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runningfrom2am · 6 months

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Can we get a blurb where an accident happens on set and drew has to do cpr on reader who he’s been secretly dating for a while?

thank you for this request omg!! and i thought this was so perfect to post for drews birthday :') i miss him

wrong place, right time - d.s.

pairing: drew x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury but not violence, idk no one dies and its not very descript so its p safe

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

Drew is watching from behind the cameras as you film a scene he's not meant to be in just yet, sitting against a wall on the top deck of what will eventually be known to the audience as The Coastal Venture.

It's been a fun day as far as filming goes, but very long. He's tired, and he can see that you are tired too. He sips on his third cup of coffee, watching you film your scene. Right now, you're helping Cleo pull the cross which is hanging from the crane.

You're looking over your shoulder, camera's zoomed in close on you while you're supposed to be keeping an eye out for Rafe. Standing guard for who is meant to be your on-screen boyfriend, anxious about the act of betraying him. If Drew didn't know better, he'd believe your expressions. You're incredibly talented, and every chance he gets he'll watch you film your scenes. He can only do that so often, though, without it drawing any suspicion. After all, your relationship was kept only between the two of you for now.

Drew watches as you're given your queue that Rafe will enter, and you turn fully. He'll be filming that scene after his break, so he starts to pack up his snack and downs the rest of his coffee. He's distracted when he hears a loud crack, followed by gasps and a loud thump. His head quickly turns, and you're laying on the ground, the cross on its crane swinging above you as chaos breaks out on the ship.

The fake cross wasn't particularly heavy, but with the wind picking up and it's height dropping due to someone in the crane messing with the controls at just the wrong moment, it ended up swinging right into the back of your head.

"Y/N!" Drew can't hear a single other thing anyone is shouting as he's shoving past crew members to get to you laying on the deck. "Y/N? Hey! Talk to me!" He calls out, turning you onto your back and grabbing your face in his hands. You're out cold, that's clear.

"Shit... shit! Okay, uhm..." He's talking to himself now, leaning down to press his ear to your chest. Listening desperately through the commotion to try and hear a heartbeat but he can't make one out, and he has no hope of finding a pulse on your neck or wrist with such shaky hands.

"Okay, come on Baby, wake up." Drew mutters, consequences be damned as he's quickly rolling up his sleeves. He places his hands on your chest, taking a breath before pumping as much of his strength as he can into you, over and over again, hoping to bring you back to life.

He pauses, leaning down again to try and hear if you're breathing with his ear to your lips. Again, nothing. "Come on, Love, you've got to wake up." He mumbles, going back to compressing your chest. Just a few seconds at a time, before leaning over again and pressing his lips to yours, blocking your nose to try and breathe the life back into your lungs. Just a few times. Just four times and then back to your chest.

The cast is ushered away from reach of the swinging cross which is now being hoisted up and out of reach, leaving them all huddled together behind the commotion. "Is she okay?" Madelyn asks, hands clasped to her chest.

"She's gonna be fine." Chase replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. "She's fine."

"Did you guys hear it? I could hear it." Rudy whispers, voice shaking as he's wrapped in a towel from the plunge he just took into the ocean filming his own scene. "It was like... this awful crack. No way she hasn't broken something."

"Dude, shut up." JD says, shaking his head as they all try and see what's happening. More than a few tears have fallen between them, shock wearing off as they realize the gravity of the situation. You still haven't woken up.

People are yelling at Drew but it all sounds so different- his tunnel vision is on you, ignoring even the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he keeps repeating the cycle. Ten pushes on your chest, five breaths. Is he doing it right? He doesn't even know.

"Baby, come on, wake up... You have to wake up..." He says, hoping by some miracle that you'll hear him. Where the hell are the paramedics?

Just as the panic is fully starting to set in, exhaustion nowhere in sight, you gasp, lifting your arm slightly to try and grab your boyfriends attention. The stabbing pain coming from seemingly everywhere in your head was keeping you from speaking, just allowing you to squint your eyes shut as your hand hits his forearm.

"Y/N/N? Hey, you're okay... I'm right here." Drew says, finally being able to breathe as he gently pushes your hair out of your forehead.

Just then, since it didn't take them long enough, the on-site paramedics reach your side, joining Drew as he kneels next to you.

You can't even open your eyes as they're wrapping your head, putting something in your arm, and moving you over to what you assume is some kind of body board. Drew holds your hand the whole way, and by now, realization has dawned on not only the rest of the cast, but the crew as well.

"Are they together?" Carlacia asks, watching as Drew clings to your hand on the stretcher as you're moved. "Did I miss something?"

"No." Madison answers, shaking her head. "You didn't miss anything. I didn't think they were, I knew they hooked up once ages ago but that's not really how you treat a hookup, is it?"

"They hooked up?" Chase chimes in, tearing his gaze from you as this new information dawns on him.

"How is that relevant right now? She's dying!" Madelyn spits, eyes blotchy and red. "If you didn't know you weren't meant to know so don't talk."

"Good girl, you're doing so well..." Drew mutters to you, pressing a hand to your cheek as they move you. "You've gotta stay with me here. Can you open your eyes? Can you try?" You just groan, the light from the sun beating down on you too intense to open them more than a sliver before you black out again.

You wake up in the hospital, head pounding. Your whole body aches, you only know where you are because of the bright fluorescents and the sterile smell. Blinking your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to your new environment.

"Y/N/N? Hey, are you waking up?" Drew is there. Of course he's there, and he's quickly standing up and once again pushing your hair away from your face. It really wasn't in your face anyways, he's spent the last six hours being so finicky with everything in your room that there was no chance of a limb remaining untucked or a hair being out of place. He had nothing better to do than distract himself, waiting for you to wake.

"Hi." You mumble, trying to sit up.

"Woah, wait, lay down. Just relax, okay Love? I'll get the doctor. I'll be back." He promises, dropping your hand to leave.

"Wait, wait..." You call out weakly. He's quick to stop and look at you again. "I'm okay. Just, can you stay for a minute?"

Drew nods, returning to your side. You just need a minute before you're bombarded with doctors, and possibly people with questions. You didn't want to face the world, for now, you just wanted to face him.

"What happened..?" You ask after a moment of him staring at you like you were about to evaporate into dust.

"Uh..." Drew clears his throat, giving a slight shake of his head as he rubs his chin. "There was an accident. You got hit in the head, it wasn't your fault."

"Where are we?"

"Duke."

"Am I... Am I okay?" Hesitation is dropping from your voice and he nods, squeezing your hand in between his before lifting it gently to kiss your knuckles.

"Just a concussion, bruised ribs. Luckily no breaks. The concussion is serious, though, from what they can tell. They're gonna keep you, I think. The doctor will have more answers than me." Drew explains. "Can I grab them for you?"

You shake your head slowly, weary of the pain already pulsing through your skull. "No. I just want another minute with you. Before everything is real again."

Drew nods again. "Of course. I just-" He sighs, dropping his head. "Thank god you're okay. You scared me so bad." He laughs slightly. "I just about passed out over you."

You smile, avoiding the urge to laugh. "Must've been a sight. Wish I could have seen it."

"I wish no one had to." Drew chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "By the way, bad time to tell you this, but I may have outed us; at least to the cast and crew. Legal will probably be calling."

"God, Drew. I'm so disappointed." You tease before quickly reassuring him. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"As long as you're alive," He agrees. "I couldn't care about anything else less."

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @rafeoccasionally, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @@urmooniee,

#drew's birthday bash !#obx fanfic #outer banks #obx #rafe obx #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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rowlfthedog · 1 year

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This blog is going to be on a 24 HOUR KERMIT LOCKDOWN today. Frogposting ONLY. (Will still answer asks, but until tomorrow they must be Kermit related)

#barks #kermit birthday bash #‘this seems like a lot compared to what you did for rowlf’- I rendered two separate drawings for him and also drew him like every other day-#-for the month leading up to his birthday #I honestly wish I had time to plan more for kermit but Ah well

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cameronspecial · 5 months

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Her Guardian And His Redemption

Pairing: Bodyguard!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Thoughts, Being Kidnapped, Someone Getting Killed.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: He was supposed to be there to protect her, but he wasn't. And then he made the biggest mistake of his life. How could he fix it?

A/N: This is Part 2 of Her Protector And His Hubris.

Masterlist

Francesca Chambers is not Y/N. It was painfully obvious to Drew as soon as he opened the file about her. Each page details a new fact that tells him he is going to hate working on this assignment. Francesca is the daughter of Senator Chambers and many of these sheets depict her run-ins with the media. One article on a meltdown about not getting the right colour car on her sixteenth birthday. One Reddit thread about a heated argument with someone just trying to do their job. One video of her attacking her friend because they were wearing the same outfit. He didn’t need to do any more research on her to know she was going to be a handful. She was nothing like Y/N and everything like his previous clients. Every single week there was a new party. A new incident. A new thing he had to cover up so he didn’t get in trouble with the senator. To make matters worse, Francesca seems to think that he should be completely infatuated with him because she is God’s gift to the world.

“Drewwww, I need your help,” she drawls out from the bathroom. He sighs and puts his book down. The paperback copy of East of Eden is worn out. The spine is cracking because of how many times he has read it and the cover is missing the corner, lost a long time ago. It is not as nice as the copy Y/N gave him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. He knew that every time he looked at it, it would remind him of the danger he put his love in. The cushion of the chair creaks under his weight as he rises from the chair. He makes his way upstairs and stands outside of the door. He wraps his knuckles against the dark wood, “What’s wrong?” “I need you to come inside,” she pleads.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate if I do so.”

“Please, Drew. It’s important. It is a matter of my safety.”

Knowing it could spell out a disaster if he doesn’t check on her safety after that, he enters her bedroom and then the bathroom. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. “I need you to get me a towel,” she orders with a smile. He looks at her with tight lips, “That doesn’t concern your safety.” “Yes, it does! I could slip while going to get it,” she argues, batting her eyelashes at him. He doesn’t argue; it would go nowhere. He gets the towel for her, throwing it on the toilet before storming off to his room. This isn’t the first time she’ll pull this type of shit and it won’t be the last.

———

Drew would never admit that his feet are aching. He should be used to this much standing by now. Yet, every time he goes shopping with Francesca, time seems to slow down, causing the blood to pool his feet. He isn’t one to be bashful and he isn’t with Y/N, but without Y/N around, he doesn’t know where to look. Especially because of the store they are in right now. The lacey materials all around the store fill his imagination with thoughts of her. Every garment he sees, he pictures her and all the naughty things he wants to do to her. “I want to try these on,” he overhears Francesca's demand to the sales associate. The other woman puts on a fake grin, “Of course, Miss. All of our changing rooms are currently in use at the moment, but I could make sure you get the next available one. Do you want to keep browsing and I’ll come to get you when it is ready?” Francescar’s eyes narrow and her lips pucker. Drew prepares himself for the hail storm that is about to occur, pretending to survey the store for threats. Although, he probably entered the store with the biggest one. “Excuse me! Do you know who I am? My father is a senator and one for call to him can have you fired,” she screeches, pointing an accusing finger at the employee.

The blood drains from the associate's face, “I’ll see what I can do.” “Good,” his client’s words chase after the scurrying worker. “Can you believe some people?” she mumbles under her breath. Drew gives her a disapproving look, “You were rude to her.” “No, I wasn’t. I was just reminding her of her place,” she retorts. He rolls his eyes, nothing can get through to her. They are soon rushed to the changing rooms and Drew stands at the entrance. Francesca goes into the changing room, coming back out soon after in the first lingerie set. It’s a pastel green set that goes with her olive eyes. Drew can see her vying for her attention out of the corner of his eyes, yet his focus is on something outside of the changing room. It is a pastel pink slip dress. Flower lace covers the breasts and also forms two slits at the bottom of her dress on the sides.

An image pops into his mind. The woman he loves standing in a doorway adorned by pink and flowers. He waits patiently for her to saunter over to him with her arms swinging at her side. She would straddle his hips, sitting back on his thighs. Her finger would raise and curl to beckon him forward. His hands find her thighs, pressing her closer to his crotch. He brings his lips closer to her and captures the beautiful petals. “I love you,” he promises to her. “Drew, you aren’t looking at me.” Francesca snaps him out of his fantasy. Irritation seeps out of him, “That’s because my job is to identify threats in our environment and I can’t do that if I’m looking at you.” He doesn’t glance over at her; instead, he continues to search the store for possible threats. She huffs at the lack of attention, “You are such a buzzkill.” She goes back into the changing room, leaving him to wish he could really say those things to his precious.

———

James Notting isn’t Drew. It was obvious to Y/N that he was a good bodyguard. Except he would never make her feel the way that Drew can make her feel. She knows she is safe with James; it doesn’t feel the same way as when she is with Drew. Drew’s protection made her feel warm. With Drew, it didn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like his life mission to keep her safe. He wasn’t doing it for the money. He was doing it because he truly cared for her on a personal level. She doesn’t blame James for not being Drew; she has a hole inside of her heart James can’t fill. She finishes packing up her work to bring home and heads to the elevator with James following behind her. He opens the car door for her once they get to her car. As she ducks to get into the car, she has to move her right shoulder, which causes an ache to shoot through it. Her hand reaches for her healing wound and this only causes more pain. “Are you okay?” James worries. She nods and continues to sit in her seat.

The car ride to her apartment is quiet. The only sound is the music playing from her playlist. When they get home, Alice is already making dinner in the kitchen. The aroma of the frying chicken instantly hit her nose. She greets Alice with a smile and makes her way into her office to put her work away. She is about to head back downstairs to talk to Alice when a cardboard box catches her eye. She should’ve brought that to the security firm a long time ago. Y/N holds in a breath as her feet drag across the hardwood floor towards it. Her hands shake while reaching for the lid to take it off.

Versace and cigarettes. It surrounds her in its embrace. She immediately regrets opening it and wants to put the lid back on; nevertheless, the items inside draw her in like a siren song. She picks up the item on top. The custom copy of East of Eden she had made for him. Realizing he left it behind hurt her more than she could ever know. She was so proud of herself for thinking of the gift. Every time she found him reading it, a small spark would shock through her heart. To her, the book was a symbol of her love for him and he left it behind as he left her. The next thing she finds is his WCU shirt. He probably forgot it was in her drawers because it became her sleep shirt after the first night they made love. She used to make him wear it for a day whenever it would stop smelling like him, making him laugh with the way she would beg him to put it on right at that second. A coil wraps around her heart and tightens until it squeezes tears out of her. She brings it to her nose like she did on that fateful night, breathing in all the memories she had with him. The late mornings in bed she would spend with that shirt on. He would play with the hem of it while he guided her cooking from over her shoulder. The way he would go crazy to bring her pleasure with it on.

A polaroid is the final thing she can bring herself to pick out. The sunlight from the apartment window gave her an ethereal look. She was focused on the art book in front of her, sketching an outfit for her upcoming fashion show. He brought the Polaroid camera to his eyes and called out her nickname. It caused a smile to bloom across her, which was the moment he captured forever. The photo was printed out and he wrote My Precious in the blank area with a heart at the end. She watched as he put the photo in his wallet. “So I can have you wherever I go,” he said to her, kissing the photo and then her. Of course, like it always did, the kiss turned into passionate sex. Y/N guesses he doesn’t want her wherever he is now.

———

After dinner, Y/N goes into her study to finish up her work. Her eyes double-check the guest list for her fast-approaching event. “James, I have the list for you to look over,” she informs the man somewhere in the apartment. He stoically enters the office and takes the list from her. He closes the door behind him, walking to his room. The sofa chair creaks as he sits to look over the names. He is looking over the possible guests to get a sense of what to expect and to flag any potential threats that she needs to change out. Most of the people are her usual ones until he meets one that causes him to freeze. Francesca Chambers. Shit. She probably invited the senator’s daughter because the girl is known to throw tantrums when not invited to exclusive events. Y/N never would have done it if she knew Drew was Ms. Chambers’ bodyguard. James could tell her that fact, but he won’t. Drew made a mistake and James wants to help him fix it.

———

When the invitation came in the mail, Drew started to buzz with anticipation of seeing her again. He has seen her on social media, but it could never be the same as seeing her in person. It could never beat being able to reach out and feel her warm, smooth skin. Tonight’s event is raising money for the foster system. It would go towards group housing for kids who can’t stay in a foster home, food, and items. Another very important fact that Y/N wants to emphasize is getting children in the foster care system actual bags for their things. He remembers the day she had decided this would be her next fashion event all those months ago. She had watched an Instagram reel of a foster mother and one of the details that stood out was the fact that the children the mother was newly fostering had their personal belongings in a garbage bag. Her heart broke for the children who were already going through a hard time. She wanted to give them the dignity of their stuff being regarded as special. He had to comfort her as she cried for the kids in the foster system. He loves that she always brings her plans into reality.

During the fashion show, he stands at the back of the room, searching for anyone he needs to neutralize. Every outfit is absolutely stunning and pride fills him up. He wishes he could’ve been there to watch her create such beauties. The end of the show is nearing when Francesca has to go to the bathroom. Like a good bodyguard, he follows her and waits outside of the room. He can still hear the noises coming from down the hall. His foot impatiently taps against the floor. Francesca is taking forever. The music starts to fade out and is replaced by a familiar voice. “Hello, thank you for coming to support the event. There are around three hundred ninety-one thousand children in the foster care system. Now, that may not seem like a lot to you. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve better…”

Her voice starts to fade from his ears as he begs the universe to make his client leave the bathroom so that they can make it back for the end of Y/N’s speech. The universe doesn’t answer. Instead, Francesca takes ten more minutes in the bathroom and he discreetly rushes her back to where everyone is. It was too late. No one stands on the stage anymore and everyone is already moving on to where the cocktail party is being held. Francesca picks up her purse from her chair and they head over to the next room. His eyes scan the room, looking for the one person who could make him feel at home even though he is so far from where he grew up. He had been trained for this moment, so he could easily find her. He is too far away to hear the laughter that falls from her lips. Her head is thrown back in delight and he desires to be by her side, whispering how magnificent she has done. How noble this event is. How proud her mother would be of her. He knows those are the words she is dying to hear. Fear floods through him. There are so many people in this room, right now. And while he does trust James to protect his precious, big events like these can be hard to navigate with no help.

Francesca hates charity. Why should she care about people below her? The only reason she is at this event is because she has to see the girl, who has such a strong hold on Drew. No matter how stupid Drew thinks she is, she knows he is in love with Y/N Y/L/N. She has seen the articles around the pair and Francesca wants that love for herself. Even now, she can see the way he looks out for Y/N and jealousy toils in her stomach. She needs his attention on her. She struts over to him and places her hand on his chest. “I really like this suit on you, Drew. You fill it out amazingly,” she flirts, running her hand up and down his pectoral muscle. To her surprise, he doesn’t shove her hands off of her. She takes this as an invitation to continue even if his awareness isn’t on her. Satisfaction comes to her when she catches Y/N’s envious gaze.

How dare he? Y/N and Drew had to keep their relationship a secret, yet it was okay for him to be public about his relationship with a senator’s child. Francesca is a more public figure than Y/N. It made no sense. They both had agreed to keep them on the down low, so she doesn’t understand why this bothers her. Francesca leans in to whisper something in Drew’s ears and he doesn’t react. Y/N is familiar with Drew’s composed demeanour. What kills her even more? Drew is letting Francesca touch him at her event. He broke her heart and now, he was breaking it all over again by flaunting his relationship with another girl. He can’t be clueless about who is hosting the show. Y/N never thought that Drew would go for someone so spoiled and rude. Maybe she doesn’t know him at all. She turns back to Jackie and distracts herself with the other woman’s story about a fashion malfunction.

Drew hates the feel of Francesca’s hands on him; however, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Y/N is safe. That her surroundings aren’t putting her in danger. Like he should’ve done the last time he worked for her. His vision falls on her again. This time, he examines her in full glory. Her red dress helps her stand out against the crowd. It only has one strap that rests on the side of her left shoulder. This leaves the still-healing bullet wound out for anyone to see. The skin where the scar is is taught, puckering in redness. He hopes she is taking care of it and that it is healing fully. If his self-confidence didn’t get in his way, then he would’ve been there to help her do all that stuff. He can make amend with that part of himself by keeping her safe tonight. He spends the rest of the night ignoring his job and fulfilling his life mission.

———

She gets home around one in the morning. Her feet aching from the night spent in heels and her hair giving her a headache from how tight it is. She stumbles to her bedroom, ridding herself of her clothes. She turns on the shower and gets to work on taking her hair down. Once steam starts to fill the room, she checks the temperature of the water to find it is perfect. The warmth of the water causes her to let her emotions out. She can’t distinguish between her tears and the water from the shower head. It makes no difference to her. Memories from the night pass through her brain. The way Francesca would cling to Drew’s suit. The way he wouldn’t even look in her direction. The way that watching him with another girl made her feel like she lost him all over again. To make it worse, every single moment she had with him made an appearance. It feels like every single emotion she has been trying to avoid comes crashing down on her at once.

Her shower ends about half an hour later and she may be tired, except she needs to complete her daily ritual. She gets her ice cream out of the freezer and plops down on the couch. The Office’s theme song starts to play on her TV. The ice cream helps fill the ache in her heart and lulls her to sleep, causing the ice cream to melt as she slumbers.

———

It has been about a month since Y/N’s last event and the exes haven’t seen each other since. In that month, Drew realized he lost his social security card. He couldn’t get a new one yet because his birth certificate was missing too. His brain wracks through the last time he remembers seeing it and bites his lip when he realizes where it is. He left it in Y/N’s filing cabinet. She had insisted he put all his important documents there for safekeeping. His social security card must be there too. This is how he finds himself waiting at the concierge desk of her building. He no longer had access to her apartment without going through security protocols. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. There is a Mr. Starkey here. He says that he needs to retrieve a birth certificate and social security card from your residence,” he listens to the concierge call Y/N. The man behind the desk places the phone on the receiver and turns to Drew, “She says you can go up.”

He listens to the elevator music, tugging on his flannel’s sleeves with nerves. He doesn’t know what to expect with being so close to her again. The front door is already open once he gets to her floor. His feet glide against the tile of the floor, scarping a little against it. Y/N is waiting for him at the door. “Where are the documents?” she asks. He gives her a soft smile, “I forgot them in your filing cabinet.” Her slippered feet slap against the hardwood floor as she walks to her home office. Drew removes his shoes and follows her. He catches up to her to see she is already getting out his files from the cabinet. He holds his hand out to take them, only for her to throw them carelessly onto her desk. She doesn’t wait for him to take it for her to quickly leave her office.

He runs after her, not ready to let this conversation come to an end. “Your charity event last month was amazing,” he applauds. She doesn’t look over her shoulder whilst she boils some water for tea, “Really? I didn’t think you had noticed with Ms. Chambers on your arm.” “Am I detecting jealousy?” he kids, hoping it would relieve some of her tension. “Jealous of Francesca Chambers?” Y/N laughs. “Why? Because she gets my sloppy leftovers. Because she is dating someone who promised to protect me, but is the reason why I got shot.” It was cruel to use Drew’s lowest point in life and to pit it against him. She doesn’t care. She needs him to hurt more than she does right now. She can’t stand to be in his presence. Drew’s heart bleeds with pain and it takes everything in him not to start crying at that instant. His insecurity starts to make itself known again. The constant belief of being at fault for his precious almost dying plagues his mind. He deserves this pain. It’s only half of what he deserves. “I never wanted you to get hurt. You know that right?” he justifies, stepping forward only for her to step back.

“Well, I did get hurt, Drew. You couldn’t protect me and I almost died. It was all your fault,” she screams. “Leave. I want you to go, now!” He tries to argue. “Precious, please. I need to hear you say that you know I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he pleads. No matter how irrational, he needs confirmation that she trusts him. That she did believe he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. She needs his anguish to subdue hers. “Please, Precious. Tell me that you believe me.” She breathes out a low chuckle, “Why would I say that? It. Was. Your. Fault.” Words can’t explain the feeling in his heart. The acid of her word burns his heart so it disintegrates. The one thing left behind is the carving of her name, waiting to be filled by her love again.

———

There were three places where James didn’t need to follow Y/N to every room she went. Her apartment. Her father’s house. And her office. At her apartment and dad’s place, James needed to remain on the premises and ready to be at her side. In her office, he could remain in front of her office as long as he checked in with her every hour. An hour isn’t very long; however, it is long enough for Y/N to disappear. “I’m just going to meeting room five-sixty. It’s supposed to be a two-hour meeting,” she fills him in. He bobs his head, “Got it. I’ll check in on you in an hour.” With her notebooks and laptop in her arms, she heads toward the elevator and presses the down button. Being on the twentieth floor meant that she had a long wait down to the fifth floor. On her ride down, people went on and off without her attention because she was absorbed by her phone. She should’ve been watching her environment. Drew used to drill into her brain how important it was to do so if she was alone. It must have slipped her mind.

By the time an unsettling feeling overcame her, it was too late. Her eyes glance up from her phone and she twists to the other person in the elevator. Ahead of her recognition of the figure beside her, a white cloth smothers her mouth and nose, causing her to inhale the fumes. It has a hint of sweetness combined with the familiar scent of nail polish remover. Her orbits start to droop and she is pulled into unconsciousness.

———

She wakes up cuffed to a chair. Her hands and feet are both restrained and she tries to break the chair. A shooting pain goes up her butt while the sound of metal hitting concrete reverberates through the cold cement room. Shit, it’s a metal chair. She doesn’t bother to shriek for help. There is no point in wasting her energy. She tries to think of how to dislocate her thumb to escape the cuffs. It doesn’t come to her. The door in front of her opens with a squeal and her kidnapper makes herself known. Sienna Cox is a carbon copy of her brother. Y/N recognizes Sienna from the pictures Sean showed her during their three dates. The dangerous woman approaches Y/N with a knife in her hand. She circles the chair, letting metal glide against metal. Y/N flinches as the sharp point greets her soft skin. “You are the reason my brother is in jail,” Sienna states, hate dripping from each word. Y/N is never one to back down, “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s because your brother tried to kill my then-boyfriend, which got me shot. Your brother almost killed me.”

Sienna’s hand harshly tugs back Y/N’s head and the point of the knife connects with her neck. Y/N tries to remove Sienna’s hold, which produces a crimson knick on the side of her neck. “No, my brother is in jail because you had to choose a low-life bodyguard over him,” she growls. Y/N provokes Sienna more, “Hmm, nope. Your brother being an ass and delusional is the reason why he is in jail.” “Ugh, shut up,” Sienna yells, pulling pain from the incapacitated girl by slashing her forearm. Blood oozes from the cut and she can tell it is going to need stitches. She cries out in pain, starting to truly feel her life is in danger. Earlier, she didn’t think Sienna was capable of hurting her. How could she be so stupid?

——��

Drew previously thought the day Y/N got shot was the most terrible day of his life. He was wrong. The ringing of his phone stops him from doing his job. He should be watching Francesca at the mall. The phone call prohibits him from doing it. The sole thing more important than James’ call would be Y/N’s. “She has been taken.” No greetings. No pleasantries. No small talk. Those didn’t matter though. Y/N was in danger. Drew doesn’t think about his client and runs to the car. “I want you to pull all the security footage from wherever you are. Comb it for the last seen citing of her,” he instructs. “Get background checks on everyone, and I mean everyone, who has been in the same vicinity as the place where she last was seen in within the last thirty minutes of her being there. Where are you?”

“Her office. She went down to the fifth floor for her meeting. She never got there.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Start with the hallway footage for both the twentieth and fifth floors as well as the elevators. Have a secondary team look through all other footage.”

“Got it.”

He blows through every single stoplight. He’ll deal with this later. James meets Drew at the door and gives him an update on what they found so far. “We know she was taken from the elevator, except we can’t identify the person who took her because a hat is obstructing her face,” James notifies. Drew looks shocked, “How do you know it was a female?” All the women, who don’t like Y/N, never registered as a peril to him. They weren’t the type to get their hands dirty with physical harm. “Height and body shape. We are going through the women who checked in to match outfits with the pictures they took when they checked in,” James clarifies. His brain processes everything, “You probably aren’t going to find her at the check-in. Get the tech geeks to program the computers to extract all the footage with similar clothes to the suspect. I’ll go through all of it myself. I want it done in the next five minutes.”

Y/N’s office is eerily cold without her brilliant smile to light it up. His hand traces against the glass desk's smooth surface. He should’ve been here to stop her from being taken. It’s happening all over again. This could be his chance. He could halt her from being hurt. From nearing the brink of death again. This time, he is going to be there to be the one to protect her. His vows to himself are interrupted by James. “They got what you want.” Drew jogs after James to the emergency base camp for the search. “Show me what you got,” he orders. He inspects the screens simultaneously and finds what he needs. He knows her from the background research he did on her brother. Sienna Cox.

———

Honestly, Y/N would’ve done anything to get away from Sienna. Her villain monologue is a horrible torture method. At least she is too distracted to use the knife more on Y/N. “And when I visit him in jail, they take my phone away. Do you know how hard it is to not be able to use my phone for an hour?” Sienna complains, twirling the knife in her hand. Y/N fights the urge to make a snarky remark. The ruckus from upstairs freezes both girls. “Ugh, what could that be?” Sienna groans, leaving the room.

Drew wanted Sienna to know they were there. It would make it more fun for him and the group. The narrow hallway means Y/N can merely be in one direction. I’m coming for you, Precious. He thinks to himself. Sienna rounds the corner of the doorway and halts at the guns trained on her. She changes course back to where she came from. The rescue team runs after her to find her with a knife against Y/N’s neck. “Take one more step and this Bitch gets a new necklace. A deadly one,” Sienna warns, digging the knife in harder. A sob racks through Y/N’s body until she spots Drew in front of her. A silent connection transcends them with their eyes locked on each other. She didn’t mean those words and she trusts him. On the way over here, Drew found out everything about Sean’s sister and what buttons of hers to push. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that James over here loves your podcast,” Drew plays into her ego. He discovered if there was one thing Sienna loved more than her brother, it was herself.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t buy his bait and the knife bites more into Y/N’s neck so that blood flourishes around it. Y/N whimpers at the new pressure on her. “You think that you can flatter me into letting your precious Y/N go? Well, you can’t! You guys are the reason why my brother is in jail and I’m going to stop her from testifying against him,” Sienna screeches. Her arm raises in the air with the knife, ready to bring it back down into Y/N. Drew has killed before, but this is personal. He can’t let fear come in the way of what he has to do and he prays that Y/N has the sense to stay still. His gun aligns with Sienna’s head, taking the shot. A coined-size hole punctures her head and blood spews out of the wound. Y/N shouts as red rain showers her. “Get me out of here, please,” she implores, struggling against her restraints. Drew motions with his head to tell James to take care of Sienna whilst he helps Y/N. He hurries towards her, pulling out a tissue from his pocket.

One hand smoothes back her hair and the other wipes the blood off with the tissue. “Drew, you’re here,” she sobs out, reaching for him with her seized hands. Red swelts are starting to form around her wrist and Drew wishes he could kill Sienna a second time. He gently pushes her hand against the metal armrests, “Of course, I am, Precious. But I need you to give me a second, okay? I’m going to get bolt cutters to get you out of here.” Her pleas end his movement. “Don’t leave me, please. I don’t want to be alone.” He nods at her need and wraps his arms around her shoulder. His lips press against her temple, “Never. I’ll never leave you.” He calls out for some bolt cutters and a few minutes later he is given some. “Okay, Precious. I’m going to cut the cuffs off with these. It might be a little loud,” he briefs her. He snips the bracelets around her wrists and ankles. She is finally able to move freely, bringing Drew as close as possible to her. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to die,” she confesses, gripping to him like he is a life raft. He flattens her hair some more, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice hails. She untangles herself from Drew’s hold, tearing his heart apart at the loss of contact. Her father grasps her in his arms. The father-daughter duo cling to each other, weeping at the fear of her being lost. Drew did what he came to do and it seems like he isn’t needed anymore. With his vision trained on the pair, he exits the damp cellar and goes home.

———

Saving her proved to him how much of a mistake breaking up with her in the first place was. Simply apologizing to her isn’t what she deserves for what he did. He could make a big grand gesture to show how wrong he was. Pay for a skywriter. Organize a flash mob at her favourite places. Rent a billboard at Time Square. Those weren’t right for Y/N though. They weren’t personal to her; nonetheless, Drew knew the perfect thing for her.

———

It’s been a week since Y/N was held captive for about three hours. She has already found a therapist, who has been helping her through her trauma. One thing has been killing her since that day and it’s the fact that she didn’t get to say thank you to Drew for saving her. She was horrid to him when he came to get his documents and she completely picked at his insecurities. Even with her behaviour towards him, he was there for her in her greatest moment of need. To add the cherry on top of the cake, he quit his job at the security agency because of her. He was going to get a suspension for leaving Francesca at the mall, so he decided to quit instead. James reassured her that Drew had enough money saved up to be out of work for at least ten years, which eased some of her worries. She glances at James standing behind her and she brings her hand up to knock on the door.

Drew opens the door with a measuring tape around his neck. A dazzling smile crosses her face and her eyebrows form a hairy caterpillar. “Precious, are you okay?” he frets, examining every inch of her to make sure she has no additional injuries. She nods and spots the sewing machine behind him on his table. The sage green fabric is snagged between the sewing needle and the base of the machine. She shakes out of her confusion to verbally answer him, “Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came to say thank you. You know… for last week. You don’t know how much it meant for me that you were there.” She fiddles with her fingers and his hand cups his neck as he rubs it. “You don’t have to thank me, Precious. I know I hurt you, but I will always be there to save you. I’m glad you are safe,” he appeases. She disagrees, “No, I was so rude to you. You didn’t deserve it. I hurt you and you put it aside to help me, like what I should’ve done that day.” He doesn’t need her to tell him what day she is talking about. He already knows.

Silence overcomes the couple and Y/N is again drawn to the equipment behind him. Her finger points at everything, “What’s all of this?” “Oh, um,” the hand on his neck continues its friction of the skin. “I’m trying to sew you a jacket.” One corner of her mouth raises, “You are making me a jacket?”

“Yeah… I made a mistake and I needed to show you how much I love you, so I wanted to make you a jacket that says, Precious.”

Her heart skips a beat and the idea of him learning to sew just for her makes her feel honoured. “That’s really sweet, Drew.”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks. This is his opportunity to tell her who she is to him. Her head hinges up and down. His hand laces with hers and he pulls her into this apartment. He closes the door, “I called you precious because even before we started dating, I knew you would be a treasure to me. It was an instant connection for me and I was a fool to have let you go. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me now. I just need you to know all this.” Her hand reaches up to his chest, grazing it softly with her warmth. “You broke up with me and I didn’t think I could ever forgive you. But you were there when I needed you and with the jacket, I can see how remorseful you are about the decision you made. I’ve made some poor choices too. And if you can forgive me too, then I think we both deserve a second chance,” she admits, not being able to meet his eyes. His finger raises her chin, “I will always forgive you because there is no one else in this world that I was meant to protect more than you. A second chance is all we are going to need. I’m never letting you go.” She jumps into his hold, smushing her lips onto his. His hands grip her thighs to keep her steady and his tongue enters her mouth.

Air eventually needs to enter their lungs, so they break apart with their foreheads together. He sneaks a peek at the fabric on the table and he sighs. “I know I’m supposed to be making it for you, but I’m going to need your help with the jacket. I screwed up somewhere and I have no idea how to fix it,” he fesses up. She giggles, “I can do that, except not right now. There is something else we need to be doing other than sewing.” He grins at the way her eyebrows move and he carries her to his bedroom.

A few months ago, Drew had made the biggest regret of his life. All he saw was his faults and it led him to that decision. Thankfully, the universe saw his pain and decided to help him out. It gave him a chance to prove to himself he was worthy. It gave him his redemption.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @mellillasstuff @jjsmarijuana @thelomlisrafecameron @crlsummer @rubixgsworld

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #rafe #bodyguard!drew #bodyguard!drew starkey

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brian-in-finance · 13 days

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Photo: Oliver Holms / EE BAFTA Film Awards • Charles Finch & Chanel Pre-BAFTA Party • 17 February 2024 / Found on Twitter

Video 📹 from Instagram

Harper’s Bazaar UK • May 2024

FLASH! We join London’s glitterati at Chanel and Charles Finch’s annual star-studded pre-Baftas bash

Dramatic skies poured outside on the eve of the Baftas, but the intimate corners and warming fireplaces of 5 Hertford Street drew in Britain’s best-loved talents and Hollywood stars for the annual Charles Finch and Chanel party. Emily Blunt and Tom Ford kissed hello, before collecting glasses of champagne and going over to greet Gwendoline Christie and Giles Deacon. As the mariachi band played a lively set, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, George MacKay and Minnie Driver chatted together, while Bel Powley and Douglas Booth unwound after a busy day, having first attended a birthday lunch for Powley’s mother, before the Simone Rocha A/W 24 fashion show, declaring with intent: ‘Now we can relax!’

Bob Geldof and Mariella Frostrup linked arms to lead the charge down to dinner, followed by Isla Fisher, who was admiring the interiors. Once everyone was seated, Charles Finch addressed the room: ‘It has been an incredible year for cinema,’ he said, also paying homage to his co-host Chanel and its historic affinity with film – creating haute-couture outfits for productions such as the New Wave Last Year at Marienbad, and countless memorable red-carpet looks. Over lobster salad and poussin, conversation and wine flowed: the nominees Margot Robbie and Greta Gerwig were deep in conversation, and Richard E Grant caught up with his Saltburn director Emerald Fennell. Last year’s winner Emma Mackey was all smiles in anticipation of presenting the Rising Star Award, saying, ‘It’s quite mad, I’ve no idea who will get it, so I hope I don’t mess it up.’ It was almost midnight when guests began to descend on the dancefloor, where the party was only just beginning.

Page 170

60 SECONDS WITH…

CAITRÍONA BALFE

Who would play you in a film of your life?

‘Saoirse Ronan – she would make me very fabulous.’

Your all-time favourite soundtrack

‘Le Mépris. It’s so evocative and takes you somewhere incredible.’

The movie that changed your life

‘Dead Poets Society. It showed me the power of storytelling and solidified the fact that I wanted to be an actor.’

A silver-screen icon you’d like to meet

‘Gena Rowlands is my absolute idol – I’m holding out hope.’

Page 174

Remember… the people I find beautiful are the people who inspire me. I love unusual beauty like Peggy Guggenheim, who had incredible style and taste. Gina Rowlands is also someone I think of as beautiful. I like women like that. I like men like that. It's not all necessarily about the Best Body or the Best Hair. I think it's much more important to do incredible things with your life. — Caitríona Balfe, Cara (magazine), August 2016

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Harper’s Bazaar UK #May 2024 #British Academy of Film and Television Arts #77th #EE BAFTA Film Awards #Charles Finch & Chanel Pre-BAFTA Party #Loulou’s #17 February 2024 #London #Campaign To Shorten Awards Season #Thanks sunsetmagic85

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allmoshnobrain · 4 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 23 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3319 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Finally, I spotted him, chilling on a couch in the corner, rocking a beer and a smoke as his serious eyes stared at me. My heart tightened seeing him like that; normally, when he saw me, it meant smiles and a hug. Now, however, he just watched me, his cool blue eyes meeting mine from across the room. I held his gaze for a while, my face turning a bit warm as we looked at each other. Heart skipping a beat, I wondered: was he gonna brush me off? Stand up and bail, pretending I wasn’t even there?

✦ summary: Reuniting with James forces Nore to confront the complicated feelings that arose after their kiss.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, smoking, recreational drug use

✦ a/n: Hello! I'm finally on Christmas break and have lots of free time, so I'm trying to write as much as I can! I'm really glad I could post this chapter before the end of the year, and I hope it won't take me too long to post the next ones :) We're on the final half of the story, and things will get a bit more intense from now on. So, how do you think James and Nore are gonna deal with their feelings from now on? I'm really excited to write about it! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is welcome and motivates me a lot! ❤

✧ I want to be the girl with the most cake / He only loves those things because he loves to see them break / I fake it so real, I am beyond fake / And someday, you will ache like I ache ✧

It didn't take too long for me to catch up with my friends again. Just a bit over two weeks post-Leanne's birthday bash, Cliff gave me a ring with some exciting news: the band had landed a gig at a renowned venue in Los Angeles, and if the first show drew a good crowd, there was talk of a repeat performance to wrap up the year.

I hadn’t crossed paths with James since he had kissed me; gotta admit, the idea of facing him after all that had happened had me feeling a bit uneasy. But I was hopeful that, when the time came, we could have a conversation about it. I just hoped we could keep our friendship. There were many things I could handle, but losing him for good was not something I was ready for.

The band needed to fill the place, so Cliff asked if I could bring someone along. I ended up inviting Pat, my friend from the record store, to join me at the show. I mean, asking Dave was out of the question; as time went by, he was getting more and more bitter every time Metallica came up. Even though he wasn't thrilled about me going to the show, having a companion seemed to ease his mood a bit. Ever since I came home with a bruised hand from having to defend myself, he seemed to gradually become more protective and concerned every day. I knew he'd rather I not navigate crowded spots alone, especially at a metal show. But, when it came to Metallica, his wounded pride still had the upper hand.

I met up with Pat right outside the record store before the gig, so we could go to the venue together. She greeted me with the biggest smile, her blonde locks and blue eyes all dazzling.

"I'm so stoked!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing with happiness as I handed her the ticket and the backstage pass. "I've never had backstage access before. This is gonna be rad!"

"Yeah, it's cool. But don't expect anything too fancy; we usually just score some drinks and access to the dressing room," I said, throwing out a strained smile. I tried not to let the nerves creep in about seeing James again, but now that showtime was approaching, my anxiety was cranking up by the minute.

"Oh, don't be a buzzkill," she pouted. "You’re in a bad mood today? Aren't you happy to see your friends?"

"Sorry, Pat. I'm just kinda on edge," I replied with a sigh. Despite really liking Pat, I wasn't up for diving into the whole James-kiss situation with anyone. Truth is, I had been mulling over it way more than I'd like. Couldn't wait to clear the air with James once and for all.

We rolled up a bit later to the venue, and there was already a decent line of fans. It always blew my mind how they had just dropped their first album not long ago but were pulling in a hype crowd that was growing by the day. I could sense the West Coast getting too cramped for whatever they were cookin' up. And, like always, no need to wait in line for us; the IDs whisked us straight backstage, where the guys were getting their act together, getting stage-ready, and already a bit toasted.

I couldn't really zone in on the whole scene that kicked off with Lars, Kirk, and Cliff swooping in for the welcome party; drinks were handed out, cigs were fired up, and Lars, as usual, threw in his cheeky comments ('hey, your friend's a total babe!'). But honestly, none of that was grabbing my full attention. My eyes were on a mission, desperately looking for the only person I wanted to see. No matter how much I tried to fool myself, all I cared about was making sure things were cool between James and me.

Instead, he just got up, strolled over, and handed me the beer bottle.

“Want some?” he asked, throwing a faint smile my way. I blinked, kinda surprised. The way he talked, it was like nothing had happened. Like he never had kissed me. Like I never had bolted out of Joe's kitchen, leaving him all alone.

But, hey, wasn’t that exactly what I wanted? For things to be normal again. For us to stick to being friends, no drama.

“Of course. You ever see me turn down a beer?” I replied with a grin. He let out a soft chuckle and handed over the bottle, his cold fingers brushing mine for the briefest fraction of a second before he brought the cig back to his mouth.

Before long, the venue staff gave us the heads up that the show was about to kick off. The guys wrapped up their final checks, and Pat and I joined them, enjoying a beer by the stage. Pat was all hyped about it; even though she didn't know the band, she was really getting into the music, full of the enthusiasm you'd expect from a dedicated fan. As for me, I was a bit more reserved this time. Don't get me wrong, I was always happy to catch up with my friends, but I couldn't ignore how uneasy I felt, especially when I noticed James's glances, splitting his attention between the crowd and shooting looks my way, a silent storm brewing in his blue gaze.

After the concert wrapped up, he handed his guitar over to a puzzled Kirk, not even bothering to look at him. He headed my way, big steps and a bit of annoyance wrinkling his forehead; at that point, I was almost sure he was going to cup my face in his hands and kiss me again. The idea had my face turning hot, my heart racing, and the palms of my hands getting sticky with nervous sweat, recalling the feel of his lips on mine. Instead of that, he just stopped and locked eyes with me for a moment, carefully studying my face before saying:

“So? How was the show?”

“It was awesome! You guys rock, I loved it!” Pat exclaimed, all excited, breaking the momentary electricity that had arisen between us two. James raised an eyebrow, curious, as if just now realizing she was there, and shot me a puzzled look. I just shrugged, wearing a slight smile.

"It was killer, like always," I said with a grin, and he shot one right back at me. There it was — the familiar, genuine smile I'd been missing all night. I couldn’t help but feel relief wash all over me when I saw it.

We wrapped up the night at some random downtown bar. Most of the time, I stuck with Pat since she only knew me there. A couple of beers, a joint, and watching her all hyped up did the trick; I started to unwind, and soon enough, I was enjoying the night with a lightness I hadn't felt in ages. Had a cig between my lips, just chilling and keeping an eye on the guys from a distance. Cliff and Kirk were deep into some serious chat, sharing a joint. Lars and James had found some fans from the show, cracking up and talking loudly while passing around a bottle of vodka.

"Can I ask you something?" Pat threw out. I shifted my gaze from the scene, catching her curious, kinda fuzzy look — probably thanks to a bit of the booze. Before I could even answer, she kept going: "What's the deal with you and James?"

"Me... and James?" I raised my eyebrows, totally caught off guard. She nodded, a little smile playing on her lips. "We're... We're friends."

"And that's it?" She raised an eyebrow, and I furrowed my brow.

"Of course, that's it, Pat! You know I'm dating Dave."

"Yeah, I know. It's just..." She started, letting her eyes wander over to Lars and James before turning back to me with a mischievous grin. "He's quite the looker. Mind if I flirt with him a bit? Just for fun, you know."

I blinked, caught off guard, and then burst into laughter, my face heating up in a mix of surprise and confusion. Out of all the scenarios playing in my head for that night, Pat showing interest in James was definitely not on the list.

“Sure, why not,” I said, and she shot me a smile before strutting in the direction of James and Lars. I watched her go, a little smirk on my face, a tiny pang of envy sneaking into my chest. Maybe life would be more of a breeze if I could summon that kind of confidence in myself so easily.

"So now you're playing matchmaker?" I heard Cliff's familiar voice, and I looked up to meet his brown eyes staring at me. I grinned as he lit a cigarette, handing it to me before popping the top of the beer can he had in his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better. And you?"

"Are you sure?" he raised an eyebrow. "Last time I saw you, you weren't very happy."

"Yeah, felt a bit down after... you know, what happened," I confessed with a sigh. "But I think that's all settled now, isn't it?"

Cliff didn't seem entirely convinced. He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing out before he reached out to me. I took the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to my lips.

"I thought James liked you," he commented, his attentive gaze fixed on my face. I shrugged.

"Maybe he does. But you know I have a boyfriend, Cliff. Maybe it's good for him to be distracted by some other girl for a bit," I said, and Cliff snorted.

"Not even you believe that, Nore."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think? Are you sure about what you're doing, throwing your friend at him like this? Or will you regret it later?"

"Why would I regret it?" I furrowed my brow, then stared at him defiantly. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"If you say so," he shrugged, taking the cigarette back from my hand.

I watched him walk away with a frown, scanning the area for James, my stomach churning uncomfortably when I couldn't find him anywhere.

We bounced out of the bar late at night, still riding high on excitement and energy, a bit too drunk but not giving a damn about it. Lucky for us, the guys were staying at a friend's house nearby, and a quick call to Pat's dad had us sorted for a ride home from their place. I said my goodbyes to the guys and enjoyed the cruise home. Pat, usually a chatterbox, was oddly quiet on the drive. When I nudged her about James, she blushed so hard I couldn't help but crack up.

When I got home, I made a beeline for the shower. The hot water washed away the remnants of the night's boozing, helping me unwind and finally realize how tired I was. I slipped into my PJs, hopping into bed next to a knocked-out Dave.

I let out a soft chuckle when his arms wrapped around me, his lips landing on my neck. It was like he had a sixth sense that woke him up the moment I was back, even from the deepest sleep. Like he just knew I was nearby. How could I think of anyone else when Dave loved me like this?

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice all sleepy, planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning in bed to face him. I swept his ginger hair away from his face, and he grumbled before pulling me closer, burying his face in my neck.

"Missed you tonight," he murmured, his raspy voice making me shiver in the best way. "Glad you're back."

"Course, I'm back," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. "We’re not gonna fight tonight, right?"

"Hmm..." he grumbled, his lips making their way up my neck until they met mine. His hands grabbed my waist as he settled on top of me. "No fights... got something else in mind."

I laughed into his kiss, my face warming as he turned up the intensity, making my whole body heat up. In that moment, wrapped up in his arms, I was sure I was loved. I was sure he loved me. And that was, and always would be, enough.

Or, at least, that's what I told myself.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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Cursed Targaryen Names

Hello everyone! I think by this point we've all heard the theory that the name Visenya is cursed in ASoIaF, and I recently received this ask here that drew my attention to the fact that the name Aegon doesn't have the greatest track record, either. One realization later, and I arrived at my new theory: All three names from the Conquering trio have been cursed. Maybe by Visenya (I hope by Visenya). So let's go through what happens to all the poor kids that get saddled with these names, shall we?

Visenya

Visenya, who Rhaenyra wanted as a sister when Aemma was pregnant, but who was actually a boy named Baelon. Still, at one point Rhaenyra had declared the baby's name would be Visenya. As we all know, the baby died, and took its mother with it.

Visenya, the stillborn daughter of Rhaenyra. Born with birth defects, with scales on her skin, and with a tail.

Aegon

Aegon the Uncrowned, who was usurped by his uncle Maegor despite being the trueborn and eldest son of the late king, and who was later killed by Maegor at just seventeen.

Aegon, son of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, who died three days after he was born

Aegon, son of Baelon and Alyssa, whose birth killed his mother and who died days before his first birthday, also managing to ruin Viserys and Daemon's childhood

Aegon II, who watched all of his siblings and most of his children die before him in a war they were forced into, who spent his final years disfigured and in agony, and who died in his twenties

Aegon III, who traumatically lost his dragon and thought he'd abandoned his brother to die, whose older half-brothers all died, who watched his mother be eaten alive as a child, and who spent the rest of his life depressed as a result

Aegon IV, who was probably actually insane

Aegon V, who killed not only himself but also his own children and heir in his desperation to uncover the magic of the dragons in the Tragedy at Summerhall

And finally, poor baby Aegon, whose head was bashed in against a wall in front of his mother, Elia

Rhaenys

Rhaenys, daughter of Aemon and Jocelyn, who outlived her two beloved children and was burned alive after being sent on a suicide mission by the same woman she thought killed her son

Rhaenys, the three-year-old daughter of Elia and Rhaegar, who was ripped from beneath her bed and stabbed to death so viciously that Tywin Lannister had to cover her body with a cloak before presenting her to the King.

Also, as a note, there's one instance of one of these three names popping up pre-Conquest: Aegon Targaryen, son of Gaemon and Daenys, who happily married his sister, ruled Dragonstone, and passed it down to his son with no problems. Whose children all survived to adulthood, whose wife did not die in childbirth, and who is not noted to have a particularly gruesome death. This just adds to my theory that this name was not cursed pre-Conquest hehe.

#asoiaf meta #asoiaf #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aegon i targaryen #visenya targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #aegon iv targaryen #aegon v targaryen #aegon the conqueror #aegon the uncrowned #hotd meta #meta

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winterrrnight · 6 months

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HI EVERYONE! please signal boost this if you feel like :)

I think it would be so cute if everyone tagged their drew birthday posts as 'drew's birthday bash', so that all the wishes we have can be stored under one tag :) and also, just to spread some more positivity and good vibes in our fandom 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I know he's never going to see this, but I just think it would be so sweet :)) please reblog to spread!!

(sorry for the unnecessary tags I just wanted to spread this as much as I can!)

#drew's birthday bash #drew starkey #rafe cameron #zach maclaren #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #the other zoey #drew starkey aesthetic #drew starkey fic #rafe cameron fic #zach maclaren x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfic #edith rambles! 🪄

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outerspacebisexual · 1 year

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Wishful Thinking, Mindless Dreaming - Steve Harrington

summary: You left Hawkins and all your relationships behind. Five years later, you can barely look at yourself, and at the one person who you never should have left.

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: angst, some fluff, minimal swearing, hopeful ending

a/n: i'm back for the first time in months. sorry for not writing, but i'm feeling a bit better and thought it's about time to put a couple of words on the page.

masterlist

Maybe it was the morning rush of traffic—the idle hum of wasted fuel as they came to a stand still on the main street—that made you feel normal again.

It was familiar. A sound that pulled a chord deep within your soul, suddenly rewinding the past five years of anguish and anomie until you were nothing more than a young, dumb, high school student wandering the main street with your friends.

Window shopping with music you could almost hear and the sickly-sweet smell of pastries from the bakery wafting by on a lone autumn breeze. Eyeing off a new jacket that you knew you couldn’t afford, but your friends egging you to try on, to which you always conceded with a bashful smile as the material settled on your shoulders like it was made for you.

Even now, the jacket still fit, seeming to have molded better than you to the changes from your teenage years to early adulthood.

Some of the shop fronts on either side of the street were still empty, their previous tenants unable to rebuild after the ‘earthquake’, but most were showing new life, the power of hope and resilience pushing them on like a lone flower growing on the sidewalk.

Hawkins hadn’t changed all that much since the last time you had been there, and yet, nothing was the same.

It didn’t feel like home anymore, and you didn’t think it ever would again. Not after the way you left. Not after you let it all go on a whim.

You weren’t even sure why you were back. The excuse of your aunt’s birthday was just that—an excuse. There had been many raised eyebrows and hushed whispers when you’d shown up that morning, going back on your promise to never step foot in the town again.

You’d ignored them, clinging to your glass and any semblance of control with an iron grip as you stood in the corner of the room by yourself, no one having the nerve to side up to you and start a conversation, lest you decided to rip their head off.

An ugly scar on the relationships you’d torn apart when you shredded all contact with your past life.

The longer you stood in that stuffy room, the closer the walls drew in, until finally the laughter and music became too loud, too forced, too much, and you slammed the glass down on the nearest surface and fled.

Just like you always did.

Now, the breeze was colder than you remembered, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not as it worked to cool your heated cheeks and the sweat on the back of your neck.

Each footstep on the sidewalk took you further away from the mess of your life and closer to the café at the end of the main street.

It was a mistake to come back, you told yourself, head ducked low to avoid the eyes of passers-by. It was a mistake to think that anyone would welcome you back with open arms. It was a mistake to come back and see the life here flourish while you were withering away to nothing.

The thoughts grew more ferocious the closer you got to the café, a whirlwind storm inside your mind so loud that you didn’t even hear the bells chime until you came face to face with the open door.

And face to face with him.

You blinked.

Once. Then twice. And on the third time, every thought you’d had a moment ago descended into an ear-piercing silence.

Your breath hitched, and he seemed just as dumbfounded to see you standing on the precipice of your old life as you were.

He whispered your name, and everything around you came back in screaming colour.

‘Steve,’ you choked out, barely able to think anything else, because he was here. He was in front of you.

He swallowed down his shock into something more approachable, but his eyebrows were still pulled together as he took you in.

You wanted to turn your head and shield him from seeing you like this. He had no doubt noticed the bags under your eyes that seemed like a permanent fixture in your life now. Your frown lines that were etched into your face from the sheer amount of time you spent like that. And worst of all, your glassy eyes that had misted the second you laid eyes on him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he managed after a second.

You fumbled for the reason, the words tumbling around like rocks in your mouth. ‘I—uh—there’s a party. For my aunt. Now.’

‘Oh,’ he said suddenly, and as if realising that he was still in the middle of the doorway, stepped aside and moved to open the door wider for you. ‘Are you wanting to come in?’

‘No. No. I’m just…’ The sentence wavered out into nothing. What were you doing? What had been your plan aside from coming here to seek refuge?

You could feel Steve’s eyes still on you, and you pulled your jacket tighter. It was out of comfort more than anything, but he took it as a defence against the chill.

He cleared his throat and glanced back inside. You could see him vaulting a thought around behind his eyes, trying to work up the courage to ask the question that you desperately hoped he would. ‘Did you want to get a coffee?’ Together, he didn’t say.

Your answer was instant.

The light streaming through the partially closed curtains roused you from sleep. From the way it poured into the room, it had to be mid-morning, the overhead fan already working overtime to fight against the unusually hot spring heat.

You groaned as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, but quietened immediately when the arm slung over you pulled tighter. He was warm, the thin t-shirt barely doing anything to stop the natural warmth he radiated at all times.

It became particularly useful for you in winter, but on hot days like this, it was almost too much.

‘Steve,’ you whispered, trying to pull away from him. His grip didn’t let up. ‘Steve,’ you tried again, this time rolling over to face him.

His hair was a mess, the majority of it falling in a wayward pattern all over his face. It was longer than it ever had been while he’d been at high school, and you had to admit that you liked being able to brush your hands through it, just like you did now.

‘Steve,’ you murmured, twirling your fingers through the strands around his temple. He hummed, an acknowledgement without actually opening his eyes. ‘It’s your birthday, baby.’

While the information wasn’t new to him, he still furrowed his eyebrows and heaved in a long breath through his nose before cracking his eyes open. ‘What?’

You smiled at him. ‘It’s your birthday.’

‘My birthday?’ he questioned, and if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he struggled to process anything for the first ten minutes he was awake, you’d have thought he suffered short-term memory loss while he was asleep.

‘Yeah,’ you affirmed. ‘Happy birthday.’

There was a long moment of silence as he finally understood what you said and his eyes opened fully, revealing the deep chocolate that you’d fallen for, and would continue to chase for the rest of your life.

‘It’s my birthday,’ he said, and after a second added, ‘I’m so old.’

You scoffed, shuffling as he rolled onto his back. ‘You’re not old. You’re barely 19.’

‘And that’s practically 20, which is almost 21. I’ll be 30 before I know it.’ He caught your eyeroll, and you barely had time to prepare yourself before he jabbed his fingers into your side causing you to squeal. ‘Don’t make fun of me. This is serious.’

‘I never said it wasn’t!’

‘Then why are you laughing at me?’

‘Because you’re freaking out over nothing. Aging is a part of life, babe. It happens to everyone.’ Despite the thankful smile he threw your way, there was still a subtle sadness behind it.

You knew it was because he felt like his childhood was ending, and that sooner or later he would have to get a proper job working for his dad, and this bubble of weightlessness would burst.

‘You know,’ you said, ‘I’ll still love you. No matter how old we are. No matter what happens, that will always be true.’

His eyes softened, the tentative smile widening. ‘I love you,’ he said, and the pebble of truth sent ripples through your soul.

When the waitress took your order, you couldn’t help noticing the way her eyes lingered on him just a moment too long.

You couldn’t blame her. Time had done wonders for Steve, fine tuning him into a handsome young man, all broad shoulders and arms that had become toned with the work he’d done for the town to help rebuild.

A weird silence settled over the two of you when he looked up from the menu.

You wanted to ask him about how he’d been, about anything and everything, but your tongue was cemented to the roof of your mouth, and all you could do was stare at him.

After darting his tongue across his lips, he asked, ‘How are you?’

‘I’ve been good,’ you lied, used to the bitter taste the words left in your mouth. ‘How are you?’

He nodded his head. ‘Yeah, good. Just working at the Rehabilitation Centre still.’

Working felt like an understatement. According to the newspapers you read on occasion, Steve Harrington was leading the trauma recovery unit to help people understand and deal with the trauma they’d faced when the town had been ripped apart. Before that, he’d been a part of the clean up crew and assisted with rebuilding the town.

And to him, it was just working.

But you couldn’t say that to him. You couldn’t tell him how amazing he was, and what difference he was making to people’s lives, and just how proud you were of him. Not anymore.

‘That’s…good,’ you finished lamely. ‘How’re the kids?’

The kids that you abandoned, a tiny voice in the back of your head whispered.

Steve gave you a quick once over, as if assessing if he was going to tell you. ‘They’re good. Senior year this year. High school’s been rough for them, you know, with everything, but they’re doing well. They’re nerds, so what can you expect.’

It was just a joke, but for the first time in five years, you smiled.

He returned it, albeit close-lipped. His guard was still up, an invisible wall that was keeping you at a distance.

It hurt, to be on the receiving end of his coldness.

By nature, he was aloof, carefree in a way that had attracted you to him in the first place.

Now, he was burdened with the shadows of doubt that you had created.

The shame threatened to burn you alive.

Steve driving was a common sight.

So common, in fact, that he had been dubbed the taxi service by the kids, the Harrington household receiving numerous calls at all times of day or night begging him to drive them wherever they needed to go.

And despite his groaning and moaning and protesting, Steve Harrington could never say no to taking them across town at two in the morning.

‘Henderson, shut up,’ he muttered, turning down the radio that the curly-haired boy had reached through the seats to turn up.

Steve was teetering on the edge of insanity, the lack of sleep combined with the atrociously noisy freshman all squashed up in the back seat of his BMW. His eye twitched, fingers drumming out random patterns on the steering wheel to try and ground himself in the present moment.

You could only watch on with bleary eyes as he tried to keep himself on this side of going to jail for murdering a gaggle of freshman.

‘What?’ Dustin said, leaning forward to turn it up again. ‘It’s just music.’

You snapped forward and smacked his hand away. He had the gall to look offended.

‘What’d you do that for?’ he screeched.

‘Because you’re being annoying.’

‘Hey, if anyone’s being annoying, it’s Max. She won’t move over, and I’m stuck on the floor.’ The resulting punch he received on the arm was loud enough that you heard it from the front seat.

‘I am not,’ she snarked. ‘You’re the one who called us all and said it was an emergency.’

Sleep still clouding his voice, Steve added, ‘Yeah, and if we get to Mike’s and I find out it’s not an emergency, you’re dead, Henderson. Got it?’ He yawned, setting off a chain reaction for everyone except Dustin.

‘He’s just grumpy he’s missing out on his beauty sleep, Dustin,’ you murmured.

Steve’s eyeroll was almost audible as he pulled up out the front of the Wheeler’s place, Mike vibrating with excitement in the driveway. Will was more subdued beside him, but both their smiles grew tenfold when Lucas, Max, Dustin, and El clambered out of the car.

The doors to the car were slammed shut with little more than a ‘thank you’ from Lucas and El, and they were all practically tripping over each other to get inside the house. The two of you watched after them, ensuring they all got inside safely.

Without the constant chatter of the kids, the car was a hell of a lot quieter, but despite it, your previous exhaustion was creeping away from you.

Glancing over at Steve, you could see his eyes threatening to close, so you reached out and placed a hand on his arm. ‘You want me to drive?’

He looked at you. ‘No, I’m fine. I just need to go back to bed,’ he answered as he peeled away from the curb and into the night.

‘Pretty boy need his beauty sleep?’ you teased.

As you watched him laugh from the passenger side, you couldn’t imagine a better life than this one.

The bells above the door chimed as more people filed into the café and took a seat at the table across for you.

You recognized them as the family who had lived down the street from you as kid. The five years hadn’t been as kind to them, skin sagging as age brought them further from their youth. They had always been kind to you as a kid, a little overbearing, maybe, but constant and kind.

Seeing them now, your stomach soured in an awful way and your eyes averted before they could catch them.

Steve saw it all. The shift in emotion. The way you fiddled with the sleeves of your jacket that he knew mean that you were nervous.

The jacket he had bought for you seven years ago.

When you finally returned your gaze from the linoleum tabletop to his face, his expression had softened a fraction. Anyone else mightn’t have noticed it.

But you did.

So, you took a leap.

Everything was wrong.

The silence from the main street that was torn in two. The busker than normally stood on the curb was gone, another victim to Vecna.

The cleanup was still in full force, and your second week of searching for people lost in the rubble had turned into searching for the bodies of the people who you had grown up beside.

Neighbours. Classmates. Teachers. Coworkers.

Vecna’s carnage hadn’t spared anyone. Even though El had stopped him, it hadn’t been enough to stop him from tearing apart your home.

You had failed.

You had failed Max.

You had failed Eddie.

Everyone had depended on you, and you failed them.

The least you could do was try and find them, to try and save them. But even now, you weren’t quick enough, and anyone left beneath it all would be gone.

Those dark thoughts had begun to haunt you. They had you second guessing every move you made, leaving you wondering if you’d just tried harder, if you’d run faster, if you’d thought quicker, would everything be different?

Darkness began to seep into your everyday life, shadowing any joy and light in a cloud of distrust and agony. Because it could all be taken away from you.

Everything you loved had already been tainted by the darkness, and now that darkness was in your head.

It was everywhere.

And it was all your fault.

By the end of the second week of search and rescue, the supervisors called it.

There were no more bodies to be found. The thought should have been a good one. It should have been hopeful.

But as you shed your high-vis vest and kicked off your boots outside your door, failure was the only lonely word tumbling around in your skull.

With shaking hands, you turned the key to your front door, intent on letting yourself fall into the oblivion of sleep as soon as you got inside.

But as you stepped into your house, you froze in the doorway. Because Steve was sitting on your couch, with a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He was still dressed for his shift at the Rehabilitation Centre, nametag emblazoned with his name in giant capital letters followed by: Ask me for help!

Your eyes were laser focused on the flowers in his hands. They were ornate, over the top, and something that you would have kissed him silly for two months ago.

Now, they were a bloodstain against the mess of your house.

‘What is that?’ you asked, voice shaky.

Steve glanced between the roses and you. ‘They’re flowers. I heard that it was your last shift at search and rescue today.’

Failure clamped around your heart. ‘And you got me flowers?’

His brow furrowed, and you saw his start to second-guess himself. ‘Well, yeah, I just thought that it would be nice, considering—’

‘—considering what?’ you seethed. ‘Considering that I couldn’t save everyone?’

He started, taking a step back at the ferocity in you voice. ‘What? No. I thought—’

You barked a laugh. A sad, broken sound that reflected just how you felt inside. ‘—You thought wrong. I don’t want flowers, Steve. I don’t want you to pretend that everything is OK just because you don’t have to deal with the reality of looking for people every day.’

It was a low blow. And it wasn’t fair. He did just as much to help Hawkins as you did. But your mind didn’t care about fair.

The flowers in his hands fell to his side. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that I don’t fucking want you to be here sprouting your ‘Everything is going to be OK!’ shit to me right now.’

Steve’s face dropped, and hurt flashed across his face. ‘I’m not—’

‘You are!’ you spat. ‘Nothing is going to be OK. Nothing is going to be all right. It’s never going to go back to normal, because everything is gone. The people. Our town. Our friends. It’s all gone.’

He didn’t move, your words pinning him to his spot in your living room. ‘Baby, things will change. It’s going to take time and effort, but we can do this.’

‘Nothing is going to be OK,’ you said after a pause. ‘It’s not. And we can’t do this.’

He froze. ‘What?’

‘We can’t do this,’ you repeated, not even looking at him.

His voice shook, but, still, you kept your eyes averted. ‘What are you saying?’

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He just looked at you. But then he was angry. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. You don’t get to just tap out when things go wrong. That’s not fair.’ He crossed the room in a few long strides until he was a few feet away. ‘We promised we would do this together—’

‘I don’t want to,’ you cut him off. ‘I don’t want this.’

‘I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you want to just give up on us after three years. No. No.’ You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Either way, it didn’t work. ‘I do. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do it.’

‘Where is this coming from? I know that the Upside Down stuff is bad, but we’ve done it before, and we can do it again. We just need—’

‘Steve,’ you cut in. ‘I don’t want you.’

The words sliced through the room, through the world.

They were the final nail in the coffin.

Steve stood opposite you, the heart he had just held out in his hand to you bruised and bloody, all by your own doing.

A tiny voice inside your head—the reasonable one that you had locked away—was screaming. It pounded against the door with all its might, begging you not to let this go, begging you not to let him go.

But you slammed it behind another door, drowning it out with the swirling darkness you had become accustomed to.

When Steve opened his mouth, his voice threatened to break you. ‘You…You don’t want…me?’

If you wanted to go back, if you even wanted to try and scramble back to escape the mess you had just made of both your hearts, this was the only chance.

You finally looked up from the ground and into his teary, heartbroken eyes, and you said, ‘No.’

‘Steve,’ you started, aware of your racing heart and shaking hands. The way he looked at you now, you could see his wariness. You could see the way he readied himself for what you were about to say. And seeing him that way, seeing the way that you had made him, it was enough to swallow your pride. ‘I’m sorry.’

Whatever he thought you were going to say, it obviously hadn’t been that, because his eyes widened, and his lips parted. ‘What?’ he managed.

‘I—I’m sorry, for that night. For saying those things to you. For—For throwing you away when we needed each other most. I’m sorry.’ As you said the words, you turned the key to the door of the part of yourself that you had kept locked up for five years.

You allowed it out, and god, did it ache at the freedom.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes from you, the raging internal battle he was having clear on his face. It was ugly, but you were its creator, and you had to face it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore, so you just waited.

You would wait an eternity for it. For him. You would give him whatever he needed from you. Even if it was to never step foot in Hawkins ever again, you would give that to him.

Whatever he wanted, it was his. Because everything you had ever had, everything you had ever been, it had always belonged to him.

Time stretched, mindless chatter droning out until his voice became the only one you could hear.

‘OK,’ he said.

And then he smiled.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff

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smaptain-smerica · 1 year

Text

Beauty School Dropout - Part IV

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader

Summary: When Bradley is called back to Top Gun, he is reunited with a long lost friend from high school. Through their strenuous time leading up to the mission, the two friends relationship becomes complicated by external forces.

Warnings: Cursing, sexual innuendo

Master list

A/N: I have decided to change the present setting of the story to first person, and any flashbacks will still be in third person.

The pilots returned back to the base one by one after they had enough drinking and fun. I was one of the first ones to leave, the first thing I wanted to do was shower.

I rummaged through my clothes and picked out a random combination consisting of an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and wandered my way to the showers. As the hot water hit my back, I thought about the last time I had seen Bradley. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how to react when I saw him. I hadn’t seen him since that trip to Mexico our senior year. I was relieved when he was happy to see me, though I still harbored some ill feelings that he never tried to contact me after all these years.

My mind traveled to the last time I saw Maverick. I was coming home from that trip and had to go over to Bradley’s house and get my stuff. I thought back to a conversation I overheard between Maverick and Carole. As I was trying to scramble in my mind for the words, a loud bang drew me from my thoughts.

Male voices echoed into that bathroom that startled me a bit. Though the actual restrooms and shower were separate from the men, there was a communal sink room. Though I knew they wouldn’t come into the showers where I was, it still made me panic.

I walked back to my room while drying my hair, getting to the door and opening it when a voice caught my attention.

“Y/n.”

I turned around and saw Bradley standing there, I gave him a gentle smile.

“Hey B.” I responded back gently. I watched his eyes travel down my body and back up. I suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed even. He smiled at me once he returned his gaze to my eyes.

“That’s mine.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together, looking down at the towel in my hands and holding it towards him, questioning thoughts lacing my brain.

Bradley let out a low laugh and shook his head. “Not the towel, my shirt. That’s my shirt.”

I looked down at the Van Halen shirt that I had kept over the years. Truth be told, it reminded me of Bradley every single time I put it on. I hadn’t even realized that was the shirt I put on because I was in such a rush to get to the bathroom.

“Well I’ll be damned.” I pretended to be astonished, which caused them to both share a chuckle.

“I can’t believe you kept it all this time.”

“Of course, vintage Van Halen t-shirts go for a lot now.” I teased him, leaning against the doorway.

“Vintage? That sure makes me feel old.” He chuckled before a saddened expression suddenly waved across Bradley’s face as he looked down at his feet. “It’s been a long time.” He spoke with a gentle voice, a voice I had only heard one other time, that day of his Dad’s birthday.

The words stung my heart. All these years he could have reached out, could have stayed in contact with me. He could have done things differently on our final blow out. I suppose I could have too. I could have reached out too. But my emotions got the better of me before I thought deeper.

“Yeah? Whose fault is that?”

I turned around to head back into my room when a strong hand caught my bicep.

“Y/n,” Bradley said rather sternly. I turned around to look at him and raised an eyebrow as a warning to let me go. Bradley looked up and down the hallway quickly before pushing us both into my room and shutting the door.

“Bradley you can’t-“

“No, hush.” Bradley insisted, pushing me back to sit down on my bed.

“I’m serious we could get in tro-“ Bradley interrupted my sentence by pressing a finger to my lips. I was astonished that he had the nerve to do that to me.

“Before you kill me,” he hesitantly removed his finger from my face and slowly got down, one knee at a time.

“What are you doing?” I asked, scared for what was to come next.

“Vanity. I am sorry for everything. Will you please, please forgive me.”

There he was, my childhood best friend, who I was in love with, on his knees, apologizing. Begging for my forgiveness. The same way he begged me to go on that trip with him all those years ago. I remembered that feeling the same as I was now. The same impure thoughts about what else he’d do on his knees for me.

I smirked a little, an idea popping into my head.

“On one condition.”

Bradley dramatically folded his hands together and shook them towards me. “Anything.”

“Dinner.”

“Dinner?”

I nodded my head with a smile.

“Dinner, and you’re buying. Gives us a proper catch up.”

Bradley unfolded his hands and held them out wide at his sides.

“That’s it?” He asked suspiciously.

“That’s it.” I nodded with confirmation.

Bradley rose to his feet, gesturing his hand out to me to help me up. I took it, standing as he pulled me up and to my feet.

“Thank you.” He said to me sincerely. I responded by pulling him into a hug, burying my head into the familiar smell of his musk. Bradley rested his hands on my upper back and squeezed me against him. He rested his head on top of mine and let out a sigh.

“I’ve missed you.” He said sullenly.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

We pulled away from our hug and I looked up at him with a smile. I noticed his soft brown eyes had tears lining the bottom of them.

“Are you crying?” I remarked, pushing away from him.

“No, and if you ever tell anybody I’ll suffocate you!” Bradley jokingly grabbed me by the waist and lifted me into the air. He squeezed me so tightly I actually felt the air leaving my lungs. I still laughed the entire way through it.

“Okay I won’t tell!” I choked out in between laughter. Bradley set me down with a laugh and we continued to walk towards the door. I opened it and let him pass through.

Bradley looked at me, an expression of fondness on his face as he looked me in the eyes. “You’re too good for me.”

I took my bottom lip into my mouth, containing myself from smiling like a complete idiot.

“I know.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on dinner. But soon, I promise.” Bradley held out his pinky finger to me. I looked down at it with a smile before taking it in my hand with my own pinky.

“You can’t break that now.”

“I won’t.”

“Goodnight, Rooster.”

“Goodnight, Vanity.”

I watched Bradley walk down the hallway, shamelessly memorizing which door he stepped into in case I wanted to find it later.

Motion in my peripheral caught my eye and I looked the opposite way down the hallway at Bob. He had on a pair of long basketball shorts and a shirt that looked way too big for him. He smiled a little at me as he passed.

“Goodnight Bob.” I casually said in passing.

Bob looked at me with wide and happy eyes. His eyes then shifted to confusion as he pointed to the door number next to the left side of my head.

“Is this your room?” He asked.

I twisted my face up in confusion, looking at the empty room behind me.

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

Bob looked at me for a moment, then shaking his head and waving his hand.

“No reason, I thought it was somebody else’s. Goodnight, Vanity.” After bidding me goodnight, he hurried off quickly.

Confused, I turned on my heel and shut the door behind me.

“Attention on deck!”

The pilots in the room stood in attention at the entrance of Admiral Warlock. I glanced over from where I sat at Bradley’s right.

“Morning.” Warlock gave everyone a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated.”

All the pilots took their chairs. As Bradley looked behind him to find his chair his eyes met mine, giving me a gentle smile. I reciprocated it, reveling in the view in front of me. Something I never thought I’d see again.

“I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve.”

“Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death.”

I heard footsteps behind me walking up the aisle. I turned around to look, excitement washing over me at the sight of an old friend.

“I give you captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: ‘Maverick.’”

“Good morning.”

Maverick surveyed the pilots in front of him, his gaze lingering on Bradley. I noticed Bradley stir in his chair. I looked over at him, his expression twisting in distaste. I figured his reaction would have been the opposite, I thought he’d be excited to see Mav.

“The f-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out.”

“Damn right.”

“Damn straight.”

“You got it.”

“So does your enemy.” Maverick smirked at counter to his own question. Still cocky as ever I see.

“But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of.”

The pilots were dismissed to go and get ready for their flights. Up first was Rooster, Fanboy and Payback. We walked out onto the tarmac toward our planes. My stride fell in time with his as I looked up at him through the sunglasses.

“You okay B?”

“Yeah.” He responded, giving me a tight lipped smile.

“Good luck today.”

“You too.” I said quietly, breaking off and going towards my plane to prep it.

My plane was next to Hangmans. I glanced in his direction, noticing that he was intensely staring toward the aisle of the planes. I followed his gaze, noticing Maverick and Bradley caught up in an intense conversation. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

“Do you know anything about them?” Hangman asked me. I looked over at him with eyebrows raised. I shrugged my shoulders.

“He was around a little during the time I knew him. They’ve always been close as far as I knew.” I explained.

“Huh.” Hangman said with a little chuckle before turning on his heel to head to the rec room.

I did the same, confusion clouding my brain as I tried to think about what might have been wrong. Then it hit me, hit me like a train. The conversation I overheard between Carole and Maverick. Guilt suddenly washed over me. I had carried this information with me my entire life. I completely forgot about it when I stopped seeing Bradley regularly. I don’t know what ever became of that, but it had to have something to do with whatever tension was obviously between the two.

I opened the door to the rec room and saw a couple of the other pilots playing pool, a couple others gathered around the radio. I found the mini fridge and grabbed myself a bottle of water, taking a seat on the couch. I looked out the window at the tarmac below before looking to the sky. I could hardly see the two planes in the sky, tiny little dots in my field of vision.

The couch next to me shifted. I looked over to see Hangman had plopped down and made himself comfortable on the couch. He looked over at me and smiled. “How are you?” He asked.

“I was better before you got here.” I replied back sassily.

Hangman fake pouted and put his hand over his heart. “Oh you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. I hate you.” I replied back before returning my gaze out the window. Hangman’s presence leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“That’s not what I thought two nights ago.” He almost growled.

I shifted my weight back to put space between the two of us, my face most definitely displaying disgust. I punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“That’s disgusting. Never say that again.”

I was a decent pilot. Obviously, I graduated from top gun. I could hold my own. But up there in the sky today was a whole different story. Maverick’s skill was a different kind of level I didn’t even know existed. Warlock was right, he is the best pilot.

Grateful to be rid of the sweaty bowl on my head and back in the air conditioning, I made my way back to the rec room. I opened the door, defeat following suit as I threw myself onto the floor.

“You good, Vanity?” Payback asked, leaning over from his spot on the couch to look at me on the floor. I met his gaze, giving him a small smile.

“Five more minutes, mom!” I exaggeratingly wined. This caused the room to fill with laughter.

From my spot on the floor I could hear Hangman's smug voice trying to psych Bradley out.

‘What’s the story with you and Maverick? It seems like he’s got you rattled.’

‘That’s none of your business.’ Bradley snapped back. ‘Now where the hell is he?’

‘Been here the whole time.’

I heard Bradley cuss, I immediately jumped up to look out the window to try and see what was going on. I couldn’t see anything, they were too far into the training grounds to be spotted from the building.

‘Come on, let’s get it over with.’ That was Maverick. His voice sounded like he was anticipating this flight, like he had been waiting for something to happen and this was the moment. Though he didn’t sound excited about it, more eager to be done with it.

‘Fight’s on!’ Bradley shouted.

I knew the exact face Hangman made when saying this sentence, sucking his tongue on his top teeth and shaking his head.

‘What is with these two?’

Now was one of the times I desperately wished that I could see what was happening. By now, everyone had gathered around the radio to listen to the situation that Maverick and Bradley put themselves in. My heart dropped to my stomach at Hangman's announcement of them hitting the hard deck. I heard the familiar automated woman telling both of them to pull up. My heart was racing, I’m certain a look of horror was plastered on my face.

The round ended with Bradley getting shot down first. He had returned back to the tarmac for his push-ups. I watched him out the window, counting his push ups as he did them. He was over 200 now, I could tell from here he was pushing himself out of frustration. I needed to make sure he was okay.

I exited the building just in time to see hondo leave. Bradley did a few more pushups with trembling arms before collapsing onto his hands and knees. He rotated his body to sit down on his rear end, looking up at me as I approached.

“Are you thick in the head?” I demanded angrily.

“Naturally.” He grumbled back, looking down at the pavement below him.

I knelt down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention.

“What happened out there?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” I said very sternly, now sitting down fully next to him.

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to beg me to forgive you then not tell me what’s going on. Ever since the briefing this morning something’s been off with you.”

“He pulled my papers.”

I asked who, though I already knew the answer to that.

“Maverick pulled my application to the naval academy. He set me back four years.”

I knew it. I was right. This definitely had something to do with that conversation I overheard. Guilt came onto me again. Should I tell him? Is it my place to tell him? Would that change things between him and Maverick? I had just gotten him back, what if that changed things between us? Before I could let my mind fall into even more of a spiral, Bradley stood up, offering a hand down to me.

“Come on. We both need to shower. You stink.” Bradley have me a crooked smile in an effort to lighten the conversation.

I grabbed his hand and let him pull me upright.

“Hey, at least I somehow managed to avoid doing 200 pushups.”

Bradley slugged an arm over my shoulder as we walked and scoffed a little. "200, I did over 400 today!”

I looked up at him with a devious smirk.

“Guess that tells us who the better pilot is.”

Bradley’s mouth gaped open a little in shock. He then grabbed my head and smashed it into his sweaty, smelly armpit. I struggled against his hold on me, pushing with all my might.

“Ew, let go!”

My friend listened, releasing me from his grasp as we shared a laugh.

Next Part

Tag List

@khaylin27 @heartzforkam @lt-spork @railmerooster

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thecollectionsof · 4 months

Text

a little vandergerd fic :)

Vivian had always been told that she has her head in the clouds, but truth be told she didn’t really think it was true until someone manages to stand in front of her for a minute or two without her notice, too busy thinking about everything from her cat’s upcoming birthday (in a week!) and what to have for dinner.

What’s even worse is that this person has a bright, eye-catching yellow mullet. Also that they’re very, very cute.

"Excuse me," they say, probably for the second or third time. They sound nervous, almost, or maybe bashful.

She can’t help but look at them for a second, even if it adds a pause in the conversation. The yellow mullet may have been the first thing she noticed, but there’s more under that, too. They have a colorful sweater and a sketchbook tucked under their arm, and they look sweet. And nervous, still, though that’s probably her fault for not responding right away.

“Yes! Hi, sorry,” Vivian greets, taking out her earbuds.

"I hope this isn't too forward, but I saw you sitting here, and you looked so serene and pretty and lost in your own world that I couldn't help but try to capture it."

They open the sketchbook, revealing a portrait of Vivian and the surrounding area, including the bench and some of the nearby trees and lampposts.

"This is me?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. She doesn’t need to ask, though—it’s obvious that it’s her on the page.

"Yeah, it is," they reply, a tentative smile playing on their lips.

Vivian's astonishment melts into a warm smile. "I... I don't know what to say. It's incredible."

"It's yours, if you wanna keep it," they say, offering the sketchbook to her.

Vivian hesitates for a moment before reaching out to accept the drawing, handling it delicately. "Thank you," she says, her voice filled with gratitude. "You're incredibly talented."

A bright smile spreads across their face. "I'm glad you like it!"

Even though they offered for her to keep it, there's no way she could keep the entire sketchbook. At the same time, she doesn't know if she should rip it out, so she stares back down at it for another second and tries to burn it into her brain.

“This is really good, your art style is so cute!”

“Oh! Well, thank you! I thought you looked really fun so I knew I wanted to draw you, and… I forgot to rip the page out. Huh.” They hold their hand out in a silent request for the sketchbook back, and Vivian passes it over easily. “I’m Irma, by the way,” they say, tearing the page out of their sketchbook and then handing the drawing back to her.

“I can really keep this?” she double checks, looking down at the paper in her hand.

“Yeah, of course. I drew you out of nowhere, after all.”

Vivian stands up, gently switching the paper to her off hand and then pulling them into a quick hug. She pulls back to look at them, noticing a gentle flush on their cheeks that wasn’t there before. It clashes adorably with the yellow mullet, and Vivian decides right then and there that she’d like nothing more than to see it again. “Thank you! I’m Vivian, and I can’t really draw but I’d love to go for coffee and learn more about the cutie who drew this? If you’d like.”

Irma lights up, flushing even more and looking pleasantly surprised. It’s cute. They’re cute. “Oh! Yeah! Coffee!” They clear their throat, “I mean, that’d be cool.”

She tucks the drawing into her bag carefully, making sure that it won't get damaged, then turns back to Irma and nudges their shoulder. “Perfect, it’s a date!”

#i am actually writing things i promise!!!!! it's just very slow going #so here's this in the meantime :)#vandergerd #gi writing? it's more likely than you think

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poptart-productions · 1 year

Text

『 002 | training corps : mikasa 』

[snk series]

previous | series masterlist | next

↳ ❝ [summary] ¡! ❞

after making your first friend in armin arlert , you find yourself drawn to the enigmatic mikasa ackermann—though it appears she doesn’t like you all that much

↳ ❝ [content] ¡! ❞

black fem! reader ; first person p.o.v ; jealous / tsundere ( ? ) mikasa ; eren and armin x reader content ; training / sparring ; language ; sasha , ymir & christa ( and connie ig ) x reader content ; awkward interactions ; anxiety attack / blood

——————————✩———————————

now playing:

[reluctant heroes]-[hiroyuki sawano]

0:00 ❍─────── 3:18

↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

✧;── 002 ──;✧

I DIDN’T WANT TO GET MY HOPES UP AT THE TIME—BUT I SUSPECTED THAT THOSE TWO WERE MY FRIENDS.

armin arlert and eren jaeger.

i’d only known them for a short while but i felt close to them ; maybe it was the way armin shared his dreams and aspirations with me.

it was the night we met , after he’d stumbled out of the mess hall , wishing me a happy birthday.

“[y/n] , right? i knew it was you”

my throat dried up and the grip on the tray tightened , “yeah , it’s me—i thought you didn’t . . .remember me”

he fidgets with his hands behind his back , a small chuckle pulling at his lips ,“i did! i just—i was just worried you wouldn’t recognize me”

“—but i wanted to thank you again for saving me” i mumbled ‘you’re welcome’ , and armin raced to fill the impending silence , “i’m sorry i was eavesdropping just now”

“no , that’s okay.”

we stood there , staring at each other until the end-of-supper bell rang.

i discarded the remains of the “food” and walked away , relieved that the interaction was over.

all that tension crept back into my muscles when i realized we were headed in the same direction.

i drew in a long , exasperated breath.

i should say something.

i then turned to armin with an equally exasperated expression , “so—which regiment are you going into after graduation?”

“the scouting regiment”

some of the tension rolled off my shoulders , and i stared at armin wide-eyed ,“me too. . .!” “. . .it’s just that—i want to help.”

“me too” armin’s smile deepened , “well , i suppose some of it is me wanting to go outside”

“it’s always been my dream to see what’s out there—i know it’s st—“ “—it’s good to have dreams.”

he looked startled by my sudden interruption , ears dusted pink , “. . .thanks.”

“hey , armin!” it was one of armin’s closest friends.

the boy ; the tall one with pretty eyes.

he stopped approaching when he noticed me , “lights out soon.” he turned to armin , who nodded his head , “right , sorry.”

armin’s friend glanced at me , and i waved at him.

he stays silent , squinting his eyes at me ,“hey , aren’t you that nosebleed gi—“ armin nudged him in the ribs , “—right.”

“i’m eren jaeger.”

“[y/n] [l/n].”

it was completely silent after that.

exhausted , i kept walking toward the girls’ dorms , “i’m gonna turn in for now. goodnight , you two” i threw a wave over my shoulder.

“[y/n]!” armin called after me , and i turned back to him , “you can call me armin , if you want” a bashful smile was playing on his lips.

i smiled back ,“i will.”

we’d been attached at the hip ever since.

armin was so sweet and attentive ; he always wanted to ask me about myself—though i preferred to listen to him.

armin is a genius—he taught me something new every day , and he excelled in any written exam or class.

the way he spoke about his dreams was enthralling ; the way he’d look at me starry-eyed , and would speak until he was out of breath.

and eren—despite his belligerent exterior , i found him to be delightfully boyish , in a way—in a lot of ways.

the way he’d giggle and punch my arm when we took turns trading friendly jabs at one another.

the way he’d get so competitive—and most times about the most insignificant things ; once demanding a rematch for an eating contest i didn’t actually know i was competing in.

they were always so eager to help me and others–even eren , though it was sometimes followed by teasing on his part.

they were so refreshing , and the more time i spent with them the more others made an effort to talk to me.

even now , i could never dream of paying them back.

but of course , i can't speak about those two without mentioning mikasa ackermann ; the third of armin’s friend group , and the best recruit in the trainee corps.

her connection to those two—particularly with eren—can’t be underestimated.

the three are childhood friends , and they were always together.

though she was stoic with me and others , she was loyal and caring in her own way.

she would often fret over her friends —asking if armin was alright , or where eren was.

in addition to being an amazing friend , she was a very formidable opponent—in every sense of the term.

i knew to keep my head down around her after she threw the two-hundred-pound reiner braun over her shoulder like a backpack.

my general weariness around ackermann was worsened by the fact that she didn’t appear to like me all that much—only confirming my suspicions the first day she spoke to me.

everyone gathered in the mess hall for breakfast , and i took my new spot between eren and armin.

eren nudged me , “—heard you were m.i.a during drills again.”

he spoke in between bites , “don’t speak with your mouth full , eren.”

the sudden sound of ackermann’s voice startled me ; she’d stopped eating and turned to eren—but it still felt like she was staring through him.

she knitted her eyebrows together and i turned away , waiting for eren’s response.

he grumbled something about wishing she’d stop treating him like her ‘kid brother’

i then answered eren’s comment, “—yeah , i got another nosebleed.”

it seems that eren took ackermann’s words to heart , as he finished chewing before speaking , “i figured as much. . .”

“what’s the deal with that anyway?” he continued , “you’ve been getting nosebleeds for the past—what—fifteen years?”

“it’s getting seriously worrisome. it’s shaping up to be a chronic illness at this rate” armin added , leaning over the table to look at me.

“i guess i never really thought about it all that much.” i then made the mistake of letting the conversation die out.

i made the second mistake of prodding ackermann by asking , “so—ackermann—how is your morning so far?”

“the same.” she stirs her soup with vigor, fingers clenched around the spoon.

my mind was racing desperately for another subject to divert attention to , when i remembered that i hadn’t shown them [b/n]’s gift.

i smiled as i fished the necklace from my breast pocket , and the two eyed me curiously.

“oh? what’s this?” eren studied the pendant , “can i see it?” he asked , but didn’t wait for an answer before snatching it from my hand.

he held the jewel up to his right eye , looking back at me with a grin , “is your brother rich?”

“no!” i punched his arm , “it. . .” i averted my gaze , “it was my mother’s.”

eren gave it back to me , and i started fumbling with it behind my neck–a failed attempt at putting it on.

eren snorted , “here,” before scooting closer to me ; his cold fingers grazed my collar in his efforts to clasp the necklace shut.

when he backed away , i smiled down at the crystal , murmuring a ‘thank you’.

armin’s eyes creased in his smile, “it’s beautiful.”

“yeah , it looks great.” eren nods.

ackermann dropped her spoon on her tray—and it was purposeful—the clatter halting all conversation at that table for a moment.

when i glanced over to see what the sound was , i found myself paralyzed ; gripped by her menacing aura.

she looked upon me with such disgust.

i’m sorry , “i–” i tried to speak.

i finally tore my eyes away from hers , digging my nails into the wood beneath my fingers–i was losing more oxygen than i was taking in.

“[y/n]?” armin leans toward me , gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder.

i gripped his wrist , squeezing until he was forced to let me go—but i didn’t , “ow—that hurts—“

i only released my grip when blood pooled into my mouth ; i recoiled at the taste as i stared at him , eyes wide as dinner plates.

i looked down , bowing my head , “excuse me.” with that , i got up and walked away.

“mikasa!” i heard eren scolding her behind me.

i kept moving forward without a clear destination in sight , only stopping when i reached the girls’ dormitory.

i’d been curled up on my bunk for god knows how long , staring ahead—trying to ask myself why i reacted the way i did.

“[l/n]?” i jumped at the sound of a girl’s voice , startled.

i looked up to find a petite girl that i knew as christa lenz. up until that moment , i’d never talked to her , but i did know that she was particularly popular among male recruits.

lenz maintains a respectful distance as she asks , “you left the mess hall in a hurry ; are you alright?” “yeah—i’m fine.”

she nods , though it's clear she wasn't all that convinced , “well , i’m glad.”

“we’re. . .” she pulled her hair back , “about to start drills soon.”

“thanks.” i wiped my face with my sleeve , stretching as i stood up.

“hey ,” a girl enters the dorm , greeting us without a second thought.

“good morning , sasha!” lenz beamed.

it’s sasha braus—as i thought.

the brunette from dauper , although most knew her as the ‘potato girl’.

she was given the nickname after being caught by commander shadis eating a potato on the first day of basic training.

christa and i stared as she finished her snack in silence.

it’s on her way out of the dorm that she stops in her tracks , “what are you two doing in here all alone. . .-”

her hand flies to cover her mouth ; we only stare at her as she glances between us.

she slowly dropped her hand , “does ymir know?”

“—do i know what?”

just like that , another girl comes sauntering into the room ; she eyes me and braus suspiciously as she approaches.

i knew of her ; the freckled one who usually keeps to herself. she only pipes up when lenz is involved in some way.

she stopped in front of me before gesturing for sasha to go on ; sasha–naturally–responded by loudly “whispering” , “christa’s cheating on you.”

ymir glanced at me , tilting her head and squinting her eyes at me.

she chokes back a laugh as she pats the top of my head , “she looks like she’s been crying ; i doubt these two were up to anything”

“besides,” she punches braus in the back “--ow!” “christa would never do anything like that” “—what did i do?!” “—ymir! cut that out!”

i managed to slip out unnoticed during all the commotion , finding myself chuckling to myself while heading to the field.

i thought they were funny.

i like them.

✧;── 🕰️ ──;✧

“yoo-hoo—[l/n]—are you in there?” i blinked “—yes!?”

my vision focused on braus , who was currently waving her hand in front of my face.

she sits back down , and i tilt my head at her , “what is it , sasha?”

“are you. . .” she lifts her shaky index finger , pointing toward my tray , “gonna eat that?”

of course she’d ask me that

i sigh , “sure” she snatched the bread off my tray , slamming her hand down with incredible force, “you’re the best!”

pressing my lips together , i push my tray aside and rest my head in my hands.

lenz and ymir trade glances before the blonde leans toward me , “you seem out of it , are you okay?”

“yeah—“ i sigh , “i just have a problem i’m trying to find the solution to”

“is it about jaeger?” i looked up to find ymir mirroring my pose ; i found my eyebrows knitting themselves together , “what makes you say that?”

ymir snickered , “you normally sit by him—and he’s been looking over here the whole time

she leans over the table , narrowing her eyes at me , “lover’s quarrel?” the smaller girl nudged her, “ymir!”

“no , it’s about ackermann , actually” ymir paused, “i think she hates me.” i continued.

“i don’t particularly blame her.” the girl shrugged , “she was always with him before you came along.”

ymir raised her brows at me , and i stared back at her—puzzled.

“what?” i immediately began stuttering out nonsense about how it’s ‘not like that’—which i’m sure only made me look worse.

now finished with her food , braus finally rejoined the conversation , “what are we talking about?”

the three of us all stop and stare at her as she looks around , confused.

she never got her answer , as we were interrupted , “hey guys—“ a male recruit comes walking up to the table with his tray.

“hey connie.” braus greeted , not looking away from us.

“jean’s being a sore loser ; can i sit here for now?” “sure.” “great , thanks”

i glance up at connie , taking in his appearance ; his shaved head was his most prominent feature.

he was the only recruit with a buzz cut , so i recognized him quickly.

right , the kid who got the salute wrong. that incident happened right before braus’s potato-related blunder.

i giggled to myself , and that’s when connie noticed me ; he stopped eating and stared at me ,

he then probably realized that he was being rude , “hey. . . ?” he greeted , “hello.” i greeted him.

he leans towards braus , and the two proceed to loudly whisper in front of me , “since when are you friends with her?” “since she shared her food with me”

“but isn’t she like—really weird?” “no!”

as they continued , i looked over to find ymir and christa looking exasperated and confused.

clearing my throat , i maintain eye contact with connie as he trailed off , “. . .sorry.”

“i’m connie springer.”

“[y/n]. . .[l/n]”

the table’s conversation continued like normal , but my mind wandered off.

maybe ymir was onto something before we got interrupted.

ackermann may be getting the wrong idea about my feelings for eren.

it’s a misunderstanding,

i can fix it.

↳ ❝ [nova’s notes + tags] ¡! ❞

next one’s gonna be long so it’ll take awhile

in the meantime , i wanna rewrite the rockstar au bc it’s so corny lol

@y-yinyang , @cafesho , @blackdxggr , @bambam1sa

#nonblacks dni #anime #fanfic #black reader #eren x reader #attack on titan #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #aot x reader #aot x black reader #armin x black reader #mikasa x reader

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