#like what are you doing outside of the tv

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[magical-reid]

The Rings We Keep Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Part 1

Two months had passed since the case ended, your team was spending more and more time assisting the BAU with their cases, and you were still adjusting to being known as Mrs. Reid. The BAU’s teasing had mostly subsided, but Penelope couldn’t help herself, sending you daily texts with variations of “How’s married life treating you, sugarplum?”

Spencer, of course, was blissfully oblivious to half the jokes. You envied his ability to compartmentalize. For you, the line between personal and professional felt increasingly blurred—especially when you came home to find him sitting on your couch, flipping through one of your dog-eared mystery novels like he belonged there.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your go-bag on the floor.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up. “Your landlord called earlier. The leak in your bathroom should be fixed tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Spencer finally glanced up, his expression innocent. “It’s easier if they call me. You don’t always answer your phone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Easier, huh?”

He shrugged. “Legally, I’m your emergency contact. Makes sense.”

Your chest tightened a mix of irritation and something warmer that you weren’t ready to name. Spencer had a way of making the most unconventional things seem logical—like casually fixing your plumbing situation as if it were just another bullet point on his to-do list.

You crossed the room, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You know this is weird, right?”

“What is?”

“This,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being married but… not married.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s not weird. We work well together.”

“That’s not exactly the foundation of a marriage,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked bite. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—try to figure out what this actually is?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You mean, like dating?”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and full of possibility.

“Maybe,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, it might help. Get to know each other outside of work. Outside of… whatever this is.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s logical. We could schedule something.”

“Schedule?” You laughed, the sound half nervous, half amused. “Spence, you don’t schedule a date. You just… go.”

His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Of course.”

The First Date

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Spencer at a cozy little café near the library. He’d insisted on picking the place, and you hadn’t protested—it was quiet, intimate, and felt like him.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety,” Spencer said, gesturing to the spread of pastries between you. “There’s a 73% chance one of these is your favorite.”

You bit back a smile, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “Good guess.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and you realized he’d been nervous—an unusual look for someone so confident in every other aspect of his life.

“So,” you began, tearing off a piece of croissant. “Do we talk about work, or is that off-limits?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s not off-limits, but we could talk about other things. Like… hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeated, amused. “You mean like your extensive knowledge of obscure trivia?”

“Or your knack for solving puzzles,” he countered, a rare teasing tone in his voice.

You laughed, the sound drawing a faint smile from him. For the first time, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by something warmer—something that felt almost like normalcy.

Navigating New Territory

Over the next few weeks, your dynamic shifted in subtle but undeniable ways. Spencer started leaving his favorite books on your nightstand, claiming they were “better than the ones you usually read.” You, in turn, introduced him to your guilty pleasure TV shows, relishing the way he tried (and failed) to resist getting invested in the drama.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together—a rare occurrence, considering your busy schedules��Spencer reached for the salt just as you turned to grab a spoon. The collision was minor, but it left you both frozen, faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. You busied yourself stirring the sauce, your mind racing. Was this what it felt like to be in a real marriage? The constant push and pull of closeness and uncertainty?

“I’ve been reading about communication in relationships,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course you have.”

“It says physical proximity is important,” he continued, his tone serious. “Small gestures, like holding hands, can build intimacy.”

You stared at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “Spence, are you saying we should hold hands more?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “It might help.”

You sighed, setting down the spoon. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His skin was warm, his grip firm but careful.

“How’s this?” you asked, half-joking.

Spencer’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Good,” he said softly. “It’s… good.”

A Step Forward

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself leaning against Spencer on the couch, too tired to care about boundaries. His arm was draped around your shoulders, and you realized with a start that it felt… nice. Comforting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t move, didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply held you, his presence steady and reassuring.

In that moment, you realized something had shifted—not just between you, but within you. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. It was becoming something real, something worth fighting for.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Spencer’s voice echoed softly in your mind.

“I’ve got you.”

You believed him.

The Unspoken Shift

It was late one night when the shift finally happened when everything you and Spencer had been tiptoeing around finally came to a head. The case had been grueling—intense, dangerous—but in the end, the team had solved it. The adrenaline had faded, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake.

You were sitting on the couch in your small apartment, your mind still racing from the day’s events. You’d barely had time to think about anything beyond work in the past few weeks, but now, with the threat neutralized, everything came rushing back.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the chaos. He was curled up in the armchair across from you, his laptop open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. He kept glancing over at you, his face unreadable, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it.

It was in moments like this that you found yourself wondering what this was between you—this odd marriage of convenience that had slowly morphed into something you couldn’t quite define.

We work well together, Spencer had said once, so casually that it hadn’t quite clicked at the time. Now, though, as you caught him looking at you again—this time with a sort of tenderness that made your heart skip a beat—you wondered if he meant more than just work.

You shifted on the couch, trying to distract yourself. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too deeply, not with everything that was still unresolved. But Spencer’s voice cut through the silence.

"Y/N, I... I think I need to apologize."

You froze, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Apologize? For what?"

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop, but he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, serious and a little vulnerable. "For... for how distant I’ve been. I know I’ve been focused on the cases and... well, on myself too much." His lips tightened, as if he regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "I’ve been pushing you away without even realizing it. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. Spencer was never one to admit when he was wrong. He was always so logical, so composed. But tonight, something was different. There was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten, and you realized with a jolt that maybe you had been pushing him away too.

"You haven’t been distant, Spence," you said softly. "You’ve just been... you." The words felt heavier than you intended, but it was the truth. Spencer had always been focused, and driven, and even when he was there, he seemed so far away, locked in his own world.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that’s not an excuse. I—I should have been there more for you. You’ve been doing this alone, and that’s not fair."

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. Spencer Reid, always so sure of his intelligence and his work, was admitting—without words—that he wasn’t sure how to be a partner in this unconventional marriage. And as much as you wanted to brush it off, you couldn’t. You had been struggling with the same doubts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said quietly, motioning between the two of you. “This whole… marriage thing. It’s not what I expected, either. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I know you are,” he said. “And that’s why I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t know what this is, but... I don’t want to lose it.”

There was a long pause as you both let the words settle. You felt the weight of everything that had been building up—the awkward moments, the shared glances, the near-kisses that you’d both avoided. But in that moment, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep avoiding it.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer inhaled deeply, his hand moving hesitantly toward yours. When his fingers brushed against yours, your pulse quickened. The touch was gentle, uncertain—but it felt like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you were waiting for. The space between you seemed to shrink as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

"I think I—" Spencer started, but the words hung in the air, unspoken, because neither of you could say them aloud just yet. Instead, you reached for him.

You moved slowly, carefully, but when your lips met his, it wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t calculated. It was everything that had been building between you for the past two months. It was vulnerability and longing and the quiet admission that you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

His lips were warm, soft, and he didn’t pull away, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he did. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened as you both leaned into it, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt right. Not because the kiss had solved everything, but because in that moment, you finally felt seen.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. Spencer’s hands were still lightly touching your arms, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but you didn’t want him to move. You didn’t want to break this moment of rawness between you.

“I... I’ve wanted that for a while,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I think I have too.”

For a moment, you simply stayed there, sitting together, breathing in the same air. You didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to say anything more. Everything had shifted, in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating at the same time.

You were no longer just coworkers. You weren’t just a married couple in name. In that kiss, you had taken the first step into something more. Something real.

And for the first time, you believed Spencer when he said he didn’t want to lose this.

The Quiet Moments After

The days after your first kiss were a mix of confusion and excitement. There was still tension between the work you did and the lives you were building together, but somehow it felt more manageable now. You and Spencer began finding ways to open up to each other—slowly, carefully, but with more and more honesty.

You would catch Spencer looking at you with that same soft expression as if he was still trying to figure out the person sitting beside him, but there was no hesitation anymore. No pulling away.

He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was bringing you your favorite coffee when he knew you were having a rough day or simply sitting beside you on the couch, his presence had started to mean more. And with each passing moment, each new shared experience, you felt your connection deepening.

Maybe this wasn’t the marriage you had expected. But maybe, just maybe, it was the one you needed.

Part 3

[jaypelt]

Normally I'm the sorta person that puts things in the tags, but it's difficult to deliver the thoughts I want without it just running on too long. I'm personally not in the position to make sweeping judgements of how *audiences* prefer shows, as I've kinda tapped out of that whole thing and pay less attention to takes on media. Although expecting instant trauma and emotion sounds ridiculous. - In the Fullmetal Alchemist manga they don't even show the big Human Transmutation Moment until like... 23 chapters in. It's just dripfed up to that point. - You don't understand all of the specifics as to why Mr. Harrier Du Bois drunk himself into amnesia until you piece it all together from experience throughout the whole game. Culminating in Dolores Dei on the last day. - Kurapika's ice cold demeanor is as disturbing as it is because you've seen how much kinder he can be, and how far he's fallen since earlier in the story. It's not simply the things that happen to him either, but the actions he DECIDES to take. All of these examples present characters who clearly wear some kind of Big Shit on their sleeves, yet it isn't all given to you immediately. And with proper leadup to their emotional moments. Granted, they come from media outside of strictly western TV shows, but I think the lack of patience from both writers and the audience can represent themselves in any media. The goal is to make you *feel bad*, or feel at least feel *something*. And the idea is that this makes a story or character more compelling. How do you hook an audience? You hit em where it hurts. And sometimes it feels as if there's a certain gut punch feeling they're looking for. But there needs to be something of substance to actually CARE about. You need to build up your characters, your world, your story, before you start making people feel something. Especially in the case of characters, you need to establish who they actually ARE and what they care about. It doesn't always have to be the trauma. And trauma can take many, many forms. Negligence, despondence, listlessness, etc. The way they respond to it is often informed by the kind of person they are, even if that part of them may irrevocably change afterwards. Some may not even realize they've experienced it to begin with and are unaware of how it has shaped them. Characters are the beating heart of any story. Any good one is more than just all the trauma you can load them up with. Your plot can be mid as fuck, yet people cherish it anyway because the characters are good. Which, by god, can take form in more ways placing them in cold drop dramatic moments or delving into their backstory from the get-go. And every story needs a little time to breathe. Space out the big moments, build up to them when appropriate. Too much is emotionally exhausting at best, and feels insulting or manipulative at worst.

Man is it just me or are a lot of TV shows nowadays are written to have big emotional episodes in scenes with very little build up.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

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

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

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

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[silent-stories]

Brother's best friend! Noah

Pairing: Noah sebastian x reader

Summary: sneaking out at night (again)

The house is quiet as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the voices coming from the TV still on in the livingroom is the only sound breaking the silence.

Outside your window, the stars shine brightly in the deep night sky and the light filtering through the curtains is softly illuminating your bedroom.

It's been a couple of weeks since Jolly found out that you and Noah are together. He promised not to tell anyone and he kept his promise.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You reach over quickly, hoping it’s him. Knowing it's him.

Noah: I’ve been waiting for this all day

Noah: But Nicholas is still watching that damn movie.

Noah: If he doesn’t wrap it up soon, I’m gonna lose it.

You look at his texts as a little sigh leave your lips.

You: I know. I can’t even leave my room if he is still there.

You: It’s like he’s never gonna go to sleep.

Noah: Yeah, he’s definitely watching some crazy long documentary or whatever.

Noah: I bet we’re gonna be up til morning.

You roll your eyes, imagining Nicholas sitting there with that seriousness of his. There’s nothing that man loves more than a random documentary, sometimes.

You: That's so annoying.

For a moment, your phone doesn't lit up with a new text from Noah, and you already know he is thinking about something.

Noah: You think you can get out of your room from your window?

You freeze. Did he just suggest what you think he suggested?

You: Have you gone crazy? You know that’s not a good idea. It’s like 2 AM.

You can almost picture him grinning in his room as he texts you.

Noah: It’s the first floor. Just a little jump.

Noah: I’ll be here to catch you, don't worry. Give me 10 minutes.

You stare at your phone screen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or scold him.

You: This is a terrible idea. What if someone hears something? What if they realize one of us is not home anymore?

Noah: Trust me. I’ve got this, it's not different than sneaking into my room.

Noah: You’ll be fine. Just get ready.

Reluctantly, you place your phone back on the bed and move to the window. You crack it open a few inches, peering into the night. You can see the glow of the porch lights shining on the grass below, but there’s no sign of Noah. You wait for a couple of minutes more.

A moment later, Noah is standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, the hood pulled low enough to hide his hair. He immediately smiles at you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you lean out just a bit further.

Noah looks up at you. “I expect a "oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Not a "What are you doing?""

"Dumbass."

"But you love me. And I love you too. And I wanted to see you.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, though the words come out more fond than annoyed.

Noah’s grin widens. “And I know you wanted to see me too. So here I am. Let's go.”

You chuckle softly, glancing down at the ground. He’s right—it’s the first floor. You can definitely jump without breaking anything.

"Why can't you just come inside now?"

"I liked our last "date", walking around and holding your hand like we are not hiding anymore. Even if it lasts only like an hour."

With a deep breath, you push yourself away from the window and quickly put on your coat.

Then, you take his hand, feeling the familiar spark of his touch that always both sends your heart racing and calms you down, and he helps you down onto the grass. The air is cool, but not too cold.

When he kisses you, for a brief moment, you let yourself forget the dangers, forget the secrets you’re keeping, and just breathe in the fresh air before losing yourself in the taste of his mouth.

You both start walking down the street, side by side. It’s quiet at this hour, with only the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. You can’t hold his hand like this during the day, can’t show him affection without worrying about someone seeing. But here, in the night, you’re free.

The walk is slow, peaceful. You don’t need to speak; just being together is enough.

You point to a group of stars in the sky, and Noah, pretending to know the constellations, starts making up their names, causing you to burst out laughing.

Then, out of nowhere, a small, scruffy cat darts across the road, stopping near a mailbox. Noah’s eyes light up in amusement, and he immediately drops to one knee, his smile softening.

“Oh my god,” he says, practically cooing. “Look at this little guy.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper as he holds out a hand to the cat. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, aren’t you?”

"Hey!"

"You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen after my girlfriend, aren’t you?” He corrects himself.

You laugh, bending down beside him to join in. The cat doesn’t seem to mind the attention, rubbing against Noah’s hand with a soft purr.

You both chuckle. It’s so silly, so simple, and in this moment, it feels like you’re just two people enjoying a night under the stars, not two people hiding your love.

Eventually, you both stand up, saying bye to the cat, and Noah put his arm around your shoulders, starting to walk back home, keeping your hand in his the whole time.

When you reach your window, Noah helps you back inside. He leans up against the ledge, his face so close to yours that your heart nearly stops. You can smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the night air, and you feel like you could stay in this moment forever.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and you lean down the window one last time.

You smile, feeling warmth spread through you as you gently pull back. “Goodnight.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says, his voice lingering with the promise of another secret meeting.

“Yeah.” you whisper back as you smile, watching him retreat to his own window.

This was your second date outside. You were almost getting used to it.

And you loved it.

The day after, you would find out that while your brother was watching the whole extended version of The lord of the rings, he noticed that Noah left his airpods on the coffee table in the living room.

And when he suggested bringing them to his room, to avoid him thinking he lost them like last time, Jolly insisted there was no need.

He was probably already asleep.

You definitely owed Jolly a big favor.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

[girlsoutlate]

there is a light that never goes out

simon returns home from deployment and is safe with his girl, but fireworks in late november send him back for a brief moment. the hope of you never leaves but neither does the memories of war

light angst, flashbacks, potential PTSD, mention of battle, everything gets resolved, partially inaccurate portrayal of flashbacks?

simon could not be any more content than he was at this moment. his breathing was slow, watching the rise and fall of your head on his chest instead of whatever you were chuckling about on TV. you two weren't under the covers, since you insisted simon runs hot even as december approached. a dim glow was cast around the room from a pretty lamp you bought, while the growing cold was shut out by thick velvet curtains. two china plates rested on the bedside table with a few crumbs of whatever sweet treat simon picked out for you to share after the dinner you made.

thats one specific thing he missed while on his deployment: your cooking. MRE's tasted like school dinners at best or dog food at worst. eating became a necessity, a chore while he was gone. it physically pained him to think about your delectable cooking, even more so you eating it at a table set for one. when he walked through the front door three days ago and smelt simmering spices wafting through the air, he knew he was home.

he knew he was home with his pretty girl. a soft, patient thing; not being thrown off by the ghost persona that was reluctant to melt away this time. he hated it, never wanting you to see that part of his life. but you helped, nails dancing across his skin or soft lips lingering a second longer. you reminded him he was really here, with his love. until he wasn't.

the glowing bliss of your bedroom was shattered by a whizz and a bang from outside. it was too close- too close to you. his love, his darling- you were going to get hurt. the thick smoke of bombs clouded his vision. hot sand burned his throat. fiery sun beat down on his back, scalding his nerves. yet he was clammy all over. cries of death and injury rang around his head. a shrill scream of terror that sounded too much like you shot through his head. eyes stinging with tears and sweat he clawed his way towards that scream. another resounding bang clattered against his skull. pure fear curdled the blood in his veins, consuming his entire being. it was too close, he needed to save you.

it was only a split-second but it felt like a lifetime to simon. he sprang himself on to you, thick arms tightly cradling your head into his chest, bodies pressed together to the point of you struggling to breath. his eyes screwed shut, heart pounding with panic while you lay there in bewilderment and fear at the sudden movement.

in that moment simon died for you, and you both knew he would a thousand times over. he would do anything for his girl, even if it meant being apart forever.

quickly you understood what was happening. you knew simon had an especially difficult deployment as communication dwindled over the month, yet you never expected something like this. he kept what happened while he was gone to himself, and how he felt about it even more so. wrapping your arms around his tense torso you slowly ran your hand up and down his back. "simon, we are here and we are both safe. you have nothing to worry about i promise. we're here in our house that we bought together. its just some idiots letting off fireworks way past bonfire night." you felt him falter at this and decided to continue.

"we ate dinner that you helped me cook a while ago, do you remember? you kept eating the sauce and had to remake it about three times" you let out a small chuckle, hoping your casualness and recollection of your day together would get through to him. "on your way back from the shops earlier you picked up a sweet treat for us to share. i was so happy i almost ate it all, do you remember what it was?" simon slowly lowered his body on to yours, hazy head resting on your chest.

"brownies" he mumbled. you grazed your fingers through his loose curls as you two set in to a steady silence. the idiots had moved on to another far away street. all you could hear were the trees rustling in the wind, the drone of a lonesome car and the hum of the forgotten program on the tv. a few minutes passed like this until simon suddenly got out of the bed. "i'm sorry" he softly said, voice clipped from choked back emotion "you shouldnt ave to deal wiv tha', wiv me".

"oh simon" you raised slowly of the bed and carefully hugged him. simons thick arms with a litter of new bandages, scratches and bruises encircled you gently and rested his head on top of yours. you said, muffled by his chest "i'll deal with anything because i love you simon. nothing will stop me being there for you whether you like it or not, so please don't apologise".

a small smile grew on simons face while a sigh escaped his lips "you were neva' good at listenin were ya?". you let out a soft giggle and shook your head.

"i love ya too, doll" he replied.

thanks for reading!! likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)))

out of practice writing and i havent written something like this before so i hope at least someone enjoys it loll.

[gxr25256]

The Return Visit - Thundercraker x reader (2)

🌵 Hello, I'm back. After a few days of treatment, I felt better and was able to continue working.

🌵 Forgive me if there are any mistakes 😊

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

The next time you approached the abandoned building, your heart beat a little faster. The memory of Thundercracker’s towering figure was still fresh in your mind, but there was a strange comfort in knowing you’d promised to return. In one hand, you carried a bag packed with things you thought might interest him: a few DVDs, some snacks, and a USB drive filled with movies. The blanket draped over your other arm wasn’t just for practicality—you figured it might help make the cold, crumbling space feel a little cozier.

When you entered the building, you spotted him immediately. Thundercracker was seated in the same spot, his broad frame bathed in the flickering glow of the cobbled-together television. The instant his optics landed on you, they brightened—a subtle yet undeniable flicker of recognition and something else… expectation?

“You actually came back,” he said, his tone neutral, though the subtle lift of his wings betrayed his guarded relief.

“I said I would,” you replied with a small smile, holding up the bag. “And I brought some stuff. Thought it might make things a little more... fun?”

He tilted his helm, clearly intrigued but hesitant. “What did you bring?”

“Just… some stuff,” you said, lifting the bag for emphasis. “Movies, snacks—you probably can’t eat them, but I thought I’d bring them anyway—and a blanket, so I don’t freeze sitting here.”

He blinked slowly, his optics narrowing in mild confusion. “You brought things… for me?” The question sounded foreign on his tongue, as though he couldn’t quite process the idea.

You set the bag down carefully, shrugging. “Well, yeah. Friends do that for each other, don’t they?”

“Friends?” he echoed, the word lingering in the air like a spark.

“Or something like that,” you added quickly, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense gaze. Realize how silly you are for calling him—an alien robot—your friend, even though you haven't known each other for more than a week.

Thundercracker seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding faintly. “I see.” His wings twitched—a small movement, but one that hinted at his awkward gratitude.

You spread out the blanket on the floor and took a seat, pulling a DVD from the bag. “Alright, I brought a few options. Thought we could start with a classic—maybe something lighthearted? Or do you want another detective story?”

Thundercracker arched an optic ridge, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Surprise me,” he said, leaning back slightly as he settled into a more relaxed posture.

“Alright!” You inserted the disc into a portable DVD player you’d brought, connecting it to the makeshift TV with some effort. As the first movie began, you both fell into an easy silence. The hum of the television filled the space, mingling with the faint rustle of wind outside. You’d chosen something lighthearted—a comedy—to ease any lingering tension, and while Thundercracker didn’t laugh, you noticed the occasional flicker of his optics or the slight twitch of his wings during the funnier moments.

Halfway through the movie, you noticed the distant rumble of thunder. It started as a low growl, barely noticeable over the film’s dialogue, but it grew louder, closer, until the first droplets of rain began tapping against the broken windows. You glanced up from the DVD player you were fiddling with, sensing the change outside.

Thundercracker was sitting beside you, his large frame still as ever, but he looks strange. Perhaps it was the rain, or perhaps it was just the quiet of the building, his optics dimming as they followed the storm brewing outside.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” you said lightly, gesturing to the rain, hoping the weather would spark some conversation.

He shifted his weight, just a slight movement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“You don’t mind the rain, do you?” You asked, glancing at him.

Thundercracker’s wings twitched, a subtle motion that didn’t escape your notice. His voice, when it came, was deep but soft. “It’s fine. Storms are... familiar.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you weren’t sure how to press. For a moment, you both just sat there in the dim light, the sound of the storm mixing with the background hum of the movie.

The silence between you felt comfortable in a way, but also heavy, like there was something unsaid. You found yourself stealing glances at him. He wasn’t anything like you’d expected from the Decepticons—the way he spoke, slow and measured, with a hint of thoughtfulness, made him seem more like a puzzle than a threat.

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, you ventured. “So, you like storms, huh? What’s that about?”

Thundercracker seemed to hesitate for a moment before he responded, his optics shifting back to the window as another thunderclap sounded. “They remind me of… flying.”

“Flying?” you repeated, intrigued.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “There’s something about it. "The thunder, the wind—feels like the world is… changing. You know, when you're flying? The sky’s always shifting. Never still. It’s freeing.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to imagine it. “Liberating? But all the chaos of a storm… that doesn’t seem like freedom.”

His lips twitched, but it was almost imperceptible. “Maybe to you. But to me, it’s all the same."

Before you could voice it, the storm outside intensified, the rain now falling in sheets, drumming harder against the glass.

Thundercracker, however, didn’t seem bothered by it. He sat back, as if settling into the storm itself, lost in thought, his posture is almost relaxed, as though the chaos outside mirrored something within him.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but probing. “Do you like storms?”

You didn’t immediately answer, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted. “They make me feel small. Like I’m trapped in something I can’t escape. And they always feel kind of sad. Lonely.”

“Lonely?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Is that how you feel?”

For a second, you weren’t sure how to respond. “I guess so,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “Uhm...... I mean, look at it. Everything feels so distant in a storm. The rain keeps people apart, the thunder feels like it’s warning you to stay away… it’s just isolating.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his tone quieter. “I know that feeling.”

You turned to him. “You do?”

His wings drooped slightly, and his optics dimmed. “I’ve spent more time alone than I care to admit. Even with my trine… even in the middle of battle, there was always a part of me that felt… separate. Like I didn’t belong.”

You looked at him, gently asked. “A trine?”

His voice was distant, as if lost in a memory. “Yeah. Starscream, Skywarp, and me. But things change.” He let out a breath that almost sounded like a sigh, a sound that felt too human for something so mechanical. "We were... close. Or I thought we were. But now…” He let out a quiet chuckle, though it didn’t sound particularly amused.

You noticed the way his shoulders sagged, the weight of his words pressing down on him. “Now what?” you prompted gently.

“But now? Now, I’m not so sure. One of them shot me in the face, and the other…” He trailed off, letting the unsaid words hang in the air. You could hear the venom in his voice even as it softened. “I don’t think they’d care if I disappeared.”

The way he said it hit you harder than you expected. “That sounds… awful. I’m sorry.”

Thundercracker’s optics flickered toward you, a faint hint of surprise in his gaze. “Why would you care? You barely know me.”

“Maybe,” you said, your voice steady, “but I know what it’s like to feel alone. And I don’t think anyone deserves that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, yes, but in a way that felt meaningful. The storm outside raged on, the wind howling through the cracks in the building, but it only seemed to draw the two of you closer together.

As the rain continued to fall, Thundercracker found himself speaking more than he usually would. He spoke not out of any expectation but because the quiet atmosphere of the abandoned building, combined with the soothing rhythm of the rain, made it feel easier to open up. He described the war, the battles that had shaped him, the unrelenting conflicts that seemed endless, the moments of betrayal, and the constant shifting of alliances.

His voice was steady, though calm, revealed the battle within him, a part of him still scarred by what had happened, by the choices he'd made, and the things he’d been forced to leave behind. He spoke of his trine, the bond that had once meant everything, and the cold emptiness that had replaced it. The storm outside seemed to mirror his words—violent, unpredictable, a reflection of the chaos he had known.

You listen quietly and attentively. When he finished, you swallowed, uncertain of what to say. Hesitating for a moment. "That was... a lot," you said quietly, meeting his optics. "I had no idea."

Thundercracker didn't respond immediately, his optics dimming slightly as he looked away, as though he had realized he'd revealed so much. Then, he did something you hadn't expected—he shifted subtly, almost as though instinctively, leaning toward you as the storm outside unleashed a particularly loud thunderclap. His arm came up slightly, a protective gesture, not as if he thought you were in immediate danger, but as if he wanted to shield you from the sound. The thunder was deafening, but Thundercracker's reaction was softer, more human than you anticipated. His optics flickered, and his voice was quieter, almost apologetic.

"Didn't mean to... bring that all up," he muttered, though his body remained tense, alert. "The war, the past... it’s hard not to think about it when everything goes quiet."

You blink slowly, still trying to process everything. "Thank you" the words escaped your lips even quieter than a whisper.

"What?" He tilted his head slightly in confusion, optics focused on you.

"Thank you, Thundercracker," you said softly, your voice a little shaky. "For... protecting me. "

Thundercracker looked at you for a moment, his optics flickering, but the faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. " You're welcome. It's not really a threat anyway."

The movie had long since ended, but neither of you seemed to notice. The storm began to quiet, the rain tapering off into a gentle drizzle, and the room felt warmer somehow, despite the lingering chill.

When it was time for you to leave, you gathered your things, pausing at the doorway before stepping out into the damp, cool night. The rain had subsided slightly, but the air still carried a weight, a lingering sense of the storm's power. You hesitated, feeling an unfamiliar tug in your chest as you turned back to look at him. "I’ll be back," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, meeting his gaze. "If that’s okay."

Thundercracker’s response came in the form of a small, almost reluctant nod. “It’s… okay.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, catching one last glimpse of him watching you go. There was something in his expression that stayed with you—a quiet gratitude, a flicker of hope. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you’d made a real connection. And judging by the way his optics lingered on you as you disappeared into the night, you weren’t the only one.

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

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel's mate is banished to another world by Amarantha. To a world she never knew existed. To a different world called Zenithara. She finds herself being stuck in Zenithara for many years. And as more time passes it leads her to giving up hope to ever get back to her family, her mate. It changes her living in such a world. She never once felt safe in Zenithara. But one day when she is given a mask. She finds herself feeling safe and concealed from the world. It gave her a sense of strength and power. Which leads her to persevere in the new world she was in.

But what will happen when she finds herself being sent back to her old world Prythian, to her home in Velaris? What will happen when she is finally reunited with her family… her mate?

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings -  Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Gore, Death, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Weapons, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. I also got some inspiration from some movies and tv shows. So if you see anything familiar.  But i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Author's Note - i really hope you like this fic. i gotta say this fic is very challenging for me because of the world building around it and what not. but i do love it. i hope you guys do too. that is all i can think to say lol.

─── Zenithara ───

─── Sky City ───

Gleaming lights were now in the night sky. A plethora of luminous lights is what Annamarie's gaze was on. She was watching the world outside of the large window beside her. Lights of all kinds down below and surrounding her. 

She could also see vast ships and smaller ships flying around in the night sky. In the sky of Zenithara around the 1st Sector also known as the Sky City. 

Sky City being located in the sky on a vast floating island. Anna never understood how the Sky City came to be. She was never good at retaining Zenithara's history. It never interested her or grabbed her attention. And ultimately she never cared for it.

Right now though she was watching the lights shimmer and the ships fly. Lights of different colors flashing and glowing. The ships of all sorts transporting goods and people to locations. 

She couldn't deny it was a beautiful sight. But it could be a bit overwhelming at times. As time passed though and the longer she stayed in Sky City she had gotten used to it. It has been a few years since Anna has been in Sky City now. And it was an amazing city but it wasn't her favorite Sector.  

Middle Ground, the 2nd Sector was her favorite. It was where her favorite home was. Well one of the three homes that she made in Zenithara, in the 3 Sectors. The homes that were just buildings she stayed in. It would never be her true home. Zenithara would never be Anna's true home. Her home is and always would be her old world. 

A place called Pyrthian, in Velaris. Where everyone she loved was, her true family… and her mate. They were somewhere she couldn't reach. No matter what Anna did she couldn't reach them. It seemed like they were worlds away. Well they were worlds away from Anna’s knowledge. Or more like Anna was worlds away being banished from Prythian.

Anna still remembers somewhat. She remembers bits and pieces of the days, weeks, and months that led up to her banishment. 

She was in Pyrthian. In a place called Under the Mountain. A place ruled by a cruel female named Amarantha. There was a masquerade ball that Anna had attended as emissary of the Night Court. Her being a part of the Night Court's inner circle. 

Being she was the emissary and it was an event to gain relations. Anna had to go. At the time she was attending the ball with her High Lord Rhysand. More so best friend or brother in her eyes. The event was pleasant… until it wasn't.

Amarantha the host had used the ball to her advantage. To execute her plan. A plan that was successful. A plan to steal a part of all seven of the High Lords powers. To get all seven High Lords of Prythian to submit to her. 

Which Amarantha had achieved. She was able to take part of the High Lords powers and keep them submitted to her. And she soon became the new ruler of Prythian. With her ruling it caused a darkness to wash over Prythian. Amarantha truly was a cruel ruler. She killed and torture innocent people. She abused people for fun. She took advantage of many and abused her power without care. 

Amarantha also liked to play with people and use them as puppets.The ones who she used most as her puppets were Anna and Rhysand. She seemed to get the most satisfaction with playing with the two of them. 

But Amarantha liked treating Anna cruelly the most. It was because of how close she was with Rhysand. All the Courts knew how much Rhysand cared for Anna. She was like a sister to him. Everyone knew because they had witnessed their brotherly sisterly bond at meetings and events. Being the two were High Lord and emissary to the Night Court they had to attend such events together.

So many saw their interaction, and saw how much they cared for each other. Even when they hid their true selves from everyone. They couldn't hide the care they had for one another though. They were truly best friends.

Having heard such information, Amarantha used that knowledge and their bond to her benefit. To control Rhysand, which worked on more than one occasion. She would beat Anna black and blue. She would make Anna work as her servant. She would torture her with magic and much more. Anna took such treatment with her head held high. She stayed strong for her Court, her home, her family, for Rhysand, and her mate. 

Even after a year Anna was still strong... mentally. Physically though Anna was weak. Her body and magic were weak. But she kept her head high. Anna knew she had to be and stay strong. Because if she didn't... Anna knew that the first time she'd let her head fall she would go into a downward spiral. She would break. 

Anna wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn’t going to let Amarantha get that satisfaction. And she wasn't going to leave Rhysand on his own. She wasn't going to let him shoulder all the weight by himself. Because she knew he had a lot of weight on his shoulders. 

But while they were Under the Mountain he didn’t tell Anna what he did or what happened to him. But Anna was always there for him and would let him lean on her. Much like he would let her lean on him. The two never really talked about what they did or what happened to them while Under the Mountain. But they did hold each other. 

They would whisper stories and reminisce on memories together. Speaking of their family and trying to keep their memories alive in their mind. So they wouldn't forget them. Rhysand more than once used the little power he had as a daemati to show Anna memories in her mind of their family, and her mate.

Even though a year had passed and they were still Under the Mountain. It felt like eternity for the two. Which they had voiced to each other and agreed it felt like such a long time had passed. But really only one agonising long year had passed. And it was one of those many mornings that they were leaning on one another that they laughed. But it soon was different. 

It was after a moment they laughed and during the early morning hours that Rhysand finally leaned fully on Anna. It was the first time he cried. And not being able to handle the weight, he told Anna everything. Everything that Amarantha had him do, and what she has done to him. Anna held him the whole time as he cried in her arms. 

But when it was time they had to separate and go back to their reality. Anna still couldn't believe what Rhysand had been put through. She couldn't understand why she was being put through such things as well. It caused Anna to be stuck in her head the whole day. Going over what was told to her by Rhysand. Going over everything she has been put through. 

That night was the night Anna burst. It was during a gathering and Anna couldn't take her glaring eyes off of Amarantha. Who sat on her throne with a smug look. Anna was furious. And most of all she was done. She couldn't take it anymore. The treatment. The torture. Everything. She couldn't do it anymore, sit back, watch, and be treated in such a way. And watch her best friend, or brother be treated like he was.

It was when Amarantha tilted her head back and laughed. As she ran her fingers down Rhysand's arm. Anna could now notice him tense. She could tell it was taking everything in him not to grimace at her touch. At that moment she was remembering everything he had told her, and all her own memories. 

It was that moment and that night that everything changed. 

Anna could feel her magic buzzing under her skin. And without realizing what she was doing she was taking steps closer to Amarantha's throne. Her glare never leaving Amarantha’s form. As she stepped closer her anger and adrenaline grew. So did her magic. As she stepped closer many around her could feel her magic and stepped away. Making a part in the crowd.  

Anna could only remember very few words that were said... she remembered seeing Rhysand's face. He had a look of fear. She remembered his muffled yelling. Seeming to be pleading with her to calm down. But it was too late. She had let out a powerful burst of magic aimed at Amarantha. Wanting to kill her.

But after letting her powers free Anna had fallen to the floor. The glasses she wore fell from her face. Her light brown skin was pale, more pale than usual. She and Rhysand having lost the glow in their skin since being Under the Mountain. Her whole body was exhausted and she could barely move. Her vision was more blurry as usual without her glasses. But what made her fearful was she began seeing black dots. 

Blinking, she tried clearing her vision quickly. Soon she was able to reach and find her glasses. Reaching for her glasses as she hunched over she was trying to get up. She was almost able to sit up when she felt a hand wrap around her throat. Then nails digging into her skin. She knew instantly who it was, Amarantha. 

Looking at her Anna could see her with a snarl upon her face. She had cuts on her face, her hair was disheveled, and her dress now had tears in it. What scared Anna the most was the rage that was in Amarantha's eyes. Not being able to see such rage she looked away.

As she did Anna was met with the room in shambles. What caught her attention instantly was Rhysand. He looked to be unscathed but he was now being held back by many guards. He had tears in his eyes and he seemed to be yelling. Looking in his violet eyes with her dark brown eyes Anna sent him a small reassuring but meaningful smile. As she saw him struggle more. Because Rhysand and her knew that this was it for her. 

Thinking of her demise, tears fell from her eyes. Because the first person to come to mind instantly was her mate… Azriel. The one she missed so much. The one she kept fighting for. The one she wished she could be in the arms of every night and every day. But she knew now it was never going to happen. It filled her with regret. She knew she shouldn’t have exploded but she just couldn’t help it. But now she was sad and angry at herself. But she was quick to shake the feelings away. 

Quickly for the first time in a year she found herself opening that golden tether that connected their souls fully. An accepted mating bond between them. A bond that they cherished and held close to their hearts. As she opened the bond, the first emotions she felt were confusion, love, and urgency. It was all Azriel's emotions. She then felt a tug on the golden tether. A tug she knew was his way to tell her to tug back so he could follow it. So the bond could lead him to her. 

"I love you so much," she whispered to him. She remembered saying in her head at that moment. She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. So she then sent all the love she could to him. Sending every bit she could. So much that she knew it may have overwhelmed him. 

Which it did, it brought him to his knees when he felt her love. The love he knew she had for him. The love he knew she held back from him. So she didn’t overwhelm him. It was a feeling that felt like a fierce wind had crashed into him. But after a moment of gaining control he felt like he was soaring up to the clouds close to the night sky above. Close to the stars that shined so bright. It was a feeling he gained while flying and he loved it. He had never felt it in such a way. And he wanted more. It made him want to go to his mate and have her in his arms even more.

Though Anna knew she may have overwhelmed him she didn't care; she wanted him to feel all her love that she felt for him. She wanted him to know at least one more time. And at that moment she was grabbed hard by the hair by Amarantha. Making Anna look at her. Anna was quick to steel herself. Not showing any fear. Not saying a single word. It was then that she heard the last Amarantha said. 

"Hm, killing you would be too easy. I'm going to do something much worse. I know how much you love Pyrthian, your family. So I'm going to send you far far away. Say goodbye to Pyrthian. Say goodbye to Rhysand. Say goodbye to everything you've ever known. Enjoy your banishment Annamarie Emissary of Night Court," Amarantha smirked at her. 

Hearing her words struck fear in Anna as her eyes widened. 

The last she saw was Amarantha's smirk upon her face, then she waved her hand. The last thing Anna remembered hearing was Rhysand screaming her name. As he tried to fight to get to her. A scream that haunts her till this day. Then the loud noise that sounded like the snapping of a whip and thunder behind her. 

She was then being pushed back by Amarantha. And then she saw a bright white light, and soon darkness engulfed her vision. She remembers falling harshly on the ground, then fainting after that. When Anna opened her eyes she was in another unknown world. A world she knew nothing about. A world she didn’t know even existed. The world of Zenithara.

"Hey Auntie Goldie, we got a mission to stop a load from reaching the Abyss, the Arena. You up for it?" 

Anna heard a deep male voice question her. A few steps from the side of the table she sat at in her room at headquarters. She knew that voice. It belonged to Evan. Turning she was met with a handsome well built, tan skinned man, with dark short wavy hair, and crystal blue eyes.  

Evan was a leader. But Evan also was Anna's nephew. They weren't related but she earned the respect and title. Having been in his family for years now. Evan was one of the few she has gone on many missions with in the past couple years. While she worked with G.H.O.S.T. meaning Guardian Heroes of Sector Three. 

A group of people who work with the justice system of Zenithara to clean up Sector Three, the Abyss. And sometimes Sector One and Two. But mainly the Abyss being it was the worst Sector of Zenithara. The worst of them all. The Abyss, the worst Sector, was located in the center of the planet of Zenithara. And the home of many criminals and horrible people. 

It was also where a place called the Arena was located. The Arena was a notorious horrendous place. It was a prison of sorts for all the Sectors. Filled with many horrid people. People who have committed horrible crimes. 

The Arena was a dark complicated place. It was never ending and had different levels to it. There were the holding areas where people are placed in holding cells. Then the judging area, where people were judged. People were then subjected to being experimented on. The worse the crime the longer the person is put through such treatment. Some people even end up dead from the experiments. 

But there were some who ended up with abilities. The abilities ranged from little things like enhanced hearing, enhanced sight, intelligence. Then there were some with dangerous abilities. Such as being able to control fire, the air, or enhanced strength. There were many powers and abilities that were given to people.  

But after such people survived the experiments, they soon had a collar placed around their neck. That would locate, read their body signatures, and electrocute them if need be. The collar being controlled by the Overseers. Overseers being the ones who controlled the Arena and observed everything that happened in it.   

Many groups of people were then placed in a very huge vast dark run down Arena with a dome. Ten people in each group and five groups were placed in different parts of the Arena. And soon the Killer games commenced. It was kill or be killed in the Arena. Every day these people have to fight for their lives while being watched by the Overseers. 

Once you were in the Arena there was now way out... unless you were the last one standing in the Arena. Once you win the Killer games you are taken out. Then placed in a living area for about a year then you had to go back to the Arena. 

Nobody knew these things about the Arena. Only hearing little rumors. The only one to know the most was Anna. She was the only living person to ever fully leave the Arena. After being in the Arena many times. 

The first many years of Anna's life in Zenithara was spent in the Arena. Being that the portal Amarantha pushed her through led her to land in the Arena. And it wasn't pretty those first years had changed Anna. She thought being Under the Mountain was horrible. The Arena was a true nightmare for her. 

But the last years were bearable once she met a certain blonde Overseer named Katrina. The Overseer was the one to change Anna's life. Along with another contestant. It took her years to escape the Arena completely with their help. The Overseer having been killed while saving Anna and the contestant's lives while they escaped. Which Anna was and would be grateful for. Never forgetting her. 

The contestant’s name who escaped with Anna was Evangelina, Eva for short. While in the Arena Eva and Anna stuck together. Helping each other. Eva helped with her high intelligence she got from experimentation. While Anna was the fighter. Anna having her fae magic enhanced after experiments were done on her amongst other things. 

The two grew close as sisters and were unstoppable. The two grew even closer when Anna found out that Eva was in the Arena because she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Anna believed her. She could tell Eva was innocent. And Anna wanted Eva to keep that innocence. Which was why Anna protected Eva and did most of the killing while in the Arena. While Eva did more of the thinking.

But when Anna and Eva were able to escape with the help of Katrina, they brought all their knowledge to the justice system. But there was only so much the justice system could do. Which led Anna and Eva wanting to help clean up Sector Three and take things into their own hands. They were soon telling the people in charge of the justice system. And in doing so the justice system gave them permission to create G.H.O.S.T. Which was very successful, and still running strong after many years. 

That is where Evan the II came in. He was Eva's grandson who took over G.H.O.S.T. after his father. Anna still helped the organization but slowed down over the past years. Having been in a state of grief after the passing of Eva. It took a toll on Anna losing Eva. Watching her grow old while she stayed the same. But Anna stayed by Eva until her last breath. Taking care of her and her family. 

Some time after the loss of Eva, and Anna having nothing better to do, but get stuck in her mind. Thinking about all she has lost. Pythain, her family, her mate, Katrina, then Eva. As an immortal Anna thought she better do something with her life. So she started helping Evan more and more over the years. Which he greatly appreciated her help. 

But looking at him now it reminded her of Eva. Which caused a wave of sadness to wash over her. Yes, he had blue eyes he got from his mother. But he had Eva's features, he then had her hair, and tan skin. Much like his father Eva's son. Who looked exactly like Eva, his mother. He was hard to look at at times. Bringing memories of Eva to her mind. But Anna pulled through like she always did. But right now a soft sad sigh escaped Anna's lips as she looked at him. 

Evan was quick to send her a smile as he sat next to her. Which caused Anna to turn to the window. Before he spoke again after receiving a nod to his question. Which was Anna agreeing to go on the mission with him and his team.          

"I got some entail that says that the load is leaving on a ship some time before dawn. When the lights dim. They'll be using passage A tryin' to get to the Arena from above," Evan explained to her. Taking in the information Anna pushed her glasses over her scared nose.

Part of three thick lined scars taking over her face. Starting from her temple on the side going across her face, and ending at the other side of her jaw. A scar from her years in the Arena by a person able to shift into a creature.

"Okay," Anna whispered with a nod to Evan. Her voice was soft and never above a soft whisper. Being that she never really talked anymore. Her voice left her more and more over the years. Because she didn't feel the need to talk much. The only ones she talked to were Evan and his father. Having nobody else who would listen and never wanting to talk to anyone else.

"Alright wanna relax for a lil then gear up together when it's close to time for the mission?" Evan asked Anna with a smile. Looking away from the window again and turning her gaze to Evan she smiled with a nod. She enjoyed spending time with Evan. He always knew how to get her mind off things. And from the little memories she could remember Evan reminded her a lot of Cassian with his antics. 

"Awesome! Come on then Auntie Gold," Evan chuckled playfully with a wide smile. Before slowly reaching a hand to Anna for her to take. A soft giggle left Anna's lips as she took his hand. Letting him help her up. 

A smile washed over her. She was happy to spend time with her nephew. Who was now rambling on about his day. Which she caused her to laugh softly when he made big hand gestures, speaking with his hands. She was happy to have Evan in her life and also his father. They helped with the loneliness and lost feeling she felt while being in Zenithara. 

But little did Anna something was going to happen on this mission. Something that was going to change everything for her.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi love!❤️ Three things prompt game - Ryan Yellowstone- rain, blanket, bear.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @ladychaos1525

Companion piece to:

Romantic Shit - Ryan and you talk about Texas.

Texas - Ryan and you see each other for the first time in three months.

Summer (NSFW) - Ryan enjoys a moment with you in the summer sun.

What Comes After The Dog - Ryan and you have a frank discussion about the future.

It’s raining outside, Ryan can hear the pitter patter against the glass as a well loved stuffed bear is thrust into his face by Briscoe the dog. He’s been doing this every morning, just as the light blossoms in the sky outside.

“Go bother your Mama.” Ryan mumbles, pressing his cheek into the pillow and pulling the blanket up a little higher.

The dog responds by using his nose to shove the toy at Ryan again before he sits down and tilts his head waiting expectantly.

Ryan groans, picking up the bear and hurling it across the room. Briscoe lopes after it, retrieving it before he returns to the bed, depositing it back on the bed.

“Briscoe, if you go find Mama and let me sleep in I will feed you as many-” Briscoe’s teeth latch onto the blanket covering Ryan’s nude form, tugging it from the bed. The cold air hits Ryan in a rush as the dog absconds with it, disappearing from the room.

“Looks like he found a way to get you out of bed after all.” You say as you step into the bedroom, closing the door to the ensuite behind you. You’re draped in a plush robe, your hair still damp from the shower.

“You have to teach him some manners.” He grumbles into the mattress.

“We.” You correct as you sort through the closet for your uniform. “This is what you get for being the fun parent. You need to put your foot down with him like I do.”

You aren’t wrong. That dog follows you around, obeying your every command. Ryan understands he does need to be more assertive, the problem is, he kinda likes being the fun one. Getting down on the floor playing with Briscoe, taking him on sniffy walks, playing tug whilst watching TV, it’s good for the both of them because Ryan has the feeling that Briscoe didn’t get much enrichment from his previous handler. He suspects it had been all work, work, work and then retiring to the doggie basket at the end of the night.

“I’ll try.” He promises you, shifting into a sitting position before he gives you his own puppy dog eyes. “Now will you get him to give the blanket back?”

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[magicalbuttertarts]

AEW Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Pussy fingering Unprotected sex (p in v).creampie

Photos do not belong to me.

Requested by anonymous. Hope you like it.

From my previous account plentyoffandoms.

WC: 1439

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

"I am sorry, but there is only one bed." The staff member behind the desk said once more.

"Well, as you can see, there are two of us, and we are not in a relationship."

"I understand that ma'am, but there is nothing that can be done."

I was ready to rip into the poor hotel staff member when James placed his hand on my shoulder and held his hand out for the key card.

"We will make it work." Was all he said.

I went to open my mouth to complain once more when he just shook his head no at me. I sighed, knowing he was doing the right thing.

I muttered an apology to the staff member and followed James to the elevator.

Once the two of us were in the room, I looked at the bed. It was only a queen size. "It is for only one night." I said to myself.

"If you would like, I can sleep on the couch." I looked at the couch, and I shook my head no. "You are taller than the couch, and you have to get a good night's sleep for your match against Mike. I'll take the couch."

"No, you will be sleeping in the bed. I will not have you sleeping on the couch. We are both adults. We can share a bed." Was all he said before going into the washroom.

The problem is, I sleep naked. I hate sleeping with clothes on. Always have, but I can't sleep naked next to James.

I grabbed the longest t-shirt I had and begrudgingly pulled it over my head and got under the covers.

It was already a bit late when we checked in, and me throwing my little hissy fit did not help any.

I was facing the opposite way when James came out of the washroom. "Going to bed already?" He asked.

"Yeah. May as well."

"Look, why don't we watch a movie and then go to bed."

I thought it over, and it sounded good to me. "Okay." I sat up and propped myself up against the bed.

◆

"This movie is terrible." I groaned.

"It isn't that bad." He couldn't take his eyes off the TV screen. I should have picked the movie instead of him picking Shortbus.

"I have a feeling you wanted to watch porn, but you can't cause I am in the room." I teased, but instead of him denying it, his face seemed to go red.

"I can just step out if you need to take care of business." I tried to offer.

"Thank you, but that isn't going to help. I'll just have to deal with it tonight."

The mood was now ruined. We turned off the TV, and I laid down, trying to sleep.

◆

I couldn't sleep due to the fact that I was wearing clothes, and oh, James kept moving around.

After him tossing and turning for what felt like was the tenth time, I turned to face him and came face to face with his bare chest.

I have seen it many times, but not this close. I actually lost my train of the thought for a moment.

"Am I keeping you awake?" The shook me out of my thoughts of licking his chest.

"Yes! I need to sleep, as do you."

"I'm sorry, I can't, though."

"You are not a teen. Just jerk off in the washroom. If not, I will step outside like I offered earlier, or fuck, I will help you. Anything to get you to sleep." I was joking about the last part.

"Really? You'll help me?"

"What? No! I was kidding."

"One night is all I ask. Please." I was about to say no, but my mouth opened and on its own accord, I said,"Yes, but you owe me."

◆

James was softly moaning my name as I took more and more of him into my mouth. I was only supposed to jerk him off, but as I lay between his spread legs, my hand jerking him off, I mouth watering at the sight of him.

His chest was glistening, his back was arched, and his mouth was hanging open. Just one taste is all I wanted.

I did one long lick up his cock, before wrapping my lips around the tip and started to suck, moaning at the taste of him.

"Oh fuckin' hell. Gonna make me cum." He moaned, as he tried to pull my head away, but I just slapped his hand away.

The tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged, making him groan, but I pushed through it until my face was buried in his pubic hair.

"Better than I imagined." Did I hear that correctly?

"So good."

"Oh shit, no." Was all the warning he gave before I felt the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat. I started to swallow as fast as I could, but some did spill out of the corners of my mouth.

I pulled my mouth away from him dick, opening my mouth to show him I swallowed all his cum.

I left James on the bed, with his arm covering his eyes, as I went to the washroom to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out with some mouthwash.

◆

I came out of the washroom, and James was still lying there naked. I was about to question why when I saw that he was hard again.

"I am not sucking you off again."

"I know, just get on the bed." I did as he asked, and he pushed me until I was lying on my back. "Let me repay you." His hand was trailing down my body, towards me legs, that were already spreading for him.

"Shit, you're soaked. That usually happen when you suck cock?" I nodded my head, moaning as he inserted two fingers easily.

I went to cover my face, embarrassed with how wet I was, but his free hand grabbed my hand. "Don't cover your face. There's no need to be embarrassed. Just relax, and let me help you, like how you helped me."

I went to point out that his cock was still hard, but nothing came out expect a gasp as he curled his fingers just so, easily hitting that spongy spot inside of me.

Oh, he is good. He is very good.

◆

I had to physically move his hand away from me. I had tears streaming down my face after he coaxed a fourth orgasm out of me.

I pushed him down, climbing on top of him, smashing my mouth against his, raking my nails down his chest.

"Need you." I whimpered.

"I got you, baby. This isn't going to last long, though." He said as I lifted my body just a bit, as I reached down between our bodies and grabbed his dick, holding it as I sunk down on his lap.

I was already so sensitive, that I felt like I was going to cum with him just the tip inside of me.

I looked down to see James, with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open. I cupped his face, "Come back to me, James." I started to move back and forth, not wanting him to leave my pussy.

But James flipped us around, and I had my back against the mattress, his hands gripping my legs to wrap them around his body.

He pulled back until just the tip was in, and then he slammed in side of me. I cried out his name.

"Hold on, baby."

His pace was brutal as he fucked me like I have never been fucked before. I came two more times around his cock, and he fucked me through both.

His cock stretched me out just the perfect amount, and I don't think I can go back to anyone else.

"Where?" My sex-haze brain didn't catch all of his questions.

"Huh?"

"Gonna cum. Where?"

"On the pill."

That was all he needed.

He fucked me like this was his last day on earth. Then his thrusts started to get sloppy until he stilled.

He came so much, it started to leak out around him, between my ass cheeks and onto the mattress.

He collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him.

"Can you sleep now?"

"Yes. Fuck yes."

I pushed him off of me, and went to go and clean myself up. He yelled from the bed. "Yeah?"

"Want to get one bed the next time?"

I thought it over.

"We will see James. We will see."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @madhatterbri @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

[cakerybakery]

Lucifer liked the rain. He got to wear his favouritest duck boots, bright yellow with little cheery eyes and a painted on beak. If he hopped, they made a squeaky noise like a quack.

Hop. ‘Quack’. Hop. ‘Quack’. Hop. ‘Quack’.

His mom always let him wear them on rainy days.

Taking a big jump he splashed in the big mud puddle in a dip in the yard.

He giggled as the muddy water washed over his splash suit.

“What are you doing?” Asked a small voice from the other side of the hedge separating his backyard from the neighbour’s just before the fence began.

A boy about his age in a blue rain jacket was watching him.

“Splashing.” He hopped in the puddle to show the new boy. “This puddle is very muddy. It makes big splashes,” Lucifer’s giggled showing off his dirty boots, “the stickiest mud!”

The boy nodded and looked to his own empty backyard with a frown. “I don’t think my new backyard is very good.”

Lucifer waded out of the puddle and went to the hedge to take a look. He shook his head solemnly. “No. You don’t have a mud puddle. Did you want to play in my backyard?”

He pointed to the middle of the yard, “I have a swing slider majigger climber.” He point to the play structure. “We can play on it and splash in my puddle.”

“Okay!” The boy brightened, but he wasn’t sure how to get over the hedge.

Bending down Lucifer showed him a hole in the hedge he used to go over to the other backyard when his ball rolled through.

The other boy was a bit bigger than him though and got a bit stuck. Lucifer grabbed his hand and pulled. As the boy tumbled through the fence and landed on him, Lucifer got a look at his golden eyes.

“Ohh, pretty. Your eyes are the shiniest ever.”

The boy blinked, he tried to cross his eyes and tried to look at his own eyes before laughing, “oh right. I can’t see my eyes.” He crossed them again and stuck his tongue out.

Lucifer laughed and made a face as well.

Not to be out done, the other boy tugged on his ears and made random noises.

Back and forth they made face until Lucifer got bored and grabbed the boy’s hand, dragging him ran off to play on the slide and splash in puddles.

Eventually someone poked their head out of the boy’s house and looked around frantically, calling.

The other boy looked up from the mud pie he was making with a confused look. He stood and looked around. “Oh, I think my mom is calling me. I should go.”

“Okay,” Lucifer’s waved as the boy ran off. “Bye!”

The other boy paused at the hedge and turned around, “I’ll come play tomorrow!”

Lucifer nodded and kept playing with his house until his mom called him in for a snack.

As she helped get him out of his splash clothing he told her all about the boy next door and playing.

“Oh, yes. I saw the moving van outside.” She smiled and dried his hair with a towel. “What’s the boy’s name?”

Lucifer frowned and thought for a moment. “I dunno.”

-

“Adaaaaaam!” Lucifer whined, as he draped himself dramatically over the hedge, ignoring the scratching twigs of the plant. “Come play with me!”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I have to do my piano lessons. I can play with you later.”

“Uuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhh! Buuuut yooouuuu haaate piaaaano!” Lucifer was so bored! He was grounded from tv and video games for the rest of the week, but he was still allowed to play outside with Adam. And now Adam had to do his piano lesson, it wasn’t fair!

“Then you shouldn’t have called Miss Sera a dumb head.” Adam smirked. He hadn’t been caught calling her a poop head and was giddy about it.

Lucifer stuck his tongue out, “maybe I’ll just get a new best friend then.”

Adam pushed him off the hedge, then ducked down and grabbed Lucifer foot, yanking off the shoe as Lucifer shrieked.

“There. Now you can’t stop being my best friend cause I have your shoe!”

He stalked off to his house and Lucifer looked down at his bare foot.

“What was that about?”

Adam didn’t talk to him for a whole day. Not until Lucifer gave him his cupcake at lunch and apologized for saying he would get a new best friend.

He accepted the cupcake, gave back Lucifer’s shoe, and stalked up to Miss Sera. Adam tapped her on the arm and called her a poopy head.

That night Adam opened the window of his bedroom across from Lucifer’s.

“I’m grounded now too.”

-

Adam held Lucifer’s year book high above his head and shoved Lucifer back as Lucifer pushed on Adam’s face and kicked.

“Fuck off, asshole!” Lucifer yelled.

“Screw you! Girlfriend thief!” Adam yelled back.

Lucifer kicked Adam’s shin and they tumbled to the ground. He shoved Adam’s head into the dirt. “You weren’t even dating her!”

“Why would she ever go for shrimp like you!?” Adam rolled them and pinned Lucifer hands.

“Why would Lilith like a meat head mountain like you?!”

They rolled and screamed and cussed. Either getting the better as they they play wrestled for too many years not to know each other’s moves.

Suddenly, Adam was yanked off and Lucifer was hauled up as well. They were marched from the track field where the fight began, up to the front office and sat in chairs inside the office doors by the gym teacher.

They shot barbed insults under their breath at each other and without the knowledge of the half deaf elderly secretary at the front desk.

Adam pinched Lucifer and Lucifer kicked Adam.

They were seething.

“You know.” A voice drawled from the doorway. Just out of sight of the old bat. “Lilith is a lesbian and doesn’t like either of you.”

“FUCK OFF, MICHAEL!” They both shouted and drew the attention of everyone in the office as Michael took off laughing.

“Go to hell.” Adam hissed.

“Douchebag.” Lucifer leaned up to hiss back.

“You can keep your shoe.” Adam shoved his face into Lucifer’s. “Cause fuck you!”

“Fuck you more!”

-

“Fuck me!” Adam cried out as Lucifer hit his prostate. “Oh GOD!”

Everyone in the whole dorm building could probably hear Adam but they didn’t care. Adam was tight and warm. He tasted like the wine coolers Lucifer had snuck into their dorm room and still smelled like the gym from his workout earlier.

This was the best day of Lucifer’s fucking life.

Better than when Eve gave him head their senior year of high school.

Better than acing his fucking midterm the week before.

They’d been watching some cheesy movie and having a couple of drinks to celebrate passing said midterm when Adam started to mock the movie.

“Pfft, as if anyone falls in love at first sight.” He leaned on Lucifer’s shoulder, placed a hand to his forehead and spoke dramatically. “Oh Lucifer! I have tripped and fallen. As I look into your eyes I can’t help but also fall in looooove with you.”

Lucifer leaned back and caused Adam actually fall into his lap.

He laughed at the surprised look on Adam’s face.

“Well, I don’t know about my eyes, but yours are still as pretty as the first day we met.”

Adam snorted and shoved a hand into Lucifer’s face and pushed him down. “That was like fifteen years ago. I bet you can’t even remember what my eyes look like.”

“Gold. Duh. Even in the rain they shined.” Lucifer licked Adam hand to try and get him to let go. Instead, Adam rolled closer and onto Lucifer’s chest.

“What did you say?” Adam’s brows knitted together and his mouth was a hard line as he looked into Lucifer’s eyes.

“Uhh. That your eyes were gold and shiny?”

Adam’s face turned pink and his honey eyes shimmered in the light of the lamp on the table between their beds.

“They still are.”

Lucifer gasped as Adam pressed his lips to his. He closed his eyes and moaned into the kiss. Electricity surged and he clung to Adam. His fingers twisting in the shirt to keep Adam close.

They tore into each other’s clothing. Perhaps it was the wine coolers lowering their inhibitions. Perhaps it was the feeling of years of memories building to this moment. What it was they wasted no more time.

For a second, as Adam was on top of him, Lucifer wondered what exactly they were going to do. How far? Who would top if they went that far.

Then Adam rolled them, he kicked off his pants and boxers, spread his legs, and nervously ask Lucifer to be gentle.

Lucifer did his best.

He nearly fell off his twin bed yanking his drawer on the bedside table open to grab the lube. Lucifer didn’t know what he was doing, listening to Adam for stops and goes and more lube you bastard!

Then he was losing his virginity to his best friend since they were five years old and Adam moved in next door.

Adam was loud, he cussed and moaned, he called out Lucifer’s name like a prayer.

He clung to Lucifer shoulders, wrapped his legs around Lucifer’s hips, and thank fuck Adam wasn’t a girl cause Adam didn’t let go until Lucifer came in him. Adam own pleasure spilled between them.

Lucifer hoped this wasn’t a one time thing.

-

They stared at the piece of paper together.

Equally stupid grins plastered on each other their faces. It was just a copy, but still, Lucifer wanted to get it framed.

They held hands the whole trip to their new home.

Lucifer unlocked the door and held it open for Adam, “After you, mister Morningstar.”

Adam picked him up bridal style. “How about together, mister Morningstar?” Lucifer held onto his new, as of twenty minutes ago at the courthouse, husband and let himself be carried over the threshold.

They closed on the house a few weeks before and had spent the last few weeks slowly moving as they also planned the wedding which was to take place in the backyard in another month.

Lucifer and Adam had agreed though they wanted to be married when they actually officially moved into their new house, so when the last of their things was loaded into a moving truck they stopped at city hall and got it done.

The wedding was just a ceremony and celebration anyway. The real deal was signing the paperwork.

Lucifer reached up, wrapped his arms around Adam’s neck, and kissed his husband.

As he did the heavens opened up and the began to pour.

The two of them scrambled back out to the van to start bringing in boxes.

Racing from the truck into the house Lucifer slipped on a puddle on the steps. Adam grabbed him and caught the box of dishes.

On the front steps of the their new home Lucifer started to laugh. Adam was on top of him and his eyes shined as warm as honey and as bright as gold. He reached up and pulled Adam down for kiss.

Lucifer loved the rain.

[untildawnss]

Hi!! I've seen your hcs and I gotta say they're amazing, good luck with your account :)

Also, if u have time, can u do some Jossam or Chrashley hcs? Thankss!!

thank you!! (i'm imagining this in a timeline where neither of the pranks happened just because sometimes one must imagine josh happy and taking his meds and hanging out with his sisters, sharing neapolitan ice cream because beth likes vanilla, hannah likes chocolate and josh likes strawberry)

jossam

they don't say "i love you" a lot, josh will grab sam's hand sometimes to ask for reassurance and she will squeeze his hand to let him know she loves him

josh is not athletic but will go on shorter, easier hikes with sam and sam will pack snacks and water for him because she knows he will forget

90% of the pictures on sam's social media are taken by josh, not all of them are of sam, she just likes the photos he takes and thinks people should see them

they have a shared playlist and sometimes just hang out while listening to music, sam will be drawing, crocheting or knitting while josh alternates between watching her and playing a video game

they have date nights and use a wheel of fortune or RNG to choose one or two activities, the dress code, means of transport and food venue; they've definitely rented a limo to go to an art exhibit dressed as each other and had sandwiches in the target parking lot after

chrashley

they watch reality TV together and love speculating and betting on what's going to happen every episode

they have the same picture of the two of them together as their phone backgrounds

they cook together all the time because ashley is a terrible cook but doesn't want chris to cook for her all the time, she does make a mean sandwich though and chris will beg her to make them for him

chris always asks ashley for her opinion before buying new clothes

they play videogames together

chris wants to be a gentleman and pay for everything when they go out but ashley insists on taking turns paying

chris is afraid of spiders, so ashley is the one to remove them and put them outside

they like to people watch and make up backstories

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

annual reminder that I’m British and have a very strong accent

that will be all <3

[royaltea000]

I love Bai Long Ma he truly don’t gaf

[ruvviks]

Following the chilling conclusion of All That's Left's first season, Mac and Layla and their friends find themselves scattered across a divided Los Angeles a year after their successful return to town. Matrix Corp has taken control— "With humanity's best interest in mind"— but with our protagonists' knowledge of Opportunity's destruction and Houston's unexpected fall, they know better than to trust the corporation and its near military-sized security force. Closed district gates separate them from one another and a new threat lurks just outside the city's walls— but resistance is on the rise, and it is only a matter of time before truth comes out. [SEASON ONE HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[inquisitor-apologist]

Have we, as a fandom, progressed to the point that we can realize that Twilight of the Apprentice, while a good episode, is not a particularly great Rebels episode and is certainly the least functional finale in the entirety of Rebels?