#thoughts and prayers for the squad

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She's here!!!!

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter eight, nine, ten : sorrows and prayers

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions: heavy angst, mentions of drug use, romance, timebomb, modern au, college au, lesbianism, caitlyn being a menace, bullying, smut at the end

notes: i merged all the chapters together so veryyy long chapter

<- previous chapter

The energy in the gymnasium was electric, the noise of the packed bleachers reverberating through the air as students cheered, chanted, and hyped up the football team for their upcoming game. It was another Friday during football season, which meant one thing—a pep rally.

You stood in formation with your squad, dressed in your cheer uniform, your hair perfectly styled, makeup flawless, and yet, despite looking the part, you felt completely out of it. The past week had been exhausting—not physically, but emotionally. You hadn’t spoken to Vi, hadn’t answered her texts or returned her calls. Avoidance was the only way to keep your secret buried. If Caitlyn ever made good on her threat, if Vi ever found out the truth about your past, everything would come crumbling down.

It wasn’t fear of what your classmates would think—college students were notorious for having their own vices. But Vi? The thought of what she would think made your stomach churn. Would she look at you differently? Would she see you as weak? As a liability? The idea alone made your throat tighten.

Your squad shifted as the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, calling the cheer team to the court. The deafening roar of the crowd was overwhelming, a mix of hoots and hollers echoing through the gym as you and the squad stepped forward. The energy should have been exhilarating, but your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes swept the sea of faces in the bleachers, scanning rapidly, searching for that familiar short pink hair, that cocky smirk, that intense gaze that always found you first. Is she here? The thought buzzed through your mind, but before you could catch a glimpse of her, the opening beats of your routine’s music blasted through the speakers.

There was no more time to think. No more time to search for her. You took a deep breath, plastered on your best cheerleader smile, and launched into the routine—just another performance in more ways than one.

The moment the music started, your body moved on autopilot. Muscle memory took over as you executed every move with precision—high kicks, sharp arm movements, and perfectly timed tumbles. You cheered, clapped, and flipped, your smile unwavering despite the storm brewing inside you. The crowd’s energy was electric, but your focus was elsewhere.

As you hit the final pose, the gym erupted into cheers. You straightened, hands on your hips, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. But your eyes were back to scanning the crowd, heart pounding in anticipation.

And then—you saw her.

Vi was there, standing near the back of the gym, arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t cheering, wasn’t hyped like everyone else. No—her eyes were locked on you, intense and unreadable.

You felt a lump form in your throat.

You should’ve been relieved that she was here. That she showed up. But instead, all you felt was a painful, suffocating mix of emotions. Guilt. Fear. Longing.

You tore your eyes away from her just as the football team was called onto the court. Jayce, along with the rest of the team, jogged out, hyping up the crowd. The energy spiked again, and you forced yourself to clap and cheer like nothing was wrong.

The rally carried on, the gym pulsing with excitement, but all you could feel was Vi’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You hadn’t spoken in a week, yet she was still here. Still watching. Still waiting.

And you didn’t know what scared you more—the possibility of her leaving…or the fact that she hadn’t yet.

After the pep rally, while most of the students funneled out of the gym, your cheer coach waved you over. “You and Sarah, stay back for a few minutes. We need a picture with the soccer team for the school website,” she said.

You sighed internally but nodded, adjusting your skirt as you followed your teammate toward the center of the court. The soccer team was already gathered, the golden trophy gleaming under the bright lights. They had won their big game a few days ago, and now it was time for the school to flaunt their victory.

You and Sarah took your spots, kneeling between the trophy as the soccer team loomed behind you. The camera flashed as the photographer took multiple shots, instructing you all to smile and hold steady. You kept your expression neutral, feeling Vi standing just behind you. Her presence was suffocating, but you refused to turn around.

After the final picture, you shot up to your feet, smoothing out your uniform. Sarah did the same, muttering something about needing to fix her hair. You were just about to step away when, at the worst possible moment, Jayce decided to be his usual annoying self.

“You actually did good,” he said, crossing his arms with a smug smirk. “Surprised they could even lift you up.”

You whipped around to face him, scoffing. “Wow, Jayce. You just had to ruin the moment, huh?”

Your brother shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying, you’ve been eating real good lately.”

You smacked his arm playfully, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? And you’ve been running too much. Starting to look like a damn twig.”

Jayce laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, but as he did, you caught a glimpse of Vi watching the exchange. Her face was unreadable, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched.

She still hadn’t said a word to you.

And it was killing you.

You were one of the last to leave the locker room, dragging your tired body through the door after stuffing your cheer uniform into your duffel. Dressed in low-rise sweatpants and a baby tee, your hair tied up in a quick ponytail, you felt drained from the long day. The only thing on your mind was going home, showering, and passing out in bed.

That was until you saw her.

Vi stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. The second her eyes landed on you, she pushed off and walked straight toward you, her expression serious.

“What’s up? Why have you been avoiding me?” she asked, getting right to the point.

Your stomach twisted. You glanced around, seeing too many students still lingering nearby, their conversations filling the air. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a public scene.

“Can we not do this here?” you sighed. “Let’s go off campus, please.”

Vi narrowed her eyes slightly, but after a moment, she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Without another word, she turned and started walking toward the parking lot. You swallowed hard and followed, knowing there was no way you could keep avoiding this conversation forever.

You sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Vi drove off campus. The silence between you was thick, almost suffocating. You could feel her gaze flickering to you every few seconds, her grip on the wheel tightening.

"Alright," Vi finally said, pulling into an empty parking lot and cutting the engine. "We're off campus. Now tell me—what the hell is going on?"

You hesitated, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. "It's Caitlyn," you admitted, still unable to meet her eyes.

Vi scoffed, leaning back in her seat. "Figures. What'd she do now?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the hem of your hoodie. "She has something against me. Something serious. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you."

Vi furrowed her brows, her jaw tightening. "What kind of 'something'?"

You exhaled sharply, finally turning to look at her. "It's not just some high school drama, Vi. This is serious. She—she has videos of me. From before." You couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud, but Vi’s expression shifted, her teasing demeanor gone.

Vi’s eyes searched yours. "Before," she echoed, realization settling in.

You nodded. "I don’t know how she got them, but she did. She knows. And she’s holding it over my head like it’s some game."

Vi’s hands balled into fists in her lap. "That fucking bitch," she muttered.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. "I feel disgusting, Vi. Like all of that shit I went through is just… ammo for her. I can’t let anyone else see those videos. I just—" You inhaled shakily. "I can't let you see them."

Vi was quiet for a moment before she reached over, her fingers brushing against yours. "Hey," she said softly. "Look at me."

You hesitated before turning to her. Her expression wasn’t one of pity—it was something deeper.

"I don’t care what’s in those videos," she said. "I care about you. And if she thinks she can use that shit against you, then she’s got another thing coming."

Your chest tightened. "Vi—"

"I'm serious." Vi squeezed your hand. "You're not alone in this, alright?"

The air was thick with excitement as the football game was about to begin. The cheer squad was already making their way out to the field, but before you could step onto the sidelines, a firm grip on your wrist yanked you back. You turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes even landed on her.

Caitlyn.

She stood there, arms crossed, eyes cold and calculating as she tilted her head at you. “You really think I wouldn’t find out?” she said, her voice laced with quiet amusement.

You yanked your wrist free, glaring at her. “Find out what?”

��Don’t play dumb,” she scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re still talking to Vi. I have eyes everywhere.”

Your jaw clenched. Of course, she did. It wasn’t just about Vi—it was about control. Caitlyn thrived on knowing everything, using it as leverage to bend people to her will.

You took a step forward, standing your ground. “So what? You gonna run to Jayce? Show him your little blackmail collection?”

A smirk curled at the corner of her lips. “If I have to.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a horrible person, Caitlyn.”

Her smirk faltered, her expression hardening. “I’m protecting Vi.”

“Protecting her?” You scoffed, rage bubbling up in your chest. “From what? From someone who actually gives a damn about her?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “From someone who’s going to ruin her.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You still took a deep breath and calmed yourself down.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you two was suffocating, but you didn’t waver. Finally, Caitlyn exhaled sharply through her nose, taking a small step back.

“This isn’t over,” she muttered, before turning on her heel and walking away.

You stood there, your pulse hammering in your ears, before finally shaking yourself out of it and heading out to the field. You weren’t going to let her ruin this night.

Not a chance.

The stadium lights blazed down on the field as you stepped onto the sidelines, the roar of the crowd drowning out the thoughts swirling in your mind. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back. Not tonight. You weren’t letting Caitlyn get into your head.

The cheer squad lined up, the routine already second nature to you as you watched the football team huddle on the field. You caught a glimpse of Jayce sitting in the stands with his teammates, Vi included. She wasn’t looking at the game—she was looking at you.

Your heart skipped.

But before you could let yourself linger on it, the music started, and muscle memory took over. You threw yourself into the routine, every jump, kick, and move fluid and powerful. Cheers erupted from the crowd as you and the squad executed a flawless sequence, and for a moment—just a moment—you forgot about everything else.

As the performance ended, you beamed, catching Jinx and Ekko cheering wildly from the stands. You grinned at them, shooting them a playful wink before jogging over to grab a sip of water. The adrenaline thrummed through your veins, making your hands tremble slightly as you unscrewed the cap.

“You killed that,” Jinx called from the bleachers, hanging over the railing with a grin.

“Obviously,” you shot back with a smirk.

But the moment of victory was short-lived. As you turned, your eyes landed on Caitlyn again, lingering at the edge of the field, arms crossed as she watched you with an unreadable expression.

You ignored her.

The stadium was alive with excitement, the halftime show just about to begin. The cheer squad was in position, the marching band ready to play, and the crowd buzzing with energy. But before anything could start, the entire stadium was plunged into darkness. A hush fell over the crowd, murmurs of confusion rippling through the stands.

Then, the giant screen flickered on, illuminating the field in an eerie glow. At first, it was just a black screen. Then, in bold white letters, your name appeared.

Your blood ran cold.

You barely heard the confused gasps and whispers from the crowd over the roaring in your ears. Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage as your eyes immediately darted to Caitlyn.

She was standing near the bleachers, arms crossed over her chest, a smirk stretching across her lips.

"Turn it off." Your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.

Caitlyn tilted her head, pretending not to hear you. Then, with an exaggerated shrug, she turned back to the screen.

The video started playing.

The world around you seemed to shrink, your vision tunneling as the first clip rolled. The dim, grainy footage of you—your past self—filled the screen. The shaky camera, the reckless nights, the dark circles under your eyes, the desperate way you moved. The people you were with. The things you were doing.

A wave of suffocating nausea washed over you.

The stadium was dead silent for a moment before the murmurs turned into scattered gasps.

"No, no, no..." You took a shaky step back, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The noise, the lights, the weight of hundreds—no, thousands—of eyes on you, it was too much. Your lungs felt like they were collapsing, your body trembling as the world started closing in.

Your teammates turned to you, their expressions unreadable through your haze of panic. Some people in the crowd had their phones out, recording.

You couldn’t do this.

You had to get out.

Ignoring the voices calling after you, ignoring the stunned and questioning looks, you turned on your heel and bolted off the field.

Your legs carried you blindly through the tunnel leading out of the stadium. The sound of the crowd faded behind you, your breath ragged, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled into the empty locker room, gripping onto the nearest bench for support. Your hands were shaking violently as you covered your face, gasping for air.

Everything you worked so hard to bury was out in the open now. Everyone saw.

And worst of all—Vi saw.

The locker room door slammed open as you stumbled inside, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Your hands gripped the cool metal of the lockers, trying to ground yourself, but it was useless. The walls felt like they were closing in, the stadium noise muffled by the ringing in your ears.

You felt sick. Your past—your worst moments—plastered across the big screen for everyone to see. The judgment, the whispers, the looks. You could already hear them in your head.

Your legs gave out, and you slid to the floor, your body trembling as the sobs broke free from your chest.

Then, footsteps.

Heavy, fast, and filled with urgency.

"Hey, hey—" Vi’s voice was soft but firm as she knelt in front of you, her hands gently reaching for yours. "Breathe, baby. Just breathe, okay?"

You shook your head rapidly, your vision blurred with tears. "You—You saw it," you choked out, curling in on yourself. "Everyone saw it."

Vi’s jaw tightened, and she let out a shaky breath before cupping your face. "Yeah, I saw it. And? You think that changes anything for me?"

You flinched at her touch, pulling away. "It should," you whispered. "I—I was a mess, Vi. I was disgusting. You shouldn’t even want to look at me right now."

Vi’s brows furrowed, and she leaned in closer, refusing to let you pull away. "Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that."

You let out a bitter laugh between your sobs. "Why not? It’s true. I mean, Caitlyn was right—I’m just some stupid, broken girl who you—"

"Stop." Vi’s voice was suddenly sharp, her grip on your hands tightening. "I don’t give a damn what Caitlyn says. She doesn’t know you. I do."

You stared at her, your chest still rising and falling unevenly. "But—"

"I love you," Vi interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. "And nothing—not Caitlyn, not your past, not anything—is gonna change that."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. Vi had never said those words so clearly before.

But still, doubt gnawed at you. "You say that now, but what if—what if you start seeing me differently? What if this—this changes everything?"

Vi exhaled sharply, then without hesitation, she pulled you into her arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt. "The only thing that’s changing is how hard I’m gonna fight for you," she murmured against your hair.

Your body was still shaking, but for the first time since you ran out of the stadium, you felt a little less alone.

Vi wasn’t running. She wasn’t looking at you with pity or disgust. She was here, holding you together while you fell apart.

And right now, that was enough.

Ekko and Jinx rushed into the locker room, their faces etched with concern.

“Hey, hey,” Ekko said, crouching down beside you as Vi kept her hands on your shoulders. “Breathe, alright? We’re here.”

You were still gasping for air, shaking your head as tears streaked down your face. “It’s—it’s everywhere now. Everyone saw. I can’t—”

Jinx knelt beside you, rubbing your back. “Caitlyn’s a fucking snake for that,” she hissed. “But screw what people think, okay? You’ve come so far.”

Vi, still kneeling in front of you, reached for your hands, squeezing them tightly. “You’re not alone in this,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I meant what I said. Nothing changes how I feel about you.”

Your chest still heaved, but their words grounded you, even if the panic still clawed at your throat. Ekko was watching you closely, the way he always did when you were spiraling. “You need air?” he asked.

You nodded weakly. Vi helped you up, keeping a protective hand on your waist. “Let’s go,” she murmured. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Vi guided you out of the locker room, her arm still firmly wrapped around your waist as Ekko and Jinx flanked your sides. The stadium was still loud, but in your head, everything was muffled—like you were underwater, drowning in the weight of what had just happened.

You were exposed.

Caitlyn had shown the entire school your past, your worst moments, the version of yourself you never wanted to be again.

Your breathing was still uneven, but you forced yourself to keep moving, gripping onto Vi’s jacket like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

Once you were outside, where the air was cooler and the noise was more distant, you leaned against the brick wall of the building, squeezing your eyes shut.

Ekko crouched in front of you again. “Talk to me,” he urged gently. “What do you need?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “I—I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just—I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Jinx cursed under her breath. “I swear I’ll kill her,” she muttered, pacing back and forth. “She had no right—”

“She did it because of me.” Vi’s voice was low, guilty.

You opened your eyes, looking at her through your blurry vision. “What?”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, her jaw clenched. “She’s been trying to push you away from me, hasn’t she?” She exhaled sharply. “Fuck. This is my fault.”

“No,” you whispered. “She did this to hurt me. To make sure I lost everything.”

Vi stared at you, her expression dark with anger, but beneath it was something softer—guilt, regret, something else you couldn’t quite place.

Ekko rubbed the back of his neck. “We need to handle this. Not just let her get away with it.”

Jinx nodded aggressively. “Yeah, we can’t let her win.”

But right now, you didn’t care about revenge or fighting back. You just wanted to disappear.

“I need to go home,” you muttered.

Vi immediately straightened. “I’ll take you.”

Ekko hesitated. “Are you sure? Maybe you should stay with someone tonight.”

You met Vi’s gaze, and for once, you saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “I’ll be okay,” you murmured.

Ekko didn’t look convinced, but he sighed. “Alright. But call me if anything.”

Jinx gave Vi a warning look before hugging you. “Don’t do anything stupid, got it?”

You managed a weak nod before Vi gently took your hand, leading you toward the parking lot.

As you walked, she squeezed your fingers, her voice soft when she spoke. “I meant what I said earlier,” she told you. “Nothing changes how I feel about you. Nothing.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to.

All you knew was that tonight, everything had changed.

The drive home was silent. Vi kept glancing at you, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she didn’t push you to talk. You stared out the window, your mind replaying the video over and over again. The way the entire school saw your past. The whispers, the judgment—it was all going to follow you now.

When Vi pulled up to your apartment complex, you hesitated before opening the car door. The lights were on inside, meaning your mom was still awake. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this conversation, but it wasn’t like you had a choice.

Vi walked beside you, her presence grounding as you stepped through the front door. The moment you did, your mom looked up from the kitchen, immediately taking in your red-rimmed eyes and Vi’s tense stance.

“What happened?” she asked, concern laced in her voice.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Vi stepped in. “Caitlyn,” she said simply. “She—she put up a video of her past. At the game. On the big screen.”

Your mother’s face darkened instantly. Her grip on the counter tightened as she exhaled sharply, as if trying to contain her anger. Then, after a beat, she looked at you, her voice softer. “Do you need to go back to Italy?”

The question hit you harder than you expected. It would be so easy to say yes. To pack your bags, book a flight, and leave all of this behind. Run from the stares, the whispers, the shame.

But then your eyes flickered to Vi. She wasn’t looking at you, but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her shoulders stiffened, like she was already preparing herself for your answer.

You swallowed thickly before shaking your head. “No,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I’m done running away from my problems.”

Your mother studied you for a moment, then nodded in understanding. “Alright,” she said softly. “But I need you to tell me if it gets too much. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure you believed that talking about it would help.

“Go get some rest,” your mother said, reaching out to squeeze your hand before letting you go.

Vi didn’t say anything as she followed you upstairs. When you reached your room, you let out a heavy breath before closing the door behind you.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the floor, before finally whispering, “What am I supposed to do now?”

Vi sighed, stepping closer. “We figure it out,” she said. “Together.”

You looked up at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. Just quiet determination.

Vi sat on the edge of your bed, elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped together as she watched you. You sat across from her in your desk chair, hugging your knees to your chest. The weight of everything still pressed down on you, but Vi’s presence made it bearable.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she started, her voice careful, “but I need to understand.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your knees. “What do you want to know?”

Vi hesitated before asking, “How bad was it?”

You exhaled slowly. “Bad,” you admitted. “It started small—pills here and there. Just something to take the edge off. Then it wasn’t just pills. It was whatever I could get my hands on.”

Vi stayed silent, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I had control over it,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But addiction doesn’t work like that. It controls you. And the worst part?” You let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t even care. Not until it nearly killed me.”

Vi’s jaw clenched, her hands tightening together. “And that’s when you went to Italy?”

You nodded. “Jayce, Ekko, my mom… they staged an intervention. I didn’t want to go, but they gave me no choice. I hated them for it at first, but…” You shook your head. “They saved my life.”

Vi looked at you with something unreadable in her expression. And then, carefully, she reached out, resting her hand on your knee. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Your throat tightened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly seen. No judgment. No pity. Just Vi, looking at you like you were still worth something.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before looking back at you. “I meant what I said before,” she admitted. “That I love you.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t care about your past. I don’t care about Caitlyn, or what anyone else thinks. I just—” She shook her head. “I just want to be with you. If you’ll have me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You stood up from your chair, stepping between her legs, your hands cupping her face as you pressed your lips to hers.

Vi kissed you back immediately, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, slow, and full of everything you hadn’t been able to say out loud.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against hers. “I love you too,” you whispered.

A slow, relieved smile spread across Vi’s face. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Vi exhaled a laugh, pressing another kiss to your lips before pulling you onto the bed with her, holding you close like she wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

Vi’s hands roamed your waist, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your arms wrapped around her neck, deepening the kiss as you shifted onto her lap. The warmth of her body, the way her lips moved against yours—it made your head spin.

Vi’s grip tightened as she pulled you even closer, her tongue teasing yours, making your breath hitch. Her lips trailed down your jaw, her breath hot against your skin.

And then—

Knock. Knock.

You froze. Vi groaned in frustration, her forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered.

You quickly scrambled off of her, adjusting your shirt and running a hand through your hair before heading for the door. When you opened it, your stomach dropped.

Jayce.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as he glanced past you into your room, where Vi was still sitting on your bed, looking very much caught.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

Jayce exhaled, shaking his head. “So… this is why you’ve been acting weird?”

You swallowed hard. “Jayce—”

“No, no,” he cut you off, stepping into the room. “I mean, I should’ve known, right? The ‘project,’ the sneaking around, the stolen glances—” He turned to Vi, his expression unreadable. “How long?”

Vi stood up, standing her ground. “A while.”

Jayce scoffed. “Figures.” His gaze snapped back to you. “And you—when were you gonna tell me?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know, Jayce. Maybe when you stopped treating me like I’m made of glass.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“No? Because ever since I came back, you’ve been waiting for me to mess up again,” you said, voice sharp. “I get it—you’re my big brother, you’re supposed to look out for me. But this?” You gestured between you and Vi. “This isn’t some reckless mistake.”

Jayce ran a hand down his face. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” you said firmly.

Vi stepped beside you. “I care about her, man.”

Jayce looked between the two of you, frustration evident on his face. But there was something else, too—resignation. He sighed heavily. “Just… don’t make me regret trusting you,” he muttered, pointing at Vi.

Vi smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jayce rolled his eyes before turning back to you. “And you—be smart.”

You gave him a small smile. “I always am.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, okay.” Then, shaking his head, he turned toward the door. “Mom’s looking for you, by the way.”

You nodded, watching as he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You turned to Vi, exhaling deeply. She grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist. “That could’ve gone worse.”

You huffed a laugh, leaning into her. “Could’ve gone better too.”

Vi pressed a kiss to your temple. “At least it’s out now.”

And strangely enough—you felt relieved.

You sighed, leaning into Vi for a moment before pulling back slightly. “You should probably go,” you murmured, brushing your fingers against her wrist. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

Vi raised a brow, tilting her head. “You kicking me out?”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “No. Just… I need to talk to my mom and Jayce. And if you stay any longer, I might not want you to leave, puppy.”

Vi smirked, clearly enjoying that confession, but she didn’t push. Instead, she leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll go,” she said against your mouth before pulling away. “Text me later?”

You nodded. “I promise.”

Vi squeezed your hand before finally making her way to the window—because of course, she still refused to leave through the front door. You rolled your eyes "Weirdo," you say teasingly, watching as she climbed down effortlessly, shooting you one last wink before disappearing into the night.

With a deep breath, you straightened yourself out and headed downstairs, where your mom was waiting in the living room. She looked up when she heard your footsteps, her expression soft but expectant. “You okay?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… a lot happened today.”

She patted the seat next to her, and you sat down, resting your hands in your lap. “You know, if you ever feel like Italy is still an option, it’s there,” she said gently. “But I’m proud of you for facing this head-on.”

You smiled slightly. “Thanks, Mom.”

She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And this… thing with Vi,” she started, eyeing you. “Is it serious?”

You bit your lip before nodding. “Yeah. I think it is.”

Your mom studied you for a moment before sighing, shaking her head with an amused smile. “Well, as long as she treats you right.”

“She does,” you assured her.

“Good.” She squeezed your knee before standing. “Now, I think your brother is waiting for his turn to lecture you.”

You groaned. “Fantastic.”

Sure enough, as soon as your mom left the room, Jayce came in, arms crossed. “So,” he started.

“So,” you repeated.

Jayce sighed, sitting across from you. “Look, I know you told Mom and me you have this handled, but Caitlyn isn’t someone who just drops things.”

You met his gaze, firm. “I do have it handled, Jayce.”

His brows furrowed. “How?”

You hesitated, not wanting to go into detail about the deal Caitlyn tried to make with you. “I just do.”

Jayce didn’t look convinced. “She’s dangerous when she wants to be. If she tries anything else—”

“I’ll handle it,” you interrupted, voice unwavering.

Jayce stared at you for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. But if anything happens—”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you promised.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still uneasy, but he let it go. “Fine. Just… be careful, alright?”

You nodded. “Always.”

With that, Jayce stood, ruffling your hair on his way out, earning a groan from you. As he disappeared up the stairs, you exhaled, leaning back against the couch.

Caitlyn wasn’t done. You knew that much.

But neither were you.

Vi walked beside you, her arm still draped over your shoulder as the two of you made your way through the bustling hallway. It felt oddly familiar—this was the same route she had taken you on the first day you met, when Jayce had introduced you and warned her to stay away. And yet, here you were, hand in hand, her presence by your side feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

As you passed groups of students lingering near their lockers or by the walls, you could hear the murmurs and hushed whispers. Some weren’t even trying to be subtle.

"Aren’t they dating now?""Didn’t Caitlyn say something about her last night?""Damn, Vi moves fast…"

Rolling your eyes, you let out an exaggerated sigh before speaking just loud enough for them to hear. "Funny how this is college, but it feels so much like high school."

Vi chuckled beside you, clearly amused. "Right? Bunch of grown-ass kids.” She shot a pointed glance toward the group, making a few of them look away awkwardly.

As you reached your classroom, Vi slowed her steps, her fingers brushing against yours before fully letting go. She looked at you with a slightly raised brow, her usual smirk playing at her lips. “You gonna be alright?”

You scoffed, shaking your head at her dramatics. “Jinx is in this class with me. I’ll be fine.”

Vi tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… still, I could totally come in, sit in the back, scare off any weirdos—"

"Vi." You gave her a pointed look, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

She sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Alright, alright. Guess I'll just have to survive an hour without you."

You rolled your eyes, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. “I’ll see you after, puppy.”

Vi winked. “I’ll be waiting, babe.”

With one last glance, you turned and stepped into class, catching sight of Jinx already sprawled across a seat, her feet kicked up on the chair in front of her. She grinned as she saw you enter, but before she could say anything, you heard Vi call out behind you, loud enough for half the class to hear—

"Don’t miss me too much!"

Heat rushed to your face as a few students snickered. You shot Vi a glare over your shoulder, but she only grinned, shooting you finger guns before disappearing down the hallway.

Jinx let out a low whistle. “Damn, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rolling your eyes, you dropped into the seat next to her, shaking your head. “Shut up, Jinx.”

"Damn, you really walked in here like you owned the place," Jinx snickered. "Guess Vi finally locked you down, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, setting your bag down before taking your seat beside her. "Im really starting to see how you too are sisters...its not that serious. Everyone dates.

Jinx hummed, smirking. "Nah, it kinda is. I mean, people are talking." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "Caitlyn looked like she was about to throw hands when she saw you two walking together. Shit was hilarious."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, not surprised in the slightest. Caitlyn would be a problem, but she had already tried to humiliate you once—and you were still standing. Still with Vi.

"Let her be mad," you muttered, pulling out your notebook. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jinx chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "Damn right you’re not."

As the professor walked in and class began, you could still feel the weight of a few lingering stares. But they didn’t matter. Nothing Caitlyn or anyone else did could take this from you.

You had already decided—you weren’t running away this time.

After your class ended, you pulled out your phone to text Vi.

You: You out yet?

A minute passed before your phone vibrated with her response.

Vi: Still stuck in class. 30 mins left. Kill me.

You sighed, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Jinx had already bolted, mumbling something about helping Ekko with a science project, which left you with time to kill.

Deciding to freshen up, you made your way to the nearest bathroom. Once inside, you pulled out your makeup bag and leaned in close to the mirror, dabbing some concealer under your eyes before reapplying lip gloss. The dim fluorescent lights buzzed above as you smoothed out the product, adjusting your hair slightly.

The door suddenly swung open, and through the reflection, you saw Caitlyn stroll in, flanked by two other girls from the cheer squad. They looked at you like they had been waiting for this moment.

Caitlyn leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "Hey, junkie. You think you can get with my ex and get away with it?"

You inhaled sharply through your nose, fingers tightening around your lip gloss. Without missing a beat, you discreetly reached into your pocket and tapped your phone’s record button before setting it facedown on the sink.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you finally turned to Caitlyn with a blank expression. "Yes, actually. Was the kissing and holding hands not enough proof for you?" You tilted your head, watching as her jaw clenched. "Those videos didn’t do shit, Cait. This is done. Get the fuck over yourself. This isn’t high school."

Her smirk disappeared. The tension in the room thickened as her eyes darkened with something unreadable—anger, jealousy, resentment. Maybe all three.

Then, it happened.

Caitlyn lunged first, shoving you back against the counter. The sudden impact made your phone slide slightly across the sink, but you had bigger things to worry about.

The moment her hands touched you, adrenaline surged through your veins. You shoved her off with enough force to make her stumble back, but before she could regain her footing, you were already on her.

A punch to the jaw. A satisfying grunt of pain.

One of the cheer girls shrieked as the other whipped out her phone to record.

Caitlyn swung back, her nails grazing your cheek, but it only fueled you further. You grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and shoved her into one of the stalls, the sound of her back hitting the metal door echoing through the bathroom.

"You crazy bitch!" Caitlyn spat, trying to get up, but you didn’t let her. You grabbed a fistful of her uniform and yanked her forward, bringing your face close to hers.

"You wanna ruin my life, Cait? Then come at me like a woman, not a bitter ex-girlfriend throwing a tantrum." Your voice was low, steady—dangerous.

She breathed heavily, glaring daggers at you, but she said nothing.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open again, and another cheerleader gasped, "What the hell is going on?"

You let Caitlyn go, roughly pushing her back as you adjusted your clothes. The girl still recording had a smug look on her face, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Send it to me," you told her flatly before grabbing your phone from the sink. You stopped at the doorway, glancing back at Caitlyn, who was still catching her breath.

"This isn’t over," she growled.

You smiled, brushing past the other girls as you walked out. "Yeah, it is."

As soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, you were met with a wall of students crowded around the door. Their faces were lit with anticipation, phones in hand, waiting to see what would happen next. Some were whispering, others outright laughing.

Caitlyn most definitely planned this. She wanted to fight you and humiliate you in the process, turn you into some kind of public spectacle.

Too bad for her—you weren’t the type to crumble.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your shirt as you scanned the crowd. "Do any of you seriously have anything better to do?" Your voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs. "You're all fucking miserable, trying to bully someone who hasn’t done shit to you."

Some of them had the audacity to look surprised, as if they weren’t just standing there, watching like this was some free entertainment. Others just smirked, enjoying the drama.

You scoffed. "Well, guess what? Your comments don’t bother me. I’m that bitch, and you all are just my followers." You tilted your head, flashing a smirk that made a few people shift uncomfortably. "Every single one of you can kiss my ass."

With that, you pushed through the crowd, making sure to shoulder past a few of the bystanders who thought they had something to say. The hallway was buzzing with whispers behind you, but you didn’t care. You had made your statement.

You walked straight out of the building, not sparing a single glance back.

The moment you stepped outside, the cool air hit your skin, but it did nothing to cool down the heat still pulsing through your body. Your knuckles stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain—it was proof that you didn’t just sit there and take Caitlyn’s bullshit.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply before checking your phone. Several notifications flooded your screen—texts, missed calls, and social media tags. The fight was already spreading. You barely had time to process it before your phone buzzed again.

Vi: Where are you?Vi: Jinx said something went down??Vi: Are you okay?

You sighed, typing back quickly.

You: Outside. By the parking lot. I’m fine.

It didn’t even take a full minute before you heard the heavy, familiar stomp of boots against pavement. Vi rounded the corner, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe as she stalked over. Her gaze flickered to your face, to your hands, and back to your face again.

“The fuck happened?” she demanded, voice low but tense.

You lifted a brow. “Caitlyn.”

Vi’s expression darkened immediately. “She touched you?”

“She tried,” you corrected. “And she lost.”

Vi let out a sharp exhale through her nose, her fists clenching like she was imagining what she would’ve done if she had been there. But as soon as her eyes landed back on you, they softened just a bit. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine,” you assured her. “Just pissed off.”

Vi stepped closer, her hands coming up to gently cup your face. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She let out a breath before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. “She’s fucking pathetic,” Vi muttered against your skin. “Did she really think she could pull some high school mean-girl shit and get away with it?”

You scoffed. “Apparently.”

Your phone buzzed again, and you glanced down to see a message from Jinx. Attached was a video. You clicked on it, and sure enough, it was footage of the fight. Someone had recorded the entire thing—the insults, the first punch, Caitlyn hitting the floor.

Vi peered over your shoulder, watching with an amused smirk. “Damn. You didn’t hold back.”

“She deserved it,” you said simply, locking your phone.

Vi chuckled, shaking her head before lacing her fingers through yours. “Come on, babe. Let’s get out of here before someone else tries to start shit.”

You didn’t argue. With your fingers intertwined, you let her lead you away, leaving the chaos—and Caitlyn’s bruised ego—far behind.

The next morning, you walked into the Dean’s office with your head held high, refusing to let Caitlyn or anyone else see you sweat. She was already sitting there when you arrived, dressed prim and proper, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she hadn’t just gotten her ass handed to her yesterday. She flicked her eyes toward you, and you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of her.

Let’s see how smug she is in a few minutes.

You sat down across from her, keeping your expression neutral as the Dean adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“I assume you both know why you’re here,” he started, looking between you and Caitlyn.

You nodded. Caitlyn, however, took that moment to put on her poor, innocent me act.

“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice softer, almost sweet. “I was attacked yesterday in the restroom. I was just trying to have a conversation, and she suddenly got violent—”

You let out a sharp laugh, cutting her off. “Oh, really?”

The Dean raised a hand, signaling for silence before turning his computer monitor around. The moment the screen lit up, Caitlyn stiffened beside you. Video footage played, showing the exact moment she had cornered you in the bathroom, her voice loud and clear as she taunted you. Then, another clip played—one you hadn’t seen yet.

It was security footage from the hallway, capturing her shoving you first.

Your lips twitched. Busted.

“Well,” the Dean said, turning the screen back toward himself. “That certainly clears up a few things.”

Caitlyn’s face drained of color. “Wait, I—”

“There’s nothing else to wait for, Miss Kiramman. The evidence speaks for itself. You instigated the altercation, verbally threatened Miss Talis, and initiated physical contact first. This is not only inappropriate but completely unacceptable behavior, especially for a team captain representing our school.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched.

“Effective immediately, you are removed from your position as cheer captain,” the Dean continued, flipping through some paperwork. “Furthermore, due to your behavioral misconduct, you will be placed on probation, which means you are also suspended from participating in cheer activities for the remainder of the season.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Damn. You had expected some punishment for her, but this? This was perfect.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

The Dean slid a formal document across the table. “Please sign here to acknowledge your disciplinary action.”

Her hands curled into fists before she snatched the pen and scribbled her name down in angry strokes. You sat back in your chair, watching her seethe, before giving her the pettiest, most satisfied smile you could muster.

When you finally stood and left the office, you spotted Vi waiting outside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. As soon as she saw you, she pushed off the wall and walked over.

“Well?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked. “Caitlyn’s out. No more cheer, no more captain title. She’s on probation.”

Vi let out a low whistle. “Damn. So she really got her shit rocked twice in one week?”

“Seems like you’ve got a psycho ex, Vi,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against hers.

Vi grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

With that, she threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in, pressing a kiss to your temple as you both walked away from the office, leaving Caitlyn and all her bullshit behind.

Vi led you into her house with that same cocky stride she always carried, tossing your bag onto the couch before taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs. You’d been here before—when you met Vander and Silco, very awkwardly after sneaking out of Vi’s room post-hookup—so the familiarity wasn’t new, but the situation was.

Now, you weren’t just sneaking around. You were her girlfriend.

Her room was exactly what you expected. The walls were deep red, covered in band posters—Metallica, Nirvana, and some punk bands you didn’t recognize. A few posters of half-naked bikini models were tacked up haphazardly, classic Vi style. You rolled your eyes at them, but your attention was quickly stolen by something else.

A poster of you.

In your cheer uniform.

Your jaw dropped as you let out a loud laugh, stepping toward the wall to get a better look.

“Vi, what the hell?” you said, turning back to her with an incredulous grin. “You’re such a dog. You really ordered my poster?”

Vi flopped onto her bed, arms behind her head, grinning like she had no shame. “Yep.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “You know that’s weird as hell, right?”

She snorted. “What’s weird about supporting my girlfriend?”

You looked back at the poster, still laughing, before smirking over your shoulder at her. “Then I’ll be ordering some posters of you ASAP.”

Vi lifted her head, amused. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep,” you said smugly. “Full-size. Multiple copies.”

Vi sat up, smirking. “I’d actually love to see what pictures you pick out.”

“Don’t test me, Lanes.”

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, voice dropping into that teasing tone. “Oh, I am testing you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade as you walked over and plopped onto the bed beside her. Vi grabbed your waist, pulling you into her lap effortlessly, her arms wrapping around you.

“So,” she murmured against your jaw, pressing a kiss there. “You staying the night?”

You tilted your head slightly, pretending to think. “That depends. Are you gonna try anything?”

Vi grinned against your skin. “Baby, I always try something.”

You sat comfortably in Vi’s lap, her arms wrapped securely around your waist, fingers drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The dim light of her room cast soft shadows across her features, making her look even more tempting than usual.

“Are your parents home?” you asked, glancing toward the door just to be sure. “What about Jinx?”

Vi smirked, already knowing where this was going. “They’re not gonna be home until four a.m. Jinx is spending the night with Ekko.” She tilted her head, watching the way you processed that information before adding, “We’re good.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, pressing a finger against her chest. “I’m gonna kill you if anyone hears us.”

Vi’s grin widened, but she nodded in mock obedience. “Yes, ma’am.”

Before you could say anything else, her hands found the hem of your shirt, her fingers grazing your skin as she slowly lifted it. You shivered at the touch, breath hitching slightly. Vi’s eyes darkened with something unreadable—something hungry—as she took her time sliding the fabric up your torso.

She made sure to brush her knuckles over every inch of exposed skin, as if savoring the moment. Then, with a final tug, she helped you slip the shirt over your head and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

Her gaze raked over you, taking in the sight, her lips parting slightly before she looked up to meet your eyes. “Damn…”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at her obvious admiration. “You gonna stare all night, or…?”

Vi smirked. “Just appreciating my very beautiful girlfriend.”

Your face warmed at the compliment, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned in, fingers threading into her short pink hair as you pressed your lips to hers, silencing whatever teasing remark she was about to make.

Vi’s hands were everywhere—palms gliding along your waist, fingers gripping your hips, holding you closer as your lips moved against hers. The heat between you both was undeniable, a slow-burning fire that flared hotter with every kiss.

Her tongue slid against yours, drawing out a soft gasp from you as her fingers traced up your spine, sending shivers through your body. She smirked into the kiss, clearly pleased with herself, but before she could say anything cocky, you tugged at her hair, making her groan.

“You play too much,” you murmured, lips brushing against hers as you spoke.

Vi chuckled, her grip tightening on your hips as she leaned back slightly against the headboard, pulling you further into her lap. “Nah, I just know exactly what you like,” she whispered, voice low and teasing.

Your fingers dragged down her chest, feeling the toned muscles beneath her tank top. “Cocky as ever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be close to her like this.

Vi smirked, tilting her head slightly. “You love it.”

You didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you kissed her again, deeper this time, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as if pulling her even closer. Her hands roamed, one sliding up your back while the other settled on your thigh, gripping it just enough to make your breath hitch.

Just as things were starting to heat up, a sudden thud from outside Vi’s room made you both freeze.

You pulled away, heart racing. “What the hell was that?” you whispered.

Vi sighed, resting her forehead against your shoulder for a second before looking toward the door. “Probably just the wind or something. No one’s home, remember?”

You gave her a pointed look. “Vi, if one of your dads walks in—”

“They won’t.” She grinned, rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. “But if you’re scared, we can stop.”

You scoffed, shoving her shoulder lightly. “I hate you.”

Vi only laughed, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nah, you love me.”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before murmuring, “Yeah… I do.”

The teasing glint in Vi’s eyes softened at your words. She didn’t say anything right away, just held your gaze as if committing this moment to memory. Then, slowly, she leaned in and kissed you again—not rushed, not desperate, but something softer, something more certain.

Like she wanted you to know she felt the same way.

Its been a hour and Vi's mouth hasnt left your cunt, sucking your clit and licking your juices like you were her last meal. Your fingers were tangled in her pink mullet, hearing her moan everytime you tugged a little too hard.

You were on your fourth orgasm you didnt know if you had anymore in you.

"Vi please," you moaned. She only replied with giving your sensitive swollen clit harsher sucks as she moaned into it, making you jolt and gasp loudly in response.

She then pulled away, making you sigh in relief. She then got on top of you giving you a messy kiss which you returned, you could taste yourself on her tongue.

"Fuck you taste so good," she says before playfully licking your cheek and getting off of you.

"Im starting to think you're a dog in heat...," you say teasingly.

"I always am when it comes to you, beautiful," she says.

Vi makes her way towards her dresser, taking out her strap and hooking it onto herself. Her seven inch hot pink dildo that she used in pride. The first time she used it on you she was gentle and loving, but now looking at the smirk on her face its gonna be the complete opposite.

You gasped when Vi grabbed you by you ankles and pulled you down to the edge of the bed. She got in between in your legs, putting them on her shoulders.

She lines her strap with your entrance before she pushes her length into you in one swift movement, making you moan "Fuck!," you moan out.

Her hands went down to the bottom of you thighs, putting you into a mating press your knees to your chest before she started thrusting into you. "Vi Jesus," you moan out.

"You're so tight in this position, baby," she teased "I'm gonna go faster."

She kept her word as she started to basically pound into you, looking down at you as she watched her dick make a bulge on stomach each time she thrusted. The sounds of your moans filling the room.

"Dont stop baby, please," you whined as you already felt yourself getting close.

"I dont plan on it, baby," she says as she continue the same pace, giving you a forehead kiss.

Crazy that shes babying you as she's rearranging your guts.

She was basically using you as a sex doll, taking advantage of your flexiblity. The thought of it made your pussy walls flutter.

She was focused, sweat dripping down her forehead, her biceps flexing as she held you down by your thighs, and most importantly her moans from the base of the strap rubbing against her clit.

She was so hot and it was pushing you over the edge.

"Im coming," you announced after a few more of her powerful thrust, you came. Your juices coating her cock as she slowly thrust into you, making squleshing sounds.

She put your legs down and pulled out of you. "Come on. Face down. Ass up," she says.

You didnt hesitate to roll over on all fours. She suddenly gave you a hard and harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp. You looked back to her see her with a cocky smirk on her face.

This was gonna be a long night.

Your body ached in ways that were both frustrating and satisfying as you blinked awake, the soft morning light seeping through the cracks in Vi’s curtains. The soreness settled deep in your muscles, a not-so-subtle reminder of the night before. You stretched your arms above your head, groaning slightly before rolling over—only to be met with the cool, empty side of the bed.

You furrowed your brows. Where the fuck was she?

Sitting up, you ran a hand through your tangled hair and immediately noticed that Vi had dressed you in one of her t-shirts at some point during the night—a Spider-Man one, to be specific. You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. That girl was such a dork.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, only to immediately regret it when your knees nearly buckled. Your legs felt like jelly, and you had to grab onto Vi’s dresser to steady yourself. Jesus.

You took a deep breath, gathering your strength before going through her drawers and grabbing a pair of her boxers. Pulling them on, you finally caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

“Oh, hell no…” you muttered.

Your hair was a mess, lips slightly swollen, faint marks dusting your collarbone. You looked like you had been tossed, turned, and thrown into another dimension. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled your hair into a ponytail, doing what little you could to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

The smell of breakfast suddenly hit you—bacon, eggs, pancakes, the whole nine yards. Your stomach grumbled in response, and you finally left Vi’s room, rubbing your tired eyes as you made your way downstairs.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There they were. All of them.

Vi. Jinx. Ekko. Vander. Silco. All casually sitting around the kitchen like it was just a normal morning. Vi was by the stove, flipping pancakes. Vander was sipping coffee, Silco reading the newspaper, Ekko munching on bacon, and Jinx—

The moment her eyes landed on you, a devilish grin spread across her face.

“Well, well, well…” she drawled, leaning back in her chair. “Look who finally decided to wake up.”

You shot her a glare, but before you could even think of a comeback, she smirked.

“Someone was turned every way but loose last night…”

Your jaw dropped.

Vi choked on a laugh, nearly dropping the spatula. Ekko covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, and even Vander let out an amused grunt. Silco, of course, remained unreadable, casually sipping his tea like he hadn’t just heard Jinx air out your business at the breakfast table.

Your face burned as you gaped at Jinx. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Jinx only grinned wider, wiggling her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m very serious.”

Vi finally turned around, biting her lip to hold back a laugh as she looked you up and down. “Damn, babe, you good? Need me to carry you to the table?”

You glared at her, snatching a piece of bacon off Ekko’s plate. “I hate all of you.”

Ekko patted your shoulder with a smirk. “Nah, you love us.”

You groaned, stuffing the bacon in your mouth as you slumped into a chair. Vi placed a plate of pancakes in front of you with a smug smile. “Eat up, princess. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You shot her a look, but as you stabbed into your pancakes, you couldn’t help but feel… warm. Embarrassed? Absolutely. But surrounded by them like this—laughing, teasing, eating together—it felt good.

Maybe even a little bit like home.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment as the laughter around the table finally died down. Your plate was nearly empty, save for a few stray crumbs from the pancakes, and the warmth of the morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, casting everything in a golden glow.

Vi was sitting beside you, casually picking at the last of her bacon, while Ekko and Jinx continued their endless banter across the table. Vander and Silco, despite their intimidating presence, seemed more relaxed in this moment—Silco sipping his coffee as Vander leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, observing everything with an amused glint in his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, you felt something unfamiliar yet comforting—peace.

Vi reached over and tapped your knee under the table, catching your attention. “You good?” she asked lowly, her voice dipping into something softer, more intimate.

You turned your head slightly, meeting her gaze. Her expression was open, searching, as if she was making sure you weren’t still shaken from everything that had happened yesterday. From Caitlyn’s failed attempt to humiliate you, to your fight, to the meeting with the dean, to finally spending the night in her arms.

And yet, despite everything, you felt okay. Maybe even better than okay.

You gave her a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Vi studied you for a second longer before nodding in satisfaction. “Good.” Then, because she could never resist, she smirked. “So, you’re saying I rocked your world so hard last night that you woke up feeling like a brand new person?”

You groaned, pushing your plate away. “Why do I even like you?”

She laughed, throwing an arm over the back of your chair, bringing you closer. “Because I’m hot, charming, and madly in love with you.”

Your stomach flipped at how easily she said it—like it was the simplest truth in the world.

You didn’t say anything back, but the way you leaned into her touch, resting your head against her shoulder, was enough.

Jinx, of course, had to ruin the moment. “Alright, lovebirds, get out of my sight before I start gagging.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and gathering your plate, but Vi beat you to it, swiping it from your hands before you could move. “I got it,” she said, taking your dish along with hers to the sink.

You stayed behind and helped dry, playfully bumping your hip against hers as she rinsed off the plates. Vi shot you a smirk, flicking some water in your direction. “So… you gonna start staying over more now?”

You narrowed your eyes, pretending to think about it. “Hmm… I don’t know. If Jinx keeps embarrassing me first thing in the morning, I might have to reconsider.”

Jinx, who was sprawled out on the couch, yelled back, “Too late, sis. You’re part of the family now.”

That made you pause.

Part of the family.

You had spent so long feeling like an outsider, like you were constantly running away from everything, trying to rebuild yourself into someone new. But here, surrounded by these chaotic, loud, and sometimes overwhelming people, you felt something settle inside you.

You belonged.

Vi must have noticed the shift in your expression because she set the last plate aside and leaned in, voice dropping into that same gentle tone from earlier. “Hey.”

You blinked, looking up at her.

“You ready to go?” she asked, brushing her fingers against yours before slowly lacing them together.

You glanced around the kitchen one last time—at Vander, who gave you a small nod of approval; at Silco, who merely raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee; at Ekko, who gave you a knowing smirk; and at Jinx, who, despite her teasing, looked genuinely happy for you.

And then, finally, you looked back at Vi—the girl who had once been nothing more than a reckless flirt, a player, a challenge you swore you wouldn’t fall for. But now? She was something much more.

She was yours.

You squeezed her hand, exhaling softly before nodding. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Vi grinned, tugging you towards the door. “Then let’s get out of here before Jinx finds a way to traumatize you again.”

As you both stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit your skin, waking you up even more. Vi reached into her pocket for her car keys, but before she could grab them, you snatched them out of her hand with a mischievous grin.

“Let me drive,” you asked, twirling the keys between your fingers.

Vi immediately narrowed her eyes. “My Mustang? Fuck no.” She reached for the keys, but you took a step back, holding them just out of her reach.

“Please,” you pleaded, looking up at her with the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster. “I’m a good driver.”

Vi groaned, her resolve clearly wavering. She ran a hand down her face before sighing heavily. “You’re killing me, babe.”

You only batted your lashes in response, still waiting.

She sighed again, long and exaggerated. “Fine. But—” she pointed a warning finger at you—“please be careful. Drive slow if you have to. I swear if you so much as scratch her—”

You laughed, throwing an arm around her neck and pulling her in for a quick kiss. “Relax, Vi. I got this.”

She still looked skeptical but let you take the lead, watching as you confidently unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Vi groaned again as she got into the passenger side, mumbling, “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You smirked, revving the engine. “Have a little faith in me, baby.”

Vi just shook her head, but there was a fondness in her eyes as she buckled her seatbelt. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me regret this.”

With that, you pulled out of the driveway, a victorious smile on your face as Vi grumbled beside you. And as the car sped off down the street, the sun rising higher in the sky, you couldn’t help but feel like this—this moment, this morning, this girl—was exactly where you were meant to be.

The End.

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[bumblebeeonthistle]

You've been hurt, and Levi is not happy about it

Tags: Levi/Reader, slow burn, pining, injury, mild yandere Levi Ackerman, implied/referenced torture

Excerpt from my Levi X Reader fic.

You’ve never been late for your training sessions before.

Had it been any other person, Levi would’ve been annoyed. But because it’s you, he’s worried. You don’t strike him as someone who’s ever late for anything. Like him, you seem too punctual and meticulous to be late.

After twenty minutes have passed, he begins the trek back towards the barracks.

He knocks once when he reaches the door to Shadis’ office and doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before opening the door and entering. 

Shadis lifts his gaze to meet Levi’s cold stare, abandoning the paperwork he’d been in the middle of finishing when Levi barged in.

The door slams shut behind him, but he doesn’t break eye contact with his former Commander as he strides over to the desk.

“I thought your training session was cancelled this week,” Shadis says, unperturbed. 

“Where is she?” 

A pause. 

"Where. Is. She."

“In the medical wards.” 

Levi's eyes narrow into slits.

“What happened?”

Shadis lets out a huff.

“Some thugs attacked one of the groups during the cadets’ wasteland excursion. Said they were after the ODM gear. She was captured but escaped by herself, apparently killing one and knocking out four of her other kidnappers in the process. One escaped on horseback. A bullet grazed her right temple and she got shot in her left thigh. Lost a lot of blood and is still unconscious, but otherwise she’ll be fine.” 

Levi feels the blood in his veins freeze, cold fury seeping into every crack of his being. A metallic taste fills his mouth as he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it draws blood. 

“Wasn’t that excursion supposed to be without dangers? Where the fuck were the Instructors when it happened? And where are those shitheads who did it now?”

The Instructor ignores his first two questions, but answers his third.

“As we're speaking, the four surviving kidnappers are being transferred to the Interior to be questioned by the First Interior Squad.”

Levi just glowers at the him. After a moment of silence, Shadis sighs.

“I don’t know any more besides what I’ve already told you. She hasn’t woken up yet, so we haven’t gotten a chance to question her. All we know is from the other cadets present during the kidnapping.” 

Not entirely satisfied, but accepting that he won’t get any more information out of Shadis, Levi leaves the office without another word.

Before Levi can think about what he’s doing, his feet lead him to the Training Camp's hospital wards.

You'll be fine. You’re fine. 

He chants the words in his head like a prayer.

This is why he keeps people at an arm’s length. This is why he never lets anyone get close. He is so fucking tired of worrying about people, of caring, of being scared. Scared of losing.

He has already lost so many.

If Levi hadn't been so engrossed in his own thoughts, he would have heard the muffled voices from inside the hospital wards from far away. But as it is, it’s first when he steps inside the wards and is met with three pairs of curious eyes that he realises that you already have visitors. Had he known, he probably wouldn’t have come. For the other cadets to witness him in this state would be unacceptable.

He freezes in the doorframe. 

Then, before he can help himself, his gaze wanders to the only occupied bed in the room.

You look smaller, much less...intimidating in your unconscious state, one side of your head wrapped in bandages, splotches of brownish-red peeking through the otherwise white fabric. His eyes linger on your left thigh but find that it’s covered in white sheets, hiding your injury from his view.

Well, at least you don’t look like you’re in pain, which is a good thing, he guesses. Because if you’re anything like him, then he knows anaesthetics won’t work on you.

Then, he shifts his attention to your visitors. Two boys are sitting on the left side of your bed, one brunette and one blonde. Levi assumes one of them must be Yeager. Another young man is sitting on the other side of your bed, idly stroking the back of your hand. 

For some reason, the sight makes his blood boil. Despite the other man’s seated position, Levi can see that he’s tall, much taller than himself. And blonde with golden eyes.

His diametrical opposite, he thinks bitterly.

Why does he care?

It’s the younger blonde who moves first. He scrambles to his feet, salutes, and addresses him with a squeaky, albeit respectful Captain. The brunette’s eyes suddenly grow wide with realisation, jaw dropping before he hastily follows suit.

The young man is the last to rise. His salute is impeccable, so unfortunately Levi can’t scold him for it.

“Shouldn’t you brats be in bed by now?” Levi asks, not giving away any of the emotions currently threatening to shatter his mask of indifference. 

“Yes, Captain,” the two boys comply in unison, but the young man remains silent.

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, his eyes trailing up and down Levi as if seizing him up. Levi only offers a cold stare in return. After a couple of seconds, the man lowers his gaze, and all three of your friends file out of the room.

As soon as they’re gone, Levi strides over to your bedside. For a long moment he just stands there, content to merely observe your breathing, unconscious figure. He reaches out a hand to swipe a stray lock of hair away from your face but stops himself before he can touch you. His eyes travel yet again to your thigh covered in white hospital sheets and he has to resist the urge to take a look at the injury.

He doesn’t want to be a creep, after all.

After one last look, he leaves the wards to fetch his horse. Not to go back to headquarters, though. No, he’s going to the Interior. He’s going to make those four men sing. He’s going to make them talk, and then, he’s going to make them wish they’d never been born.

And lastly, he will grant them their wishes. 

Read the rest on ao3! Call my name || Levi X Reader

[starry-miki]

⭐️ Gift 2 for @sane-omblog ! In participant of @obeymeholidayexchange ⭐️

Prompt! “Purgatory hall squad in matching sweater for Christmas”

(Click for clearer version idk how to fix it ;-;)

💕 I would like to first say thank you to @ephie-om for both helping me with what Simeon would be doing and also “encourage” me to keep this piece and finish it all the way though! And i would also like to thank my sprint squad too; yall help me stay productive and I finally would like to thank @aspiringtrashpanda for the creation of this event, I’ve had a wonderful time meeting so much new people and gaining new moots and seeing my older ones too!! I love y’all so much!!! 💋🫶🫶💕

Now onto this piece thoughts and comments, other info and bonuses! (Kinda Long?)

After 9 crashes on procreate and hours of labor I would love to present you, your 2nd gift Ne! I decided to go a little all out for this one since I know I wouldn’t have enough time to do the 3rd gift 😔 (more details below)

Frankly I’m surprised it turned out alright, since I completely forgotten how to render more uhhhh more extravagantly?? and the last time I actually fully render was about roughly in May for Ven congrats gift?? So basically this was running on Christmas prayers and hopes and dreams LMAOOOO

⭐️

Cookies! You may notice each cookie looks a bit different, which each character decorated each others cookie!

Simeon did Solomon’s cookie,

Luke did Simeon’s cookie,

Raphael did Luke’s cookie

and you already know which one old man made drew it with my left hand (let’s be honest it’s the best looking cookie and the best looking thing in this entire piece I’m make it as my profile pic)👁️👁️

⭐️

Here is a full view of the piece without the cookies surrounding I forgot to save a non filter version of it but I have some snippets when I was sending it to one of my acquaintances but I guess of only old man and Raphael?? (But Raphael came out so cuteeees 😭💕)

⭐️

So the 3rd prompt details I’ll talk about it on my side account in a new post. I probably have it up some time in the next few days if not def sometime on first week of January, it also got a backstory to it LMAOO

💕 Happy holidays again Ne and I hope you enjoy your presents! And I hope the new year brings you joy and wonderful new things for you!! 🐞💋💕

[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

The Memories Pairing - Dain Aetos x RiorsonSister!Reader Summary - Your brother's girlfriend is missing, your squad has been sequestered away for trying to help, and you're sure that you're next to be taken in as soon as they can find you. There's only one person who you can think of that can help, and it's the same person everyone's been warning you not to trust. Will the bond you've formed be enough for him to see past the betrayal and help save everyone? Word Count - 4.3k Warnings - Canon typical violence and language!

Time was running out. The dorms were busy with normal activity, but every step you took had your panic rising. The rest of the squad was already sequestered after trying to mount a rescue mission yesterday, and you knew what Varrish was after: your brother. So you didn’t imagine it would be long until you were pulled out for interrogation, and you were terrified that they had Violet for as long as they had. If she hadn’t already broken, which you didn’t think she had or the marked ones still here would have been rounded up, how much longer could she hold out?

You could see one option out of this, but it was maybe the most dangerous of all. If you weren’t right, if you put your trust in someone who didn’t deserve it, you could get everyone killed. If you were right though . . . You could save Violet, and if you saved Violet, you saved everyone. 

There was no choice. 

You knocked on the door, and within seconds Dain Aetos was standing in front of you, looking confused. “Riorson? What are you-”

You shoved on his chest, glancing over your shoulder to make sure they weren’t coming as you pushed him back into his room. “Are you the man I think you are?” 

Dain’s brow furrowed, “What-?”

“I think you’re a good man,” you said, voice trembling with urgency. “I think given the choice, you would make the right decision, and I want to trust you even though everyone else has made me try and think that’s a bad idea, so I need to know. Are you the man I believe you are, or the one they say you are?” You asked, staring into his eyes looking for any hint of deception. 

“I’m who you think I am.” He said, without a flicker of doubt. And it wasn’t bravado. It was something deeper - like a promise. 

It’s what you needed to hear, and it might be stupid, and foolish, but you believed him. You reached out and grabbed his wrists, your thumbs brushing across his palms. “Okay, then I’m about to trust you with something that could not only get me killed, but several people that I love killed as well. I just ask for one thing.” 

Dain nodded, taking a step closer to you. 

“Give me the chance to explain everything that you’ve seen when you’re done. I promise I’ll answer any question.” And you would. You’d do anything if it’d help increase everyone’s chance of surviving. 

“I promise.” Dain said without hesitation. 

You thought your hands might have been shaking as you tightened your grip on his wrists. The room felt smaller, the air thick with the weight of what you were about to share. “Varrish has been teaching you how to search for memories using a word, right?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you lifted his hands toward your face. 

Dain nodded. 

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes - you couldn’t bear to see his expression. “Venin.” You breathed, placing his palms to your cheeks like a prayer. 

You weren’t sure how his signet worked, but you thought maybe if you tried to think about what you wanted him to see, he would. So you focused, dragging the memories forward like pulling barbed wire through your chest. 

Your mother’s hand gripping yours in the dark, your thirteen year old body trembling as she smuggled you across the border. You hid beneath a crumbling wall as a wyvern’s shadow passed overhead, a venin rider perched on its back. 

Then your old home - just ash and ruin. Your mother’s arm across your chest, holding you back as green fire devoured the walls. Her hand muffled your sobs while the sky turned to smoke. 

And finally - 

The blue cloak rippling in the wind. The pale skin. The crimson eyes. The red veins spidering towards his temple. And the smile. That cruel, twisted smile as he drained the life from the woman who’d given everything to save you.

Tears were streaming down your face as Dain stumbled back like he’d been struck. HIs eyes were wide - horrified, yes, but also shattered. As if some piece of his world had cracked beyond repair. He whispered your name, but there was no accusation, only heartbreak. 

Heartbreak you didn’t have time to deal with right now. “My brother has been smuggling weapons for years from here trying to arm fliers protecting Poromiel. Navarre knows, leadership knows, and they haven’t done a damn thing to help.” You said, a little bit of viciousness leaking into your tone.

Dain turned away again, his hand gripping the windowsill like it was the only thing holding him up. “So when I told my Dad about them being in Athebyne . . .” He shook his head, barely able to finish the thought. “They were smuggling weapons to protect citizens.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “He’s  trying to save as many as he can.” 

“Do you - do you know how long Violet had known?” He asked. 

You hesitated for a moment, but you promised to answer his questions. “She found out everything at Athebyne.” 

He stood at the window for a moment, and you watched the deep breaths he took through the rise and fall of his tense shoulders. You could feel the clock ticking away, on not only Violet’s life, but your brother’s as well. You were about to say something when he turned back around to face you. “Why are you trusting me with this?” 

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “Because I think Varrish is about to summon you to read Violet’s memories. And I . . . I think he’s using her to get to Xaden.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep from falling apart. “I can’t let them die. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my brother. He’s all I’ve got left.” You admitted, then went in for what you knew would convince him if nothing else would. “You can save Violet. Get her out of there before Varrish breaks her - before Xaden walks right into a trap.” 

“How do you know-?”

A loud bang rattled the door. You jumped. 

Dain didn’t. In one swift motion, his hand pressed against your stomach, guiding you to the wall beside the door. Hidden. Shielded. 

“Aetos! Open up!” Yelled a voice on the other side. 

Your heart rate increased as you looked at him, panicked. 

Dain put his finger to his lips in a clear sign for you to be quiet, and kept his hand on your stomach as he turned the doorknob and opened the door. “What do you want?” 

“You seen that first year from Flame Section? The one bonded to the blue daggertail?” 

It took everything in you not to make a sound with terror clogging your throat. His hand was warm - steady - where it rested against your stomach, grounding you even as fear curled in your chest. Without thinking, you clutched it, needing something real to hold onto. 

“Not since class. Is she in trouble?” Dain asked, his voice careful and controlled. 

“Varrish wants to talk to her.” He responded, and your blood ran cold. 

Dain’s hand gripped yours tighter, but his voice betrayed nothing. “Might want to check down by the river. I know she likes to go there sometimes to relax.” 

How . . . How did he know that? That was your place. Private. Safe. No one was supposed to know about it. Yet, it was the perfect place to send them searching. Isolated. Distracting. Smart. 

“Is that all you need?” Dain asked, sounding bored. 

“Not quite. He wants to see you too.” 

You were right. 

Varrish wasn’t just coming for Violet - he was coming for everyone you loved. 

And he was going to use Dain to do it.

“Alright. Let me grab my jacket.” Dain turned back to you, shutting the door behind him. “Stay here. Wait five minutes, then run. Head for the Vale. We won’t get Violet out without Tarin.” 

You tugged on the bond to Bhaltair. “Did you hear that?” 

“We will be ready when the time comes. Stay safe little one.” 

“We’ll be there.” You told Dain. 

He started to let go of your hand, but your grip tightened. Fear surged through you, catching in your throat. 

When he looked back, determination in his eyes, you couldn’t hold it in. 

“Please be careful.” You whispered. 

Dain nodded, then slipped through the door. The silence that followed was deafening.

You hugged yourself, eyes locked on the second hand of the clock as it ticked by. Each breath made your chest feel tighter, heavier. 

Something wasn’t right. 

The plan was sound, but every part of you screamed that walking away now - leaving Violet, leaving him - was a mistake. A betrayal. And your air signet . . . maybe it wasn’t enough, but it was something. 

“Change of plans, Bhaltair.” You told him, and decided it had been long enough. You opened Dain’s door, made sure no one was looking for you, and headed to where you knew they would be going. 

“I hope you’re ready to change them again.” His gravel-worn voice echoed in your mind.

You faltered mid-step. “What do you mean?” 

“Your brother has arrived.”

 A wave of relief swept through your body, followed by an, oh shit. Because Dain was with Violet, and if Xaden found them together and thought Dain was a threat - he’d kill him without blinking.

You ran like the world was ending - because for Dain, it might be. 

By the time you made it to them, Xaden was almost to the cell, and was slicing an officer’s throat. You heard Garrick shouting your name in surprise, but without even thinking about it, your wind blew him against the wall and out of your way. One thought pulsed through your veins - get to Dain before your brother killed him. That was all that mattered. Your eyes widened in panic as you saw Xaden aim for Dain with his daggers, and you didn’t even think. “No!” 

You threw yourself between Xaden’s blades and Dain, holding your hands up in front of you. 

You’d never seen that kind of rage in your brother’s eyes. It was blinding, absolute, like even he couldn’t see past it. Luckily, Violet spoke at the same time as you, and he was distracted as she started to fall and Dain had to catch her. “He saved me,” she whispered. “Don’t kill him.” 

You watched the wrath in his eyes turn to horror as he looked at her. “Gods, Violet.” Shadows exploded around all of you, and you stepped behind you until your back met Dain’s chest as Violet stumbled forward into Xaden’s arms. 

“I told you to go to the Vale,” Dain said, his hand on your hip as he tried to pull you behind him. 

There was no chance of that happening. You held your feet in place, not trusting Xaden not to kill him yet. “In all the time you’ve been my wingleader, I doubt I’ve listened to you more than twice, Dain Aetos. I wasn’t about to start now.” 

All of you were interrupted by Garrick’s arrival. “Godsdamn. You took off running, and then couldn’t save a single one for me? Took me forever to clear the barricade of bodies in the staircase after your sister blew me into a wall.” He said, giving you a look, but then frowning as he caught sight of Dain’s hand on you. 

Thankfully, Violet grabs his attention, turning her head, which had been resting against Xaden’s chest, to smile at Garrick weakly. “Hi, Garrick.” 

It was the first time you’d gotten a good look at Violet, and you had to hold in your gasp. Oh gods she looked horrible. What had they done to her down here? Her face was a brutal canvas of bruises, black, purple, green, blue. Blood clung to every edge, and the swelling made her almost unrecognizable. You wanted to say something, hug her, anything, but you knew no one was going to give her more comfort right now than the man holding her.

Garrick recovered faster than you, giving her a quick smile. “You’ve looked better, Violet, but I’m glad you’re alive.” 

“Me too.” She murmured, her voice hoarse. 

“It’s chaos up there,” Garrick tells Xaden, and when he looks at Dain again, you take another step back further into his touch, and Dain’s hand flexes on your hip - like he knew he should let go, but couldn’t make himself do it. “Leadership is launching all over the place to get to the border.” Garrick continued, turning back to Xaden. 

“Then it worked.” Xaden states. 

Before anyone could ask what worked, a groan sounds out through the room and you all snap your head in the direction of it. It’s Varrish, holding what appears to be a fatal wound in his side. This time, you’re so stunned that you let Dain tug you behind him so he can put himself between you two. “You’re turning traitor?” He hissed at Dain. 

“Oh, is that what’s happening?” Garrick asked, looking between Dain and Varrish. 

“Your father will be so disappointed.” Varrish said through clenched, bloody teeth. 

Fucking bastard. Since Dain had let go of you to push you behind him, you reached out and rested your hand on the small of his back, reminding him you were there. You didn’t know why you felt you had to, but he didn’t move out of your touch, even as he bent down to pick up his sword. “If he already knows what they’ve shown me, then I’m the one disappointed in him.” 

Oh shit. 

Everyone’s eyes shifted to you, but it was Xaden’s low voice that made your stomach twist in knots. “They?” 

You met Xaden’s stare without flinching, spine straightening. “If it helped keep Violet alive, I’d do it again. No regrets.” Because if it kept Violet alive, it helped keep him alive, and that was all you wanted. 

Xaden’s jaw clenched, but there were more important things to worry about at the moment as Varrish let out another bloody cough, and Dain aimed his sword at him. “No, not you.” Xaden snarled, and his shadows shot out, dragging Varrish into a chair and binding him there. “That honor belongs to Violet, if she wants it.” 

“She does,” Violet answered. 

Dain dropped his sword and stepped back toward you. Your hand slipped from his back as he turned, still shielding you from Varrish while Violet and Xaden closed in. To your surprise, Dain reached for your hand - and you didn’t hesitate to take his as together they stabbed Varrish, ending his life. 

“Give us a second, and keep Aetos breathing.” Xaden glanced down at where Dain was holding your hand, and his eyes narrowed. “For now,” he added to Garrick. 

You felt Dain start to loosen his grip, but you didn’t let him, holding his hand tighter, even when Garrick saw your hands and gave you a pointed look. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, kiddo.” 

You rolled your eyes, leveling the man you thought of as another brother with a glare. “Please. Like I don’t know that, old man? But I’m not letting any of you lay a hand on him.” You said, the words coming out more ferocious than you had intended. 

“I don’t need you fighting my-”

“This one you do.” You interrupted Dain. 

“She’s right.” Garrick agreed. “Her and Violet are the only reason you’re still breathing.” He looked far too smug about that. 

You gave Dain’s hand another squeeze and sent him an imploring look. “Trust me.” 

Dain stared at you for a moment, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. You hadn’t asked for something easy, but you’d trusted him. He needed to do the same now. 

He seemed to reach the same conclusion, nodding as he squeezed your hand in return - and for just a moment, the world felt less chaotic. There was something grounding in the way his fingers curled around yours. You didn’t know what it meant, not really, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. 

Garrick blinked, then grinned. “Holy shit - are you two a thing?” 

“No!” You both said at the same time, and when you looked over at Dain, it was impossible to miss the heat staining his cheeks. 

Garrick ignored both of you. “Let me know when you tell Xaden so I can have some snacks ready to eat while I watch.” He said with a smirk and a wink in your direction. 

You start to shoot a retort at him, but then Xaden starts calling out orders, and there isn’t much time after that for conversing. You’re taking supplies from Dain and wrapping Violet’s ribs while Xaden splints her arm. “We are nearly back, little one. Someone had better find the antidote before Tairn becomes even more insufferable.” Bhaltair’s voice curled down your bond like smoke.

Bhaltair gave a roar in return to what you were sure was Tairn’s displeased voice. “We need to get the antidote for the suppressant so Tairn doesn’t rip the quadrant apart.” You told Xaden who barked at Garrick to get Bodhi on it. “And you,” you added to Bhaltair. “Maybe stop antagonizing the giant dragon helping keep my brother alive?”  

“I can handle my sister’s mate.” He snapped at you, and you let out a sigh as you tied off Violet’s wrap. You winced for her - because gods that had to hurt - and sent her an apologetic smile. 

“The rest of the squad is fine. We tried to get you out yesterday, but they caught us. They’re in the interrogation classroom, and Ridoc distracted them before they could find me. I’ve been trying to get help ever since.” You assured her, glancing at Dain then looking back at Xaden. 

Gratefulness lit Violet’s face. “Thank you.” 

“Xaden! We have a problem!” You heard Garrick shout from the staircase. 

Shit. Of course we do. 

“Fuck,” Xaden said, glancing between his swords and Violet who was in no condition to walk right now. 

“I can carry her,” Dain offered, voice careful. 

Xaden’s head whipped toward him, and even you flinched at the force of that glare. 

“The only reason you’re still breathing, Aetos, is because my sister seems to have formed some ill-advised attachment to you, and you helped save Violet. You can bet your ass I’m not trusting you with her.” 

You didn’t bother defending yourself or your choices. There were no words that would make this better right now.

“I can walk. I think.” Violet interrupts, trying to keep the very little peace there was, but when she tried to take a step, it was obvious she couldn’t. 

Xaden sheathed his swords behind his back. “How about this - I promise the next time I’m beaten for five days straight, I’ll let you carry me out of the prison.” 

“Thank you,” Violet says as he lifts her into his arms. 

Xaden didn’t even bother to look at you and Dain as he started carrying Violet up the stairs towards Garrick. “Follow me, or die. It’s your choice, but make it now.” He told Dain, because there was no doubt you’d be following. 

While Xaden headed up the stairs, you tugged Dain to a stop. 

“I won’t let him kill you if you don’t want to come with us . . .” Your voice was low, unsteady. “But I want you to.” You squeezed his hand, like the small pressure could somehow anchor the mess inside of you.

Dain stared at you, and for a moment it felt like he was seeing everything - every crack and flaw and fear. Then, he stepped closer until your bodies were almost touching. His free hand came up, warm and steady, cupping your cheek. 

“I won’t follow him.” He said. 

Your breath caught. Your heart cracked a little. You opened your mouth, ready to plead - to say screw it, and ask him anyway - but he kept going.

“But I’ll follow you.” 

Oh gods. 

You blinked. Stunned.

Had anyone ever believed in you like that before? It was terrifying. But when you looked into those steady, warm brown eyes, something inside you settled. You swore, right then and there that you’d earn that faith. You’d be worthy of it. 

Emotion surged like a wave, thick in your throat. “I’ll try to make sure you don’t regret it.” 

Dain gave you the barest smile, the kind that felt like a secret, but then you heard Xaden calling your name, and you bolted up the stairs, tugging Dain with you to find the General waiting. 

She took one look at you, then at Dain. Her gaze dropped to your still entwined hands, and with a sigh that sounded like it had been aged in disappointment, she muttered, “both of you, really?” She said, looking from Dain to Violet. 

“Aetos!” Xaden snapped from the next set of stairs. “Did you decide to follow?” 

“Clearly,” he grumbled. 

“Then fucking follow.” Xaden ordered as he started up the stairs. 

You winced, shooting Dain an apologetic glance, and then hurried after your brother, fingers still laced with his. As you passed Violet, you caught her eye and gave her a small, uncertain smile. She tried to smile back, but the look in her eyes said she knew what storm you were stepping into.

You expected Xaden to start questioning you the second the four of you were alone, but instead, silence fell like a blade. Heavy. Sharp. Suffocating.

Your chest tightened. 

You hated this. The weight of Xaden’s silence. The feeling that you were letting him down. That you’d chosen something - or someone - he would never approve of. All your life, you’d only ever wanted one thing: for your brother to be proud of you.

And now? 

Now you weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye. 

Almost as if he knew you were thinking about him, Xaden glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes met yours - and softened. “You wanna go home, little bit?”

The words knocked the air from your lungs with a wave of homesickness. You missed it so much. “Please,” you whispered.

“Home?” Dain asked, his voice quiet as his gaze flickered from you to your brother. “So that was Aretia I saw. It didn’t burn?” 

Just like that, the brief softness vanished from Xaden’s expression. He didn’t say a word, turned his back, and kept moving. 

Your smile dropped. You looked up at Dain and gave a faint shake of your head. No point in hiding it now.

His brows drew together in a frown, eyes lingering on your face then shifting back to Xaden. He didn’t press, instead he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You squeezed his back, grateful.

At the top of the stairs, the silence turned razor sharp.You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying not to look at anyone. Not at Xaden, who’s disappointment would gut you. Not at Garrick, who’s teasing smirk would make you flush, and not at Dain, because you weren’t sure what you’d find there, and your chest already ached with too much. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Violet joined the four of you, and they decided to give everyone the chance to make their choice with all the information. Xaden didn’t seem keen on the idea, but if Violet wanted it, you knew she would get it. Then she turned to Dain, “it won’t be safe for you here. Not after what you just did.” 

“Not that it’s going to be safe for him where we’re going.” Garrick said, looking between Xaden and Dain. “You can’t be serious. We’re going to trust this guy?” 

You glared at him, but your attention shifted over to Xaden, knowing he was the one you had to convince. “He didn’t just help save Violet. They came looking for me. He helped me hide. Lied to cover for me, and planned to get us both out near the Vale. All before he even knew you were here.” You took a deep breath, heart pounding, and suddenly you knew what you had to do. “I’ll take responsibility for him.” 

“The fuck you will,” Xaden growled, stepping closer to you, and you had to fight the urge to shrink under his gaze. 

You resisted the instinct to step back. Instead, you lifted your chin, even as your stomach twisted. “You can’t stop me.” 

Your fingers reached for one of the daggers on your chest, but a shadow, sharp and solid, wrapped around your wrist, tugging your arm away. 

You gasped, eyes flying to Xaden, who didn’t look the least bit remorseful. 

“If he wants our trust, he’ll earn it.” He said coldly. 

“He already-!” 

“Guess my last official act as a wingleader will be to call a formation.” Dain interrupted, jaw flexing as his gaze dropped to the shadow still wrapped around your wrist. “Let her go.” 

Xaden smiled, sharp and amused. “Sure thing.” 

The shadow slithered off your skin - only for a dozen more to lash out and strip you of every dagger you carried. Your breath hitched, and you felt exposed. 

“You can have them back,” Xaden said, already turning away, “as soon as you come to your fucking senses.” 

Emotions surged. Anger, guilt, heartbreak, embarrassment, all tripping over each other in your chest. You didn’t even realize you were staring after him until you felt warm fingers under your chin, tipping your face up. 

Dain.

“Don’t piss him off because of me.” He said. “I can tell how much it hurts you to make him mad.” 

The words hit too close, too true, and your throat tightened. “What if I think you’re worth it?” You asked.

He didn’t answer with words. He held your gaze for a long, aching beat. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Soft. Deliberate. Anchoring. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching in your lungs. For a moment, you stood there, head bowed toward him, fighting the urge to melt into his arms and forget every burden waiting above you. 

“All right, not-lovebirds.” Garrick muttered, his voice thick with amusement. “Let's get this show on the road.” 

Heat flared across your cheeks as you straightened. Dain’s hand stayed in yours. 

You didn’t let go.

[unbuttonedown]

Fault Lines / Chapter 7

Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Wife!reader (Mitchell!reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Consensual, legal age-gap relationship; Estranged Father/Daughter relationship (Maverick & Reader); Named Simpson!OC child; Angst; Pregnancy; Mentions of birth complications; No Beta Reader

Synopsis: After the successful Dagger Squad mission, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell returns home — only to be blindsided by the revelation that his estranged daughter is married to Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson. Maverick is forced to confront the years he lost and the family he never knew existed. Tensions rise between the two men as Maverick struggles to find his place in a life that has moved on without him, leaving the question — can broken bonds ever truly be repaired?

previous chapter

It had been nearly two hours since Beau arrived at the hospital.

The clock’s slow tick was starting to feel like a form of torture. Beau had stopped pacing. Maverick had stopped pretending he wasn’t running worst-case scenarios in his head. And still, the OR doors remained closed. 

Then — finally — they opened. 

A nurse stepped out, her expression calm, practiced. Maverick and Beau were both on their feet before she even spoke. 

“She’s out of surgery,” she said gently. “Everything went well. Both mom and baby are stable.” 

Beau exhaled so hard it came out as half a laugh, half a prayer. His hands dropped to his sides like gravity finally caught up to him. 

“She’s in recovery now,” the nurse continued. “We’re monitoring her vitals, she’s resting. Your daughter is in the nursery, getting checked, but she’s healthy. And loud.” 

Both men smiled at that — something shared, small but real. 

“Can I see her?” Beau asked. 

“In a few minutes, yes,” she replied. “We’ll bring you back as soon as she’s ready.” 

When the nurse walked away, Maverick say back down, this time letting out a long breath. Beau didn’t sit, not yet. He stood there for a moment like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that the worst was over. 

Then he turned back to Maverick. 

“You know,” Beau said, voice quieter now, “when she first told me about you… she barely said anything. Just that things were complicated. That she hadn’t talked to you in years. She never trashed you, never dramatized it. Just… closed the door and kept moving.” 

Maverick nodded, jaw clenched. “That tracks.” 

“But the thing is,” Beau went on, “I always wondered what kind of man raised a woman like her. Because she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Brave. Smart. Heart bigger than she lets on.” 

Maverick didn’t respond right away. He was still staring down at the floor, eyes glassy. 

“I didn’t raise her,” he said finally, voice low and tight. “Not really. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I made some choices I thought were right at the time. And they weren’t. I missed out on so much. I let myself miss it.” 

Beau looked at him for a long moment. Then sat next to him again. 

“She’s letting you try,” he said. “And that’s more than most people would give.” 

“I don’t want to waste it,” Maverick said. “I just want to earn whatever time she’s willing to give me. However long it takes.” 

Beau nodded slowly. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.” 

A nurse appeared at the end of the hallway a few minutes later, motioning for them to follow her down the corridor. 

“She’s awake,” she said. “Still a little out of it, but she’s asking for her husband.” 

Beau touched Maverick’s shoulder as he stepped past him. 

“You coming?” 

Maverick blinked, surprised. “You sure?” 

“She’ll want to see you too,” Beau said. “You got her here. You sat with me. You waited. That counts.” 

So the two men walked side by side through the hospital corridor, toward the room where you were finally waking up — where your newborn daughter waited to be held, and where, somehow, the pieces of your family were starting to quietly fall into place. 

The recovery room was dim and quiet, the only sounds the low hum of machines and the occasional beep of a heart monitor. You were propped up slightly in the hospital bed, eyes half-lidded, hair messy and damp at your temples, a faint flush still in your cheeks from the fevered storm of the last few hours. 

Beau was through the door before the nurse finished holding it open, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t believe you were real, safe, alive. You managed the softest, sleepiest smile. 

“Hi,” you murmured. 

He crossed the room in seconds and was at your side, brushing hair from your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your temple. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered. 

“You didn’t answer your phone,” you whispered back, half a tease, half truth. 

“I know,” he said, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

You could feel the weight of his fear still clinging to him. You reached for his hand and squeezed it, grounding both of you in this quiet moment after the chaos. 

Then you looked past him — because you felt it, that still presence just outside your line of sight. 

Maverick stood just inside the doorway, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t move until you gave him the tiniest nod. 

He stepped in slowly. 

“Hey, kid,” he said quietly, voice rough. “You look…” 

“Don’t say anything about how I look,” you said, half-laughing. 

Beau chucked under his breath and pulled a chair close to your bedside. Maverick stayed standing for a second longer, then sat down in the other chair across from you. 

“Thank you,” you told him, eyes locked on his. “For getting me here. For staying.” 

“You don’t have to,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. “You called me. That’s all I needed.” 

You took a deep breath and looked between the two men — the one who’d built a life with you, and the one who was just beginning to rebuild something he’d once broken. It didn’t escape you how surreal this moment was. Bit it also didn’t scare you like you thought it would. 

“They’re bringing her soon, right?” You asked Beau. 

He smiled, finally softening into something other than panic and adrenaline. “Yeah. Said they’d be in with her any minute.” 

Right on cue, the door opened again. 

A nurse rolled in a bassinet, the tiniest bundle of swaddled pink tucked inside. You could just barely see the soft flutter of her chest, her nose crinkling as she adjusted in her sleep. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered and the tears came quickly. 

Beau stood and helped you sit up a little more as the nurse gently placed the baby into your arms. 

She was perfect. 

Tiny, warm, impossibly soft. Her hair was wispy and dark, her cheeks full, her lips slightly parted as she nestled into your chest like she already knew you. 

Beau was at your side in a heartbeat, his hand on your back, eyes full of something that looked a lot like awe. 

Maverick watched silently from the foot of the bed, his expression unreadable — but you saw his jaw tremble ever so slightly. His eyes stayed fixed on your daughter. His granddaughter. 

“She doesn’t have a name yet,” you said, still looking down at her. “We hadn’t decided.” 

Beau smiled, brushing a thumb over the baby’s tiny fist. “We were waiting until we met her.” 

You looked up at him, then over at Maverick. And then back at her. 

“I want her to have something strong,” you murmured. “Something rooted. But soft. Like her sister.” 

Beau nodded. “Yeah.” 

There was no final decision yet, but it didn’t matter in the moment. She was here. Safe. Whole. Yours. 

After a while, when the nurse came back to check your vitals, Maverick stood and moved toward the door to give you space. 

But just before he stepped out, you looked up at him again. 

“You can stay,” you said softly. 

He paused, surprised. “You sure?” 

You nodded, sleepy and raw and full of something new and unfamiliar — peace. 

“You’re family,” you said. “You should meet her too.” 

And Maverick stepped back in, slowly, reverently, to meet the granddaughter he never thought he’d be allowed to know. 

Maverick stood beside your bed now, quieter than you’d ever seen him. He hovered just at the edge, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to get closer. You could tell he was holding his breath — like if he moved too fast, he might wake up from all of this. 

You glanced at him, your baby tucked against your chest, her tiny fingers curling instinctively at the edge of your hospital gown. Her little breaths were soft, steady, completely unaware of the gravity of the room. 

“She’s got Beau’s nose,” you said, almost absently. 

“And your lips,” Beau added, running a thumb gently along her cheek. 

There was a pause. A weight to the moment that made it feel like it was balanced on a pin. 

You looked up at Maverick gain. His hands were still in his pockets, but you could see the way his fingers twitched. The way his eyes shimmered and stayed locked on the baby like he was memorizing every tiny feature. 

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked softly. 

His head jerked up slightly, startled. “Me?” 

You smiled. “Yes, you.” 

“I — only if you’re sure,” he said quickly. “I mean, I haven’t — I —“ 

You tilted your head, amused. “You’re not gonna break her, Maverick.” 

Still hesitant, he stepped forward. You gently handed her over, Beau helping steady Maverick’s arms as he cradled your daughter for the first time. 

She barely stirred, settling right in, and that was what did it. Maverick’s mouth parted slightly, his eyes shining as he looked down at her, holding her like she was made out of light. 

“Hey there,” he whispered, voice thick. “You’re… perfect, you know that?” 

You rested your head back against the pillow, watching him. And then, without even thinking twice, you said: 

“She’s gonna love her Grandpa Mav.” 

He blinked. 

Then looked up at you slowly, almost in disbelief. 

You smiled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again, but this time from something good. Something healing. 

Maverick’s eyes dropped back to your daughter, his chest rising with a deep breath as he let the name settle in his bones. He rocked her just slightly, like it was instinct now. 

“Grandpa Mav,” he repeated, so quietly it barely made it into the room. Like he was trying it on. Like he didn’t quite believe it belonged to him — but he wanted it to. 

And in that sterile hospital room, under fluorescent lights and exhausted hearts, something shifted. 

Not perfectly. But enough. 

Enough to know that healing could be slow and quiet and still real. Enough to know that love — once buried — could still find its way back. 

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: Well, who is she?

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The tension in the war room was thicker than a storm cloud in Basgaith.

Y/n stood stiffly near the table, arms crossed, jaw clenched, her back turned to Xaden as he paced the far side. The squad lingered awkwardly, unsure if they should stay or run for their lives.

Xaden exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y/n, for gods’ sake, can we please talk about this?”

Silence.

She didn’t even look at him.

“Y/n—”

More silence. She shifted just slightly, chin tilted up in pure defiance, her face a portrait of composed fury.

Across the room, Bodhi—poor, sweet, unfiltered Bodhi—attempted to break the suffocating quiet, muttering under his breath to Garrick, “He didn’t even care this much when he was fighting with Catriona…”

Xaden visibly flinched.

Y/n froze.

Her body turned slowly, deliberately, toward Bodhi. Her voice, low, cold and tight, cut like a blade.

“Who the fuck is Catriona?”

The room froze.

You could hear a pin drop—or, more likely, Garrick’s soul trying to escape his body.

Bodhi, realizing what he’d just done, immediately looked at the ceiling as if he could physically ascend away from this mess, sending a prayer to Zihnal. “Oh no.”

Imogen let out the softest “shit” under her breath and subtly elbowed Bodhi, who was already trying to will himself invisible.

Xaden stepped forward quickly, expression somewhere between horrified and please, not now.

“She—was. Past tense,” he said, tone careful, low, soothing. “Y/n, she’s—was—no one important. It’s not—gods, it’s not what you think.”

Y/n arched a brow. “Clearly someone thought she was important enough to mention. Was she your girlfriend?”

“…Briefly. Years ago. Before Basgiath. Before you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And yet her name still lives in Bodhi’s memory. Interesting.”

Bodhi opened his mouth, then thought better of it and clamped it shut.

“Y/n,” Xaden said again, gentler now, taking a cautious step forward. “I swear on everything, there’s nothing there. There never was anything real. Not like—”

“Not like what?” she asked, eyes flashing.

He hesitated—then stepped closer again, voice low, vulnerable. “Not like what we have.”

That made her blink. Just for a moment.

He took that as his opening. “I was an idiot back then. Hardened. Distant. I never let anyone in—not really. And I never wanted to until you.”

Y/n crossed her arms tighter, lips pressed into a flat line.

“…You should’ve just told me,” she muttered finally.

“I didn’t think it mattered. Not compared to what we have now.”

Bodhi, in the background, raised a single finger. “So I’m just gonna…go…die in a ditch real quick—”

“Yes, Bodhi,” the entire squad said in unison.

But even through the tension, Xaden’s voice dropped into something softer. “I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. And I swear… she’s dust. I only have eyes for you, love.”

Her jaw twitched. But finally—finally—she let out a quiet, reluctant breath.

“I’m still mad,” she murmured.

“I know,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But at least you’re speaking to me again.”

She gave him a single, lingering glare.

Then turned and walked away with a toss of her curls, but not before brushing her hand just barely against his as she passed.

Xaden exhaled in relief, pressing a hand over his chest.

Garrick leaned toward Bodhi. “Man, you really tried to die today, huh?”

Bodhi groaned. “She looked at me like she was about to start a war. I think I peed a little.”

Sawyer cringed. "If looks could kill, I don't know who'd be deeper. Riorson or Bodhi."

Ridoc snorted. “Let that be a lesson to never mention the ex.”

“Noted,” Bodhi muttered. “Deeply noted.”

Later...

Y/n sat perched on the stone wall just outside the training grounds, jaw clenched and foot tapping furiously against the rock, arms crossed in a way that screamed do not talk to me unless you have a death wish. The late afternoon sun bathed her in a golden glow, but not even the light could soften the sharp edges of her expression.

Xaden stood a few feet away, torn between giving her space and falling to his knees in apology. He shifted his weight, raking a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the barracks, where Ridoc leaned casually against the doorframe, watching with a smirk and a canteen in hand.

Xaden finally walked over, voice low. “Is this one of those… twin things? You’re going to have to help me out here.”

Ridoc sipped. “She’s still pissed?”

Xaden gave him a dry look. “Well, no shit. She hasn’t said a word to me in hours. I tried approaching twice. She didn’t even blink. I think I’m developing a complex.”

Ridoc winced in sympathy. “Yeah… you’re in deep.”

Xaden huffed. “Obviously.”

Ridoc tilted his head toward his sister. “You want my advice?”

“Yes. Desperately.”

“Don’t talk to her.”

Xaden blinked. “What?”

“Don’t push,” Ridoc said, voice low and certain. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t explode—she simmers. You press too much and she’ll slice you in half with her words.”

Xaden glanced back at Y/n, who was currently chewing the inside of her cheek like it personally offended her.

“Let her work through it,” Ridoc added, nodding sagely. “Give her space, show her you’re here without being annoying about it. She’ll come to you. Always does, when she’s ready.”

Xaden sighed and leaned against the wall beside him. “You’re sure?”

Ridoc sipped again. “I’m her twin. I survived years of Y/n Gamlyn’s silent wrath. Trust me, she’ll forgive you… eventually.”

Xaden gave him a tired look. “Eventually doesn’t help my guilt-induced suffering, Ridoc.”

Ridoc clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to being in love with my sister.”

Xaden grumbled something under his breath and looked back at Y/n again.

She hadn’t looked at him—but he saw the way her jaw had eased just a fraction.

Ridoc noticed too. “She’ll come around,” he said softly. “She loves you.”

Xaden’s chest tightened at that. “I know. I just hate being the reason she’s upset.”

“You are. Own it. And survive it.”

Xaden rolled his eyes. “Amari help me.”

“Yup,” Ridoc grinned. “You’re gonna need ‘er.”

It was well past dinner when Y/n finally found him—alone in the dim corridor near the strategy hall, leaning against the stone wall like he had been waiting there all day. Maybe he had.

She stepped into view quietly, arms still folded across her chest, lips set in a thin line. The tension hadn’t fully left her shoulders, but her eyes—those brilliant, storm-swept eyes—were no longer burning. Just… bruised.

Xaden straightened, his heart leaping into his throat. “Y/n—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t. Just… let me speak first.”

He shut his mouth, standing frozen, not daring to interrupt.

She let out a slow breath, eyes on the floor for a second before lifting to meet his. “I needed space. Not because I don’t care, not because I don’t want you… but because you matter too much. And when something involves you, it hits deeper.”

He swallowed hard.

“I don’t like feeling like I’m not enough,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “That I don’t know important things about you. I don’t like being blindsided. Especially not by names I’d never heard thrown around in front of a room full of people.”

Xaden stepped forward once—just one step, slow, careful. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear, Y/n, if I could go back and erase every moment before you, I would. You’re not just enough—you’re everything.”

Her eyes flicked over him. Searching. Measuring.

And then she broke.

She exhaled and walked the rest of the way to him, pressing her forehead against his chest as his arms slowly, tentatively, wrapped around her.

“I hate ignoring you,” she mumbled against his shirt. “You have the audacity of being too pretty to stay mad at.”

He huffed a breath of relief that turned into a small laugh, wrapping her tighter in his arms. “You know, I was ready to beg.”

“You would’ve deserved it.”

He smiled into her hair. “Still do.”

She leaned back enough to look at him. “Just… no more surprises like that. Okay?”

“No more,” he promised, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Ever.”

She kissed him then—soft and lingering and full of forgiveness. When they broke apart, he whispered against her lips, “Does this mean I’m out of the doghouse?”

“You’re on probation,” she replied, eyes dancing. “But you’re making a good case.”

And when they finally walked back into the common room hand in hand, Ridoc caught sight of them and dramatically wiped his brow. “Oh, thank the gods. Peace is restored. My mental health is intact again.”

Xaden grinned, tugging Y/n closer. “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

“Good,” Ridoc muttered. "She was insufferable.”

Y/n sticks her tongue out at him and Ridos just rolls his eyes. Both laughing.

Author's note: What do you guys think of her dynamic with Ridoc?

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @fangirling-galore @nesiris21 @itsbeenmyhonor20 @stelena-klayley @littleemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks

[fulcrum-021]

Cw: blood, injury, death (temporarily), CPR resulting in broken ribs

Concept: Zeb and Hera being sent as backup for a mission gone wrong. They're sent in to rescue another rebel crew whose captain in command stayed behind to give his squad enough time to escape with the injured. The group refuses to leave without their captain and Zeb is sent in to try to retrieve him - or his body. Things are looking rather grim - He's searching through the rubble as his eyes land on a head of blonde hair. As he moves closer he sees the blood staining it, then notices the light green jacket. He recognizes the person - Alexsandr.

They hadn't talked in a while, work for the rebellion keeping both of them busy. He knew Alexsandr had been going on more field missions, having always preferred to take part of the action, rather than simply make his moves from afar. Of course he had sent his friend a worrying thought on occasion, but he had in no way been prepared for this.

Alexsandr is cold - lifeless. Zeb doesn't have to check for a pulse. He isn't breathing. His normally beautiful, blonde hair is sticking to the bloodied side of his face. Mercifully saving Zeb from the certainly grotesque wound underneath it.

Zeb picks him up, feeling his own breathing hitch painfully as Alexander the body goes limp in his arms. Rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. His death was recent...

Perhaps he still had time.

Zeb rushes back to the Ghost, heart pounding violently. Once there, he hands Alexsandr to the squad's medic, yelling for Hera to gun it.

The squad watches with bated breath as the medic works tirelessly to bring their captain back. Zeb flattens his ears as a sickening crunch breaks from Kallus' ribs on impact from the CPR. Zeb has witnessed enough to know that this is normal. It never makes it any easier though. Zeb finds himself muttering a prayer to the great Ashla.

Finally - finally! - Alexsandr starts breathing.

[quinngefail]

i’m sorry for looking into BOTH of chainshippings tiny evil eyes without permission!!! next it’s the whole squad ganging up on me… send thoughts and prayers i’m gonna wake up with a bone saw at my doorstep tomorrow

Oh n

[soka-starxi]

Savagery 

Part 3

Titus x afab! medic serf, Gadriel x afab! medic serf Warnings: 18+ MDNI

A/N: literally squad Damocles being messy for 5 minuets straight challenge (failed)

Part 2 here

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

The lieutenant couldn’t quite believe it as he stormed down the corridor to reach the Thunderhawk for the next mission

Trying to think of how he would confront Gadriel occupyed his mind

He could easily fight tyranids, orks but this…

This was different. And something he never thought he’d have to deal with

Walking into the bay, the swell of activity swarmed his heightened senses

The roar of ships taking off, the thud of armoured boots hitting the ground, the sound of Gadriel’s voice piercing the air

Gadriel.

“My lord”

He announced to Titus, his arm pressed to his chest but the lieutenant did not return the sentiment back

Luckily a tucked away corner of the bay kept away prying eyes from the uneasy confrontation

Leaving the sergeant standing oblivious to what’s about to come down on him

Unease did not falter Gadriels stance but it trickled down his spine, he had never seen his lieutenant so still

“You put hands on my serf”

Before Gadriel could state his alibi his breath caught in his throat as his lieutenant stepped closer, dropping his tone

“Why”

Gadriel managed a slight smirk, not thinking Titus could be this angry about something so little

“My lord. I barely-”

“Silence”

That’s all it took for the sergeants gaze to break, unable to settle but still keeping his composure under the weight of the lords presence

“Do you think this is a game, Gadriel..”

A sharp “no sir” swiftly left his lips, a slight sense of discomfort washed over him at the lieutenants slight humorous disbelief

“If you cause further disruption you will not like what follows. Is that clear”

The two of them soon noticed they weren’t the only ones present as Chairon came into view

“Am I interrupting?”

His helmet tucked neatly under his arm as he called out, acknowledging his brothers

“No” the lieutenant replied curtly, giving Gadriel a prolonged look of resentment as they made their way to the Thunderhawk…

Finishing the last report file of the day, you found yourself with some extra time to kill

You decided to remedy your actions from earlier by ensuring his chambers were spotless before he returned

Tiptoeing into the room, the weight of estrangement hung heavy over your head

Your body screamed to run but something pulled you in

Pushing the guilt of being In his space without him to the side, dust collected on your fingertips as you traced over his desk

Every scratch every bump, the wax residue, the loose parchment

This was wrong. Indulging in your lords memories scattered over his cambers was not permitted

So you swept and dusted his floors, walls, corners and crevices until your wrists screamed at you to stop

Every candle was now lit, you didn’t even realise how many your lord had

Oranges and amber dances across the wall, almost looking like a memory as you made his bed with freshly washed sheets

A difficult task for someone so small

Taking care to ensure not a single inch was out of place, you took note of the slight dip in his bed, the smell of him still lingering

It didn’t rouse anything particularly positive in you but the familiarity created comfort which is something unknown to most serfs

Until you found yourself on your knees, scrubbing away any heretical thoughts that would betray you’re prayer

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

The faint humming of the ships engine filled the thick air

Every now and then a faint creak could be heard as the ship got close to the surface

Chiron seemed to take notice of the lieutenants fixed stare where the ships wall met the floor

And..was that a smirk creeping into Gadriels lips?

Chiron eyed Gadriel, cocking his head towards Titus

Chiron could feel something was off as Gadriel faintly rolled his eyes

30 seconds until impact

“Weapons ready”

Titus led the way as they stepped foot on the surface. Dust and dirt swirled around their feet as the ship took off

“We’ve got ground to make before we reach the outpost, think you can behave?”

Chirons confused “yes..sir” was muffled under Gadriels sudden chirpiness

“Of corse lieutenant, why wouldn’t we?”

The smirk In his voice was barely audible, but it was here

Chiron watched as the lieutenants gloved hand tightened over his bolt pistol, lips pulling into a deeper scowl as he marched ahead

Gadriel jerked his head behind him as Chiron tugged at his arm

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Chiron hushed, quickly looking forward in case the snappish lieutenant caught them

“A brief step out of line, that’s all brother”

Chiron couldn’t help but scoff

“Don’t lie to me brother, it had to be more than that. Have you not seen the lieutenant?”

Speaking of the devil

“Get moving. Now”

The lieutenant punctuated the end of the sentence, dangerous and cold forcing the men to follow his stride

Finally, the infested outpost came to view and so did a swarm of tyranids

“Contact!”

The sentence shouted by whoever was cut short by a frenzy of screeching, gunfire and the scream of the lieutenants chainsword

It was over as soon as it started as the group made haste before the next wave

Chiron knew the lieutenant was a man of little words but this was a stretch..

“Move up, we’ve got more distance to cover from the north”

The terrain heading north was certainly more aggressive with chunks of stone and giant vegetation roots crawling along the ground

“This is fast-paced lieutenant”

Chirons voice was carefully casual, even now he hopef he hadn’t over stepped

“Can’t keep up, brother?”

Thankfully, Titus’ voice was a little more breezy

“I mean no offence sir, but wouldn’t it be safer to go round the longer way, a potential ambush if you will?”

“I’d be careful if I were you, brother”

This time, Gadriel stepped in

A bantery clap on Chirons shoulder made him lift his eyebrows in amusement

The corners of the Sargents mouth tugged upwards into a grin

Chiron braced himself for whatever trick Gadriel was about to pull which he deemed inappropriate due to the lieutenants increased hostility

Infuriatingly slowly, Gadriel almost crept towards his superior

Throne…what is he playing at

Finally, Gadriel spoke “the lieutenant clearly has other things on his mind”

Was Gadriel referring to Titus’ decision or something else?

Titus was already gone, sending Chiron back to reality and setting the confusion and apprehension aside. A task getting increasingly difficult

[heartfullofleeches]

Would yandere emperor feel threatened if the beast reader took care of has a bigger pecs than he has?

0121.

A common rule - by law of the arena and its imperial tyrant fighters were stripped of their name and sense of identity as soon as they became a pawn in his game. The only hopes of regaining even a fraction of their self was to fight and earn a new title to wear by the insatiable crowd and its wicked master. The beast in question had done its all to claim new face, and its place as an opponent retained for champions in the ring. A noble warrior predating its imprisonment in the emperor's roster with the strength and might to prove its worth, and claim what it had lost.

Thought the beast had been given another name - in this time the emperor saw only one title fit as he enters its cage-

Trash.

"Stop it!- Please!"

Hysterical in your hopeless cries, you squirm against the beast's chest as its weighted tongue draws heavy over your cheek. It licks at the drying blood caked into your skin, trying to restore the washed shine it held when you enter to no avail. You wince from the coarse, sandpaper like texture of the invasion muscles, but are unable to swallow the laughter that ruptures from your throat as nuzzle it nuzzles your face with its nose - fur tickling your sensitive flesh.

What lingers of the emperor's decrepit heart falls deeper into despair as your hands sink into the squishy muscle of the beast's pectorals in your attempts to flee. Your face remains pinned to its chest as it holds you down with one arm, cooing - as if hushing a fussy child. In scale to its massive size you did appear as little more than a doll in its large arms. How you ever managed to care for a creature of its mass was beyond you, but its willingness to accept your presence and aid was beneficial.... Most of the time.

"I already told you I have to take another bath after this whether you clean me or not. You're still bleeding, let me bandage the wounds first."

The beast huffs, licking at its minor injures as it shoves your head back down on its chest - nearly suffocating you before you're able to turn to a better agile. If you knew any better it would be the emperor's breasts causing your loss of breath, but for some bizarre reason you refused your place in his bed. Many have tried to kill, and even succeeded to do so in prayer for even a second of his time. You had it readily available at any point, yet you outright rejected his more than generous offers. You belittle him.

The emperor clears his throat, tapping his foot against the stained floor as your eyes fall in his direction. The beast reluctantly releases you as you silently beg for freedom, growling lowly at the authoritive - making a barrel between you with its tailp. Good. You had enough sense to know that when your king is presence such nonsense and attempts to make him jealous would not be tolerated.

"Your highness...."

The emperor clicks his tongues. "Ten minutes. I want you out of here by then or the next time I return it will be with a firing squad."

The emperor turns on his heads and storms away with his head held high, clinging onto the shreds of his dignity till he crumbles at the end of his bed as it shatters in the privacy of his bedroom. He cups his exposed pecs peaking through the silky fabric of his robes and seethes spite through his teeth as he curses your reluctant nature.

"My image is that of a god's! How dare you make me question my worth in this way. I'll have that dredge you favor skinned and turned into my new coat for making me feel this way you awful, cruel human."

Heavy bangs fall on his door as guards crowd around.

"Your highness, is everything alright?!"

The emperor screams through hot, angry tears. "0121... I want 0121's head on a fucking platter and at my door by nightfall!"

"Your highness.... You have made it law that we are to refuse your order if your voice goes over a certain decibel as you are too emotional to think rationally."

"I am your king! Do what I say or I will have you all hanged!"

Soft whispering becomes muffled by the door. The emperor can recognize one of the voices better than the rest.

"The caretaker has agreed to use your chest as a pillow if you spare the beast's head."

The emperor dries his face and pulls his robes to his shoulders as he stands. He races to the door where you stand with your arms folded - dragging you inside his room without warning.

"Order revoked."

[ackerink]

Hi. How are you?

Take your time. Don't be in a rush to write.

Levi Ackerman civilian x female reader captain

In which the reader here takes Levi's place in the plot.

The reader came from the underground with her two friends being taken by Erwin Smith.

Kuchel, Furlan and Isabel are alive and live as civilians along with Levi.

The reader is humanity's strongest soldier. Ackerman here is not the clan that suffered the experience 100 years ago, but rather the reader's clan.

The reader is shopping together with her squad. Levi and Kuchel have a tea shop. Levi admires the reader and would like to meet her, but he is shy. Petra ends up finding Levi's tea shop and tells the reader.

I leave the development up to you. I have so many ideas with this theme of the reader taking Levi's place that I don't know if you would accept it. But, don't feel obligated to do it.

this is an interesting idea, i'll make a place for this on my masterlist if you decide to submit another one of these "reverse au" asks!

"levi." kuchel lays her hands on her son's shoulders, only then does his attention begin to shift. "sorry," said levi. "i wasn't paying much attention." his response earns a laugh from of his mother. her hands linger on him, the scent of her soap, old wax candles and herbs calm his senses.

"i can see that, what were you looking at?" she asks, her eyes scanning the direction in which levi seemed so entranced in. the town falls silent, onlookers stare on at the incoming soldiers. the wings of freedom dawning their uniforms, blood staining their hands. kuchel's smile fades a little, yet she keeps quiet.

"the survey corps?" she mutters, tasting the words on her tongue as if she had never said them before. levi points, his finger following in your direction. "they call her 'humanity's strongest soldier'." he acknowledges, staring at you, watching you stride. a fatigued and wearied walk that looks like it drains you of whatever energy you have left.

still you stand out from the rest, levi can't explain it but he can sense fortitude, stability and resilience from you. he imagines having to hear the distant screams, pleas and howls of the soldiers who didn't back it back—the ones who were eaten, crushed or worse.

"what does it take to be the strongest? i want to ask her myself. . ." levi whispers, a silent prayer to whoever will listen that maybe, he'll get to meet you. kuchel ponders her son's words in silence, turning away from him to see to the customers who pass by.

mornings, nights, afternoons, all pass by and you do too. every expedition is another step towards something better, or maybe that's something you just tell yourself.

"excuse me," velvet features and soft, blue, warm irises is what levi is met with this morning. the woman waves to get his attention, wearing the uniform he had gotten so familiar with. "hello." levi greets her, a towel in his right hand, a duster in his left. "what do you sell here?" the young lady asks, an uncertain expression twists her face.

"tea, black tea, earl grey, chai. any kind." levi's eyes don't meet hers, too busy scanning her uniform. the robust characteristics taking up all of his attention until she speaks again. "um, can i get the chai?" a smile stretches across her face. "it's for my captain, she's not picky."

"your captain?" levi inquires, passing the box of tea over the thin wooden counter. the soldier nods, exchanging the currency in her hand for the tea. when she turns around there are other soldiers stalling, most likely waiting for her. when levi glances over her shoulder, he sees your face again.

"your captain is. . .humanity's strongest?" levi already knows the answer however he asks anyway. "i've always wanted to meet her." levi never thought of himself as shy though the prospect of even being in your presence makes his stomach flutter with trepidation. the woman nods again, her smile brighter than before. "really? i'll call her over for you." levi can't object, he can't shy away—not now. this is his moment to finally speak to you.

"captain! over here!"

[scandinavianfairytale]

All kings fall

Pairing: ex-Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Uprising, getting caught, death toll: 4 so far, forced kiss

A/N: Part 2 :)

The day of coronation arrived. The plan was set in detail and the decoys were ready. Just as Leo predicted there was more than one volunteer. In fact, there were so many, you had to choose who will join you in the first line of defense.

“I think you’re supposed to be downstairs and give a speech.” Bucky joked as he joined you on the rooftop of the HQ. You glanced at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say. We all know why we’re doing this and what is in store for us.” You exhaled, nerves getting the better of you.

“Steve usually always gave a talk.” Bucky reminisced.

“I don’t think that’s the best comparison given the situation.”

“Perhaps, but at one point in our lifetime, he was good. I think we could all follow the lead of that man.”

You clicked your tongue at that.

“I know Steve loved you. You brought him back to the present and he saved me. There is still some good in him.” He pressed.

“Bucky!” You yelled in frustration, shutting him up. “You need to stop thinking that the Steve you knew is still alive. There’s no Steve, there’s just Captain Hydra. He didn’t save you because you’re his best friend, but because he wanted to use you in his own way.” Sharply inhaling, you continued. “And he certainly didn’t love me. Not in the way you are trying to convince me. He played a role and deceived us all. He killed Tony and took control of his technology, twisting it into this killing machine that is now killing people that your soldiers called family. Steve is dead. All there’s left is the man that needs to be overthrown and possibly killed.”

“Look. I get what you are trying to say, but I will always have his back. If it means that I need to catch him and throw him in prison to set him straight, that’s what I will try to do.”

“Even if it’ll get you killed.”

“Hey, some gamble still needs to be present.” Bucky smiled and you returned his smile.

“Come on, let’s get our soldiers and let’s start this uprising.” He said after a few moments of silence.

~The decoy squad~

Looking at the volunteers, you wondered about their lives before Steve turned evil. Thinking back to 17 days before, you looked at Timothy.

“Ma’am, I lost my parents, my friends and I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We are at war and we are fighting for our lives. It’ll be my pleasure to fight by your side and it’ll be my honor to die for the cause.” Timothy said as the first volunteer. He still wore his friend’s army jacket. Several people stood up then and formed a line. Your jaw quivered, these were people that lost everything because of your ex-boyfriend and they were ready to give their lives in order to get back their independence. Even if it only meant dying on their own terms.

“So…” you coughed, gaining everyone’s attention. “Bucky joked that I should give a speech. But I feel like that will be too basic. But maybe right now, that’s what we need – to feel a bit basic.” Pausing and meeting Bucky’s eyes, you continued.

“I know you all know what we’re walking into. In the best scenario we will be captured and thrown into prison. In the most probable case we will die. I’m aware that you know this. But I just wanted to say thank you for standing here. For going through the last eight months with us. Thank you for trusting us and I hope that we will see the end of this resistance. I pray that we will be successful.”

Everyone nodded and a few said their own prayer.

~In the city – coronation~

“Captain, the festivities are beginning. It’s time for us to make an appearance.” Thompson entered Steve’s penthouse overlooking the city.

“Perfect. Are the agents stationed around the venue?”

“Yes. I made sure that only the best are on guard.”

“Then let’s make me king, shall we?” Steve smirked.

King Steve. It had a nice ring to it. When he first thought of it, he thought it was tacky. But if history taught him anything is that a man can do whatever he wants, if he submits everything and everyone to his will. And he did that. So why not make himself king? There hasn’t been a king of the US ever. Might as well start a kingdom.

Taking the podium, he looked at his followers and the people too afraid to fight back. He smirked again, taking in a deep breath.

“Thank you for joining me today. Today will go down in history of the new world as I declare America as a kingdom and myself as king.”

“You can’t do that!” Someone in the crowd yelled. Steve chuckled and suddenly a bullet shot out of thin air, shooting the woman that interrupted the speech.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Steve smiled again, taunting the people before him. “Guess not. Then let’s continue.” He walked to the chest that stood on the podium.  Taking the gold crown from it, he put it on his head and walked back to the microphone.

“I do promise to be a merciful ruler.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he continued. “As long as you stay in line.”

“Let the festivities begin.” Steve smiled as cannons shot out confetti. As the first blast shot out, Steve felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. Immediately Brock and Thompson were next to him, all three observing their surroundings.

Suddenly a rain of bullets shot out from different directions, all targeting the podium. Thompson was the first one to fall, however Brock and Steve were too quick. Brock used Thompson as a shield, to jump off the podium and into the mass of people. The bullets stopped and Steven was quick on his feet, running in the direction from which the first bullet was fired.

He could see his agents running in the other directions and he knew that whoever was stupid enough to try and attack will soon be captured and dealt with. He will make an example of them. As he made it out of the crowd, he knew he’ll be an open target, but Steve also knew that the shooter will also reveal their location. He will gladly make himself a target to get his hands on the traitor.

Like clockwork, he heard the shot and evaded the bullet just in the nick of time.

“Whoever you are, you’re not very smart. Don’t you know who I am?” Steve taunted.

“I know you’re somewhere close.” He smirked, making the shooter nervous as they moved from their position. Unfortunately, Steve was quicker and as the shooter stood up, a kick was dealt at their side. The man collapsed, clutching his side as the rib broke from the impact.

“You must be stupid to think that you’d outrun and outsmart a super soldier.”

“Boss. You won’t believe who I just caught.” Brock’s voice called from the ear piece.

“I caught one too. Make sure that whoever is still alive, stays alive. I want answers and I want to make sure something like this never happens again.” Steve responded back and grabbed the man lying on the ground.

~Penthouse~

“Well, well, Sweetheart, I thought I’d never see you again.” You froze as you heard his voice again. It’s been eight months, but his voice still made you freeze. Steve deposited a bloodied Timothy next to you and sat on his couch. Motioning to Brock, he dragged you in front of Steve.

“I knew we’d meet again.” He leaned down to stare at you. Defiantly you raised your chin.

“Congratulations, maybe you should open a psychics shop and do readings for other people.”

“I see you still have a mouth on you.” Steve leaned back, unamused.

“Did you think I’d magically change my personality?”

“Well, I hoped that you’d come to your senses by now and join me.”

“That will never happen.” You glared at him.

“I can be quite persuasive. Besides, your little revolt failed, what’s left for you now?” He chuckled at your resistance.

“I will never stand by your side again, Steve.”

“It’s King Steve, even to you.” Steve grabbed your chin, kissing you forcefully.

“I would rather die than to call you that.” You spat at him.

“Get used to it, Sweetheart. This is the new reality.” He smirked at you.

“Don’t you know your history? All kings fall and you will too.”

“I’m tired of your bullshit.” Motioning again to Brock, he picked you up by your tied wrists. “Get her out of my sight. Once she’s ready to behave, you can bring her back.”

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

Thank you for reading! :)

The GIF belongs to the creator & the crown picture was taken off the MMA official site :)

So...yes, I will write another part at least :D I am finally having some fun with writing again 💙 Inspiration today was this song :)

[dani-onearth]

Merciful & Misnamed [3]

Kylo Ren x fem reader

[Part One] - [Part Two] - Part Three - [Part Four] Summary: Each time he saves you, his mask cracks a little more. And now, you really saw him. And he let you. Maybe the memory of who he was wasn't dead like he had insisted, just buried, needing a gentle hand to help him come back up to the surface. Warnings: More angst! Strong language. Word Count: 6.11k Authors note: Thank's for all the love on the first two! Wookipedia is my best friend now.

Is everything changing?

First, he took you out of the firing squad lineup. Then, he brought you to his quarters for a meal and stripped himself of his mask. Then, he cracked open when you showed him a real memory, and it haunted him. Somewhere in between the rage and the restraint, he looked at you like you still meant something to him. Like maybe Ben wasn’t dead.

Now, you’re back in your cell and it’s like none of it ever happened. 

You’re back in your cell and no matter how hard you try, you can't stop seeing his eyes change when he looked at you. 

You’re back in your cell and you want to blame the slab beneath your body for why you can't seem to fall asleep. Your skin itches and it won't stop crawling.

You laugh at yourself bitterly when you begin to fantasize about the hospital sheets like they’re a luxury. Maybe it wasn’t because they were soft and clean, but they made you feel like a person again instead of a captured thing on a foreign ship. 

The hum of the ship had a rhythm to it. It wasn't soothing, but predictable. You could count it. One cycle of the vent, one whir of the hallway lights… Once an hour, on the hour.

But the sound didn’t loop right tonight. Something rattled, and you opened your eyes, head lifting away from the crumpled jacket. It was a small noise—metallic and distant. Could've been pipes. Could've been nothing. You swallowed and laid back down, but something inside you screamed that you should show more concern. 

The air felt warm, unusually so. Maybe it was just you, finally getting used to the uncomfortable thing you have to call a bed. But there was another sound. Heavier this time, and you sit up. There was shouting down the corridor that made you slide to your feet, moving toward the slot in the door, breath fogging the panel. 

And then you heard, clear as day, “The detention wing’s been bombed!” And your mouth went dry. 

The hum of the vents was gone. The air was stale. The room was getting warmer by the second, a bead of sweat clung to your temple and the metal beneath your bare feet was radiating heat. 

Troopers ran to the exit, right past you, and you weren't a thought in their minds. Something glowed in their helmets as you watched.

Fire.

Smoke.

It rose up from the vents and the air inside of your cell was sealed like a coffin. You began beating against the door with your palms. “Hey! Someone! Please!” You could hear others screaming now, chanting the same sentiment, echoing all at once, cell after cell. 

You covered your mouth with your shirt and lifted a hand toward the door, willing it to move, begging the Force to listen to you like it used to.

All those years of training to be steady and focused and balanced were not living in you now. You were just full of desperation and fear, and the edges of your mind were splintering in the growing heat. 

The door groaned, cracking, just barely. You shoved an arm through it, groping at… nothing. There was nothing. 

Stars, your lungs were burning. 

You slid all the way down to the floor, coughing and trembling. You pressed your head to the ground where the air was thinner, tears streaming from the thick smoke that now clouded your vision. They were more than just a sting in your eyes, you were crying. You weren't going to make it out of this one.

You closed your eyes, inhaled ash, felt it fill your lungs and burn your throat. You called onto the Jedi before you, reaching out for help like a final prayer. 

And then, the door caved in violently. The steel clashed open with a shriek and the light poured in like the sun was in the hall. You coughed so hard you choked, hands clawing at the floor before arms wrapped around you.

Opening your eyes through the haze you saw Ben. No helmet. Face slick with sweat and brow pinched with worry. He didn’t say a word, just pulled you up with an arm around your back and ran. 

Your own feet couldn’t keep up and your head was lulling in any direction he pulled. The fire was everywhere and the doors were melting at their hinges, pained screams passing like shadows.

In the cells you saw faces. Hands reaching. Eyes wide.

“Stop—” you jerked his arm with a heavy cough, “Stop… we have to—” Your lungs were giving out, trying to expel everything that had found its way inside of them. 

He kept going.

You couldn’t help them.

He stopped where the smoke cleared, snapped off by a bay door. Ben stumbled through it and dropped to one knee, slowly letting you down, cradling your head so it wouldn't hit the floor. Delicately. His arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, hand hovering at your waist like he was afraid to let go of you.

You continued to gasp in staggered breaths, eyes fluttering as you rattled a cough. Your hands weakly grasped his arm without thinking, and he didn’t pull away.

He was breathing hard. Shaking as his eyes were locked on your face, watching every wince, every sharp inhale. Your hand trembled against his covered arm, his own reaching up and brushing the soot from your cheek with the back of his fingers, just once, like muscle memory. His fingers twitched like he didn’t mean to do it.

Your breaths were larger now, and watching the rise and fall of your chest, something in him… unclenched. He closed his eyes briefly, lowering his head in some sort of relief. Then, he blinked, jaw tightened, and he stood.

“Medic!” He barked at the trooper that had just rounded the corner, spooking the soldier. “Get her a medic and take her to my quarters.”

The trooper hesitated, “Sir—all medics have been rerouted to the east wing—uh, blast damage, sir—it’s—”

“Get her a medic.” His voice turned slow and venomous. 

The trooper straightened clumsily. “I—I’ll find someone, sir—”

“No, you get her to my quarters now, and you get her there alive.” He stepped closer, towering. “She breathes wrong, you fix it. You get her water, you sit her down, and then you bring her a medic.”

The trooper nodded, stammering, and reached down to get you.

Ben watched your body shift in the trooper's arms and something in his eyes twisted. He didn’t like it. He didn’t trust anyone else to touch you. But he stepped back anyway, slowly, and then he turned. 

“Tell no one of this.”

He pulled his saber from his belt and strode around the corner, into battle. 

The trooper's grip was rougher than Ben’s. Not cruel, but nowhere near as careful. Your ribs ached, your lungs felt as if you were hacking up flames, and your wrist throbbed where the wound had definitely reopened. 

The ship was chaotic. Sirens and orders barked over crackled comms. Troopers marched past with blasters drawn, some dragging others. Blood on the floor. Marks on the wall.

Mercenaries, you had heard someone say. Not the Resistance. Something barbaric.

A body hit the ground behind you, and you didn’t want to look. Your legs were limp, half dragged and half guided through hallways you’d never been through. The trooper grumbled to themselves under their breath. You couldn’t make out any of it.

You were thinking about Ben. About his eyes. Full of concern. Morphing into something you had seen in the past. And his face flickered like it hurt to walk away. Like he wanted to stay beside you instead of running back into battle. The mask hadn’t been there, and he ran straight into the fire without it. 

The trooper stopped in front of a large set of doors. You knew where you were.

They tapped the panel and the door slid open to air that didn't smell like burning wires and rust. The trooper helped you stumble in, and he set you down on a bench with a grunt, legs folding beneath you awkwardly. The trooper stood stiffly nearby, fidgeting, glancing around the room and clearly not knowing if they’re supposed to stick around. 

“I don’t think I need a medic,” you rasped, voice fried from the smoke and dehydration. “I’m fine.”

You couldn’t see their face, but you could feel the blank stare. 

“Uh… Yeah… I’m gonna call one anyway.”

You snorted, which made you cough. Kylo Ren probably put the fear of the Gods in him. 

“Fair.” 

They shuffled on their feet. “So, uh, just… stay put.”

“Not planning a jog.”

With an awkward nod he headed toward the door, but paused like he forgot something. He shuffled over to a wall panel and propped it open; a recessed compartment stocked with large ration packs. He pulled out a clear cup of water with a foil seal stretched over the top. He set it down on the bench next to you.

He stiffly nodded.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

He lingered for a second too long before he turned and stepped out, the door sealing behind him with a quiet hiss.

You stared at the water and peeled back the seal. But when you lifted the cup to your lips, you flinched. Confused, you pulled it back and touched your fingers to the spot. The faintest streak of red painted in your index finger. 

The skin was raw and you hadn’t noticed. Now, it’s like your entire body decided to wake up at once. Your forearm throbbed where your sleeve clung to it, heat rising under the fabric. The pain in your wrist had a dull distracting sting. Your lungs were tight, coated in ash. Your hand was trembling. You could have died.

And not in a dramatic, heroic, noble way. No final words, or rescue mission to save the galaxy. You would have vanished; locked away, choking on your own breath. Just smoke. Fire. Melting. You would have stopped breathing and that would've been it. No one would have known.

But he knew.

He was the only one who knew you were still down there and he came for you.

He saved you.

Again. 

And it felt different this time. The first time was weakness. The second time was a claim. This one didn’t feel like either. 

He ran into fire with no helmet, no mask, just him. His own flesh. Hair curled with sweat, jaw clenched, eyes… worried. Scared. 

When he saw you on that floor with smoke swarming around your body, he went still for half a second. You felt the pull in his breath, the relief when you opened your eyes. He wasn’t a commander dragging a prisoner out because they needed intel, he looked like a man who had something to lose. He was frantic and disarmed. He rescued you like he couldn't help himself. 

You turn your head when the doors open. 

The medic that stepped in didn’t look like the others you’d seen before. A dark grey uniform with a slim utility belt and a medical bag. Their boots made clean and clipped steps as they approached you a little hesitantly, glancing around the room.

“You’re just a prisoner?”

You nodded once. It was true, but no one could really figure out what that meant in your case anymore. 

She crouched beside the bench, setting down a compact medical case that clicked open with one press, revealing rows of compartments with neatly arranged supplies, then quickly pulling out a scanner with one hand and typing notes with the other.

“Vitals unstable. Minor burns to the face, mild to the left forearm. Open laceration on the right wrist. Dehydration. Light smoke inhalation.” A neutral and practiced tone that felt uncomfortable. Their eyes flicked up towards the bedroom; to the sealed door. 

What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.

They didn’t say it, but they were thinking it.

They applied some sort of solution to the burn and it sealed the top layer. “It’ll help reduce nerve damage,” she said, “you’ll feel tightness and some heat.” The cool spray was jarring when it hit your arm and you winced. The area was covered with a dermapatch, warm and pulsing as it began regeneration. 

Next, your wrist. She peeled back the bloodied fabric to show that the cut was deeper than you remembered, enough to make the medic click their tongue. Without a word, they injected you with anesthetic, the sharp pinch made you turn away. Then, they applied a second skin. A transparent and flexible band that began to weave new tissue under it.

“This will scar. Try not to use that hand too much.” They packed up their things, leaving a few bandages and sprays with you before she stood. 

She tucked the datapad under her arm. Not leaving, just staring.

You looked up at her. “...Is that it?”

They didn’t answer, at least not right away. They watched you with a sort of calculation that made you shift in place. You felt like she was measuring you with professional unease. Evaluation. 

“Does he plan to keep you here?”

You blinked. “What?”

They didn’t repeat themselves as she slowly made her way towards the door. “I only ask because there are officers aboard who might not consider this kind of… exception rational for the Order.” One final glance and she was gone.

Her words clung to the air… you knew what she meant. You weren’t supposed to be there. Not in his room. Not alive. And the thought barely settled before the door hissed open again. 

It was Ben, no mask, breathless, ripped cloak, sweat-damp hair and a bloody, stark streak beneath his ribs. The adrenaline had worn off and he wasn’t walking cleanly. Slow steps, almost limping.

He stared at you, half curled on the bench. And you stared at the blood. 

“You’re hurt,” you almost stand.

He trudges closer now. 

“Are your burns bad?” His eyes rake over your bandaged body.

“Treated.” You’re focused on his giant wound. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He said, frowning.

You scoff. “And you obviously didn’t pass a mirror on your way here.” He said nothing. “Sit before you fall.”

He gave you a look and hesitated, but dropped down beside you like a bag of rocks, wincing with his whole face. You grabbed the medics leftover cloth and bactaspray from the corner.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

You didn’t back away and he didn’t want to give in. There was a beat of silence before you spoke. 

“Lift it. Or I’ll tear it.” Your own commanding voice surprised you. 

He exhaled through his nose and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up halfway. 

The wound was shallow, but it was angry, leaking onto his exposed skin and staining the black material of his shirt into a darker shade somehow. You dabbed some of it away as best you could, he flinched in a way that told you he wasn’t used to being treated so gently. You pressed the cloth more carefully the second time, cleaning the edges first. Your hand moved with delicate ease, but your chest didn’t. Something about how close you were made your breath feel shallow. He was letting you clean his open wound and you could hear the subtle shift of his breath at every touch. He was holding himself perfectly still. Bleeding, scorched, tired and all… he felt peaceful. 

You caught yourself gazing at the curve of his stomach, the freckles on his ribcage, the sharp line of his waist. 

You weren’t trying to look, but it was impossible not to see him.

“Should I remind you that I’m the enemy?” He asked slowly, like he was testing you.

You blinked hard and focused on the wound. “Yeah? Well, you’re doing a terrible job at it.”

And you caught it. Just barely. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth—the threat of a smile. 

He didn't laugh, but he almost did. 

You didn’t say anything about it, just continued cleaning him up like he was fragile. Of course he wasn’t, he was anything but. You hadn't meant to be so gentle until the silence made it obvious to you. 

“You’ve done this before.” 

You glanced up at his shuttered sentence.

“Yeah…” You shrugged. “Resistance members need to know the basics. We’re not exactly swimming in medics—” 

“No, no, I mean… to me.” He looked down into your eyes, pulling a memory from somewhere in his mind. “Temple courtyard, we were thirteen, maybe.” And he looked away. “I cut my hand open during a drill trying to catch a training saber. Probably trying to show off.” For you. He didn't say it, but a faint scoff escaped him and he got really quiet. You could tell his mind was somewhere else. “You were the only one that didn’t laugh at me.”

You remembered. Only bits and pieces, but you remembered. 

“But, later that night, you looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘If you were trying to impress me, you should have at least bowed.’” And he held back the chuckle a little less than he did the first time. 

And you smiled a little more than you meant to.

“Sounds like me.” You said quietly.

He huffed and looked at you again, just as softly as you pressed the bandage into place, lowering his shirt back over his torso. You didn’t move far, just slid onto the bench next to him, close enough that your knees nearly touched.

His gaze lingered on your profile longer than it should have. 

 “Everyone else saw what they wanted… the future Jedi, the legacy, the danger… but not you.” He said it like he wasn't sure if he meant it as a confession or not. “You always saw right through me. Even back then.” 

You didn’t look away. And you really looked. His voice was different now. More familiar. 

The moment stretched. 

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

And yet, somehow, you had gotten closer.

His leg brushed yours, arms touching now as they rested on the bench. No one was reaching, it was just a shift in gravity.

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but for a second you thought he might kiss you. And he thought you might let him. 

But then he blinked. Sharply. Suddenly. Like something yanked him away from the moment. 

“I have to,” his voice faltered, he cleared his throat, “I have to meet with Command. About the mercenaries. The attack.” Like he just remembered there had been an invasion at all.

He stood abruptly and looked down, stepping back without meeting your eyes when he grabbed his cloak. 

“Get comfortable.” He said, pulling his helmet on.

He just walked out. 

And you stayed where you were, your heart still pounding in your throat. You swallowed thickly and wondered how it managed to go as far as it did. 

What would have happened if he hadn’t remembered?

He should have stayed… Ben told himself that three times on his way to the meeting room, wondering what would happen if he just pivoted back and forgot his responsibilities entirely. 

The mask was back on; gloss black, voice filtered, impassive. No one could see the red in his eyes or how hard he was clenching his jaw. 

He was late, generals already seated around the long table with glowing datapads and reports flashing across projection screens.

Eyes flickered toward him as the door shut behind him. He just straightened his posture as he moved to his seat and stared at the blue light bleeding across the table. He tried to remember what they were discussing.

The Gaunt Division… coaxium theft… breached from the portside…

Every word they said strung together into a rumble in his ears because he wasn’t all there. He wasn’t there at all.

He was still back in that room… your knees touching… eyes wide… lashes dropping into a slow-lidded stare…

He felt like an idiot.

For needing to save you and running into a fire like a man possessed.

For wishing he had stayed for one more second. 

He should’ve just—said something. Anything. He should have touched you first. Let himself at least feel your lips before remembering who he’s supposed to be.

“Seems they bombed the detention wing because that's where most of our troopers are assigned. As you’ll see from the security footage—Commander Ren?”

A dozen heads turn. 

“Your evaluation of the breach?”

He paused.

“Yes.” He straightened. “I’ll review the surveillance and submit a revised assessment.” Not really an answer. He didn't care.

None of them mattered.

He was so distracted he didn’t see the gaze of General Hux, curious and calculating. Tracking every twitch of his hand, every moment he stared at nothing at all.

He noticed how Ben stood too fast when the meeting ended, the legs of the chair scraping angrily and impatiently. 

“You seem distracted, Commander.” Hux said, keeping his eyes on the documents in front of him.

Kylo stopped just before the door, everyone else filing out past his statued stance. 

“No doubt the chaos in the detention wing took a toll.” Hux’s voice was dry, almost bored. “So many troopers lost. So many prisoners.” He looks up. “How… unfortunate.”

Ben turned his head just slightly.

“Curious, though, if one were to survive. Well, That’d be a rather unique situation. Wouldn’t it, Commander Ren?”

Ben said nothing, face stiffening under the mask.

Hux gathered his things and stood. “It’s only a hypothetical.” Hux stops before passing him, only glancing at him as he says, “you seem awfully tense.”

The doors to his quarters opened and you looked up quickly. 

Helmet on and shoulders rigid, Ben streaked in. You straightened on the bench, smoothing a blanket over on your lap. You were still dirty, but washing up felt like an invasion somehow. As if you weren’t alone in his quarters. By his request. You’d taken one of his pillows, and that had felt sneaky enough when you slipped it from his bed. It had felt like you were snooping—which you totally could've—but didn’t for some reason. 

“Hey,” you said in a fragile voice. He didn’t answer. Just walked in, stood there, like he didn't know why he came back. “I didn’t take the bed… figured that might be…” You made a face to suggest a word you couldn’t place. An attempt at humor.

Still, nothing. And the silence pressed.

His back was turned, facing somewhere across the room. 

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He muttered, more to himself than anything, but you heard it scrape your ears like a blade. 

“What?”

“This was a mistake.”

You let out a bitter and incredulous laugh. “Uh, okay.” You stood, letting the blanket fall off your legs. “You spare me, and fight for me, and literally run into a fire to save me, and you look at me—like, like I'm not just some disposable memory from your past—like I matter to you, and now you come in here? Saying that shit?” He didn’t move. “What is wrong with you?”

He still didn't look at you. His mask made him worse. Made him a wall.

“You won’t even say what happened.” He mumbled.

“Fine. Alright.” You crossed your arms, staring at the back of his stupid helmet. “We almost kissed.”

His shoulder ticked, but he still gave you nothing. 

You continued, breath tight. “I wanted to. And you wanted it too, I know you did, so don’t act like I imagined that.”

He finally reached up and removed the helmet, setting it down on a surface next to him. He turned slowly, face pale, ash smeared across his skin, dried blood at his hairline. His eyes, tired and red. 

“I don't know what I’m doing.” He admitted, voice raw and trembling. 

Your expression softened. “You think I do?”

He exhaled, eyes falling shut. “You scare me.”

“Why?” The statement shocked you.

There was a pause. He looked at his shoes and shrugged, a small movement. “I don't know, I… I don't want you to look away.” He said it so sadly.

You stared into his eyes. Into Ben Solo’s eyes. Not the commander or the weapon. He’s just a man. And he looked wrecked and vulnerable and exhausted.

There was a terrible hope in his voice. 

Tears pricked your eyes, emotion got caught in your throat. 

You stepped forward. Close. Feet just a few inches from each other. 

Your fingers reached for his hands—gloved and clenched in a tight, tense fist. You brought your hands to his wrist but he was stiff.

“Let me see you,” you said softly, a slight wobble in your voice. 

He didn’t pull away, just watched your face as you unfastened the edge of the glove. Slowly, and carefully, your thumb brushed along the bone of his wrist, tracing a path all the way down to the end of his fingers as you pulled the leather down.

His hands were scarred and rough with callouses. 

You took the second glove off, and he let you. You pulled it free, discarding both garments on the floor without care or caution. 

You looked down at his bare hands, running your fingertips down the back of his knuckles to his fingernails, flipping them over and tracing something on his palm. 

“Do you even remember what you look like under all this armour?” You whispered.

His eyes were soft, brows knit like he couldn’t believe it. 

You were so close you felt his breath fan your face, to see the flecks of color in his eyes, how they were glossed over and affectionate. 

“You’re not gone.”

His lips parted like he might say something, but he didn’t.

And you leaned in. Centimeters away from him… and stopped… and waited.

Waited to see if he would run. If he’d flinch. If the impenetrable wall would come back up. 

But it didn’t. Because he leaned in too, so carefully. 

Your parted lips breathed into each other’s mouths, testing intentions. It was like your bodies were weighing the options. Just dancing around the moment, dancing around the question of if you should even close the gap. 

But then he kissed you. 

Gentle and searching. He was stiff and soft and weary.

But, his eyes closed, and he let the breath that was sitting on his chest out through his nose. 

And he kissed you. 

Like he needed you.

His hands left yours to touch your face. His bare fingertips grazed your cheek and he didn’t know something so soft could ever come onto a ship so brutal and cold. He didn’t know he could still want this. 

His thumb pressed against your jaw. It wasn’t rushed, it was deep, and personal. It was like he could breathe again.

You pulled away, but not all at once. Just an inch. And his forehead leaned against yours, fingers grasping at the back of your neck, needing the closeness to stay for only a little longer. 

He opened his eyes slowly and he saw yours. Looking into him, like you forgot you were ever apart. 

The memory of the mask flickered through his mind like broken static. The moment couldn’t hold forever.

“We shouldn’t have—”

“We did.” You breathed.

He exhaled shakily, hands roaming down to your waist just to hold you there. He didn’t want to let you go. You grab them and entangle your fingers loosely. You both lingered in the quiet, breath mingling.

The moment had frayed but not broken. You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes scanning the smudges of soot along his jaw. You smear it away with your own dirty thumb. “You should go get cleaned up. You look like you were dragged through a furnace.” A crooked smile found your lips. “You smell like it too.”

He huffed through his nose and then—blink and you’d miss it—a smile. Small and reluctant, but still there. He didn’t even try to hide it. 

You lifted your head slightly, delighted. 

“Go,” you urged, “I’ll still be here.”

He didn’t move. Just stood there like he wanted to remember this. The look on your face, the sound of your voice, the absence of fear. 

“You first.” He said. Quiet, but certain.

You peel away slowly, shyly looking down at your feet before you turn away toward the sealed door. Barefoot, bruised, swallowed in clothes that were ripped and seared.

His mouth twitched, and it stayed that way for a second before his throat worked a swallow. He watched every step. The swivel of your waist. The way your hand opened the door of the refresher. 

You looked back. “Hate to ask, but… do you have anything I could change into?”

He nodded once. “I’ll leave something by the door.”

“Thanks,” and you couldn’t help but tease him, “try not to give me something with a cape.”

Another one. Another glitch in his stoic face. Not quite a smile, but almost one.

You almost close the door, but you’re pulled to ask him for one more favor. “Don’t disappear again.” No wit or humor. Just a request.

“I won’t.”

And you believe him. 

You turn to close the door, but the buzz from the entrance makes you jump. Ben’s head lifts immediately and he notices your worried expression. 

“Stay in there, and don’t come out until I tell you to.” His voice was low and urgent.

You nodded silently and slipped out of view. 

He looked back to make sure you were really hidden before opening the door. 

“General Hux.”

Hux stepped in with hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable beside the faint amusement in his cheeks. 

“Ren.” He said evenly. “I trust you weren’t resting. Not after an attack of this caliber.” His eyes swept the room, lingering on the pillow and the blanket, but didn’t point it out. He didn’t need to. 

Ben straightened. “I was just about to use the fresher.”

“Hm.” His eyes ticked toward the open door quickly. “Well. A name has come up from the temple records. There has been chatter from intelligence command… said she was one of the padawans there when it fell. Would have been in your same year. Maybe a year behind.” His eyes wandered lazily around the room. “She was one of our prisoners. The same one that you questionably spared before the firing line?”

Ben didn’t move. “I thought she might still be useful. The force is unpredictable.”

“Useful…” Hux turned back toward the door. “Well, in other news, the Resistance outpost at Nakorr has been confirmed. Command has authorized a full eradication. No survivors.” A beat. “They won’t stand a chance.” His eyes flicked once more toward the blanket and pillow behind Ben. “Thought you’d like to know.” Then, a slight smirk. “Unless, of course, your priorities have shifted… Have they, Commander?”

Ben clenched his jaw but he couldn’t help the way his glare cut straight through the General. It burned with something dangerously close to guilt. He couldn’t respond. So he didn’t.

Hux’s smirk persisted. He wasn’t done. “Remind me again, how did we deal with the Resistance outpost in Mardona?”

Ben shifted his gaze downward and gulped, dry and subtly. “It was underground.”

“Civilians mixed in.” Hux interrupts. “Not unlike Nakorr, now.”

Ben glanced sideways. “We collapsed the tunnels. No way out. Buried them.” Voice flat and cold. A performance. 

Hux raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Efficient.” And he turned, satisfied as he took a step toward the door. “Do get some rest.” A final glance, like he knew. “You look like you’ve been through fire.”

And then he was gone behind the sealed door.

Ben hadn’t moved.

Hands clenched tightly.

He didn’t hear you round the corner and step back into the room like a shadow. 

“Buried them?” Your voice was cracked and trembling.

He flinched and his head snapped up. Tears left shining streaks down your cheeks, painted over the ash and soot.

He steps toward you instinctively.

“Don’t,” You bit, stepping back. “Don’t come near me.”

He froze, hands becoming stiff as they lowered back to his sides. 

“Nakorr… That’s the plan now? Another outpost full of communities—families—you’re going to wipe them out? Eradicate them?” 

He clenched his jaw, but he couldn’t lie. “You don’t understand what I’ve done.” 

“No, no I do.” And you snapped. “I knew people there, Ben, they were just people living simple lives. Hard working. Kind. Generous. They gave me food when I was hungry, gave me shelter and necklaces and… there were children. Mothers. Fathers.”

He looked stricken, like you had pierced him in the chest. 

“Did you hear them scream when you collapsed those tunnels?” You stepped closer. “Did you even think about it?”

Ben exhaled sharply. He was drowning. 

“This isn’t what you want to fight for, I know it’s not.”

“You think I get to choose?” He shouted, chest beginning to heave. “I lead armies, I build Weapons, I’ve slaughtered—”

“Then stop!” You begged, striding closer to him, so he’d look you in the eye. “Come with me. Right now. We’ll leave. There are ships on the lower dock, I can get us to the Outer Rim. No one would question you if you brought me down there. You and I—We can make it before anyone notices.” You stare at him, wide-eyed and wrecked. “You don’t want this war. Come with me.”

He pinched his face together and looked away. “They won’t want me.”

“What?” You blink.

He shook his head. “The Resistance. After everything I’ve done? They’d only see what I am—”

“—They’ll see what I see.”

You made him pause. And you reached for him again, slower this time. Your fingers brushed his chest, you rested your palm there, just over his heart. His breath caught and you both looked at each other. Glossy eyes. 

“I still see you.” You whispered. You stepped closer until the warmth from his body pressed against yours. Until he could feel your breath again. Your other hand curled lightly around the side of his neck, brushing his hair through your fingers. “You don’t have to keep pretending he’s gone.”

He exhaled a slow and aching sound, leaning into your touch, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“Yes. I do.”

Your fingers curled just slightly against his chest as you felt his heartbeat quicken. Your nose brushed his, a nervous but steady breath, his hand lifting to your waist—grasping at it a little rougher than he probably meant to. Your eyes flicker up to see his eyes hooded, focused on your lips. 

I know you’re still in there, Ben.

He looked up at the echo of your thought, hearing it in his own head. And he gave you a look, into you, one that said everything you had wanted to hear.

Yes, I am.

And you kissed him.

He pulled you closer, his other hand holding your cheek, fingers trembling like he was afraid you’d disappear. He needed to feel your skin. His thumb rubbed at the bone at your hip and he held you tightly. But you held him tighter. Wordless longing.

Your hand snaked all the way around the back of his neck, leaving no room between your bodies to question how much you believed him.

His lips were cracked and rough and unloved for years, but so real. And here you were, tasting them for the second time today, showing him how much more he deserved. 

All this power never gave him something that mattered. Nothing he wanted to hold close like this. Nothing he could get lost in this. It’s like this moment had lived inside of him for years without realizing it. You had been there, in the back of his head, at every decision, regret, every ache he felt and shoved down deeper. 

It was a kiss. Something he wasn’t meant to have, but he took it gladly. He was showing himself to you, letting his emotions take over his body, allowing himself to act in desperation for closeness. 

When he pulled back, it was gentle, his forehead resting against yours with closed eyes, memorizing the feeling once more. 

He opened them gently, and they were clear. It was just a whisper, like he was scared for anyone else to hear him. 

“I’ll go with you.” 

Said like it broke him.

But he said it anyway.

[Part Four] Note: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I appreciate any interaction, or even just you reading and enjoying it silently. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read my stuff, I'm excited to write the next part!

[assortedvillainvault]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request some Kaon x Reader headcanons?? :D

Hello! Oh my god yes of course, esp for my first ever Kaon ask!! I’m going to answer this with the assumption of a decepticon mech!Reader if you don’t mind.

Kaon x Reader Headcannons

Attracting the attention of the DJD incurred nothing short of mortal terror.

Your squad kicked you out, locked the door and huddled in a prayer circle - for all that would help - as the infamous ship roared through the atmosphere to land close by, the radio crackling with your name.

You accepted Kaon’s... interest with the glares of the other DJD burning into the back of your helm and the sense that your spark would sear it’s way out of your throat if you didn’t swallow it back down.

Kaon doesn’t take up nearly as much space as his teammates, but that doesn’t mean his presence doesn’t fill the corridors you tiptoe through. Static crackles over your plating, and the ships cameras all turn to focus on you as you walk by.

You thought he was blind, but it becomes increasingly clear that just because his sockets are empty that doesn’t mean he can’t see.

All cycle he watches you through every camera on the peaceful tyranny. He’s got you in 3 angles at minimum all day, idly trying to decide which looks best on you.

He’s memorised the sound of your footsteps through the ship, and the way sound bounces pleasantly off your clamped plating, his echolocation delightedly accurate enough to see how you flinch.

You had to adapt. And as part of that adaption – you do not. EVER. Think about the pet. Don’t ask about it. Don’t look at it. Grit your teeth and smile when Kaon insists you three go on walkies together and makes you give it organs as treats.

Tarn, ever mindful of his crew, noticed your reciprocation was’t exactly...enthusiastic. And took to humming *almost* at the frequency of your spark to jog things along.

So you panicked and grabbed Kaon’s hand when he absolutely was not expecting you to.

You came online again with half your circuits fried and Kaon himself in an apologetic meltdown over Nickles unimpressed face. Dimly, something in your brain clicked as you watch the eyeless mech hover frantically, his usual collected air discarded.

He blushes with static.

Like you can steel yourself, walk by, smile in his direction and say something sweet and he’s just so loaded with static that the next person to walk by as to flatten themselves against the wall to avoid his coils.

This, uh, also has the side effect of making him Very Touchy.

He can control his voltage if he’s initiating- he’s not a grabber, but is prone to deft little strokes of his fingers as you pass by, a lighthanded squeeze, idly mapping where he knows the circuits and lines are under your plating, and you’re ashamed at how you squeak each time it happens, and at how his lips curve into a self satisfied smile every time.

This should not be attractive. You’ve been here too long.

Congratulations, you’ve adapted.

FYI – Wireplay hits different with someone who channels electricity and has ‘torture’ as a profession. Just saying.