darling, dinner is ready,” Florence told you once Jack grabbed the wine again.

“You heard the chef, folks,” you clapped your hands once. “To the table!”

While all of your friends found a place to sit - a bit squeezed together so you could all fit around the table - you went to help your girlfriend move the food to the plates so you could serve everyone. You were standing side by side in front of the stove when you moved your hip to bump into hers, biting your bottom lip to hold back your smile when she bumped you back.

“What?” She asked with her throaty chuckle.

“Nothing,” you replied with a shrug. “I’m just happy.”

Florence chuckled again and turned her head to kiss your cheek. “I’m always happy when I’m with you, so I’m not surprised by the confession I’m about to make.”

“What confession?” You played along with her teasing.

“I’m also happy,” she whispered as if telling you the biggest secret ever and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I love you,” you declared as a matter of fact as you kissed her quickly and moved to take the first two plates to the table.

It was a fact. A clear one, one that left no doubts. You loved Florence Pugh and you had never been happier than how you were feeling at that moment about to have dinner with your girlfriend and your friends.

As you walked over to the table and saw all of your small group smiling knowingly at you, you thought back about what Jack said about marriage before. You knew it was still too soon to think about it, not only in the relationship but also considering that both Florence and you were still pretty young, but you just knew that’s where you two were heading to. Apparently, all of your friends knew it as well.

“Here we go, darling,” Florence said as she walked behind you to hand two more plates.

“Guys, I don’t think I ever told you guys this, but Florence never played Monopoly before,” you found yourself saying suddenly and, just like you expected it to happen, they all jumped in to start voicing their disbelief about that little fact.

While they started making plans to play the game as soon as they were done eating, you returned to the kitchen, leaving Florence behind to deal with it, but not without kissing her again.

[mikavlcs]

False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe. 

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

-

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

-

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

-

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

[callsign-joyride]

For SOS..#19 with Bob..beach sex after hangman makes “baby on board virgin Bob” joke

Like a Virgin | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: An insulting joke turns into you and Bob sneaking off/

Content warnings: SMUT (18+), public sex, unprotected p in v, mentions of a threesome

Prompt: "Kiss me."

This was written for my Summer of Smut writing event. Feel free to send in requests!

You and Bob had been dating for a few months, and you were pretty much in love with each other. Trivia nights and karaoke at The Hard Deck let you meet the Dagger Squad, and you had taken to close friendships with Phoenix and Rooster in particular, but you were on fairly good terms with everyone. You were about to lay on the couch and order a pizza when Bob called. It was kind of strange, considering he never really called around dinner, but you didn’t mind. When you answered, he asked what you were up to.

“Just about to order a pizza and watch a few movies, why?”

“Okay. I know it’s last minute but we’re having a cookout and bonfire at the beach. D’you wanna come? Rooster’s gonna grill.”

“Sure! What time?”

“Around six. I can pick you up, if you want. We’ll be behind The Hard Deck.”

“Sure, that sounds good. Okay, I’ll start getting ready. See you in a bit.”

It took a few minutes for you to get a bag ready for the beach and Bob came to pick you up closer to six. You waved to Phoenix as she was passing a ball back and forth with Fanboy. The burgers that Rooster made were delicious, and you went into The Hard Deck with Phoenix and Bob to get drinks for everyone. Payback brought fireworks and everyone messed with those until late into the evening.

“Poor baby on board here is pushing thirty and still a virgin,” a very drunk Hangman said. You glanced over at Bob and saw him put his head in his hands. A beat of silence passed over the group before Hangman cleared his throat and said, “That was supposed to be a joke,”. 

“Who wants to get in the water?” Rooster asked. A chorus of yeses was heard and you got up, taking Bob’s hand and heading to the water. Of course, you knew that Hangman’s attempts at jokes usually leaned more towards cruelty than anything else. But Bob seemed more quiet than he usually was while the two of you swam to a cove.

“You wanna talk about it?” You asked with your arms wrapped around Bob’s neck. 

“Not really much to talk about. I’m the butt of every joke because I’m quiet. Pretty much all there is to it. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t made a woman cum in like five years. Maybe I should’ve used that as a comeback, I don’t know.”

In the distance, you could hear Phoenix shrieking about Rooster throwing her in the water. 

“We could prove him wrong, y’know?” You asked.

“Who, Hangman?”

You hummed a yes before palming Bob through his swim trunks. He groaned and started to grind himself into you. The water was about four feet deep, so no one would be able to see what you were doing to Bob if they swam by. 

“Kiss me,” he said. You obliged and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He tightly wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you as you wrapped your legs around him. You broke apart for air and giggled as Bob started to walk further into the cove with you in his arms. He leaned against the wall so that your back wouldn’t get scratched up from the rocks. You let out a small moan as you felt him grind his bulge against you.

Your legs were tightly wrapped around him as he pulled his swimtrunks down and moved your swimsuit bottoms to the side. The rush of the waves and the current was almost enough to cover up the noises that you were making as Bob ran his hand through your folds.

“Always ready for me,” he said. You moaned into his ear as he slowly slid his dick inside of you. He did most of the work as you kept your legs wrapped around him and he moved you up and down on his cock. You weren’t paying attention as the faint laughter from the rest of the group died down, and you definitely weren’t paying attention when Hangman swam up to the cove.

“What are you guys - oh,” he said. You turned your head at his presence and glared at him. Bob was sill pumping in and out of you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You gonna join us or just watch?” Bob asked. You were a moaning mess as Bob pounded into you, otherwise you would’ve laughed.

“I think I’m good, man. Was just gonna tell you that we’re headed back to shore. God, I need a drink.”

Hangman swam away and Bob was relentless as he pounded into you and harshly rubbed your clit to get you off faster. You moaned into his mouth as you came and he slowed down before pulling out of you and setting you down.

“You didn’t-,”

“It’s okay. Let’s get home.”

Everyone was staring when you and Bob got back to the shore, and you let out a small chuckle as Bob walked with you to the rest of the group. Everyone was starting to put things away and decide who was going to take the leftover alcohol. You put a few seltzers in the back of Bob’s car and said goodnight to everyone before he took you home.’

“Can you pull over?” You asked after a few songs on the radio played.

“Yeah…”

You were still close to the beach so there was some sand on the side of the road as he pulled over. As soon as he looked at you, you reached into his swim trunks and pulled his semi hard cock out. 

“You really don’t have to - oh fuck,” he said as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. He leaned his head back and groaned as you hollowed your cheeks around him and he came in your mouth. You looked into his eyes as you swallowed his spend and leaned up to kiss him. Heat was rushing up his chest and he tucked himself back into his swim trunks before starting the car again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and gave you a hug.

“I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep. I don’t want you tired at work tomorrow.”

You give him a quick kiss before heading inside and locking the door behind you. He stayed true to his word and texted you when he got home, joking that he wanted to have a threesome with Hangman being the third person. Of course, you knew that he was joking, but you weren’t opposed to the idea as you started to type a long message to him, but you deleted it before hitting send.

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[huntingrays]

Random, quick Spider-Man Leo and ex-boyfriend Jason drabble

Back when they were dating, Leo used to tell him that if he ever had a question – no matter how strange – that Reddit would be able to help him. He would tell him about the countless times he would look up the oddest question and find a Reddit post from years ago asking the same question. He said Reddit was an awful hell site (like most social media websites) but that they were good at answering questions and giving wild, unsolicited opinions (like most social media websites).

Taking in his current situation, Jason wasn’t sure if anyone could give him solid advice for what to do – let alone Reddit of all places.

How would he even phrase his situation?

My ex-boyfriend showed up half-dead at my apartment, what do I do?

So I (25M) used to date this guy (25M). We were high school sweethearts. We were best friends that became more. I thought we would spend our whole lives together. We had a great relationship until he started acting weird a year into our relationship.

When I confronted him about it, he brushed off my concerns and said I was imagining things. However, his weird behavior kept up. He would be tired during the day, suddenly cancel our dates last minute, forget plans with friends, act weirdly secretive, and so many other things. Despite how weird he was acting, I never thought he was cheating on me. Despite his behavior, he was never someone who struck me as a cheater. He’s always been a very honest, loyal man throughout our friendship.

I ended up finding out the truth behind his behavior on a night like this one. I had shown up to my place after hanging out with friends after finals. When I walked into my bedroom, I saw my boyfriend lying half-dead on my bed, bleeding all over my sheets. As if the night couldn’t get any crazier, the outfit I found him in wasn’t his usual attire but was the suit of our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. So, instead of my boyfriend being a cheating, shitty boyfriend, he was a web-slinging, crime-fighting vigilante with funny quips and a heart of gold.

So, like any good boyfriend would, I panicked before patching him up. After that, we had a serious talk and decided we would try to make things work with the whole superhero thing.

Things were good until a year later. By then, we got reckless and some villains found out about my connection to him. After that, we had a close run where I got taken and almost got seriously hurt. After that, my now ex broke up with me for my own safety and because he felt I deserved a better, more attentive partner.

Despite our breakup, I never stopped loving him. I tried to move on and date other people but nothing stuck. We kept our same friend groups but I haven’t really seen or spoken to him since our breakup.

So, it was a huge shock when I was attempting to cook myself dinner when I heard the sound of someone entering my apartment through my window. I rushed out of my kitchen, knife in hand, but instead of seeing a burglar, it was my ex-boyfriend who looked on the verge of death. He had his mask off and told me he “didn’t know where else to go” before passing out in my arms.

So, now I’m at a loss. I obviously will heal him and patch him up, but where do we go after this? Does this mean anything? Does this sound normal to anyone else? Is this classic vigilante ex behavior? Or is this simply because we share history?

Yeah, no. If Jason posted that, the people there would call him a troll. Nobody would take him seriously.

So, he wasn’t sure who to turn to. All his friends had differing opinions on his relationship with Leo (mainly since only Piper knew Leo’s secret identity). He wasn’t sure where they might go after this or what he even wanted.

With a sigh, he looked down at the man passed out in his arms. It was still strange to think of the guy he knew and loved dearly as a superhero. Back when they were kids and played pretend, Jason was the hero and Leo was the guy in the chair who helped him out and made all his fancy gadgets. Now, Jason was his normal ex-boyfriend and Leo was the one saving people and making his own gadgets.

He wasn’t sure what to do, but he did know that he couldn’t lose Leo. He didn't hesitate as he picked up his former lover and carried him to his room. He felt suddenly thankful that he hadn’t thrown out his old kit he’d made to patch up his superhero boyfriend after a rough fight. For now, he would do what he could and then see where all this took them.

[mercurygray]

Apologies Owing

Well, they're finally here - the pilots, that is. The base's WACs have some opinions they'd like to share.

A follow up to this piece - and an announcement! I'll be trying to post all of Cord's drabbles on AO3 at Pavilioned In the Fields.

--

The talk over dinner was about nothing but the officers.

There was no consensus yet, it seemed, over who was the handsomest. Netta was stumping for Brady, the one who'd ridden his fort straight into a rut in the middle of the airfield and had walked away without a scratch, but Anita and Mary Dacre both wanted to speak of no one but DeMarco - or rather, the dog he'd brought with him, who had kindly consented to pets and treats and much crooning while his owner stood by and beamed at himself for the genius idea of getting the husky to find his Friday night dates for him. (Mae, too, seemed taken by the idea of the dog, though she was a little too world-wise to let the pup's gorgeous blue eyes win her over to his owner.)

"I liked the one that blew us a kiss," Nina said, almost loyally, still mooning into her soup about it nearly three hours later, elbow firmly planted on the table while she started wistfully into space. "What'd you say his name was, Phoebe?"

"Biddick," Phoebe said, wisely taking the middle road and saying nothing about anything apart from name, rank and serial number, reaching around Nina's elbow for the salt. "Curtis Biddick. Flies with Richard Snyder."

"The one who looks like Leslie Howard?" Becky looked like that was more her speed. "Now there's a man I'd let do a few close maneuvers."

"Curtis Biddick," Nina smiled dreamily, staring off into space obviously having heard nothing Becky had said. "It was so romantic."

"You gotta watch out for boys like that, Nina, they're usually more trouble than they're worth," Mae said, locking eyes with Phoebe across the table and exchanging abbreviated smiles.

"You all can have fun with the squaddies, but I feel like aiming a little higher," Ethel said with a cutthroat grin, inspecting the arch of her brow in the convex of her soup spoon. "That blonde who drove in with Major Egan looks like he really could be in pictures."

"Cleven," Phoebe supplied, before anyone could ask. "Major Gale Cleven. He's Egan's best friend, apparently. He came up to tower, didn't he, Cord? With Major Egan and Demarco?"

"He did," Cord said, non-committal while she wiped some sauce off the corner of her mouth and considered whether she wanted to try chasing down the last of her peas. "Seemed nice enough."

"Hmmm." Ethel looked unimpressed, and perhaps a little put out that Cord, of all people, had gotten an eye in to the main chance that she clearly couldn't appreciate properly. "Nice enough to have a girl at home?"

But no one ventured an answer for her - the half of the table that was facing the doorway all clammed up at same time as the man himself approached the table, uniform immaculate and blond hair swept just so over his very handsome face. The table stood up as one, Nina accidentally flinging her spoon into her bowl with a clatter.

"Ladies. Was wondering if I might have a word alone with Lieutenant Callaway." His voice was all gravitas and gravel, and Ethel looked like she'd die of envy the way she was glaring across the table at her lieutenant.

Mae's eyes, on the other hand, flashed with delight, and Cord looked around the table to see that nearly everyone else was smiling the way girls smiled when they thought you had something to keep a secret about. She felt hot with betrayal. Now just what do you all think - "I think we're all finished, Major, we can leave," Mae offered, gesturing to the rest of the table to get going. "We'll catch you up, Cord." Mae promised, beaming back at her friend, following the rest of the group out the door and back to barracks.

Cord took a breath and studied her shoes for a moment, hoping that none of that heat had made it to her face, and Cleven hadn't seen any of their hinting smiles - or heard what Ethel had just said. She waited until the crowd cleared the door to speak. "Sir?"

"Seems I owe you an apology, Lieutenant."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say ...wasn't that. "…What for, sir?"

Cleven's gaze was patient, though it looked like that patience was being tested a little at the moment. "Whatever John's done here for the last month."

It took Cord more than a moment to realize he was talking about Bucky Egan. She'd plumb forgotten his first name was John, if she'd ever known it at all. He introduced himself to everyone as Bucky. "…that's very kind of you, Major Cleven, but I'm not sure that's your apology to make, sir."

"Well, a fellow can try." He smiled - a brief thing - and Cord realized why Ethel thought he'd do well in movies. Underneath those baby blue eyes ran some very, very still waters. Well, they'd have to be, to have Egan for a friend. "He - he means well, usually. He's just not…real good at thinking things through sometimes."

You can say that again. "That's…not a quality one looks for in an executive officer, if you don't mind me saying, sir."

Cleven chuckled - a sound Cord was getting the impression most people didn't hear very often. "No, it most certainly is not. But he has others - a damn fine flyer, a good man to have with you in a fight, and a - a good friend."

The quiet fortitude was growing on her - a strong contrast to Egan's boisterous take-all-comers antics. And he'd come here, when he didn't have to, when nothing said he even needed to, to apologize, on the sole basis of one meeting this morning where she'd stood her ground and been short with his friend. He noticed things, Major Cleven did - and that counted for something. "He must be, to have you making apologies for him on your first day here."

Again, the smallest of smiles. "He'd do the same, if it had been me that had stepped wrong. I'm just trying to…pay the favor forward." He took a breath, and looked at his shoes. "He, ah - he mentioned you were from Ohio."

"Dayton," Cord supplied, wondering when this had turned from an apology into an interview.

"Pretty prime flying country out there at Wright-Patterson," Cleven said quietly, glancing at her with softly curious eyes.

"Yes, sir, it is. I practically grew up there - my dad worked on the base, as an engineer. Worked pretty close with the test pilots."

"Is that how you got into the tower?"

"More or less, sir."

"Heard Brady say you were the calmest voice alive, talking him in today."

The 'for a woman' that had doubtless followed the original comment went unsaid, and Cord measured out her own smile. "Well, there's two types of pilots, sir - those who've had a belly landing, and -"

"-those who will." Cleven finished the old chestnut with a smile. "They teach you a lot about belly landings in Dayton, Lieutenant?"

Cord took a deep breath, remembering the rumbling, skating feeling of the plane underneath her, the nameless terror that the brakes no longer worked and her steering was in God's hands, waiting endlessly while the machine skidded heavily to a halt and she planned her exits, preparing to make a run for it. "A fair bit, sir."

"Hopefully we won't give you any more." He caught her gaze and held it. "Let me know, if he gives you any more trouble? We can't have our controller off her game."

She looked him in the eye and knew, instinctively, that he meant that, and if she said something, he would take her at her word - something not too many men on this base would do. That counted for something, too. "You'll be the first person I tell, Major."

He nodded, glad to be heard and understood, and turned to leave, before thinking of one last thing. "And maybe you'll let your friend know the girl at home is named Marge?" His smile was nearly imperceptible, and Cord almost laughed to see it. So he had heard. That's a very dry sense of humor you have there, sir. "Wouldn't want anyone …getting the wrong idea."

She nodded, happy that there was something here she could do for him. Oh, we're going to get along so well. "Of course, sir." Well, Ethel, serves you right. She could just see the other woman's face when she told her that Cleven was definitely off the market.

The understanding, it seemed, was mutual - Cleven gave a little nod and put his hand in his pocket. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

"And you, Major."

He went back outside, and Cord's eye followed him through the windows to the group of pilots joking and laughing in the road outside, probably getting ready to go into town. What reason could he have given for stopping in the mess hall? Or maybe he didn't need one. Egan hooked his arm around his friend's shoulders, and Cord caught a glimpse, again, of Cleven's fleeting smile - wider now, laughing with his friends as they set off for the village and the pub. And they're best friends? Well, they do say opposites attract.

Cord tidied her seat and exited the mess, surprised to see Mae was sitting on the bench outside the mess, apparently waiting. She got up as Cord stepped outside, grinning from ear to ear. "A word alone with Lieutenant Callaway, huh? You got something you want to share with the class, Cord?"

"Oh, buzz off, Mae. He just wanted to -" She paused, feeling, suddenly, that the apology was not for public consumption. "To thank me, for helping Brady land."

Mae nodded, a little impressed with the new Major. "The way she's going, I think Netta's gonna thank you too."

--

You can read more of Cord here on tumblr at her tag.

[nadinebrooks]

Hello!! Can you do a couple head cannons with hufflepuff reader x Draco and a hufflepuff reader x Cedric (separate),maybe some Yule ball head cannons too only if you want to though (: if not just wanted to let you know I love your writing and your understanding of the characters is just incredible <3

Here is the link to my masterlist.

Cedric Diggory x Reader: Blossoming Love

Warnings: I don't believe there is anything.

The start of the school year at Hogwarts was a magical whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. The castle buzzed with energy as students returned to their beloved home away from home. Among those students was (y/n), a warm-hearted and hardworking Hufflepuff entering her sixth year.

Over the past couple of weeks, she was really starting to settle into her schedule. Her favorite class had always been Herbology. She absolutely adored Professor Sprout. 

Professor Sprout’s voice rang through the greenhouse as she attempted to capture the attention of all of her students. 

“Class, for this semester, we will be working on a long-term group project. Each of you will be paired with a partner and before you get too excited, I will be selecting your partners randomly.”

(y/n) exchanged excited glances with her closest friend, Eleanor Wilson, as they silently prayed that they would be partners. Nobody wanted to be partners with someone that they didn’t like or had never talked to.

The professor waved her wand as enchanted parchment soared through the air with names on them. (y/n) watched as a piece glided toward her and she held her breath in anticipation. 

When the parchment landed in her hand, she unfolded it to reveal the name of her partner:

Cedric Diggory.

Eleanor’s eyes widened with surprise as she leaned over (y/n)’s shoulder and looked at the name. She giggled and winked at her friend. 

Cedric wasn’t just any Hufflepuff. He was one of the more charming, talented, handsome guys (y/n) had ever come across during her time at Hogwarts. She thought he was absolutely perfect. However, the two of them had never really gotten a chance to know each other on a more personal level. They were in the same year, but (y/n) always looked at him like an unreachable star in the Hogwarts constellation. 

Cedric slowly gathered his belongings and made his way toward her. Elanor smiled one last time at (y/n) and went to find her partner. 

“Hi (y/n),” He grinned down at her. “I’m actually happy that we’re partners.” 

“Really.” (y/n)’s eyes shot up in surprise. She was a little surprised that he even knew who she was. 

“Yes.” He nodded earnestly. “Usually I end up pairing with one of my friends and that never goes well because I always end up doing all the work. But you don’t have to worry about that, I plan to pull my weight.” 

For the project, the two of them had to explore and document herbal remedies for common magical ailments like burns, insect bites, or minor curses. Then they had to create a detailed pamphlet with instructions.

“Thank you, Cedric. I really appreciate that. I’ve also had my fair share of assignments where I’ve had to do most of the work.” (y/n) told him. And in that moment it seemed as if the two of them decided to pull their weight for the sake of the other one. They decided that the best thing would be to meet every other evening in the library when Cedric didn’t have Quidditch practice. 

(y/n) very quickly learned that Cedric was so much more than just a pretty face. He was intelligent, funny, and above all, he was genuinely interested in their assignment and eager to collaborate. 

As the weeks went by and the project unfolded, Cedric and (y/n) found themselves spending more and more time together. They were even spending time together doing things that had nothing to do with the project.

Even after doing their research in the greenhouse, they would have dinner together or play chess in the common room late at night. Rumors even started floating around the castle but somehow they hadn’t made their way back to them. 

Once when the two of them found themselves alone in the common room, Cedric finally told (y/n) something that he had been wanting to tell her a couple of months ago. She uncovered a side of Cedric that only a few had seen - thoughtful and vulnerable. He found himself confiding in her about his aspirations, insecurities, and his innermost thoughts. 

“You know (y/n), I really do appreciate your company. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” Cedric’s voice had gone somber. 

“I hope you know that I’m always here to listen.” (y/n) looked over at him with empathy. She couldn’t image how hard it was to be him. 

“Thank you.” His eyes were filled with gratitude. “I like that you treat just like you treat everyone else you come across. You just see me as Cedric and that means a lot.”

Their bond deepened over the course of the semester, and Cedric found solace in sharing his thoughts and worries with (y/n). He began to look forward to not only their meetings but staring at her across the room in Potions or getting to have breakfast with her. It was nice to know that he could be himself without the weight of the spotlight. 

However, their growing friendship did not go unnoticed by Cho Chang. The rumors had made their way back to her. She was someone who had caught Cedric’s eye in the past and even though they weren’t officially dating, she always wanted to a presence in his life. She couldn’t help but feel jealous of the connection (y/n) and Cedric was forging. 

One day, Cho confronted (y/n) while she was sitting out by the Black Lake reading a book.

“Stay away from Cedric.” She hissed dark eyes piercing into (y/n)’s. 

“Cho, there’s no need to worry.” (y/n) was taken aback by Cho’s hostility. “Cedric and I are just friends. I would never try to come between the two of you.” 

“I’ve seen the way you and Cedric have been spending time together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” 

“We’re just working on a semester long project together.” (y/n) responded completely unfazed by Cho’s hostility.

Cho’s expression softened slightly when she saw that (y/n) was genuine about not wanting to come between the two of them. “You better keep it that way.” 

“Cho, you and Cedric aren’t officially dating.” (y/n) let out a patient sigh that caused Cho’s left eye to twitch. “Besides, I doubt he sees me the same way that he sees you. I’m not as beautiful as you.” 

“Not as beautiful as me?” Cho let out a dark laugh. “I can’t believe you actually think that. Not only are you beautiful on the outside, but Cedric sees your kindness and genuine nature.” 

Deep down, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel that Cho was a vision of grace and beauty. Someone that she could never compare to. There was no way that Cedric thought about her the same way he thought about Cho. 

Despite her insecurities, (y/n) continued to be a supportive friend to Cho. She listened to his hopes and dreams, offered advice when he sought it, and cherished the moments they spent together. Cedric found himself seeking (y/n)’s company more and more.  

As winter approached, the Yule Ball became the talk of the school. It was an event filled with excitement and anticipation. Of course, the idea of the Yule Ball crossed (y/n)’s mind, but she hadn’t given it a ton of thought. Eleanor tried to convince her to mention it to Cedric but after that conversation with Cho, there was no way. 

“You know, (y/n), the Yule Ball is coming up.” Cedric sat down his quill. His hand had started to cramp from writing so much. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?”

“Me?” (y/n) sat her quill down and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Cedric nodded with a warm smile. “I would love to go with you. You’ve been amazing and I can’t imagine a better date.”

“I’d be honored to go with you, Cedric.” (y/n) felt herself grinning. The thought of attending with him made her both nervous and excited. She never considered that someone like Cedric Diggory would ask her. And for second, the two of them felt themselves leaning in. 

The world seemed to fade away as they shared an unexpected moment of intimacy. Their lips met in a tender heartfelt kiss. It was a silent confession of emotions that had grown stronger with each passing day. It was a realization that their bond was more than just friendship. 

“I’ve wanted to do that longer than I care to admit,” Cedric whispered when they pulled away. His cheeks were flushed and both of their hearts were racing. 

Now that their feelings were finally out in the open, the two of them spent the rest of the night working on the project, but not without sneaking glances at the other for the rest of the night. 

[littlespacereader]

To say I’m obsessed with The Bad Batch and the Clone Wars is an understatement guys…I AM OBSESSED! I live and breathe it!! So please, if any of you guys are fans of the prequels, The Bad Batch, The Clone Wars or of Star Wars in general, SEND ME THOSE REQUESTS!

In other news, I’ve been thinking about Echo and what it would’ve been like for him joining the Bad Batch as a flip (both cg and little). This fic focuses on that Caregiver side of him with Little Crosshair. There will be a Little Echo story coming very soon!

Please enjoy this brain rot story I whipped up! Love you guys!💞💞

Still Right Beside You💙

Caregiver! Echo & Little! Crosshair with Caregiver! Tech and Hunter & Little! Wrecker

Tags-hurt/comfort, discovery, cuddles, hand holding

The dynamic in the batch started to change. It had always been the four of them, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair. But now? Now Echo joined their squad.

Everyone was more than happy to have Echo join, happy to have another clone feel at home in their group of misfits. But what they didn’t realize was how their dynamics would change.

Hunter and Tech are the team’s Caregiver and Crosshair and Wrecker the teams Littles. It’s always been even, two and two. But now with Echo being an added Caregiver and Little. That changed things.

They had a big talk about it, the clones gathering and having dinner together, when Tech brought up the subject.

“Echo, now that you’re a part of this squad I must ask you, I understand you’re classified as a Flip. Do you still wish to be one?”

Echo paused eating his food and really thought about his question. He knew right away Wrecker and Crosshair were the Littles of the group but… ”I haven’t been one in years…I don’t know if I’d be any good anymore.”

“Why don’t we start with your Caregiver side first then work your way up to regressing again, alright?” Hunter suggested.

Echo nods, “Yeah, that would be great actually.”

Before his accident at the Citadel, Echo had been the Caregiver to Fives, his rambunctious Little. It’s been so long since he cared for a Little, he wonder if he still could?

“I was thinking maybe we could do a couple of trial runs. See how you feel after and decide from there.” Hunter suggests.

Wrecker seemed to be excited at the idea of it all. Crosshair, on the other hand, remained hard to read. Keeping his head down, trying not to look at anyone.

“Sounds good to me.” Echo smiles.

A couple of days later they were off their mission and had a day to decompress and relax. As per usual, the two Littles would regress and the two Caregivers would take care of them.

Today, Echo has a shot at it.

Wrecker regressed right away, being a Little with a big kid headspace. He immediately went over to Echo, insisting on playing every game they had on the Marauder.

Echo found himself slipping back into that Caregiver part of himself, a part he was happy to see he still had. He played a board game with Wrecker, helped him with a video game level he was stuck on, and even read a chapter of Wrecker’s favorite book to him.

Crosshair, on the other hand, refused to regress like Wrecker. He begrudgingly sat in his bunk and cleaned his sniper.

Tech and Hunter tried their luck to getting him to relax and regress. But Crosshair is nothing if not stubborn. He refused, keeping a close eye on Echo as he did. It didn’t escape Echo’s eyes that Crosshair was refusing to regress, especially with him around.

Eventually the Hunter and Tech managed to get the Crosshair to regress, but it was only alone with Hunter.

The three Caregivers of the group tried again, two separate times to get Crosshair to regress around Echo, but it appeared the stubborn sniper wasn’t going to do it.

One late night in the cockpit of the Marauder, Echo and Tech got a moment alone to talk. Tech was wrapping up some last minute reports on his datapad while Echo was just staring into space, lost in thought.

“Hunter and I have a plan.” Tech spoke, breaking the silence.

“For the next mission?” Echo sat up.

“For Crosshair.” Tech replied casually.

“Tech…” he sighs, “I don’t think you should bother anymore. He’s made his point. I don’t think he wants me to join in and be another Caregiver to him and that’s perfectly fine.”

Tech goes quiet for a moment, “Is it?”

For some reason…that cut deeper than Echo would like to admit. “It’s not about me.”

“No, It is about you. It’s because you’re a reg Echo.”

Echo felt a piece inside of him start to crumble hearing that. “I figured….”

He knew they did exactly care for regular clones, especially because they had been bullied for years from them. He didn’t blame Crosshair for his hatred of him.

But he didn’t see himself as a reg anymore. He didn’t see himself as the 501st clone trooper he used to be. But he didn’t know exactly know what he saw himself as anymore.

“You see Echo, you’re not just a reg, you’re a ARC trooper. And when Crosshair was the age he was when he regresses, he was obsessed with the ARC Troopers. He would never admit it, but he wanted to be one more than anything.” Sits back and explains as he types away on his datapad.

“He once got lost from us on Kamino around the same age he regresses to. We didn’t find him, but an ARC trooper did and brought him back to us. From the little he’s told me and what I assessed, the trooper was kind to him and it impacted him greatly.” Echo paused for a moment both in shock and just processing the story. He nods his head as if connecting the pieces slowly but surely.

Tech looks up from his datapad before he continues. “He trust you to be a part of this team and to be on missions with us. You’re a defective clone like us, he sees you as one of our own. But when it comes to his regression it’s simply that he’s stubborn and more than anything shy around you.”

Echo sits there, in disbelief. “It’s because I’m an ARC trooper…and he’s…he’s shy?”

“Precisely.”

“So if that’s the case…what’s this plan of Hunter’s and yours?”

“It’s going to begin when we finish this mission and arrive back Kamino…” Tech starts to rambling the plan away. The more he goes on, the more Echo realizes, this could actually work.

~~~

The Batch all sat around their big barracks on Kamino. The mission was over and now they could finally rest and relax the stress away.

Wrecker sat playing with his plush Lula, making an elaborate story for her. Meanwhile Crosshair was trying desperately not to regress, sitting in his bed cleaning his weapons once again.

Echo and Hunter sat together at the table in the center of the room. Echo looked nervous, “Hunter, are you sure this is going to work?”

“No idea. But I know this is the only way to see.” Hunter tries to reassure. He looked at the time and then back to Echo, “Ready?”

Echo nods, “As I’ll ever be.”

Hunter nods before he stands, looking to the two Littles. “After our last mission we need to do a supply run. Wrecker, you, Tech and I will start packing the Marauder for the next mission. Echo you’re in charge. You’ll stay here with Crosshair.”

“What?!” Crosshair chimed in, standing from his bunk.

“Problem Crosshair?” Hunter asked.

“Why am I staying back? Surely Echo can take care of himself.”

“You’re both staying back. We won’t be long.” Hunter said firmly, “That’s an order.”

“Hunter-!”

Before Hunter can reply, all heads turned to Tech as entered the barracks pulling a crate behind him. He pulled it over to Echo bunk and dropped it there. “Here you go Echo, just like you ask.”

Tech didn’t explain more, and Crosshair couldn’t help but steal a glance or two to the new crate.

“What’s that?” Wrecker asked, standing up and walking over to the group.

“That is a crate of Echo’s old belongings.” Tech said, being vague for once. He walked over to the group. “Ready Hunter?”

“Ready.” Hunter looks to Crosshair, “Be good for Echo.”

Crosshair crosses his arms, but there’s a hint of something aside from his stubbornness, a hint of something else…….shyness?

The three go to leave, Hunter patting Echo’s shoulder and giving him another a small smile.

Then it was just the two of them.

The two stand there, staring at the door for a moment as if sinking it all in.

Then they look at each other.

Crosshair keeps his arms crossed as he looks over at Echo. When he meets his eyes, he quickly looks away, going back to his bunk and cleaning his weapons again.

Echo sighs. Looking as the sniper clean his weapons, he could see how he was on the cusp of regressing, how he was barley hanging on. This is his moment with Crosshair and he knew now’s the time to step up.

He walked from the table to his bunk and, more specifically, to the newly dropped off crate infront of it. He took a seat on his bed and started fiddling with the locks.

“Crosshair could you help me-.”

“No.” His replay came quick and immediate. Echo doesn’t need to look up to know Crosshair is probably glaring back.

He starts uncliping the latches on the crate, each one he does loud and deliberate. And with each one, he can see it starts to peak the interest of the sniper.

“Sure you can’t help me with this?” Echo asks again.

Crosshair’s reply comes a bit slower this time, as if thinking about it. But his stubbornness wins over again. “…no.”

Remembers back to Fives, his best friend, fellow arc trooper, and Flip best of all. He remembers when he would regress and be stubborn on occasion. A small smile crests his face at the memory. But with it, he remembers how he managed to break him out of it.

With a big and dramatic *sad sigh* “Okay…guess I’ll have to look at all my old Arc Trooper gear all by myself. And here I thought I could have someone to help me….oh well.” And with that he flipped the last latch and opened the crate.

He pulled the top open and with it, all the memories of his days with the 501st came flooding back to him. First he picks up a holopicture of the team. How young they all looked, how he missed them all so much, especially how he missed Fives.

He put that down, and instead grabbed his old helmet. He looked into the front of it, seeing the damage it sustained during the battle at the Citadel. They never found him or his armor, but they found his helmet.

Guilty plagued him for a moment, thinking back to Fives, what he did without him all those years, thinking he was dead, then what happened to him….

“Is that your helmet?”

Echo jumped, looking over at Crosshair who leaned against the wall next to him. When did he walk over?! But looking into the sniper’s sharp eyes, he could see he was on the track to regressing.

“Yeah, it’s my old helmet. Not much to it is there?” He joked, smiling back to Crosshair.

“Did you create the design on the top of it?” He asked, looking at the blue paint.

“I did. It closely resembles my brother Fives’. Our helmets looked similar.” He pats the bed next to him and scoots over, inviting him over. “Here, come sit.”

Crosshair looked a bit shy at first, trying to hold himself back. But Echo’s smile and reassurance starts to bring him out of his shell. He sits next to him, looking at the helmet in Echo’s hands.

“Here,” he holds his helmets out, “you can hold it.”

Crosshair carefully takes the helmet from him, looking at it in awe. He moves it around, looking at every detail. “What happened to it?”

“There was an explosion at the Citadel. I was trying to protect the soldiers and people in my party but I didn’t realize there was a bomb on the shuttle.” He explains a bit sad.

“Do you remember anything about it?” Crosshair ask softly.

“No. I don’t remember anything after it. I just remember the Citadel and then I remember you guys saving me on Skako Minor. But nothing in between.” Echo explains.

“I…I didn’t believe you were even there, I didn’t believe Rex when he kept saying you were alive……..I’m sorry,” Crosshair looks back up to Echo.

“No apology necessary. I don’t know if I would’ve believed it myself if I was in your shoes.” Echo smiles, patting his shoulder, “But I’m honored to be here, honored to be a part of this squad.”

The two go on to look at the rest of his armor. His original armor got destroyed in his accident at the Citadel but most clones troopers always has a back up set.

He showed Crosshair his gauntlets, his blasters, his kamas, and more. All while Crosshair looked in awe, Echo’s helmet by his side, making comment here and there, asking questions about everything.

The more they looked at things, the more Crosshair started to regress and get closer to Echo. Eventually they were shoulder to shoulder with each other, Crosshair leaning against Echo’s side.

“Alright,” Echo looked back to Crosshair and smiled, “I saved the best for last.”

He lean forward and unwrapped his chest plate. He lifted it up and looked to Crosshair with a smile. The blue hand print on the chest plate and the arc trooper blue pauldrons. It was hard not to recognize the unique design.

Crosshair froze looking at the chest plate. His eyes widened as his hands ghosted along the blue hand print on the front.

He looked back to Echo, a small blush on his face. “It was you…” he said softly, looking at Echo in shock and awe. “You’re the ARC trooper that found me.”

Echo is a generation 1 clone, one of the first clones ever made. Crosshair and the rest of the batch are one of the newer generations.

“I don’t remember a lot of moments of my life before, but I remember you, the small silver haired cadet.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around him. “I saw you in the hallway. And the two of us spend the afternoon trying to find your brothers. Remember? Remember the game we played?”

“We played scout mission.” He says softly, still reeling from the shock of this.

“That’s right, you and I were trying to scout out Kamino as we looked for your brothers.”

Crosshair looked at Echo is utter shock and awe. “I remember that day. I remember ever moment. I…” he starts to blush, “I wanted to be like you.”

“You’re better than I could ever be Crosshair, your shooting skills and abilities are something so beyond any ARC trooper’s capabilities. I couldn’t be more proud of the clone you turned out to be.”

There was a hint of tears in Crosshair’s eyes as he looked back to Echo. He looked as though the wanted to reach out and hug him but was shy to do so.

Echo closed the distance, wrapping his arm and scoop around Crosshair, brining the Little close. Crosshair cuddles close, resting his head against Echo’s shoulder like he did all those cycles ago.

“I’ve got you Crosshair, I’ve got you. I protected you back then, and I’m going to protect you now.” Echo adds softly, a hand rubbing up and down his back.

The two stay like that for a moment. Echo just holding the Little sniper close to him, protecting him, all these years later.

~~~

Two hours later Hunter, Tech and Wrecker walk through the hallways of Kamino, back to their room.

“What’s the percentage that this plan worked?” Hunter asks, holding a regressed Wrecker’s hand as he walked.

“87 percent.” Tech answers back.

“That’s not bad! It’s not zero!” Wrecker enthusiastically exclaims.

“Echo has a very high chance of getting through to Crosshair consider he is the ARC trooper that found him all those years ago.” Tech explains like it’s nothing.

Both Hunter and Wrecker stop, looking at the yellow goggle wearing clone shocked.

“What?!”

“That was Echo?!”

“Well…I thought it was obvious.”

“HOW WAS THAT OBVIOUS TECH?!” Wrecker yells, not out of anger but out of confusion.

“Wrecker, bring it down a notch.” Hunter squeezes his hand.

The three continue, walking down the hallway and then right into their barracks. What they find is an adorable sight. Echo is sound asleep in his bed with Crosshair cuddled on top of his chest.

The Little sniper has one of his chewable necklaces in his mouth and his arm wrapped around Echo’s chest.

The Caregiver slept with his scoop around Crosshair and his hand holding a datapad with some of Echo’s old mission logs.

“THEY LIKE EACH OTHER NOW!” Wrecker yelled, loud and happily.

“Wrecker!”

“Wrecker!”

Thankfully Crosshair didn’t wake up, having been used to Wrecker’s loud voice for cycles. But Echo jumped awake.

Tech took Wrecker off to the other side of the barracks to play, while Hunter walked over to Echo and a sleeping Crosshair.

He smiles at the two before patting Echo’s shoulder, “Welcome to our family Echo.”

After Skako Minor Echo didn’t know where he fit in, what he was anymore. But in this moment he realizes. He may not be the clone he once was, but he was something better now. An ARC trooper and more importantly a Caregiver again. But best of all, he’s right where be belongs, with his family.

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #8: Extra Credit

(Modern Fantasy AU with Aryn, Cedrik, Valen, and Ronove (as Jesse) Contains minor violence from a vampire attack.)

Valen sung his heart out to the crowd gathered here for the show tonight. His favorite backup dancers supporting him throughout the show all evening. None of them missing a beat with their steps. Not that he thought they would. No, his dancers were well skilled in their art. He matched them step for step as they had taught him for the song.

Swinging around to pause in the middle of the stage with his four dancers around him as the song was reaching it's climax. Running a teasing hand down the front of Aryn's body with a grin before he danced away and continued the song. Leaving the viera dancer to follow after him as they practiced. Only for Jesse to step between them an act like the jealous lover as the blue haired midlander put his hands on Aryn to stop him. Valen naturally singing about how to be a heartbreaker. Winking at one of the two female dancers as she pretended to swoon.

It was the final song of the night though thankfully. He was growing tired from performing for hours to a well packed crowd in the arena. The dancers and musicians were probably getting just as tired. Whose idea was it to perform for this long for a crowd anyways? Not that he didn't enjoy doing it. Maybe he ought to talk to them about having a break in the middle of a show.

Valen thanked the crowd as the song finished. With it the show for the night. Waving and blowing kisses towards his audience as he headed off stage to catch up with his crew.

"Great show, everyone!" Valen chirped happily as he draped one arm around Aryn's shoulders and the other around Jesse's. "I am so excited that it went so well. Did you see the size of that audience?"

"Naturally. How could we miss it?" Aryn laughed as he gave Valen a quick peck on the cheek before removing the singer's arm. "However you have an after party to go to according to your manager." Teasingly giving Valen a playful swat on the behind. "Besides I need to take Jesse to meet with his boyfriend~!" Sing-songing the last word.

"Haha. You act like we haven't been dating for months now." Jesse stuck his tongue out at Aryn as he slipped free of Valen as well. "Get going, Valentin. Don't keep your adoring fans waiting. I'm sure you want to get a quick shower and change before going to that party. You don't have time to shamelessly flirt with Aryn. I swear you two only ever have one thing on your minds."

Now Aryn gave Jesse a playful swat on the arm. The group of them were all close clearly by the way they all interacted. Friends from even before Valen started becoming popular with the masses. Aryn draped his arm over Jesse's shoulder as they waved Valen off.

"Well let's get going. Hate to keep that cutie of yours waiting. What was his name again? Lee?" Aryn asks teasingly, purposely getting the name wrong.

"Elijah." Jesse huffs and rolls his eyes before giving Aryn a gentle shove. "And I definitely don't want to be late. He's making dinner and I am -starving- after all that work."

Aryn and Jesse laughed warmly at a joke between them as they walked out the backdoor towards where their car was waiting. They often arrived together for shows to avoid them both fighting traffic. Especially since Valen often couldn't leave with them. The girls were nice but they preferred to go to the parties with Valen to connect with other people. Aryn was normally a party person himself most days. He just didn't like the host of this party so he'd offered to save Elijah the trouble of picking up Jesse later. Jesse wasn't keen on high traffic driving around the city.

Aryn frowned as he looked up. Was the alley this dark normally? He could have sworn the light was confirmed working when they setup the venue. The manager usually took things like this seriously for the safety of everyone. But now the light above was dark and the shadows seemed extra worrisome. Something didn't sit right with Aryn. But Jesse had kept walking, only stopping when he realized that Aryn wasn't following.

"What's wro--" Jesse's words cut off as something grabbed him. A pained scream soon followed.

"Jesse!" Aryn hollered as he raced down to try an help his friend. Skidding to a stop as he came upon what had grabbed Jesse. A set of bloody teeth grinned up at him from the creature that was holding a his limp friend. Magic sparkled at the tips of Aryn's hands as he prepared to have to fight whatever this thing was that had just decided to chew on Jesse. "Get away from him!"

"Ah you did save me one." Hissed a voice behind Aryn that made him spin around as glittering golden light surrounded his hands. Another of these things had snuck up behind him. Aryn swallowed hard as he looked between the pair. If he went after the one holding Jesse, he left himself open to attack by this new one. His ears drooped as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Just as the one behind him seemed prepared to leap at him, it went down with a strangled cry at Aryn's feet. A blade protruding from it's back. Aryn blinked in surprise as he stared at the man at the dimly lit area of the door they had come from earlier. One hand outstretched as if he'd been the one to throw the blade that had landed through the creature's heart with force. It was hard to make out the exact features of this mysterious man other than the telltale ears of a viera.

The man rushed forward before Aryn could react. Hand reaching out to grab the blade and rip it from the downed vampire's body. Breezing past the startled dancer to lunge at the other one holding Jesse. All Aryn could tell was his savior had a pale pink hair and moved with speed. The first vampire had quickly dropped Jesse as he attempted to escape the hunter that came for him.

Cedrik cut off the vampire's escape as he skidded to a stop right in the creature's path. Giving the thing a 'tsk' as he pushed off for another lunge. Swinging with first one blade, dodged by his foe. Only for the swing of the second blade to catch the vampire across the chest in a shallow wound. Spinning around to cleave a blade down in another swing as the vampire staggered. He was a dance of death with his blades.

Aryn watched, surprised, till he heard a weak groan come from his friend. Rushing to Jesse's side as he let this stranger handle the immediate danger for the moment. His still glowing hands went to the terrible would torn into Jesse's shoulder near the neck. So much blood. Aryn wasn't even sure when he'd started crying as he tried to stop the blood loss from being fatal. But the damage and what the vampire had drained was like fighting a losing battle.

"It's too late to save him." Cedrik stopped before where the two friends where once he was finished killing the other vampire. Cedrik crouched down as he gently took Aryn's chin in his hands. "I'm sorry."

Aryn's gold eyes blazed as he glared at Cedrik. He wanted to deny it with every fiber of his being. He wanted that to be false. But part of him knew it was true. Whatever had attacked them had taken Jesse from them.

"Come on. In case there are others still lurking about. They hunt in small packs if they hunt in a city. They will come for you." Cedrik stood and reached out to grab Aryn's arm to try and get him to come along.

"But... Jesse... I can't..." Aryn stammered as he didn't want to let his friend stay laying there. What would he tell Elijah? Or Valen? Seven hells... This had to be a nightmare that he just needed to wake up from.

Cedrik looked torn for a moment. He knew he should stab the dead man just to be sure he wouldn't turn. But to do that in front of this gorgeous dancer... He found himself unable to do so. Not when he'd liked watching this man dance. Something always drew him like a moth to a flame when it came to Aryn. He'd been here watching the show tonight just for a glimpse at the other man. Last thing he'd expected was for the vampires he was hunting for weeks to come after the dancers. He was partly at fault for letting himself relax long enough to enjoy the concert. One of the other dancers was now dead and it could have been Aryn. How close it had come to being Aryn laying in this alley dead and possibly soon to be a vampire if he turned.

"We have to. I'm sorry." Cedrik apologized again as he gave Aryn's arm a gentle tug to move the man to his feet. "Trust me, you don't want to be here if more come because I killed their friends."

Aryn looked down at Jesse's unmoving body, wanting to cry. He closed his eyes and took a breath before giving a resigned sigh. "Fine." It would be worse to end up like his friend had. Making a silent promise to come back for Jesse as soon as he was able. He would not let Jesse's final resting place be an alley. Besides he'd heard of an increase attacks on people in the area. This was why the manager had tried to be extra careful only to for things to still go wrong.

Cedrik tugged Aryn along as he moved to quickly leave the alley, hoping the other viera would keep up.

[ofthecaravel]

Brandy

Chapter Five

Summary: A port on a western bay serves a hundred ships a day, and the lonely sailors flock to the Caravel Cantina, run by the Kiszka brothers (minus one). But when their brother returns with a handsome sailor in tow, the youngest Kiszka brother finds his perspective about his family and himself turned upside down.

Words: 3.9k

~~~

Two nights. Sam slept peacefully for two nights.

Two beautiful, beautiful nights that brought back a long buried calm and ease that he reveled in quietly. He noticed the softness creeping back into his voice and the smile that refused to leave him alone, and even though he knew they wanted to give him shit for it, his brothers took it in without a word. The whisperings of a Friday night dinner with Daniel in attendance actually came together, and it had gone surprisingly well for a Kiszka family dinner. Despite being the guest, Daniel had showed up early and insisted on helping, navigating the kitchen flurry of Sam and his siblings scurrying every which way to grab whatever pot or pan they’d left unattended and shrieking over each other. But every dish had ended up only a little bit burnt and the four of them talked well after dinner had been cleared, Josh having decided the previous night that a night off was justified by Daniel’s presence in their home. Sam didn’t get nearly as much alone time with Daniel as he had hoped for, but he was more than happy to curl up into his side on the couch and sneak in side conversations when they could. 

Daniel excused himself at midnight, taking note of the way all the brothers had started to droop and yawn as the light in the fireplace started to dim. Jake made them all group hug before he and Josh drifted off to their bedrooms, leaving Daniel to herd Sam into his room, who protested greatly at Daniel leaving. 

“Just stay here tonight,” Sam purred, sitting on the bed while Daniel shook his head. 

“I’d love to but your bed barely fits you, much less the both of us,” Daniel argued, not budging from his post at the door once he made his way over. “Also, I mean, look, you’re falling asleep right in front of me. You need sleep.”

“Sleep with me,” Sam whined, dramatically flipping the blanket back. “I’ll just lay on top of you. We’ll fit.”

“Sam, if you got on top of me, sleep is the last thing you’d be doing,” Daniel winked with a chuckle. Sam rolled his eyes, flashing hot. 

“Maybe I prefer that,” Sam countered, crawling forward on the bed and flashing his best puppy dog eyes at Daniel, who he could see was already faltering under his gaze. “Come on, I’ll be real quiet.”

“Tempting,” Daniel admitted, his voice a little breathier as he dipped down and kissed Sam’s forehead, who closed his eyes at the contact. “But no. Sleep, Sammy.”

“No,” Sam muttered petulantly, finding it difficult to open his eyes again now that he’d closed them. “I won’t get to see you until tomorrow night. And then after that…”

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” Daniel answered softly, gently steering Sam’s shoulder to make him flop backwards onto his pillow, landing with a frown but still keeping his eyes shut. “Think about nice, sleepy things.”

“You’re a nice, sleepy thing,” Sam replied tiredly, his mind already starting to dapple alongside his consciousness. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” Daniel whispered, kissing Sam’s cheek and brushing his hair back. “How about you sleep over tomorrow night, hm? We can put on that record and-”

“Dance?” Sam interjected, opening one eye with a cheeky smile to catch Daniel’s reaction, who gave him his own smile and eyebrow raise.

“Sure. You gonna teach me?” 

“I don’t know, that’s usually your area of expertise,” Sam flirted, grabbing Daniel’s collar and pulling him down. “Kiss me.”

“You have no manners,” Daniel joked. “Say please and promise you’ll come over.”

“Please,” Sam hummed, jutting his lips out pleadingly and enjoying the sight of Daniel’s eyelids fluttering so close to his face. “Promise.”

“That’s my sweet boy,” Daniel murmured before pressing his lips to Sam’s with breathless pressure. Sam was addicted to the feeling after only a few days of having it, and he felt stirrings of an insatiable need to be somehow closer to Daniel despite being pressed together while they kissed slowly and purposefully. 

“I think,” Sam started to say after pulling away to drink in a quick breath. “That I like that.”

“Kissing? I should fucking hope so.”

“No, stupid,” Sam laughed, smiling at the sight of Daniel’s scrunched nose while he grinned, his eyes glittering almost supernaturally in the lamplight. “Being your boy. I like it.”

“Me too,” Daniel replied, his voice barely audible as he rested their foreheads together. Suddenly, the air between them grew quiet, and when Daniel’s voice piped back up, he was soft spoken and serious. 

“Sam, listen, I wanted to say,” Daniel began, and Sam felt himself wake up a little as he watched Daniel struggle for words for a moment. “I know it’s only been a few days, and this isn’t even anything yet, but I wanted to tell you that I really do like you.”

“Yeah?” Sam answered quietly, his stomach fluttering as adrenaline started to fizzle at his fingertips and his muscles. 

“Yeah,” Daniel affirmed sincerely, seemingly a little taken aback by his own sentiment. “I mean everything I said on Wednesday. And it’s really fucking fast, I know, and I gotta leave, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t genuinely like you. I do.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Sam muttered, putting a hand on Danny’s jaw and trying and failing miserably at suppressing a smile. 

“And I know you like me, too, so I won’t even make you say that,” Daniel teased, which Sam answered with a bewildered scoff. “You do! You do. I see it. That’s what makes it so much better and simultaneously worse. But, I was thinking. I could write to you as much as I’m able to. We hit lots of ports with postal, so I’ll just send someone down to mail it for me. It’ll be like I never left, still talking your ear off like I always do.”

“I wish I could write you back,” Sam complained. “But I know your ship sure as shit doesn’t have an address.” 

“Nope,” Daniel laughed a little before falling somber again, his voice still lilting with humor but laced with a genuine belief. “You probably won’t even like me by the time I come back.”

“Danny,” Sam protested with a whine, absently swiping at a smudge of Danny’s pencil liner as he tilted Danny’s chin to look right at him. “Don’t talk like that. I do like you, and, you know, my brother has made me a very patient person. Wouldn’t be too hard to keep you fresh in my mind, especially since I want to. I mean it.”

“You’re unreal,” Daniel marveled, his eyes dancing thoughtfully over Sam’s sleepy face. “But don’t think about that just yet. Like I said, think nice sleepy thoughts right now. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“You promise?” Sam prodded, the tiredness starting to seep back into his body as he finally entertained the thought of falling asleep. 

“Promise,” Danny promised, giving Sam one last kiss before standing back up and stretching. “I think I’ll sleep when I get back to my bed, so don’t have any exciting dreams until I get there, okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Sam smiled, kicking his legs under the covers and settling in a little more. “Turn off my lamp, please.”

“Of course,” Danny obliged with a fond smile, strolling back over to the door and dimming the light until he was only a blue silhouette in the dark. “Sweet dreams, sweet boy.”

“Goodnight, Danny,” Sam answered shyly, his voice sounding embarrassingly loud in the dark, night time quiet of his room. 

“I love when you call me that, by the way,” Daniel commented briefly, opening the door to escape before Sam could tease him properly. “Goodnight, Sammy.”

After the door closed, Sam sat up in bed, listening to Daniel’s footsteps in the threshold of the house before they disappeared behind the sound of the front door opening and then closing. He fell backwards against his pillow again and covered his face with his arm, pressing his hot cheeks into his skin and sinking back into his exhaustion. The last sensation Sam remembered before he drifted off was the smell of Daniel on his pillow, letting the comfort of it lull him into a deep sleep.

- 

Sam was startled awake by what sounded like a brittle tree branch tapping against the window pane, and he blinked in annoyance as the noise kept him from falling back asleep. Wiping his eyes with the heels of his palm, Sam slowly sat up and blinked a few times before turning to glare at the window. Judging by the light, Sam guessed it couldn’t have been more than 3am, and judging by the dark outline in his window, Sam guessed that it was definitely not a tree branch. Sam jolted with a stilted gasp, instinctually scooting up against the wall before his bleary eyes started to decipher more details. Suddenly, his muscles contracted with a shock as he realized what the shape was. He clumsily threw himself off of his bed to get to the window to prove his theory.

“Daniel?” Sam asked in a hush, leaning in and seeing it was indeed Daniel’s face peering at him from behind the glass. He quickly opened the window when he saw the horrible expression painted over Danny’s usually cool and collected features. He was silently gasping for breath and looking feverishly at Sam with an animalistic panic in his eyes that made Sam’s stomach drop.

“Sam,” Daniel huffed, his voice bordering on inaudible as he leaned in, his knuckles white as he gripped the windowsill. “I have to go.”

“What?” Sam slurred, suddenly worried he was still asleep and having a spontaneous stress dream. “Go where?”

“The ship,” Daniel hurried, his words slipping over each other nervously. “I have to go to the ship with Jake, we’re going, everybody else, we’re going right now.”

As if on cue, Sam heard a soft rustling from his home behind him, the floors creaking and carrying the indecipherable sounds of his brothers’ muffled talking. His heart threatened to seize as his whole body began to shake with adrenaline. 

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Sam whispered, his words straining as Daniel looked over his shoulder. “Danny?”

“People are talking,” Daniel struggled to explain through his fast words. “One of our crew caught wind of some kind of confrontation against us tomorrow. We can’t risk that, we have to go. Now. Before dawn and before word can properly spread and people speculate.”

“No,” Sam answered dumbly, suddenly reaching out and holding Daniel’s cold face in his hands. He felt like he was seconds away from hitting the ground. “No, Daniel, no. You can’t. You can’t.”

“We have to,” Daniel choked, tears welling up in his eyes as he ineptly grasped at Sam’s waist and pulled him close as he could with a window between them. “I just told Jake a minute ago and we can’t stay for much longer than a few minutes, baby, and then we have to go, okay?”

“You promised,” Sam spit, tears of his own already hotly spilling over and clouding his vision as he anxiously realized this was his (last?) chance to properly remember every perfect detail of Daniel’s face.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Daniel rasped with a restrained cry, his face crumpling with remorse and upset as glittering tears began to race down his cheeks. “I swear, I had no idea, I don’t want to leave, Sammy, I promise. I want to stay but we can’t.”

Sam couldn’t do anything but choke down frustrated sobs for a few seconds, his body quivering with nerves as he heard Josh yell in the living room with Jake answering him in a tearful plea. Daniel’s fingers were digging so deep into his skin that Sam knew he would bruise, and he secretly wished that Daniel would dig so deep that even more remnants of him would stay on Sam’s skin.

“Say something,” Daniel begged, his voice shaking and breaking when Sam closed his eyes and let out a soft little sob. His eyebrows knit and purled between anger and despair while Daniel watched, thoroughly disgusted with himself even though he knew it was truly beyond his control.

“I’ll hide you,” Sam offered pathetically, shakily combing back Danny’s frenzied bangs with shivering fingers.

“You can’t,” Daniel replied defeatedly, his hands now roaming Sam’s torso anxiously as he tried to soothe him. “I’ll be fine, I swear. Jake too. We are so, so safe with what we do, I wasn’t lying about that either.”

“You lied tonight,” Sam seethed, his grief melting into anger like it always had. “You said you’d be here in the morning.”

“How could I know?”

“I don’t know!” Sam burst, trying desperately to dampen the volume of his voice as Danny tried to pull him closer again and rested his head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam pressed their cheeks together and let out a little whimper at the comfort he felt in Daniel’s embrace, accepting with horror that this might be the last time he ever felt it. He held onto him tight because of it, his nails slotting into the soft corduroy of Daniel’s jacket as they held each other with an iron grip. 

Behind them, Sam’s door opened and his head whipped around to see Jake’s unmistakable silhouette in his doorway. He hurried into the room towards his brother and Daniel, and Sam felt the tears start up all over again at the desolate look on Jake’s face. 

“Sammy, I-”

“I know,” Sam rushed, turning away from Daniel’s embrace and diving into his big brother’s arms, clasping his long arms around him snugly. He could feel the heat of Jake’s face as they clung together, and for a second, they were 4 and 7 years old again. Sam stretched it in his mind as he desperately tried to take in every nanosecond of what was happening.

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered against his shoulder, clapping Sam on the back and sniffling. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know,” Sam repeated, looking past Jake’s hair to see Josh now standing in the doorway. He was rumpled and his face was pink and drenched in absolute misery. Sam reached an arm out and Josh approached them, trying to embrace both of his brothers at the same time. The three of them stood there for another minute, their breaths synchronizing and beginning to even out slightly as they held back further tears and words that would get them nowhere. 

“Come back,” Sam finally whispered, stepping back to wipe his face and let Jake go.

“I will,” Jake said firmly, dabbing at the moisture on his cheeks with his dark sleeve. 

“Jake,” Daniel said desperately, still looking over his shoulder as he pleaded reluctantly with his eyes. Jake nodded and embraced both his brothers one more time before running his fingers through his hair and letting out a shuddering breath to stabilize himself.

“I’ll meet you at the front door,” Jake replied, his voice low and resistant. Daniel gave him another nod and Jake turned towards the door, Josh one step behind him as he cast a last look back at Sam and Daniel by the window. 

“I love you, Sam,” Jake promised. “We’ll be back next summer, but hopefully before that.”

“I love you, too,” Sam answered instantly, his lip quivering and his voice shaking all over again. He drew in a shaky breath as Jake disappeared behind the door and he swung his head to look back at Daniel. Sam had never recalled a time before this where he had felt as ill as he did seeing Daniel standing teary eyed in his window. 

“I…” Sam trailed off, reaching for Daniel’s face again and settling a knee on the windowsill so he could align with Daniel’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Daniel replied simply, not wasting any time before catching Sam in a searing kiss. They held each other with a hopeless grip, Sam’s tears fluttering onto Daniel’s cheeks. 

After another few seconds, Daniel pulled away and dove his hand into his jacket pocket, digging around fervently for a second before pulling something out and pressing it into Sam’s palm. He felt the cold flush of metal against his shaking hand and Sam flattened his palm to see the ornate face of a silver locket and its braided chain piled around it. 

“What?” Sam blurted stupidly, searching Daniel’s eyes. “For me?”

“The finest silver from the north of Spain,” Daniel explained, his voice still hushed but a smile finally beginning to bleed into his words. “I got it a million years ago and promised myself I’d only give it away to somebody I really care about. Open it, quick, Jake’s waiting.”

Sam slid his nail between the clasp and the locket clicked open, falling open like a book and revealing two little treasures for Sam. On the left side, a small piece of parchment with Daniel’s scrawled, inked handwriting curving into a heart and his own name. On the right was a small dark ringlet secured to the silver backing. Sam’s stomach flipped and his face prickled with warmth as he looked back up at Daniel with round, soft eyes.

“It’s just a little keepsake,” Daniel said, his body losing some of its electric tension as he watched Sam press his finger against the ink. “So you don’t forget me.”

“I could never,” Sam breathed, snapping the locket shut and throwing an arm around Daniel’s neck and pulling him in again, kissing his cheek and burying his face into his neck. “I’ll never take it off.”

“You better not,” Daniel smiled, pressing one last lingering kiss to Sam’s lips before leaning back out the window again. “I have to go.”

“I know,” Sam whispered, tears welling up in his eyes again as Daniel took a step back. 

“I’m not gonna say goodbye, because it’s not goodbye,” Daniel insisted, his voice giving way to a tremor for a moment. “It’s just ‘see you later’. So, I’ll see you later, Sammy.”

“See you later, Danny,” Sam rasped, willing himself not to blink as he watched Daniel linger for another moment before he turned and disappeared around the side of the house and out of sight. 

Sam hesitated for a moment too long, pondering if he should just throw himself out of the window and follow after them. But the moment passed and he heard two sets of footsteps disappearing down the street before he ever had the chance. 

The weight of the locket felt like a barbell in his palm, and all Sam could do was stand there and sway and stare into nothing. The cool breeze coming in from outside was starting to make him feel a little sick when he thought about it rolling off the sea. The same sea that was stealing his brother and now Daniel from him. He reached one hand out and slammed the window shut, not caring about the deafening rattle it made when the wood hit the sill. 

“You want me to put it on you?”

Josh stood in the doorway, holding onto the wall for stability as he exchanged identical looks of miserable sympathy with Sam. Sam clamped his lips together to prevent a cry from escaping and shook his head, holding the locket out to Josh and pulling his hair over his shoulder. Holding the locket to his chest, Sam stared emptily at the floor while Josh’s cold fingers grazed his neck and clasped the chain. 

 Sam knew that Josh would keep himself composed for both of their sake, but he felt his brother’s grief as his own as they stood in silence while Josh fiddled with the necklace and Sam kept the locket clenched protectively in his fist.

“Careful that this doesn’t yank on your hair,” Josh muttered, his voice low and rough from what Sam assumed was tears and the yelling he had heard earlier.

“You could cut it and I wouldn’t care,” Sam answered absently.

“Do you want me to?” Josh asked. “I think that’d be the least exciting portion of the night if we did.”

“Fuck it,” Sam said, laughing without any humor. “Get the scissors.”

-

They ended the night on Josh’s bedroom floor, with Sam sitting with a halo of his hair around his legs and back and Josh carefully cutting Sam’s long locks until they grazed his shoulders. They were silent, a rarity for their household, especially when it was the two of them. By the time Josh was done, the first amber fingers of dawn started to reach through the curtain and reminded them both of how little sleep they had actually gotten. Sam yawned and leaned his head back against Josh’s shoulder, who accepted him with a one armed hug and rested his head against Sam’s. Clarice had roosted in Sam's crossed legs, and he never thought he'd find her presence anything less than annoying, but he found himself enjoying the comfort of her warmth.

“You wanna sleep in here with me tonight?” Josh questioned quietly. “Like old times? We can pull the mattress from…”

“No, I’m okay,” Sam replied, his voice dry and painful. “Are we closed tonight too?”

“No, we got to go,” Josh sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “To, uh, keep up appearances. Jake would want that.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

“Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“He’s not gonna die,” Josh insisted, almost like he was talking to himself. “Jake’s smarter than that. Dan, too.”

Sam went quiet again, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly as his eyes shut.

“You really like the kid, huh?” Josh prodded, his voice hushed. Sam didn’t answer verbally, only nodding after a moment of hesitation as he came to terms with it himself. 

“I’m really happy for you, Sammy. He’s an honest man.”

“He is,” Sam affirmed, letting out another sigh. “I knew he was going to have to leave and I wasn’t going to get attached or anything but…I don’t know. It hurts.”

“It does,” Josh assured him, pulling Sam in closer. “I only understand the half of it, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Half is good. I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy you’re here, too.”

They left a beat of silence for Jake, whether they meant to or not. Another one followed it before Sam leaned forward again and brought a hand up to rake it through his hair, enjoying the physical weight that had been lifted.

“Go look in the mirror and then go to bed,” Josh ordered, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder and using it to stabilize himself as he got to his feet. “Don’t worry about the hair on the ground, I’ll clean it up later.”

“Okay,” Sam said, standing up and sending Clarice fluttering across the floor, feeling an ache in every inch of his body as he shuffled to the door.

“We’ll be okay, Sammy,” Josh told him assuredly. “Just get some sleep and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, moving through the door and navigating back to his room. He passed by Jake’s door and pushed down the urge to peek inside and catch a glimpse of anything he might’ve left behind, but it stayed on his mind as he turned to the mirror. The light outside was seeping in through his window and he could see the feathery layers of his hair as it shifted on his shoulders and kissed his jaw. In the thin, orange light, Sam could also see the look on his face. And after who he had felt himself becoming in the past few days, there was a second where he didn’t recognize the tired eyed boy staring back at him at all.

~~~